#that's why so few of them show up near people. those are the rebel kids that ran away to the circus (surface) little mermaid style

[answrs]

okay but what's the average lifecycle of a typical tynamo→eelektross look like? they (at least appear to) start out as tynamo in chargestone cave, but their evolved forms seem absent from the environment. do they migrate as they evolve? what makes them so rare in what seems to be the only place the species is endemic to? where do their different stages fit into the food web? what do they eat as they grow? what eats *them*? would they be cannibalistic? are the young parasitic? are there mons (and a few concerned lost trainers) wandering around with circular wounds but otherwise unharmed, ala lamprey/cookiecutter shark? do eelektrik and eventually eelektross move out towards the ocean or rivers, only rarely returning to breed, or do they sink deeper into the depths of the caves where the water pools deep?

look im pretty sure im at least mildly sick at this point but suddenly this is the worldbuilding i NEED to think about right now immediately

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: sabine and ezra finally share their first kiss. unfortunately, it's on a broadcast to every rebel cell in the galaxy. chapter word count: 1265 a/n: i'm back! this one's gonna be a multichapter fic, so stick around for chapter 2 coming soon! shoutout to the lovely and encouraging @kanerallels for betaing! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader  @accidental-spice  @kanerallels  @piraterefrigerator  @jedi-nurse  @dootchster  @lucasbridger  @redroverrider  @light-umbra  @commander-tech  @jedimandalorian  @notanodinarygirl  {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

Ch. 1 In Which Sabine is Ezra's Best Friend

 Sabine had been looking differently at Ezra the last few days. She wondered if he noticed. He wasn't that same kid they'd rescued on Lothal all those years ago. He'd grown into a fine young man— and to think, all it took for her to notice was almost losing him forever.

 The minute she found out about his plan to sacrifice himself, a number of words to describe him came to mind. Idiotic. Brave. Reckless. Noble. Stupid. Heroic.

 He'd been adamant that the rebellion could stand him, that Lothal would be fine without him, that the rest of their family would be okay without him. In a way, he was right. The Rebellion could get on without him. Lothal could get on without him. The rest of the Ghost Crew would find a way to get on without him.

 But she couldn't.

 She made him promise that he wouldn't go through with it unless it's what it absolutely came to, and they spent the next two days working tirelessly to come up with a plan that would save Lothal without Sabine losing her best friend.

 And somehow, it worked.

 Ezra now stood before his people as a hero, in a ceremony they threw in honor of all the valiant heroes who'd liberated them. A lot of members of their squadron had been asked to give a speech. Sabine had narrowly escaped the draft on that, but Ezra hadn't been so lucky. 

 "I really do wish I could thank every one of you," Ezra was saying, standing before not only most of the inhabitants of the planet, but also the hundreds of rebel cells watching via underground holonet, "old Joe, Jai, Ryder, that old lady I pickpocketed a week before joining the fight— but, uh, most of all, I'd like to thank my family."

 He paused for a second to collect his thoughts, a new record for the longest time Ezra could go without talking.

 "We wouldn't be free right now if it wasn't for the sacrifices along the way," Ezra said, "and I know my parents and Kanan would be proud of us."

 Sabine stood close enough to see the tears welling up in Ezra's eyes, but he pulled himself together pretty well as he turned to their captain.

 "Hera, a long time ago you told me that if all I do is fight for myself, then my life is worth nothing. Thank you for showing me something worth fighting for."

 Sabine didn't need to be standing near Hera to know that tears were gathering in her eyes as well.

 Ezra then turned to Zeb and Chopper.

 "Zeb, you're the big brother I never wanted— and still don't want— but always needed. Chopper, though, I could live without."

 Chopper beeped passive-aggressively a few meters away.

 "At least he mentioned you, little bucket of bolts," Sabine thought, "not that he needs to talk about me. Why should he?"

 "And most of all," Ezra said, and he turned to her with a smile on his face as his eyes somehow found hers, drowning her in their depth and intensity, "my best friend, Sabine." His tone lowered, as though, despite the fact that his words were being broadcast across the galaxy, he was only speaking to her as he shook his head and added, "I couldn't've done it without you."

 It was just a simple sentence, but those words clacked around in Sabine's mind for the rest of his speech, even as he turned back and addressed the crowd gathered before them.

 "My best friend."

 She'd known Ezra was her best friend, but she'd never assumed she was his. 

 "My best friend."

 Ezra couldn't go more than ten minutes without making a new friend.

 "My best friend."

 Surely, in all the hundreds of people he called "friend," shouldn't there have been one closer to him?

 "My best friend."

 But no, Ezra had looked her in the eyes and told her and the entire galaxy that she was his best friend.

 "My best friend."

 Still, she needed confirmation.

 As he wrapped up and the crowd began cheering, Sabine pulled him aside, not entirely out of view of the people below, but at the very least out of their primary focus.

 "Did you really mean that?" Sabine asked.

 "That refreshments will be served in the square as soon as we wrap up?" Ezra asked, restating the last words of his speech, "of course."

 "Not that," Sabine took a deep breath, "when you said I'm your best friend."

 "Absolutely," Ezra smiled, then quickly followed with, "I mean, if that's okay with you."

 "Of course," Sabine said, unsure what to call the feeling in the pit of her stomach, "you're my best friend too."

 His eyes washed over her in rich blue waves, powerful enough in small doses, but more than enough to knock her off her feet if she wasn't careful— and today, she wasn't. He started to turn and walk away, but she put a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes overtook hers again.

 "I'm really glad you didn't sacrifice yourself," Sabine said.

 He smiled. "Me too."

 In that moment, all there was in the galaxy was her and Ezra. Instead of taking her hand off his shoulder, she stood there. After a moment, Ezra placed his hand on her shoulder— no, not on her shoulder, on the back of her neck— and he pulled her toward himself. 

 She could've pulled away. She could've punched him in the gut and run. Instead she leaned closer, ensuring that his lips landed on hers. 

 Maybe it was a moment of weakness. Maybe it was all the pent up emotions from the past week— loss, hope, triumph, regret— finding an outlet for release. Maybe Sabine had finally just realized how much Ezra really meant to her, and she to him.

 Either way, she was kissing Ezra Bridger, and in that moment she held zero regrets about it.

 She'd always wondered at how Ezra could ramble, always saying so much in a short span of time. It was no surprise that his kiss did the same, sending a message worth a million rambled words, one she was more than enthusiastic to hear.

 Time stood still and so did they, afraid that if they moved for even a second, the world would move around them, and this perfect kiss would end.

 She couldn't tell which of them sighed a soft "oh," as he pulled her just a touch closer, just like in all the old holofilms.

 Holofilms.

 Crap.

 These speeches were being recorded on holofilms.

 And broadcast across the entire rebel holonet.

 And there was no way the cameras weren't picking this up.

 Sabine pulled away from him quickly, trying her hardest to regain her breath as her hands and lips removed themselves from her best friend. For a second, he looked confused and almost a bit hurt, but he regained himself in an instant, his face turning a shade of red Sabine hadn't known was possible.

 They both turned back to look at the crowds over the edge of the balcony, careful to leave an obvious amount of space between each other. Still facing forward, Ezra leaned his head toward her and whispered, "do you think they noticed?"

 Down below, a holo projector of their video stream, with text below it that said "INSTANT REPLAY," showed a recording of their kiss, blown up to about seventy five times larger.

 "Yeah Ezra," Sabine said, using a facepalm as a guise for hiding her blushing face from any further holocam recordings, "I think they noticed."

[wantonwinnie]

I just read The Jedi Path by Daniel Wallace (2016 edition as part of the Secrets of the Galaxy box set, which are all in-universe guidebooks in the Legends continuity). It's not often that a Star Wars book leaves me with a terrible taste in my mouth and was generally not enjoyable, but that's how bad this one was (worst one Ive read so far, unfortunately). This is very ranty, so sorry in advance (and contains spoilers). I've read The Rebel Files, which I really enjoyed. I love the Jedi and was excited to read this book, which makes this one so much more disappointing. I'd give it a 5/10, which is honestly generous.

I'll get the few good things out of the way. It's chalked full of lore from legends about the Jedi (the book was originally published in 2010 and rereleased later). It covers many eras. I like learning details about the different lightsaber forms. The illustrations are nice, if not a little same-y.

However, the content is generally awful and sounds like fanon, even to the legends continuity. I'm not a legends buff but there's a part near the end where one of the in-universe writers disputes misconceptions people have about the Jedi, one of which is that they are kidnappers. The writer's response is that the Jedi can't be kidnappers because they have a legal right to take custody of any force-sensitive child, and part of their duty as a Seer is to take those children. If this was actually a part of the legends continuity, that's a terrible practice to attach to the Jedi, but I suspect this was fanon even in 2010.

Another tidbit is when the book straight up says the "Gray Jedi" are a not only a real in-universe term but a direct threat to Jedi progress. The provided definition of Gray Jedi is just someone who disagrees with the council and is not like the other girlies, and Obi-Wan's annotation says some Jedi considered Qui-Gon to be gray. Also completely fanon as far as I know- the gray jedi was a misinterpretation of a cosmetic option in KOTOR ("gray jedi robes", i.e., the color gray).

There are other wonky bits too. A part of the traditional Jedi trials is the Trial of the Flesh, in which padawans suffer immense pain to test their will. Even though it was relaxed in later eras, I think this is an odd lore at best for Jedi. It doesn't comport at all to teaching compassion or peace. Surely Jedi will face physical pain in active duty, and a religion's practices are going to change over time. But it seems a bit too removed from fundamental principles that it breaks the immersion.

There are also the Jedi Shadows, who straight up try to assassinate Sith lords. I think long ago during times of great conflict it is a bit more believable- but the way it's written makes it seem like they're still around. The Jedi writer also basically says the Shadows are willing to bend their morals to do what needs to be done in ways that other Jedi would find distasteful, which, yeah! Duh! What the fuck!

The general tone of the writing is way off. It comes off as a bit too self-righteous and indignant. The content itself is in that direction too. This entire book almost seems written with preconceived fanon notions in mind. This is why some of Legends is so bad- I like creative freedom for authors, but not to write things that break all immersion or make people have mixed feelings about the Jedi. It's one thing to show the Jedi evolving over time as circumstances or theories shift. But it's another to say "yeah, we take kids, so what?" and other things that just totally break down the intent of the wider story.

I haven't even gotten to the annotations, which honestly degraded the experience, not enhanced it. Most of the weird lore was closer to the end of the book, so I was having a meh time with the main content. But the annotations were at best, only somewhat interesting, and more often they were not worthwhile or downright antithetical to the characters writing them.

Here are a couple examples. When the book discusses the Jedi Code, Qui-Gon basically says that attachment = compassion and this part of the code is thus incorrect. This is not Qui-Gon's character at all from the movies. At least from what I remember, Qui-Gon wasn't questioning the fundamental precepts of Jedi thought about being too attached/obsessive. Also, at one point, Obi-Wan suggests in an annotation he doesn't like spending time with animals. Maybe this is earlier in this life, but it's strange to see this coming from Obi-Wan, who clearly loves animals in TCW and did in ROTS. I know they're extrapolating from his line in TPM about Jar Jar being a pathetic life form or whatever, but it seems counter to his broader character. At best, if this is actually reflective of his legends version, that version sucks! I like that he likes animals! Seems like the book would rather reference a line than actually focus on what the characters would say.

This problem is present with the general approach to annotations, which is that they went for using well-known characters instead of those who could actually make comments that add depth to the story. The annotators are Yoda, Thame Cerulian (Dooku's master), Dooku, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Sidious, and Luke. The best you can say is that they wanted a wide variety of perspectives, but even that is poorly executed. Yoda and Luke's annotations are probably the best just because they cover different points in time, and Luke talks some about how he can apply past teachings to the new academy. But Thame, Qui-Gon, and Ahsoka have very little interesting to say other than to insult non-attachment, make a few references, and Ahsoka chiding Anakin. (Aside: why does Ahsoka even have this book? Half of her comments are "who cares, we are fighting a war!" Which, yeah, you wouldn't be reading this while fighting a war when you would be reading up on tactics, strategies, reports, and training). Dooku constantly complains that the Jedi tolerate inferiority, and Anakin complains about attachment, not using certain powers, etc. Ahsoka, Dooku, and Anakin's comments are all definitely on-brand, but they're more annoying than anything. Of course Sidious' comments are all just "haha Jedi suck, they died". In-character but not interesting or fun to read.

I'm sorry but I came to this book to read Jedi perspectives on Jedi teachings, not Sidious, Dooku, and Anakin. The latter two were Jedi, sure, but they clearly did not subscribe to the Jedi fundamentals even at the time. Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Ahsoka had little interesting to say- no depth of understanding. I loved The Rebel Files from 2017, partially because the annotations were limited to fewer characters and added much more depth to the content. This book, perhaps a product of its time, did not, and actively went against the characters. In all, I'm really sad this book did what it did. It advances false narratives about the Jedi for people to point to. I wouldn't blame fans who only read this book to be like "The Jedi do good things but they also take kids! They kinda suck!" because that's how this book is written. What the fuck.

[annonniiiiieeeee]

HI DISTRICT 10 IS LITERALLY LITERALLY LIVESTOCK SO OTHER THAN CAREER DISTRICTS THEYRE THE ONLY OTHER ONES TRAINED TO KILL AS ACTUAL EDUCATION AND ANYONE FROM THERE PROBABLY KNOWS WHERE ALL THE MAJOR ARTERIES AND STUFF ARE SO IT’D MAKE LOTS OF SENSE FOR USAGI TO BE FROM THERE OK BYE

I was thinking about 10 when I wrote that. I kinda like him being from a poorer district. It explains why there aren’t a ton of victors around him.

While a career district would explain his skills, I have some issues with it.

He’s not a fisher man type of guy. I can’t see Usagi growing up swim in the ocean so 4 is out. (I know I set the Tenshu near and ocean but that doesn’t mean the characters go swim all the time)

I don’t like him coming from 1. All the glits and gramer doesn’t suit him

I could see him being 2. A warrior culture that grows up thinking they are going to help keep people safe in the districts by stoping criminals like rebels, becoming peacekeepers. This is the closet we could get to a samurai in that world.

I like the idea that he, Katsuichi and Tomoe ame, after their victories and victory tours became disillusioned with the idea. They saw what the peace keepers really did. (This would show him as a ronin) because of their victories they can see outside of their world view that they were raised in.

But they also can’t do anything to change it. This also isolates them from other career winners from their district.

Or

I like district 10. A poor boy who works hard.

There is a theory that mags started the career program in 4 as a way to protect the children. If you train kids to fight and have a culture of the older kids volunteering to protect the younger. You are more likely to have winners (ie. Less dead kids)

Maybe Katsuichi wanted to do something similar is 10. But the kids there are much poorer and they are trying to survive. Kids like Kenichi come to him to learn but they aren’t worried about keeping other kids safe. They want to win the games for their own glory, to improve their station.

Listening to this kind of talk actually makes Katsuichi sick. To hear kids talk about how they plan to murder other children and relishing in being victors reminds him to much of the capital. So he shuts down the program.

But occasionally he will take on a student or two

He wants kids who are there because they don’t want others to suffer. Because it’s less about winning and more about protecting those who can’t protect themselves. It’s honor.

He trains Tomoe Ame. He also trains Usagi.

The plan was for Usagi to volunteer when he’s 18. It’s his best chance at winning, but if a 12 year old gets reaped when he’s 16 or 17 he’d still go in their place. But he gets reaped when he’s 14.

Katsuichi is terrified as he has come to care for him. Tomoe Ame is fearful as well. She had volunteered a few years prior when she was 16 and won, but Usagi is a baby compared to her.

[siennahrobek]

I’ve always been more of a prequel era person than an original movie era person. Mostly because of the Jedi. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Rebels (Kanan and Hera are probably my only real Star Wars ship) and I loved Luke and the original gang (funnily enough, I liked the twins despite Anakin, which might not entirely make sense). And of course I loved Leia. She was strong and sassy but she was responsible and she worked hard and had a lot of aspects of her (from Bail and Breha no doubt) that I admired. I just never thought about her that much because my mind generally stayed with the Jedi Order.

But watching her in Obi-Wan Kenobi as a child? How she stands up for herself, how she volunteers to help even as a kid, how she interacts with Obi-Wan and just. Loves him for him? It’s made me love her way more. I wasn’t entirely surprised she named her kid after him, even before this (although; at the time, I was only familiar (although a bit vaguely) with Legends kids, Jacen, Jaina, etc.) for a number of different reasons but this, with her and Obi-Wan really cements why she did.

Leia is watching this man rise up from his lowest point, after the brutal betrayal of people he loved, after the near entire genocide of him people. She is watching him build up his hope and faith - even though they had taken a dip - and she is watching parts of him come back. Parts of the General, leading, advising and helping people in battle, fighting alongside them and defending them (and her). Parts of the Negotiator and leader, telling the adults that he trusts her (showing his faith in her). Parts of the Master and the Councilor, with his words and teachings. Parts of the Jedi, using his compassion and willingness to help others. Defending her with a very real and physical symbolization of his lightsaber lighting up the dark.

Especially at ten years old, I can imagine even this short few days has a huge, huge impact. We know Leia is extremely intuitive and can read people very well. So we know she is seeing this. She is noticing this. And that is huge for her. So when she is at her lowest, when she loses those closest to her, when she too is the survivor of genocide, she undoubtedly thinks back to this. Or, at least, to those feelings she remembers. She picks up aspects and parts of her parents as she moves along, as well as the man that had such an impact on her. She picks up the leadership, the senator and the drive of her father, Bail. She picks up the Queen, the perseverance and the loyalty from her mother, Breha. And she picks up the General, the faith, the survival, the hood and trust in others from the man she saw rise up from the worst, Ben.

I’m sure she was impacted by others, of course, but these three people have had such in influence in her early life like no one else and I think it really gives insight into her character. Because she picks up parts of these people, keeping them with her within herself. Leia doesn’t always show a lot of grief but I think part of that is because she keeps part of the people she loves within her. With her actions, motives and personality. And I think that really says a lot about her.

[monamourbladie-mb]

19 Years Later... (Darth Vader x reader miniseries chapter 1)

19 years have passed since Y/n’s husband Anakin’s death, and she has become the leading General of the newly founded Rebellion alongside her past Jedi friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, now known as Ben Kenobi. When her children Luke and Leia Skywalker gets kidnapped by Darth Vader, the man who killed her husband; her and Obi-Wan Kenobi must come rescue her. But when she finds out who’s behind Darth Vader’s mask, the truth is something she never thought she had to prepare herself for.

——————

Index:

1. prologue

2. chapter 1

3. chapter 2 [Coming soon]

wc: 2.3k

warnings: cursing

——————

Being the leader of the new Rebellion against the evil Galactic Empire had its perks. One of the things that was not a perk, however, was hiding one’s actual name from their people, and past.

None of Y/n’s rebels knew of her past as a former Jedi Knight that fought in the Clone Wars. Though she fought like a cunning warrior, the thought had never once crossed their minds, seeing as all the Jedi were dead.

She had raised her children Luke and Leia with Obi-Wan’s guidance to be trained as Jedi, seeing as both of them were very Force-Sensitive.

Watching Luke wield his father’s lightsaber brought such bittersweet feelings to both old Jedi Knights. Anakin was such a big part of both of their lives, that it was almost painful to see this without him there.

Anakin would be beyond proud of his son and daughter, for sure.

Y/n recalled the first time he and Leia held their lightsabers. They were both 9, the same age their Father was when he was brought him by Qui-Gon Jyn from Tattooine.

Luke had rushed up to Obi’s old trunk excitedly, admiring the strange silver object with big eyes as Leia crowded behind him, “What’s that, Uncle Obi?”

“This is your father’s lightsaber, my dear. He would’ve wanted you to have it,” Obi replied, a sad smile on his face as he held onto the hilt, activating its stellar blue glow.

“This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or random as a blaster—“ Obi handed it to Luke and his eyes widened, waving it around gently so he didn’t break it. “—an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.”

“Is it mine?” Luke’s eyes beamed in excitement. Obi-Wan nodded, sitting down as he picked up Leia, putting her on his knee.

“For over a thousand generations, the Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice. The old republic. Before the Empire...” he trailed off, turning his head towards the window.

Y/n rushed into the room, hearing the lightsaber and fearing there was an intruder, “Obi-Wan! What’s going on, I’m—“ she ignited her brilliant (l/c) saber, holding it in a protective stance before she realized it was just Luke. She sighed heavily and disengaged her saber, attaching it back to her belt loop, “Obi, you didn’t tell me you were doing this now...” she crossed her arms.

“Mom! Obi-Wan told me this was Dad’s! Look!” he started swinging it gently, making sure it didn’t hit anyone since he knew how deadly they could be. She began to smile sadly as she remembered a young Anakin as a padawan, rushing in to show her his lightsaber he constructed the day he finally got one.

She smiled sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. “You look so much like your father, Luke,” she said sadly. Obi looked back at Luke, and for a split moment, he was reminded of the small slave his old master brought back with him. He smiled to himself remembering how he helped Anakin with his padawan braid.

“Princess, come here. I’ll let you hold my lightsaber, okay?” she handed Leia her saber gently, and she took gingerly from her hand. Leia took it and igniting it, the blade’s glow reflecting in her excited little eyes.

“Mom? How did dad die? You never answered me,” Luke asked. Y/n felt herself freeze in place, a large lump in her throat forming. “Luke, I...”

“I’ll tell them, Y/n,” Obi-Wan replied solemnly. “Your father was killed by a young Jedi named Darth Vader. He was a close friend of mine before he fell. He helped the Emperor hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights. He betrayed and murdered your father.” The room fell silent, until Luke asked another question, “So you and Uncle Obi are the last remaining Jedi?”

Obi-Wan shook his head no, “There are others, but sparse. To name a few, Master Yoda and Ahsoka Tano, your father’s Padawan learner. The last remaining Jedi are being hunted down by Vader, which is why we hide.”

Leia spoke up softly, “Is that why we don’t use our actual last name, mommy?”

“Yes, sweetheart. As long as Vader’s reign continues, we must hide our names. Darth Vader does not know about the two of you, so you are safe. For us, on the other hand...” she trailed off, and the kids understood.

“Mom... Mom,” Leia spoke loudly. Y/n blinked in confusion and turned back around, looking at her daughter, “Yeah, my love?”

“Are you okay mom?” Leia asked, frowning. “We need to look at the Death Star plans.”

“Right,” she sighed heavily, turning to face from the window out looking Yavin 4. “I’m fine, princess. I just... was remembering Anakin, that’s all.” Leia sighed and laid her hand on her mother’s back, rubbing it gently, “Dad would be proud of everything you’ve done, mom.” She began to tear up as she pulled Leia into a tight hug, “I hope so. It’s been about 20 years and it still doesn’t feel right,” silent tears fell down her cheeks into her daughter’s bunned hair.

“I’m proud of you, Leia. If you were to be trained within the Order now, you’d be the same age your father was when he became a Jedi Knight, and when he married me...” she sniffled, wiping her tears. Leia smiled softly, holding her mom’s hand, “Do you think he’d be proud of me, too?”

“I know he would,” she rubbed her fingertips against hers, “He would pull you into the tightest hug, spin you a little and say softly, ‘That’s my baby girl,’” she replied, her voice cracking slightly. Leia began to tear up as she hugged her back, “I wish I knew him...” she said softly. “I wish so too, babe, so bad...” Y/n sighed. But I won’t let his memory be in vain. Let’s go look at these plans and destroy that Death Star, yeah?”

Leia and Y/n walked to the main board room, seeing how the map was already up on display. “General Jonas, we’ve been examining the Death Star plans. They’re on screen now,” one of her commanding officers recited. “Good, thank you, officer. Have we discovered a weak point yet? Or at least some form of entry point?”

“No, ma’am. We haven’t studied long enough. There are many ways in, but all most likely heavily guarded. We will have to find a way to go under the radar without getting detected, somehow,” he replied. She nodded, walking closer to examine it. She closed her eyes and felt out through the Force for some answer. No surprise to her, she could barely feel anything at all but an empty void. Ever since Anakin had died, she had felt more distanced from the Force than ever. Maybe she and Anakin possessed a rare Dyad, or maybe she had simply lost touch with the Force; but no matter what she did, she was nowhere near as powerful in the Force as she used to be.

“Alert me if you find anything, Officer, I would love to have this Death Star in shambles by the end of the month,” Y/n left to walk out and to ask Obi-Wan on the matter. “Yes, ma’am,” he responded, turning back to his computer to get back to work.

Elsewhere, Leia was pacing in Luke’s room, grumbling to herself, “I know Obi-Wan has taught us to not let our emotions guide us, but I can’t when it comes to him. He killed our father, he should be dead!” Leia huffed in anger, collapsing down onto her twin’s bed.

Luke grunted in response, his mouth full of food still, “It’s not like you can take him on yourself. You’d die!” he said, or at least, sounded like he said. “I will not let the lives of those lost who got us the plans in the first place’s memories die. We wouldn’t be this close to planning an attack without their sacrifices. Moreover, Mom has had these plans for two days now, and she hasn’t done a single thing about it!” Leia responded quickly. Luke shrugged, “Leia. Be real. It’s not like we can steal a ship and fly to the Death Star, find it’s a weak point, and get back in time for dinner.”

Leia sat up, looking at Luke as if he had just committed mass murder. “...What?” Luke asked warily. Leia grinned, “That’s it! We’ll do just that, Luke! We’ll take one of mom’s ships, fly around the death star undetected and find weak entry points, and get back like we were never even gone!”

“Leia, you can not be serious right now!” Luke gasped, setting his food down, “We can’t do this, we could get in so much trouble! Or spotted!”

“Do you want to sit idly while our mother and uncle do nothing, whereas our Father’s murderer is out on the lose on that moon!” Leia snapped at him. He narrowed his eyes, “That’s no moon, Leia. Also, no, I don’t! But do we have a choice? No. We’re staying here.”

“No, we’re leaving. Whether I go alone is up to you entirely, but at this point, I just want the man who killed my father dead,” Leia said, glaring at him. Luke huffed, “You think I don’t want him dead, too? But we are children, we literally can’t do anything!”

“We are 19 years old and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sit at home here and wait for Vader to kill more innocent people,” Leia frowned, crossing her arms. “I really need you with me, Luke. But I get it if you don’t go.” she stood up, grabbing her stuff to leave when Luke grumbled “Wait!” under his breath. “I’ll... go. Just to protect you. But this is a bad idea, and I don’t want to get caught,” he raised a brow to her. Leia grinned and hugged Luke tightly, “Thank you, thank you! You won’t regret this! But bring your lightsaber maybe, just in case?”

——————

“What do you mean, YOU LET THEM GO?” Y/n snapped to C3-PO, enraged. Threepio raised his hands in defense, “I couldn’t stop them, mistress! I tried my best, I swear!”

“You let my children go confront Vader ALONE? You’re so lucky I don’t shut you down for that!” she growled, shoving past him with Obi-Wan following close behind her. “Oh, dear. I’m doomed,” Threepio whined.

“We have to go after them, we... I can’t... I can’t lose my kids,” Y/n said nervously, starting to pace once Obi got close. “Y/n, calm down sweetheart. I need you to breathe and think,” Obi said, holding onto her shoulders gently. “If we go, we have an equal chance of being caught since they’ll already be on high alert.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head, “I hate you for being so levelheaded and smart, Obi,” she frowned. “That’s my specialty,” he winked. “Now, we need to stop and make sure that we can pull this rescue off without risking our lives, too.”

Meanwhile, at the Death Star, Vader was summoned by his leading captain because of an alert of an enemy ship flying nearby. “Bring them in, search them. They may know General Jonas.” “Yes, My Lord.”

Vader turned to leave the bridge towards the docking bay, to meet his guests personally. As he walked, his mind was filled with visions and memories from his dream the night before. Of her.

He sighed heavily, picking up speed as he neared the docking bay. Passing a group of stormtroopers, he pushed past them to be in front, crossing his arms. The door opened, and two stormtroopers walked out holding a young girl and boy, yelling at them to let go of them.

As soon as Vader looked at the two, he felt something... strange. A certain presence in the Force he had never felt before. What is this? Why do they feel familiar?

Vader dropped his arms, walking forward and raising his hand to stop the troopers, “Who are you? And why were you near my Death Star?”

His unmerciful, robotic voice rumbled through their chests, terrifying them. In all their years, they had never seen something so cold and unforgiving. “Don’t be petrified, answer me if you want to live,” Vader challenged, staring right at the boy.

“You killed our father,” Leia’s voice was cold, sad, and broken. She knew this was a bad idea, but it was too late now. “I wanted revenge.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, my princess, but I’ve killed many men. Your father was just another tick on my list, whoever he may be.”

“You son of a—!” Luke yelled, rushing to jump at him when the stormtroopers all turned their weapons on him, making him stop. Vader growled, “Insolent children. I don’t think you know who I am, truly. I’d crush you in a heartbeat, but seeing as you could have something of use to me... take them away, both of them,” Vader commanded. The two shouted in disagreement, and Vader simply stood and watched them struggle.

“You bitch! You’ll pay for what you did to our dad!” Luke yelled as he was taken away. Vader rolled his eyes from under the mask and walked back to his quarters. He knelt on the floor, taking his mask off as he called out to his Emperor through the force.

“What do you want, Lord Vader?” Palpatine growled, looking down at Vader’s hologram. “I felt something through the Force a few moments ago. My new hostages... they seem to be strong with it.”

“Really? Are you sure, my apprentice?”

“Yes, Master. More sure than anything.”

“Well, you know what you must do. Kill them. They could be Jedi if they tried opposing you,” Palpatine smirked. “They’re only children, which means they’re newer Jedi. Someone had to have trained them.”

“Children never stopped you before, don’t let it stop you now. Do it.”

“...Yes, my Master.” Vader ended the holomessage, sighing.

“Who are you two...?” he asked himself, reaching out through the Force and feeling they were still there.

Strange.

——————

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[mercurytrinemoon]

On houses, house rulerships & how ya'll should stop associating them with signs + a rant on the meaning of the 8th house

This is one of those moments where I'm going to say (read: rant, so heads up, I may sound pretentious) that modern times keep distorting astrology. I’m talking about associating houses with signs/planets (aka the “12 letter alphabet”, briefly mentioned by William Lilly in the 17th century but ultimately it became a product of modern astrologers: first attempted by Alan Leo and decades later popularized and named by Zip Dobyns). Can we just... use a neuralyzer and make people forget that method? It's ingrained in people's minds because, seemingly, it's easier to learn that way - search astro basics in google and you'll see things like "9th house=Sagittarius=Jupiter". This compressed version of astrology seems more accessible and easily digestible for a casual reader and not many newbies try to even question that approach. But there's a reason reputable astrologers these days are trying to erase it from everyone's minds. Signs are traits, planets are vessels, houses are areas of life. Houses are a completely different thing + every person has their own chart with their own house rulers. You can't say Mars is the “natural” ruler of the 1st... well unless, of course, you're an Aries rising, then yeah, your 1st is ruled by Mars, 2nd by Venus and so on.

Sure, some houses share accidental similarities with planets that have been assigned to them by modern *cough*lazy*cought* approach. Example, the 3rd rules communication... oh and so does Mercury. But then again, Mercury has nothing to do with health, injuries, work - all things 6th house. 7th is relationships and 2nd is money & values... and it so happens that Venus shows our attitude towards these things. I would sometimes find myself loosely refer houses to planets, like “oh the 3rd mercurial house” just because SOME of them do fit with the characteristics... and because it's a language that is well-understood (I won't do that anymore). BUT even when I started learning astrology, I had a red light go on in my head when people would straight up go "Moon in Virgo or Moon in the 6th". It never made sense to me. These are completely different things. And I've seen some awesome astrologers who would state things like "oh Aquarius Sun is basically the same as Sun in the 11th", like nah, dude. Because why? Aquarius is the friendly type and the 11th rules friends? Because Aquarius is the big innovator and 11th stands for hopes and dreams? But Aquarius is also a rebel who's stiff in their beliefs. Aquarius is a weirdo, is the 11th house the house of weirdos? No. Aquarius likes to be independent and usually has issues with feeling of not belonging anywhere, while 11th rules communities. THAT'S CONTRADICTORY. Because they're not the same.

Want more examples? Having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???" 

I think it most shows in the 8th house, which... *deep breath* has gone through so much (ironically since it rules transformation), like, there's a lot to unpack here. "tHe sCorPioNic HoUse": tell me in what way does Scorpio have to do with inheritance, death, taxes, other people's stuff? These are the og topics associated with the 8th house. And by the way, it doesn't have to be a material inheritance, because I saw people being confused by that. You can have your 10th house ruler in the 8th so maybe you'll inherit that job as a chairman in your father's corporation, along with its renowned name. Or your 6th house ruler is in the 8th so you'll inherit a genetic health condition from your parent. 

Now, modern astrology, as per usual, tried to turn it into something positive (and psychological because apparently according to modern notion, astrology can’t predict anything so it’s only psychological *eye roll*) and put its rose-colored glasses on it so they'll say things like: transformation or taboo topics - like okay, makes sense, it's an intense house after all. Like a near-death experience or a metaphorical death will be transformative and maybe hard to talk about. And Scorpios do have the tendency to go through drastic situations in their lives and to dig deep & not being afraid to uncover secrets and all that's unknown and scary for others. There you have it, some convergence. But still, Scorpio and the 8th house are two different things.

Then there's the topic of the 8th house and sex. Actually, side note, a quick history bit, the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens saw sex in the 7th house - because that was the thing that happened after marriage - it represented two people coming together. In medieval times it then moved to 5th house of kids - because children-making requires intercourse, duh. Listen, I get that the 8th, as the follow-up to the 7th, is seen as joined resources; and joined everything, including bodies... or bodily fluids... (tmi?) after you get married or whatever. I don't think that makes sense in the modern times. I mean, go ahead if you want to associate the 8th with sex but after some time of studying astrology, I see it almost exclusively in the 5th as it's the house of pleasures. Simply. Besides, technically you can get yourself off and don’t need anyone else to assist you. My issue, again, comes from the root of the association with the 8th. Modern astrologers started linking 8th with Pluto and Scorpio in medical astrology rules reproductive system and so Scorpio is seen as the fReAky sEx dEMon blAh blaH (honestly, try asking Scorpios about their intimate life and they'll run for the hills abashed). So it turned out that 8th house is the "plutonian one" (I had a moment today wondering if it's plutonian or plutonic and idk anymore) so therefore it must rule sex. Well that logic doesn't make sense because everyone knows that the first and most important planet in the matters of sex is Mars but none of ya'll go and say "1st house is the house of sex because it's ruled by Aries". So no, houses are not the same as signs/planets.

12th house has a similar issue. This one has literally nothing to do with Pisces. Like, I feel bad for Pisces honestly, you guys don’t deserve being dumped into the 12th. It's a rather gloomy house and the most positive thing you could come up with it is being the house of imagination and intuition - because it rules the subconscious and partially your mind. And Pisces is usually characterized by those two. Or you could say that they're both kinda foggy in nature - 12th is the unattainable. But that is literally the closest you can get with them correlating. Other than that, 12th is hidden enemies, succlusion, illness (but mental or chronic, it's a bit different than 6th). There's nothing piscean about it really.

But I get it, open most of the astrology books and you'll see chapters called that way. Why? Because it's easier to publish something that's shorter aka simpler for the reader (actually that was one of Dobyns' reasoning behind spreading that approach). That’s why I said it’s lazy. And someone would argue that it’s easier to learn this way - because the information is compressed into 12 sections (signs) instead of 24 (signs+houses) or even more if you include delineations of every house ruled by each sign. Like, “well if I memorize the meaning of Cancer and Moon then automatically I’ll also memorize the 4th house”. But in fact, it’s so limiting in the long run and then forces you to unlearn what you have learnt, which is actually harder than taking the time and grasping the proper meaning right away. And again, with time it warps the meaning of everything.

Saying house=sign completely discredits the purpose of even having houses. And then on top of that it leads to people not understanding their own charts because they don't know the core meanings of the houses and instead look at them through the lens of signs. "I have planets in Gemini but I'm not that talkative and extroverted". Well okay, where are those planets? Are they in the 7th? Then maybe they're not talking about you but about people you come in contact with? Are they in the 4th? Well maybe it's your fam that has those qualities? The 11th? Are your friends like that? Houses are areas of your life, you can't say "Moon in the 3rd or Moon in Gemini" - Moon is "how", house is "where" - these are not the same things, even if they have a few traits in common. 

Ok, rant over, bye.

[americasmarauders]

ivy--Jason ToddxFem!Reader

author’s note: once upon a time there was a tiny Luíza who thought it was a good idea to wirite a royal!au. She spent 3 months working on it, but she couldn’t make justice to the words in her head so she gave up on it. Then she watched Bridgerton and decided to give the draft another chance; 

so yeah this is a royal!au. this is also my first mature work. nothing explicit just a mention of the devil’s tango. 

BEWARE: minors: there is nothing explicit, but there is a mention of sex towards the end, so read it with discretion. I would classify this as a 16+

words: 11,071

the link to my masterlist is here and the link to my jason playlist is here

#

#

This was a business transaction, she kept reminding herself.

         There were lives on the line, lives she had sworn to protect. It was her duty as the princess to guarantee the continuity and longevity of her bloodline and, above all else, her subjects. And the proposition presented to her guaranteed both of those.

         She saw it coming. Her Father’s lavish spending sprees, buying fights with people he shouldn’t. The vault had emptied—not completely, although it wasn’t nowhere near the same state it once was—and the people had suffered. She inherited the mess.

         Her kingdom, her prized kingdom, so brilliant, so beautiful, was in ruins. Because of an ego too big. She wasn't going to let that happen again. 

         The Wayne’s presented as the exit. The kingdom of Gotham neighbored her own, it would be convenient for them to incorporate hers. But above all else, king Bruce wasn’t looking for lands, he wanted knowledge, something her kingdom had plenty to spare.

         He wanted the kingdom of scholars to be his own. He wanted to stop the gangs, the barbaric gangs that destroyed her precious land, and he needed help from her scholars. Bruce gave her a business offer too hard to refuse. But there’s always a catch.

         ‘She’ll marry into the family,’ he wrote in his letter to the Queen, her mother. ‘My second son, he’s the Captain of the Royal Guards, he’s the one to take my throne. She’ll be a fine Queen, and with her knowledge, Y/N will help defeat this evil lurking in our shadows’.

         At first, she refused. She wanted to do it, but not at the cost of her future, not at the cost of her love. But she cooled her head. She couldn’t let her selfishness get in the way of the kingdom’s prosperity. So, she sent a letter to King Bruce. She accepted, at the condition they would do whatever it takes to preserve her tradition of knowledge. If to preserve her kingdom and give her people a relief she had to sell herself, then she would gladly do it

 #

 #

Gotham was nowhere near as beautiful as her kingdom. It had its charm, she could see why someone would like it, but it didn’t have the same ethereal air to it. On the contrary, it was quite gray and moody.

         She guessed it went along with the family running it. The Wayne’s were famous for being an overly serious, and, quite honestly, incredibly brooding family. King Bruce adopted 6 children—and rumors went around that only one of them was biological; a bastard—and all of them had varying levels of moodiness. She was to marry the second one: Prince Jason, Prince of Park Row.

         For a long time, he was the cautionary tale that was told to the children of the royal families. The Prince gone wrong, he snapped, rebelled, and, to many, he had fallen from grace. It was only a few years back he had resurfaced to the public attention as the one who was to be the next king. What happened between being the fallen Prince to being the heir was a mystery, one she wasn't sure she wanted to unveil.

         She looked at the windows, seeing the tiny rock houses and the calm villagers walking around under the daylight. She knew that once the night fell, things would change and the streets would be filled with those she yearned to eradicate.

         “You do not have to go through with this, my daughter,” her Mother started, once again trying to convince you of backing out of the deal. “We can find another way.”

         “There isn’t,” she answered. Her Mother opened her mouth to try to argue. “Don’t, Mother. You raised me to do what was right by my kingdom and its people and continuing by ourselves isn’t the answer.”

         “You are not sure about that,” Mother said, condescending in her words.

         “Don’t patronize me, Mother,” she shot back, her tone controlled. “I know this isn’t the ideal situation, but our situation wasn’t ideal to begin with,” she inhaled, her gaze shifting to the window of the carriage. “If Father hadn’t been so careless, we wouldn’t be here, and I would have turned down King Bruce’s proposal.”

         “I know,” Mother agreed quietly. “I feel for our loss of freedom, that’s all.”

         “This isn’t a loss of freedom. This is a new beginning. This is our chance to right our wrongs. Is there more freedom than that?” she responded, putting an end to this conversation as the carriage approached the castle.

         It was incredible and grandiose, far more than her family’s castle. It was fitting, she’d heard once from Elizabeth, one of the ladies in her court, that the Waynes vault was enormous. She didn’t know how she knew but seeing the castle alone she believed it.

         The carriage pulled to a stop, the door opening for her exit. Mother went first accepting the help from the coachman. She got out gracefully next, and the coachman closed the door behind her. She saw two men standing approaching. The older one had an austere air to him, but as he got nearer, she saw the crinkles next to his eyes, indications of years of smiling. The younger one had mischief in his eyes, and she couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome.

         “Your Majesty,” the older man bowed to her Mother. He then turned to her and bowed, “Your Highness, it is an absolute pleasure to have you in our kingdom.”

         She smiled politely. “The pleasure is all mine, Sir.”

         He smiled back. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth, I run the Wayne estate,” he turned once again to Mother. “Your Majesty, if you please I’ll show you to your quarters.”

         “Yes, thank you, Sir Pennyworth,” Mother answered, following him into the castle.

         The other man cleared his throat. “Your Highness, I’m Prince Dick, Duke of Blüdhaven,” he bowed, and she offered her hand. He kissed it politely, quickly releasing it and standing straight. “I’m the one escorting you today.”

         “Thank you, Prince Dick,” she said politely.

         “Shall we?” he offered his arm, and she couldn’t miss the golden glimmer of his wedding band on his hand.

         “We shall,” she said, controlled.

         Both of them walked calmly, as he showed her around the castle. She noticed the extravagant décor, paintings of generations of Wayne’s before adorning the walls, amongst other priceless pieces of art she was sure were worth more than the entire treasure she had in her kingdom. She quietly observed as he showed the corridor to her quarters for the month—he gracefully omitted the fact that she was marrying a stranger by the end of it and this wasn’t going to be her room any longer than that.

         She heard Prince Dick sigh next to her. “I’m sorry it has come to this,” he stated. “I’m sure I can speak for my Father when I say we all wished for a different outcome.”

        She offered him a tight smile. “Yes, well, I believe what we have agreed on is what’s right for both of our kingdoms,” she noted. “And while I wonder what would have been like if I didn’t come to this decision, if I may be candid, I do not regret making it.”

        He chuckled. “Yes, I’m glad you do not have any regrets, Your Highness,” he said. “And I’m glad you were candid about it. I’m positive you’ll do great in our family.”

        He stopped in front of a large and sturdy double door. He knocked 3 times. “The King awaits you,” he stated to her. “You shall wait here.”

        “Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she bowed slightly. “Thank you for escorting me.”

 #

#

“I will not marry her, for fucks sake,” Jason growled, slamming his hands on his guardian’s imponent desk. “I will not be a fucking bargain coin for your politics, Bruce.”

         Bruce didn’t even flinch with his son’s outburst. “It is your duty.”

         “Shove the duty up your ass, then. I have too many things to worry about, I don’t want another.”

         Bruce continued to look at the map sprawled out on his desk, “The L/N’s are incredibly smart and their kingdom holds a lot of the knowledge that we need to defeat the Joker’s gang and the others. This is very much your concern, isn’t it?”

         Jason shuddered at the mention of Joker. “It is,” he said, defiant.

         “Then marry her and do your job,” he stood up, leaning menacingly over the desk to look Jason in the eye. “You are the main responsible for our safety, and although I disagree with your methods, you are doing a good job. You need to start thinking of the future, Jason. This is bigger than you.”

         Jason huffed in annoyance. “I know of that,” he muttered. Then he smirked and said: “But you didn’t marry and had biological kids, Bruce,” he taunted. “Why should I do it the traditional way?”

        “Because I know what it’s like to not go down that path, son,” he answered, raising his voice slightly, but still composed. “I don’t want you to be like me, I want you to be better.”

        Jason was speechless. He tried to mutter a word but his brain couldn’t think of any of it. “I still don't want to marry her.”

        “You will, though,” his Father answered, opening his drawer and pulling the contract out of it. “And all I ask of you is to not push her away. You’ll need her, more than she’ll need you.”

        Jason wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. And he hated to admit—he and Bruce were constantly fighting over everything, especially after… after—but his Father was right. He wished it didn’t come at the cost of his liberty. He wasn’t looking for a wife. He found that it would only hold him back. But the prospect of the crown loomed in his horizon, and if he wanted to do right by his people, marrying was one of the requirements. It was too late to turn back.

         Three sturdy knocks sounded. Jason quickly recomposed himself.

 #

#

She had seen King Bruce once, when she was younger. Her Mother threw a gala for whatever reason and he attended. She didn’t remember seeing any of his kids there, or maybe she was too occupied with her own thoughts to notice.

         She remembered him being charming and handsome. A lot of the ladies of the court wanted to marry him, but somehow none of them had managed to. She recalled the color of his eyes so vividly, not because it was beautiful—it was—but because it revealed something deeper about himself that left her guessing. She could never discover it, though. Some things are better left unsaid and unknown.

         Looking at him now felt like she had entered a time machine. He had stayed the same, save a couple of wrinkles of worry—totally comprehensible for someone with his position.

         She curtsied. “Your Majesty, it’s an honor to meet you once again,” she said.

         “Princess Y/N, please come in,” he motioned for her to come in. She straightened up and calmly walked into the room. “I believe you haven’t acquainted yourself with Prince Jason,” he nodded towards the direction of the man standing angrily in the corner.

         “No, I haven’t,” she smiled politely and turned to the man. She curtsied, “Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

         She could feel him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn’t see him. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Highness,” he answered sarcastically.

         She uncurled and crossed her hands in front of her body. She glanced one last time at her suitor, studying him.

        He was beautiful.

        Jason had the prettiest eyes she had ever seen. They were the perfect shade of blue, and she never thought there was a perfect shade of color. His hair had a streak of white, that made him look even more rugged than he already was. His hair was swept, messy in the perfect way. He was pretty in the way a bounty hunter or a thief would be, not the way a prince would. Princes were known for being pristine and soft around the edges: Jason was nothing like that.

        She turned her eyes to the king. “I believe we have arrangements to make,” she said calmly.

        “Yes, we do,” the king replied. He picked up a stack of papers on top of his desk. “I took the liberty of assembling a contract for the annexation,” his hand rested on top of it. “Your input will be valuable.”

        King Bruce handed her the papers. “Thank you very much, your Majesty. I imagine this needs to be signed by the end of the week?”

        “Yes, but I’d rather it was signed today. Forgive me for the rush, but we need your scholars’ help as soon as possible.”

        “I understand,” she replied. “By the end of the day we can sign then.”

        “That’s perfect, Princess Y/N. Jason, escort her to the library so she can read in peace,” Bruce commanded.

        “Yes, Father,” he gritted through his teeth. She could feel his body shaking with anger and resentment and she knew she was the source of it.

        He strode towards the door and flung it open for her. She curtsied to the king one last time, before turning and accompanying her suitor towards the library.

        Jason’s hands were crossed behind his back, his feet heavily stomping the ground. She kept up with him, walking side by side, lifting her dress slightly.

        The walk was filled with strained silence. She started to feel uneasy about the waves of anger coming off Jason, she felt the need to address it.        

        He stopped abruptly and opened the double door standing in front of them, revealing the most beautiful library she had ever laid eyes on. Bookshelves adorned all of the walls, from the ceiling to the floor. The stairs to the mezzanine—once again filled with full bookshelves—were of sculpted wood and she considered them pieces of art. The ceiling had the most beautiful paintings on it, and she wondered who had the patience to paint such a huge canvas. It was all breathtaking.

        “Well, this is the library. If you need anything don’t hesitate on calling one of the help,” Jason said mechanically, snapping her back to reality.

        “Thank you, your Highness,” she muttered, still quite perplexed at the sight. She inhaled deeply and said: “I know this situation isn’t ideal and that you might feel cornered. But, truly, I’m not here to get in your way. I just want what’s best for my people.”

        Jason hummed, his anger somewhat subsiding but still very much present. “Yes, well,” he said, “I think you should get to reading that contract. Wouldn’t want to keep his Majesty waiting,” he finished, voice laced with sarcastic undertones. He turned around and left her alone with the papers.

#

#

It was late at night. The sun was long gone. Her stomach rumbled in hunger; the last thing she ate was at lunch, when she was about halfway through the papers.

         It wasn’t even that long, she just wanted to be thorough. She had read every single line for what it was and all the possible meaning behind it. Kudos to King Bruce for making such a complete and meaningful contract, she had been entertained the entire day.

         She rubbed her eyes, exhausted. She had managed to reorganize the contract after pulling it apart, the small piece of paper with her suggestions resting on top of it. With her hands stained with ink, she picked the papers up and headed towards the door, when it opened.

         “Sir Pennyworth,” she said in surprise, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

         “Your Highness, his Majesty has sent me to escort you to his office. I believe you’ve settled on the final details of the papers?” he announced politely.

         “Yes, I did. King Bruce did a superb job on it,” she complimented. He guided the way towards the office.

         “I’m afraid it wasn’t him who wrote it,” Sir Pennyworth pondered.

         “No?” she replied.

         “I’m sure it was Prince Tim, he’s the one with an aptitude for these endeavors,” he said.

         “Oh, I’m afraid I haven’t met Prince Tim, yet. I’ll be sure to compliment him when I do.”

         “He’ll be excited, your Highness,” he commented. “What did you think of Gotham so far?”

         She smiled sweetly at the older man. “I haven’t seen the city yet, but I found the part I have seen completely charming,” it wasn’t completely a lie. It was charming. Just not as charming as her own kingdom. “The castle, though, I’m mesmerized by it. You have done an incredible job maintaining it, Sir Pennyworth.”

         “Please, your Highness, call me Alfred. Thank you for your kind words,” he smiled warmly.

         “Well, Alfred,” she stressed his name, respecting his wishes, “thank you for escorting me.”

         She stopped as she saw the familiar door, holding the papers tightly. “It’s been my pleasure, your Highness,” he bowed, and left.

         She knocked on the door, calmly. A muffled come in came through and she turned the doorknob. Walking in, she saw King Bruce and three of his sons gathered around a round desk in the corner, a map sprawled out. She curtsied. “Your Majesties, I’m here with the contract and my notes.”

         She saw one of the Princes mouth ‘notes?’ to Prince Dick, (who shrug it off, just as confused) as Prince Jason rolled his eyes at her once more. “Please, Princess, sit down so we can further discuss it,” he motioned to his desk. “Dick, Tim, we will continue debating this tomorrow. Dick, you are dismissed. Tim, stay in case we need to change the composition.”

         Both Princes furrowed their eyebrows. As Dick left the room without a word or bow—which she was sure broke some kind of protocol—Tim decided to sit on an armchair next to the table they were standing before. The door closed with a click and she sat down, the papers resting on her lap gently.

         “I heard you said you have some notes on the text?” King Bruce initiated politely.

         “I mean no disrespect, your Majesty. The redaction was splendid,” she complimented, “I just mean there could be a couple of points added to make it more complete.”

         “Yes, yes,” he agreed, “please make your points.”

         “I agreed to this proposition on the condition of preserving my kingdom’s tradition in academia. While there was a clause in page 5 that stated that clearly, I thought it would be to everyone’s benefit if it was expanded into specifics,” she handed him the contract and the notes.

         He glanced over the notes, Jason reading it too, behind his Father. “I think these are all fair requests.”

         She smiled. A much needed win for her kingdom. “Thank you,” she said.

         “Tim, grab a pen and paper and add these to the text,” Bruce ordered. “We sign this tonight.”

         Tim jumped up from his seat, quickly opening a drawer for the pen and paper, and grabbing her notes. He scribbled furiously and within minutes the new page of the contract was finished, both parties agreeing to it.

         “Now, all there’s left to do is sign,” Tim announced handing a pen to Jason.

         She noticed Jason’s eyes filled with something indescribable, a mix of what she assumed was anger and grief. She wished both of them had a choice, but this was bigger than both. She prayed to the stars that both could make the best of this bad situation.

         He signed, handing the pen to her. Her fingers brushed for a mere second, and she felt heat rising to her cheeks. She quickly recomposed herself and swiftly signed out her name, her kingdom.

         It was done. It was easier than she thought it would be. She hoped she hadn’t made the wrong decision, and there was all that was left to do.

         King Bruce dismissed Tim, leaving just her and Jason in the room. “There’s the matter of the engagement ball,” he stated. “We hope to announce your engagement by the end of next week.”

        “Of course,” she stated clearly. Jason only grunted. 

        “Should I expect both of you to be involved in the planning?” the King asked. It sounded more like an order and she knew Jason knew about that. 

        Jason nodded stiffly. She then turned to the King and opened a polite smile. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” she agreed. 

        King Bruce dismissed both of them and Jason ran out of the room. 

         She ran to catch up to him, his long strides almost besting her in a long gown and high heels. “Prince Jason, wait!” she shouted.

         He stopped and turned. “What?”

         If she was taken aback by his rudeness she was sure to not show it. “Since now it’s official, I was wondering if I could tag along to one of your strategy meetings. I might have some knowledge to share or point the way to help.”

         “Aren’t you going to be too busy planning the ball?” he taunted. 

         “I’m perfectly capable of focusing on more than one thing,” she replied dryly. “Gotham is my kingdom now, I want it to prosper. And I want to be a part of it.”

         His face didn’t leave any indications on whether or not he was to grant her permission to participate, so she was surprised when she heard him agreeing. “I’ll arrange for you to participate in one. I’ll send Alfred to tell you details,” he dismissed and turned around once again intended to walk to wherever he was headed.

        “Thank you,” she shouted after him. 

        He hesitated before walking. He turned to her slightly and gave her a smile--and she felt like it was an honest one. He turned back and disappeared. 

 #

#

A gentle breeze blew as she walked down the busy streets of Gotham. Her dress—which she felt was too light for this occasion—blended in with the crowd splendidly. Jason walked beside her calmly, his hands behind his back.

         His face was serene and calm, as if he was truly where he belonged. She thought it as a good quality: it meant he was empathic, not on a pedestal like most heirs. He came from the people and he would serve his people. Her heart fluttered involuntarily. She struggled to contain it.

         The people of the city were quite vivacious and charming. The city in itself was gloomy and, quite honestly, a touch depressing, but the people colored the streets and made it feel almost as if the city was breathing.

         “This is so different,” she said, perplexed by the movement around her. No one as they passed by her noticed who she was, or better, what she was. “They don’t care.”

         Jason smiled. “No, they don’t.”

         “It’s quite magical,” she concluded.

         “It may be to us, but to other people,” he pointed to a couple, both very dirty and very thin sitting on the floor. They tried to get people’s attention, but they just didn’t care, “well, it can be quite awful.”

         She wished she was just as cold as those other people. It would save her a whole lot of suffering but she wasn’t. People’s pains found a way to her heart and became her own. She pushed through the crowd, muttering a few ‘excuse me’s along the way. She took off the only jewelry—a necklace, so simple and delicate; it was one of her favorites—she was wearing and left it in the can the old couple had in front of them.

         She knelt to be at eye level with them and said, looking at their shocked faces: “Sell it, please. It’s worth some money and you’ll be able to buy some food and clothes.”

         Their faces lit up and they thanked her enthusiastically. She smiled at them before getting up and rejoining Jason and continuing her walk. He had the same shock the couple had. He offered his arm, out of politeness she was sure, and her hand rested on the crook of his elbow.

         “Out of all the things I thought you would do, I—” he trailed off.

         “You think so little of me,” she said. “I’m not heartless, you know?”

         “I never assumed that,” he muttered.

         She looked him dead in the eye. His eyes twinkled in the sunlight and once again she had to fight the fluttering feeling in her stomach. “Good.”

         A few beats went by before either of them spoke again. She was the one to break the silence. “Does Gotham have any social programs to help the poor? It would greatly benefit the people,” she added kindly. “If there isn’t, I’m sure I can think of something to help.”

         Jason fought to contain a smile creeping on his face. “I think His Majesty deals with this type of project. You’d have to talk to him,” he said, guiding her back to the carriage.

         “I’ll discuss it with him then,” she said, impassive, her lips quirking up at the end. “Have you arranged for me to participate in the meeting?”

         Jason sobered up quickly. He couldn’t show her that he found her amusing. He couldn’t be so transparent. He didn’t want a wife, he repeated to himself. He didn’t need a wife, he tried to convince himself. This girl was not for him, she was too good. “I did.”

         She smiled. “Great. I’ll catch up on studies so I can understand everything.”

         He hoped he had remained impassive, because he couldn’t control the plethora of feelings inside his heart. Fuck.

 #

#

Jason paced in his office. Tim watched him closely, studying his brother.

         “Why are you so exasperated?” Tim questioned. “I’m glad you like her, otherwise you would have led a horrible life.”

         “That’s exactly my point,” Jason said, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to like her, Tim. She’s too good for me.”

         “How do you know that? You’ve barely even met her,” Tim leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.

         “I just fucking know it, Tim,” he snapped, yelling at his brother. “It’s bullshit, that’s what it is. I wasn’t supposed to be in this situation, I’m not supposed to fall in love and get married and have a white picket fence life, goddammit. Look at me” he motioned to himself, looking straight into Tim’s eyes, “I’m a fucking disgrace. I’m a monster who kills people without remorse, I’m—”

         “Enough with the self-pity, Jason!” Tim got up abruptly, matching Jason’s volume. Jason’s mouth promptly shut. “Stop it. You’ve wallowed in it since Bruce told you about the arrangement, I won’t allow it anymore,” he added quietly. “You know none of what you said is true, you know it,” Tim walked to his brother and rested his hands on his shoulder. “Fuck what you think, Jay. Fuck what everybody else thinks, okay? You’re already getting married to her no matter what, let yourself like her. It’s the least you could do.”

         “I can’t—” Jason inhaled sharply recomposing himself. “I don’t know if I can like her the way she deserves.”

         “Then try. Isn’t it what you’ve spent your life doing? Trying? Try this too. What’s the worst that could happen?”

         “She hates me and I have to be married for the rest of my life with someone who hates me,” he didn’t say that that was his greatest fear. That he never wanted to be like his parents, fighting and bickering and beating each other. Showing their worst to the world. Having a kid and traumatizing him to the point he’d hardly trust someone.

         “So, you’d be just like another royal,” Tim tried to lighten up the mood. He noticed Jason’s somber expression and quickly sobered up.  “She doesn’t hate you. She’s trying so hard to please you, to prove to you she’s a worthy addition to the family, can’t you see?”

         “She’s not doing it for me,” Jason got out of Tim’s hold, turning his back to his brother. 

         “She may not, but she’s trying hard, when most wouldn’t even bother. That’s something, Jay,” Tim completed. 

         Jason didn’t complement Tim. He had enough with the talking and the convincing. Tim sighed sadly, and left the room, leaving Jason to sulk alone.

#

#

Between setting everything up for the ball, arranging the wedding ceremony, learning everything she could about Gotham recent history, and everything else she had taken upon, she was completely and utterly occupied. 

        It was for the better though. The more she was doing, the less she stayed inside her head, thinking about herself and letting her anxiety and doubt eat her inside. She had done the right thing, she kept reminding herself. She had done the best thing for her people, they would prosper, they would not suffer anymore. 

        And yet, there was always a little voice telling her that she had signed her people’s death sentence. The more she learned about Gotham, the more she read about its history and its horrors and its corruption, the more she thought she had condemned her people to a life in misery. Look at the amount of homeless, she thought, why did Gotham have so many homeless people, so many kids?

        No. No. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to get nervous. She was sure in her decision, and Prince Jason had proven himself to be reliable, even if he was distant. When she asked him a favor, he did it. When she asked him a question about his lands--Park Row--he would answer it truthfully. It was more than she could have expected in an arranged marriage. Most of those ended up in misery, both parties unfaithful to their spouses. She knew Prince Jason wouldn’t seek pleasure and comfort elsewhere. She felt it. 

        As soon as she stopped in front of Jason’s improvised study in Gotham’s main castle, Prince Tim opened the door. She could see Jason gazing through the window, his back turned to the door. 

        “Princess Y/N!” Prince Tim exclaimed, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

        She saw Jason tense and turn to them. She smiled. “I have a couple of things to discuss with Prince Jason,” she explained. 

        Tim chuckled. “Yes, yes, of course,” he shook his head and said with an airy smile on his face. He turned to Jason and shared a look. Jason looked like he could kill his brother. Tim stepped out of the way and let her enter the room. She entered and Tim left closing the door behind him. 

        She stared at him. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes casting shadows over his face. But somehow, his eyes looked brighter than she had ever seen it before. She has trouble breathing and her heart beated faster inside her chest. She swallowed dryly, her hands gripping tightly the papers she carried. She curtsied to him. Follow protocol. Protocol is safe, it doesn’t make anyone nervous. 

        “You wanted to see me?” he asked, his voice strained. 

        “Yes, well,” she snapped out of her daze, “there’s still a few details to be decided for the ball.”

        He sighed and sat on his chair, his body looking exhausted. “Can’t you decide?”

        “It’s not only my ball,” she said. “I can’t decide for you, Your Highness.”

        “Don’t call me Your Highness,” he muttered, annoyed. “It’s weird. We’re going to be married,” he explained. “I don’t want to have protocol in the middle of it.”

        She looked down at her feet and back up at him. There went her comfort, the line she drew to not get too close. It was a business transaction after all, no need to get personal. Well, she figured, it got personal when she promised herself as a bargain coin for politics. “Yes, of course,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again,” she finished.

        He sighed. He mentioned for her to sit in front of her and she sat. “We need to establish some rules before we embark in this...journey together,” he stated. 

        “Of course,” she agreed.

        “I don’t want you to be restrained by protocols and etiquette when speaking to me,” he said softly. “We’re going to rule a kingdom together, one that just got bigger, we’re going to have to trust each other.”

        “I agree,” she said, hesitant. “What is your point?”

        “Call me Jason,” he said. “I never really liked my title all that much and I don’t want my future wife using it when talking to me,” he stated. It was the first time she heard him referring to her as his future wife, and he said it like it didn’t bother him. It sent butterflies to her stomach. 

        “Yes, you’re right,” she shook her head. Of course he was. Her parents never called each other by their titles when they were alone. “I suppose you’d want to form a friendship too?”

        His mouth quirked up. “That would be preferable, yes,” he said. 

        “Okay, then, Jason,” she stressed his name. “Then we should start this partnership deciding which colors do you want the napkins to be.”

        “Actually,” Jason started, “I have something to give you first.”

        She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”

        “Yes,” he breathed. “I wanted to start this on the right foot,” he pulled out a little velvet box from a drawer behind the desk and walked to be beside her. “Since we’re engaged, I thought it was only appropriate to give you an engagement ring.”

        She looked up at him, surprised. “You didn’t have to,” she shook her head. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

        He smiled at her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

        She picked up the box and opened. Resting inside it, she noticed, was the prettiest ring she had ever seen. There was a single ruby, sided with two simple diamonds. It wasn’t the flashiest and biggest engagement ring she ever saw--one of the ladies of her court married a rich duke from a far away kingdom and he had given her a diamond ring that almost covered her entire finger. “It’s beautiful,” she said, staring at it.

        “Allow me,” he said, picking the box, and slipping the ring on her finger. His hands lingered on hers longer than it should have. “There.”

        She stared at it for a bit longer. “I have no words, Jason.”

        He smirked and walked to his chair. “How about we decide the color of the napkins?”

        He knew he shouldn’t have done that. He was getting involved, he was cultivating feelings for her, feelings he had refused to have just mere minutes ago when he was talking with Tim. But when he was with her, he couldn’t help it, he was just swept away by her. Suddenly, around her, Jason wanted to do everything to please her, to make her happy and satisfied. 

        Jason knew he was in deep shit. Jason knew he was falling for her, and he wanted, consciously, to stop that. But he couldn’t: his heart spoke louder. 

        He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

 #

#

They had walked side by side the entirety of the ball. Her hand rested in a variety of places, the crook of his elbow, his hand, or the skirt of her dress. It didn’t need any saying that her favorite place for her hand to be was in his. 

        Nevertheless, the fluttering it sent to her stomach every time he would smile at her--albeit she knew the smile was only for show--it didn’t diminish the anger she felt at him.

        They walked side by side all night, him telling a fantasious story about how they met. It was love at first sight, he’d tell. They’d met under the moonlight, a sky full of stars, he looked at her and knew she was meant for him. She wore a blue dress, according to him. She smiled at him and it was like a whole new world opened up to him, a world full of love. According to him.

        The worst part was that she couldn’t say anything. Because she didn’t know anything about the lie he had constructed, what he had told other people when she was talking to his brothers while he was talking to Kings of other kingdoms. And that was what made her angry. He had reduced her, at least for the night, as a mere accessory for him. 

        He had been so sweet with her, so charming and loving. And then he did what he did. It could have been worse, she thought. He could have been invasive, he could have ignored her ‘no’. In that way, he was an angel. But he was still shitty with her that night. And it didn’t matter that it could have been a million times worse, Jason had reduced her to an arm candy. She still felt like an object. That would never be acceptable to her.

        He took her to the dance floor, as the orchestra played a slow song. 

        “It was a charming story you told our guests,” she said, her voice impassive. 

        “I figured it would be better for them to think we’re marrying for love instead of what actually is,” he explained, his hand resting on her lower back and the other holding her hand. She ignored the feeling his touch sent through her body. 

        “I wish you would have told me,” she said, her voice strained. She tried to control her anger. 

        “What do you mean?” he asked, confused. 

        “I discovered you had concocted a story for us at the same time all the others did, Jason,” she said. “And I couldn’t say anything, in risk of exposing the lie you’ve built.”

        He looked at her confused for a mere second, before recognizing what he did. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t think--”

        “You didn’t,” she interrupted him. “I’m not an accessory, Jason. I’m far too smart for that role,” she said. “I can’t stand by your side and smile and wave as if it’s just all I can do. I came to Gotham expecting not to be numbed by antique expectations of women of royalty. And you forced me to fit that box tonight. I hate it.”

        “I’m truly sorry,” he said sincerely. 

        “Yes,” she nodded. “Next time you decide to lie, at least tell me what you’re planning. After all this is a partnership, we agreed on that. We can’t act behind each other's back.”

        “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, squeezing the hand he was holding more tightly and bringing her closer to him. “It won’t ever happen again.”

        “Good,” she nodded. 

        She knew he was trying to charm her with his tight hold on her. She tried to stay mad at him, tried to remain impassive, but she found that she felt safe with his arms around her like that. She broke a shy smile at him. He smiled at her too, his eyes bright with something unrecognizable. 

#

#

She sat quietly in the corner, a notebook resting in her lap. Her fingers twiddled with the pen, as she listened attentively to what the council members had to say.

         It was refreshing to be intellectually stimulated when she’d spent the entire week deciding dumb details about the wedding. It didn’t matter what flower arrangement the church was going to be decorated with, or which color the napkins were. She really didn’t care about it. If it were up to her she’d be married in a tiny room with no party. But it wasn’t, so she complied.

         “—we need to send humanitarian help to the Bowery, the people are starving!” Lady Helena exclaimed, cutting Tim in his long rant about something overly complicated.

         “We can send help after we eliminate Scarecrow!” Tim replied just as loudly. “If we send food, the gang will intercept and the situation will get worse, Helena. Don’t you get it?”

         “What I get, Tim,” she said annoyed, “is that you are so entangled in your overly complicated plan to dismantle their operation that you are blind to the suffering of your people.”

         Tim got up abruptly from the table, angry at Lady Helena, his fists balled up like he was going to punch her. Dick rested a hand in his brother's arms, calmly guiding him down for him to sit. Tim sat with a thud, his eyes flaming with rage, his face red.

         Jason, who was awfully quiet the entire meeting, sighed and rubbed his hands on his face. He leaned forward on the table, looking defeated. “And here I thought we’d make a good first impression,” he mumbled.

         “It’s okay, your Highness,” she said respectfully, thinking it would be better to use his title in front of the committee instead of his name. “In fact, I think I might have the solution to the Bowery problem.”

         Tim scoffed. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for the past year to solve it and I’m nowhere near to the solution.”

         She ignored his comment. “Anyway, I remember reading something about Scarecrow in my dad’s files. I’d need to reread to be sure, but I know there’s a safe way to provide supplies for those in need.”

         Jason clasped his hands together. “Great! We’ll discuss details at the next meeting after we get those files.”

         “If you don’t mind, I’d rather pick those up myself,” she said 

         “Sure, I’ll ask Alfred to arrange the trip,” he dismissed. “Well if there’s nothing else to discuss, this meeting is finished.”

        The council members disbanded leaving only her and Jason in the council room. 

        “What did you think?” Jason asked, his voice tired. 

        “They mean well,” she started, “but I can see that they’re desperate for results. And desperation in these situations isn’t a good thing.”

        “I know,” he sighed, his hands running through his hair. “I know, I’ve tried telling them but it never works in the long run.”

        She smiled. “Good thing I know how to help,” she said. 

        “Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s good that you’re here.”

#

#

He knew it was coming. He thought he was prepared for it. He thought he wouldn’t feel anything when he saw her walking down the long aisle, he hoped he wouldn’t. But when Jason saw her in her white dress, walking towards him, his heart stopped for a second and the world stopped turning. 

        She chose to walk down the aisle by herself. She wanted to show she wasn’t led into any decisions. She was doing this by her own accord, her own judgement. Jason thought it showed a lot of her character. She stood by her decisions and its consequences. She was strong. He admired her, more than he cared to admit. 

        Jason could barely remember the ceremony. He couldn’t stop looking at her, memorizing every detail of her in the light of the Gotham Cathedral, the crown she was wearing, the embroidery in her dress. But most importantly, the look in her eyes. It was everything to Jason. 

        He couldn’t exactly place what it was yet, but it was there and it meant more to him than he realized it ever could. 

        He floated through the ball after the ceremony. It was weird to call someone his wife, he never thought he would see the day he could call someone that. But Jason found that it didn’t repulse him like it would have before he met her. He was left with a tingly sensation of joy inside him. 

        It scared the daylight out of him. 

        He kept a tight grip on her, walking side by side. She was enchanting. She talked smartly with Kings of neighboring kingdoms. He heard King Clark of Metropolis commenting to Bruce how perceptive the new princess was. How intelligent she was. 

        Jason knew all of that, but it still didn’t stop him from being mesmerized. 

        “Who’s that gentleman?” she nodded towards an old man on the corner of the room. 

        Jason hummed looking at the man. “That’s Oswald Cobblepot. He is a part of one of the oldest families of Gotham.”

        “He has been staring intensely at me for the entire ball,” she looked at Jason, whispering to him. 

        “Well, you are the future Queen,” he commented. “People will stare at you more.”

        “No,” she shook her head, her hand resting on the crook of his elbow. He guided her through the ballroom. “This is different. He looks at me like he hates me.”

        “Oh,” he said. “He has a…quarrel, if you will, with the Waynes. His family was one of the few that founded Gotham. The Cobblepots almost ruled the land, but the Waynes got the kingdom. They have hated our family since then.”

        “Now that I’m a Wayne, he hates me?” she asked. “This doesn’t feel right.”

        “Well, technically you’re a Todd-Wayne, but yes.”

        She hummed. “He seems suspicious, Jason,” she whispered. “I think he’s planning something.”

        “Cobblepot is a coward, he would never hurt you,” Jason reassured. “But he would pay for someone to do so.”

        “You think he has?” a twinge of panic rising in her voice. 

        “He has done that before,” Jason said. “He wasn’t supposed to be invited, but Bruce insisted, and I had to dislocate more guards to the ballroom because of him.”

        “Can you keep an eye on him?” she asked. “I have a bad feeling about him.”

        “We always keep an eye on him, Y/N” he whispered. “He’s a criminal.”

        “What?” she said, shocked. He guided her to the dance floor, as a soft song played through the room. 

        “We have undercover guards track him everywhere,” he stated quietly, as if no one was supposed to know. “We have to every criminal mastermind this city has ever had the pleasure to meet.”

        “That’s a lot of guards then,” she commented. 

        “It’s a fucking nightmare,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone get to you, love.”

        She looked at his eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Jason.”

        “I’m your husband now, Y/N. It’s my duty,” he said.

        She smiled shyly at him and glanced at their feet for a second before looking back at him. “I never thought…”

        He smiled at her. “What?”

        She shook her head, smiling at him, completely lost for words. “Nevermind.”

        He sighed and tightened his hold on her. “I didn’t say this yet, but you look breathtaking today,” he stated, clearly. 

        “You look beautiful too,” she replied. 

        He gaped at her, like he wasn’t expecting the compliment. He quickly recomposed himself. “Well, I guess we make a breathtakingly beautiful couple then,” he joked. 

        “I guess we do,” she looked deeply into his eyes, smiling softly. Her eyes glinted with something different, something familiar and warm. But something he couldn’t quite name yet. 

        He found that he looked forward to the day when he could.

#

# 

She had dismissed the maid that would help her get rid of the dress. She was too nervous to deal with anyone else. She paced in front of her vanity, waiting for Jason to come in their room. 

        It was so weird to think that now there was a ‘they’. They were a couple, they were a unit.  It was a first for her, and she hadn’t had the time to think about it until all of the whirlwind of the wedding had passed. 

        “I thought you would have been out of that uncomfortable dress by now,” she heard him. She turned to see him. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie hanging untied on his neck. He carried his jacket over his shoulder. He looked relaxed and comfortable, and she got even more nervous looking at him.

        “I was nervous so I sent Claire away,” she shrugged. 

        He took a step in her direction. “What are you nervous about?”

        She sighed and pressed her hands together over the skirt of her dress. “About us,” she whispered. “I didn’t think of the after. I didn’t have the time.”

        He smiled and took another step towards her, finally close enough to her. She could see perfectly the sincerity in his eyes. She could see the scar above his eyebrow and the tiny freckles on his nose. “You don’t have to be nervous about anything,” he reassured her. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

        “It’s not only that,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never done this before. This…” she hesitated, “partnership. I know things are different for men.”

        “I don’t see how,” he furrowed his eyebrows. 

        “You know how,” she snapped. “Men are praised for their sexual endeavours. Women are expected to remain pure until marriage,” she explained calmly. “And it’s not fair to either of us, you have an unfair advantage over me and I--,” she stopped herself.

        “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You can say it, I won’t be hurt.”

        She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do this, Jason,” she admitted. “I’ve never even been kissed before.”

        He smirked. “That’s easy to resolve,” he stated. His hands cradled her face and he leaned in, stopping just before their lips met. “If you want, of course,” he whispered, his breath mixing with hers. 

        Her breath got caught up in her throat. She wasn’t expecting him to be that direct. She thought he would seduce her first, like in the romance novel she had read. She’d rather his directness. “Yes,” she whispered. 

        He smirked and clashed his lips with hers. She closed her eyes and grabbed his shoulders tightly. His lips were surprisingly soft on hers, and she wondered what would happen if he decided to kiss with more passion instead of holding back. 

        She decided to, then, take the first step towards that direction. Her hands moved to his hair and she brought his lips closer to hers--which she thought it was impossible. She responded with more passion and more eagerness and he was shocked for a second before complying. 

        One of his hands moved to her waist and pressed her body closer to his. She opened her mouth just a little and his tongue licked her lips, entering her mouth slightly. She felt a wave of heat invade her, and she let it in pleasurably. His mouth started to make way down her neck, his fingers on her back, fumbling with the buttons of her dress.

        She felt panicked at the intimacy of the act and tensed. Jason felt her nervousness and stopped. “We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” he whispered. 

        “It’s too much,” she replied, her voice strained. “It’s not you, Jay, I’m just not ready.”

        He cradled her head, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’d wait forever for you,” he said. “I can wait until you’re ready.”

        She gave him a shy smile. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

        “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, let me undo those buttons and get some sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

#

#

The carriage shook as they rode through the country towards her kingdom. She looked out of the tiny window at the horizon, admiring the view. 

        “Did you miss home?” Jason asked. 

        She looked at him. “I did miss my Mother, and my friends,” she said, “But I don’t know if it’s my home anymore.”

        “What is home then?” he asked, curious. 

        She searched in his eyes any indication of his intentions with that question. She found nothing but admiration and warmth and--if she’d be so bold--love. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “When I found out, I’ll tell you.”

        “Please do, I’d like to visit that place,” he laughed. 

        Now that they were officially married, they had moved back to Jason’s residence in Park Row. They were almost completely disconnected from the Wayne Castle in the outskirts of the city. Park Row was in a part of the city called Old Gotham, some would say it’s the heart of the city, right in the center, the most populous part. Others would say it’s the cancer of the mechanism of the town, littered with homeless and thieves.

        Jason was born in Park Row. His parents were simple people. He didn’t give her much detail on who they were, and she could feel it hurt to talk about that subject so she didn’t push him to say anything. All he would tell was that his Father died first, and he was left as a child to help his sick Mother and him survive. 

        He became a pickpocket at age 8. His Mother died when he was 9. He lived on the streets up until he was 13. That was when King Bruce found him and took him in. Jason said he was trying to steal one of the wheels of his carriage when Bruce arrived and offered him shelter and food. Next day, he was already adopted and enrolled in classes. Next day he became a prince. She wondered what it was like for him to have gone through such a radical change in the span of a day. 

        He disappeared when he was 17. He was especially cagey about his time away. No matter what questions she asked he wouldn’t answer any of them. She wanted to attribute it to mystique, but she knew it was because of trauma. 

        When he came back he was a changed man, a stronger one, a more traumatised one. That was when he started to disagree with his Father more. He would question the methods Bruce would use in his hunt for justice in Gotham. He would question everything Bruce did, in Jason’s exact words. He didn’t detail anything and she started to notice a trend in his behavior: when something hurt him too deeply, he would barely talk about it. 

        Next thing he knew, he agreed to be the heir, he accepted the role his older brother left for him. He said it was because he knew better than any of his siblings how it was to be on the streets and suffer like most in Gotham. He would do better by them, and she believed in him. Wholeheartedly. 

        “So, what’s the plan of attack here?” he asked. 

        “We go in, say hello to my Mother and go to my Father’s study and look for the files,” she said. “It’s a dangerous mission, be careful,” she joked. 

        “We should have called for backup,” he said, seriously, embarking on her joke. “Maybe 1,000 soldiers would have sufficed.”

        “More like 10,000,” she laughed. “Seriously, we’ll just spend the afternoon going through dusty paperwork,” she said. “It’s going to be quite boring.”

        He smiled. “Nothing’s boring with you,” he stated. 

        She smiled back. “I quite disagree, but I appreciate the compliment.”

        The carriage halted to a stop. Jason opened the door for her and offered his hand for her to come down the steps. She accepted it and stood proudly by his side. He offered his arm and she took it. He led her towards the staircase that led to the main entrance of her castle. She could see her Mother standing there waiting for her. 

        She had her problems with her Mother, but she still loved her. She left Jason’s hold and ran up the stairs to meet her Mother. She panted when she finally got up the stairs, but nevertheless, she held her Mother in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. 

        “You shouldn’t have run,” her Mother said in her ear, her voice humorous. “What would Prince Jason think?”

        “Jason would think I love my Mother and I’ve missed her,” she stated. “How have you been?” she said, breaking the hug.

        “I’ve been okay,” Mother answered. She looked behind her daughter and her expression became impassive. “Your Highness,” her Mother said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

        Jason smiled at her mother. “The pleasure is all mine.”

        She smiled at her husband and at her Mother. “Shall we get inside?”she suggested. “Jason and I have to go through Father’s files.”

        “Oh, those things?” her Mother said. “Good luck, I know he left those completely disorganized.”

        “I remember,” she muttered. “It’s going to be a nightmare,” she said to Jason. 

        “I don’t mind,” Jason stated. “We can spend as long as we want here,” he gripped her hand. “This is important for us back in Gotham, it’s important to be thorough.”

        “Well,” her Mother started, “I’ll leave you two to work then. I’ll send in some tea for you.”

        “Thank you Mother,” she said, watching her Mother disappear into the corridor. She turned to Jason and smiled. “Shall we?”

        He bowed slightly and said: “Lead the way, My Lady.”

        She smiled and started getting up the stairs, Jason right beside her. 

        It was charming how much Jason’s behavior towards her had changed so much in a relatively small amount of time. When she had first met him, she feared a loveless marriage, with a husband cold towards her. But, slowly--or as slow as it felt--he had shifted. He started being less sarcastic and more truthful. He would still make sarcastic remarks, but never directed towards her. Jason started being soft and understanding. It was weird to think of a man so big and rough as him as soft and gentle, but it was how she saw him. 

        She knew he had his insecurities. He had told her once. He had told her he was reluctant to trust her, that he thought he didn’t deserve her. She said he was selling himself short. He replied that she didn’t know most things that he had done. She thought that it didn’t matter because she was falling in love with him. 

        Love. What a strange feeling. What an overwhelmingly dangerous feeling. It had changed her entire view of the world. She was much more willing to happiness, to the tiny beautiful things of the world. She saw things colored pink. She knew this effect would pass, but she would enjoy it while she could. 

        She felt his hand brush hers. She looked down at their hands, barely touching and then looked at him with a smile. He looked forward, his face impassive, like he had no idea what he was doing. She held his hand and he squeezed it.  Her mouth quirked up slightly. 

        She led him right to a giant double door. She released his hand and opened the door, revealing her Father’s office. 

        It was considerably smaller than King Bruce’s office, but it still held an air of authority. Behind the main desk there was a big window that had a view of the castle entrance.   Both side walls were bookcases, from the ceiling to the ground. In the middle of the room was the King’s desk, untouched. 

        “Nobody has come in here since he died,” she said quietly. “Except me.”

        “I’m sorry for your loss,” he replied. 

        “It’s fine, it’s been a long time,” she sniffed. “I just miss him.”

        Jason remained quiet, examining the room. “Anyways,” she said. “I’ll get those files, and we’ll start looking.”

        She pulled a book in the middle of a bookcase. The bookcase retreated and it revealed a big safe. She opened the safe and revealed piles and piles of papers, untouched for years. “Will you help me?” she asked, picking a pile. 

        He picked up another big pile. He rested it on the floor. “We can pick more up after we go through these,” she said, sitting on the floor. “We’ll be entertained for a while.”

        They spent hours reading. She started a system to organize the files into topics. Those that treated about economic affairs were separated into one corner of the room, those of the political affairs into the other. The political affairs were separated into topics: internal politics, external, and finally security. Those were the ones they had to nitpick through. She catalogued it in criminals: Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face, Scarecrow, the lot. 

        She had through those files at least once in her life. It was interesting to read through once, and she could see Jason was fascinated about the operations her Father had led once. But she found it a bit boring, like she had predicted. Nevertheless she persisted. It was more important than her entertainment. 

        “Y/N” he called for her, “look at this.”

        She got up from the ground and walked towards him. She had discarded her shoes long ago and was almost tempted to change into some pants. “Yes?” she asked. 

        “Is this the file you talked about?” He gave her the document. 

        She scanned through the document. It detailed how they had managed to successfully cut off supplies for the fabrication of the fear gas in her kingdom and how, with that, they had managed to ban Scarecrow from there. “It is,” she said. “I can’t believe you found it, I thought we would spend another day looking for it.”

        “We already did that,” he said. “We already tried stopping the production of the gas, we discovered an antidote for it, it didn’t stop Crane.”

        She smiled. “It’s not only that,” she explained, turning her back and going to the internal affairs pile. “You can’t stop only Crane, you have to redirect his soldiers to a more positive occupation,” she found the file and gave it to him. “See?”

        He read through the document quickly. “But we have social programs in Gotham, it still--”

        “You have and those social programs are great,” she said. “But it’s not enough for you to take care of the children and the homeless, you have to take care of the poor, those who struggle to get a job and do whatever it takes to not be helped by those social programs.

          “You have to direct those men and women to better jobs, give them better chances, educate them and then you’ll defeat Scarecrow fully,” she finished

        “Because then they’ll know better than to join him,” he whispered. “It’s brilliant.”

        “It’s how you stop them,” she smiled and sat on his lap. “This is the beginning of the end, Jason. We’re on the right path.”

        “How didn’t we think of it?” he asked himself. Her hands found his cheeks, caressing it gently. 

        “You were too focused on the short term solution, and it’s okay,” she assured. “Now, you can do better.”

        “I will,” he looked into her eyes and he said. “Thank you.”

        “For what?” she asked, confused. 

        “For everything,” he whispered. “For agreeing to give up being the sole sovereign of a land to joining Gotham and be its Queen, for being so wonderfully smart, for being patient with me for umm--”

        She interrupted him, kissing him with passion. She stopped the kiss and rested her forehead on his. “You don’t need to thank me, Jay,” she said. “I’m doing what’s right.”

        “For that I love you,” he responded. She tensed at those words. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”

        “I love you,” she said. “I love you,” she kissed him with a passion. 

        “Is it too soon?” he mumbled on her lips. “Is it too soon to say that we love each other?”

        “I feel like I’ve waited all my life for you,” she mumbled back. “So, no.”

        “Great,” he whispered. 

        Then he kissed her like his life depended on it. His kiss was filled with a fiery passion she had never felt before. Granted she hadn’t kissed much in her life, but nevertheless this was a new first for her. 

        His tongue made an entrance in her mouth and she felt a fire run through her. She returned his passion, gripping the base of his hair. He moaned against her mouth, bringing her closer to him. He gripped her waist with determination as his lips moved swiftly against hers. 

        He tilted her head upwards and his mouth kissed its way to her neck. She hummed and as he bit a sensitive part of her skin. “Jay,” she moaned. 

        “If you want me to stop, I will,” he replied, his mouth still on her neck pecking where he had just bitten. 

        “Don’t stop,” she said. 

        “You shall have your wish, then, My Princess,” he smirked and kissed the corner of her mouth. 

        She got impatient and grabbed his face, smashing his lips on hers. She kept on kissing him, running her hands through his hair. He fumbled with the buttons of her dress and she didn’t feel like tensing and running away. She wanted him to continue to fumble with the buttons, she wanted him to open those buttons and take off her dress. 

        “Jason,” she mumbled. 

        He hummed in response, his lips leaving hers. He kissed all over her face and she giggled delighted. 

        “How about we take this elsewhere?” she suggested, trying to be seductive. 

        He smirked and looked at her softly. “Are you sure?” he asked. 

        “Yes, I am,” she affirmed. “I’m ready.”

        He smiled and kissed her lovingly. “I love you,” he whispered, he got up and started carrying her towards the door of the office. He couldn’t stop kissing her even if he tried. 

        “No!” she exclaimed. “There’s a secret bedroom next to here.”

        “Is this castle full of secret passages?” he mumbled, his lips trying to find hers like a magnet. 

        “Yes,” she breathed out. “Pull that book,” she pointed to a book in the top corner of the last shelf of the last bookcase. 

        He pulled the book and the bookcase retreated revealing a simple wooden door. He opened it and it revealed a King’s bedroom. 

        “My Father slept here after he pulled all nighters,” she kissed his neck gently. “After he got sick he barely came into the office so it’s been unused for years.”

        He smiled and lifted her chin. He looked in her eyes lovingly. “Are you really sure?” he asked once again. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

        “How can I, Jason?” she said. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

        He smiled at her. He closed the door behind him and they laid together. 

        To think one day he had questioned how he could want a wife. He hadn’t met her before. He hadn’t known he was destined to meet such a wonderful person, determined and strong. He hadn’t known he was meant to love her. 

        He had been too naïve to think he wouldn’t need her. He needed her more than he needed air, water, food. And he knew she needed him. It was a partnership after all. They needed each other, they trusted each other, and they loved each other.

#

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author’s note: don’t forget to reblog if you’ve liked to make sure more people see it. also, the link to my jason playlist is here

[castiel-kline]

once upon a birthday

Birthdays haven’t always been Jack’s friend, but he’s starting to realize that every May 18th he reaches is a miracle rather than a tragedy.

May 18, 2017.

Jack saw that combination of letters and numbers everywhere on his first day of life. He saw it on the corner of the newspaper on Sheriff Barker’s desk, watched her scribble it on a page of notes she was writing up about him, saw it light up on Clark’s phone when he opened it to show Jack something “cool.” 

It would be a while before he realized that date’s significance.

-

May 18, 2018

Jack was seated around a campfire with the other kids of the rebel camp, staving off their fear of the incoming dark by telling them a story. It was just the plot of Clone Wars, but since it didn’t exist in this universe no one called him out on it. 

Bobby’s voice carried over the sounds of the camp settling down for the night, low but still decipherable. 

“...our supply’ll run out by the 25th. We have to keep moving, get some more.”

Jack never did learn what they were about to run out of, because Mary’s response snared his attention even tighter.

“Remind me what day it is now? I lost track while I was… you know.”

“Right, I get it. It’s May 20th.”

And Jack stopped short in his tale, the realization that he’d been alive more than a year hitting him like a blast from one of Michael’s soldiers. The little girl next to him nudged his elbow and asked if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling gently. “It’s just that my birthday was two days ago. I only realized now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We could sing to you now?” All the children nodded their agreement, but Jack shook his head.

“Thanks, but it’s okay. Besides, I need to finish telling you about Ashoka’s rescue mission, right?” They leaned in closer around the fire, and Jack went back to his narrator voice. “Now, she knew it would be a dangerous journey, but…”

That night when Jack was trying to sleep (Mary made him promise to attempt four hours, even though he didn’t really need it) he wondered if birthday celebrations lived up to their reputation. He wondered if his was ever going to be worth celebrating, given all the pain and death that day had brought.

With the new knowledge that he was a year old, Jack dreamed of his mother- wafting through hazy gold memories of a furniture warehouse, Castiel beside her, in the days before Jack was capable of hurting anyone because he couldn’t control his powers. In the days when he still felt safe.

-

May 18, 2019

“How’s it goin’, kiddo? Enjoying the quiet?”

Jack whirled around to face the Empty head on, unwilling to show just how much its appearance had startled him. It didn’t bother him much, per Billie’s instructions, but sometimes it liked to taunt him. Usually it appeared as his mother, sometimes Cas, but today it looked just like him.

“What do you want?” Jack asked, lifting his chin. His doppleganger mirrored the action, before smirking and sauntering closer.

“Oh, calm down. I don’t bite, I’m just delivering a message.”

“A message from who?”

Billie would just deliver a message in person, and no one else could contact him in here. Maybe Cas could-

“Hmm, I don’t know,” it interrupted Jack’s thoughts. “Time? The Universe? Anyway. Happy birthday, sport. Enjoy the official start of your terrible twos.”

With that the Shadow vanished, leaving Jack alone in the dark once again. He sat down and curled his knees to his chest, wishing there was a corner or a wall he could press his back against. He felt exposed and vulnerable in the vastness of the Empty’s nothing, and it was making him uneasy.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his family was up to down on earth. Would they be sad? Too busy fighting Chuck to notice? Were they even alive?

He wished with all his might that they weren’t alone. Alone wasn’t what you should be on somebody’s birthday.

-

May 18, 2020

As endings went, Jack’s was shaping up to be okay. He’d finally had a good birthday- even if it was both impromptu and a few days early. He laid in bed, belly full of his first ever birthday cake, for once not thinking about his upcoming demise.

A soft knock on the door sounded, and Jack sat up in surprise. A glance at his phone confirmed that it was nearing four in the morning, which only thickened his confusion.

“Come in?”

When Cas pushed open the door, Jack smiled.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, pushing off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Cas pushed the door to a close behind him and shuffled further into the room. “Sorry, I know it’s late, but I had a feeling you’d still be awake.”

“Is everything okay? Nothing went wrong with talking to the angels, did it?”

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Cas assured him. “The angels are going to keep an eye out for Amara, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

Jack frowned. Then why…?

“Happy birthday,” Cas said, pulling a gift bag out from behind his back. “I know it’s early, but I heard you celebrated while I was gone. So I picked something up on the way home.”

“Thank you,” Jack breathed, taking the gift and settling it on his lap. His first birthday gift.

Cas took a seat next to him, giving Jack’s arm a gentle nudge.

“You can open it now, if you’d like.”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He tore into the tissue paper, eagerly unveiling the surprise it hid from view. At the bottom of the bag was a teddy bear, clad in overalls that smushed down its soft brown fur.

“Your mother always wanted to buy one for you,” explained Castiel. “We placed the order, but it didn’t arrive before…”

“Before.” Jack sighed, throat suddenly tight with emotion.

“If you don’t like it I can take it back-”

“No, Cas, it’s great. I love it. Does it have a name?”

The question didn’t faze Cas in the slightest.

“Well, the official name according to the store is Marvelous Marvin. But I believe it’s customary to name a stuffed animal anything you’d like.”

Hmm. Jack studied the bear’s face for a moment, tilting his head. “Marvin’s good,” he declared. “I like it.”

“I’m glad.” Cas smiled, then stood up. “You should get some rest.”

“Wait!” He hadn’t meant to say anything, but as soon as the word was out he realized he really, really, didn’t want this day to end. “I saved a piece of cake for you. And I’m not tired, so…”

It only took about ten seconds before Cas gave in with a fond shake of his head.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Jack followed him to the kitchen, Marvin under one arm.

His third birthday, and his first good birthday.

What would almost certainly be his last birthday.

-

May 18, 2021

There were many things in life Jack had learned to think of as little miracles. Some seemed utterly insignificant, like the flowers that managed to grow between cracks in the sidewalk. Saying hello to his mother should have been just as beautiful and commonplace, but to Jack every chance was more wondrous than the sun shining through a storm.

He whispered it now, breathing another miracle into being in two precious little words.

“Hi, mom.”

Kelly looked up from what she’d been reading, face lighting up in joyous surprise. She came forward and swept him up in her arms, and Jack allowed himself a moment to be grateful. In spite of everything, the universe allowed him to have this.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet,” she said as she pulled away, her hands clasping his. “I mean, you said you had to fix all the parallel universes, and Cas said there’s hundreds of them…”

“I’m not done yet,” he said. “Amara’s still out there, and I’ll have to go back soon, but... I really wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Kelly frowned, concern taking over her features. “Is everything okay? Do you need help, or-?”

“I’m fine,” Jack assured. “It’s -on earth, anyway- it’s May 18th. 2021.”

Realization struck. “It’s your birthday.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, because my being born wasn’t a good day for you, and-”

“Jack, baby.” Kelly put a hand on his cheek, swiping away the tear he hadn’t known was falling. “My death was not your fault. Okay? Of course I want to celebrate your birthday with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can call Cas down here, watch some movies, make a cake-”

Kelly was already moving to the kitchen, all ready to start baking.

“Mom, wait. I… I had a birthday cake once,” he told her. “And that was… special. Could we think of something else to do? Just you and me and Cas?”

“Of course, honey. It’s your day. Cookies?”

Jack nodded, and he smiled. Because in that moment it was crystal clear that each year spent growing older, especially those spent with the people that he loved most, were little miracles too.

And he had plenty more birthdays to look forward to.

[usergreenpixel]

Frev prompts, Part 4! 🎉

21. The protagonist is a high school student with a knack for drawing comics but they’re also the favorite target of the bullies at school.

One day the bullying gets so bad that the protagonist is unable to cope with reality anymore and, as a means of escapism, writes themselves into their new comic about their favorite topic - The French Revolution. With their favorite pen they had inherited from their writer grandfather, no less.

However, what was supposed to be a harmless little self-insert quickly becomes a reality when the protagonist is magically transported into their comic book and now has to navigate their own story and finish it in order to return to the real world, as well as figure out the mysterious powers of the magical pen.

22. Despite the fact that the days when the Bastille used to be packed with prisoners are gone, a handful were still trapped inside its gloomy walls by the time the infamous prison was taken.

The protagonist is one of the few prisoners who are sentenced to imprisonment inside the Bastille until they and the rest of the prisoners are set free by the revolutionaries.

For the first time in a long while, the protagonist is free but not all is sunshine and butterflies because the revolution is only beginning to escalate and the protagonist has long forgotten how to function in the society outside the prison.

With no other options, the protagonist decides to try and rebuild their life from square one, all while the events of the revolution are unfolding in the city of Paris.

23. Two friends, the protagonists, were raised together by a noble family as adopted wards and used to be close as children, but drifted apart when one of the two went abroad to get a good education.

Nevertheless, the childhood friends find themselves reunited by a pure coincidence during a meeting in the Jacobin Club, which both of them joined mere days ago.

All seems well, until it becomes apparent that the protagonists don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to politics in France nor the methods of solving the multiple issues plaguing the country.

This new rift between the protagonists only widens as the revolution progresses and the Jacobin Club gets split into groups on the basis of shared political beliefs.

Will the two protagonists be able to restore the friendship they used to have or will their new differences prove that maybe friendship isn’t always as almighty as people say?

24. The protagonist is acutely aware of the multiple injustices of the French society but they are not too eager to change things personally, hoping that maybe the government will find a way to fix things.

The protagonist, meanwhile, would rather focus on keeping their small family business (a bookshop) afloat and renting out an apartment in the house to make ends meet.

Soon, however, the protagonist ends up getting roped into the events of the revolution regardless when they accidentally overhear their new tenant discuss his plans in a hushed tone with a few other people.

The protagonist has all the evidence that they had unwittingly rented out an apartment to a revolutionary and now they have the evidence to turn that rebellious youth from Blérancourt in along with his buddies.

At first, the best course of action seems fairly obvious. Just report them to the authorities and be done with it.

However, perhaps these youths are more than just stupid kids playing at freedom fighting and maybe they can actually help the country.

When faced with the dilemma of either ratting the young rebels out or joining their cause, the protagonist makes a choice that ends up changing their entire life.

25. The year is 1811. Located near Saint-Petersburg, The Imperial Lyceum is a place where boys from noble families of The Russian Empire live and study. Perhaps the most famous Lyceum of all, it was home to plenty of those who would become prominent in Russian society of the time.

This is where the protagonist, one David de Boudry, teaches French to these boys.

Monsieur de Boudry knows that most of his students are blissfully unaware of a certain secret of his and likes it that way. It is best if they don’t know that he happens to be a younger brother to Jean-Paul Marat himself but changed his last name to avoid the associations.

Keeping this particular tidbit of his biography secret used to be fairly easy, until his older brother, Jean-Paul Marat, appeared in David’s life again on a snowy and frosty January day.

Marat is inexplicably alive, but he is also half-frozen and extremely disheveled when he shows up, not to mention the fact that he arrives with his wife and a very young child in tow. They all need a place to hide from the authorities, and fast.

Being a loving brother, David de Boudry hides his family and is now determined to keep them safe for not even a new name can sever family ties.

But, having made this difficult choice, will Monsieur de Boudry be able to reconcile his love for his family and the devotion to his adoptive home country? And will Marat be able to keep his loved ones and himself safe from the agents of police who lurk nearby and are quite hellbent on proving that the man they are pursuing is indeed the infamous Jacobin?

26. The protagonist is a sophomore who became a member of a Drama Club during their freshman year of high school and they are quite happy to finally have a friend group where they belong. Here nobody judges them for their stutter, their crossdressing and their fear of dogs.The protagonist is even allowed to play roles that would be normally reserved for the opposite gender just so they have an excuse to crossdress.

The upcoming play about the French Revolution is no exception and the protagonist is quite overjoyed but also frustrated that something just doesn’t ring true whenever they read their lines. Frustrated, they sneak into a time machine built by their parents and transport themselves to Paris of 1794.

They soon see that the city is in chaos and rumors about a traitor who had supposedly escaped the guillotine and went on the run with his family spread like wildfire. Moreover, the protagonist soon finds themselves in a bit of a pickle because of their name and physical appearance.

Even a man whom the protagonist saves from a mob advises them not to reveal their name and to lay low as soon as the protagonist introduces themselves. The protagonist is naturally confused but they do want to stay alive and free.

In order to survive, the protagonist decides to do what actors do best - improvise. It’s not easy, of course, but the protagonist tries to stay optimistic.

They hope that they will make it. They know they will. Giving up is not an option. After all, a Desmoulins never gives up. Right?

27. The French Revolution is not an easy period in history. It should be fairly obvious why.

The country is drowning in chaos and the future is uncertain, no matter how hard The Committee of Public Safety tries to maintain at least some semblance of order.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Paris, lives our protagonist whose main concern was not the revolution, but rather the fact that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep their inn’s doors open.

And then, one day, the unthinkable happens. A guest is found murdered in their room. Naturally, all the other guests are now suspects, and so is the staff. A diverse bunch of people with their own agendas, secrets and ties to the victim has gathered in the inn.

Sensing that something isn’t right, the protagonist decides to become an amateur sleuth and get to the bottom of the situation.

A “whodunnit” murder mystery is about to take place in the inn and the protagonist is determined to solve it.

28. A few years passed after the betrayal of the Thermidorians. The Revolution is destroyed and all of the enemies of the new government are dead… Except for one.

The protagonist is a patient in a mental hospital on the outskirts of Paris. Here the treatment of the patients is becoming more and more humane than it used to be before. That being said, the living conditions still leave a lot to be desired. Moreover, the protagonist feels isolated and lonely due to their personal issues and the trauma that caused them to become basically imprisoned in the facility.

Luckily, the loneliness disappears when the protagonist secretly manages to befriend another patient, a mysterious young man who is kept in isolation from the rest of the people at the facility, is forced to wear a mask to hide his face and is treated far worse than the others.

Horrified by the extent of the abuse that their new friend has to endure, the protagonist teams up with him to escape to Avignon, where the protagonist’s relatives live.

Little do they know, their new friend and partner in crime is an outlaw and a Montagnard, the last of them all, so when the two finally escape the police quickly catch wind of the situation.

Can the duo get to Avignon and avoid recapture? Will this unlikely friendship help them heal from their respective trauma? And will the revolutionary’s plan to avenge his executed friends be successful?

29. (Crossover with Greek mythology) When Adrestia, a minor Greek goddess, is banished to Earth from Mount Olympus for causing too much trouble, she assumes a human disguise and travels to France of 1789, where great changes are just around the corner.

Finally finding herself in her own element once again, Adrestia (whose human name is Adrienne) decides that she has no right to miss all the fun and joins the forces of the revolution. She is a goddess of revolt and a daughter of Ares, after all.

One would think that having a goddess on your side will make fighting easier, but things are not that simple and the other gods don’t exactly take kindly to troublemakers who go against authority.

Nevertheless, Adrestia is more than willing to try and help her new allies to win in their fight for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

30. When the protagonists first meet up in real life, they’re ecstatic. After a few years of chatting on the Internet, the two French Revolution enthusiasts have finally met each other face to face and now they decide to set an old plan of theirs in motion.

The duo wants to perform a time travel spell invented by their witch ancestors and change the way the French Revolution ended. The spell is successfully cast, but in the process the warlocks run out of magic and are now forced to wait in the past until they are strong enough to cast the spell again to return home.

But hey, at least while they’re waiting they can do what they always wanted to do - prevent the Thermidorian Reaction, and they are going to try to do just that, even though preventing a coup d’état is far from easy, especially for two college kids from the future.

31. It’s 1815. Joseph Fouché is the Minister of Police but his days in office are numbered and he knows it.

What’s more, rumors spread about the incompetence of the police as nobody can catch the culprit behind a new string of murders. Fouché hopes that cracking the case would restore his reputation, but something isn’t right about these murders.

So far, every single victim was a participant of the Thermidorian Reaction and it simply cannot be a mere coincidence. This pattern makes Fouché fear for his life and his reputation, as in addition to the murders the sins that he and his allies had pinned on their enemies begin to resurface.

Fearing that he is next and that his own crimes are about to be exposed as well, Fouché becomes obsessed with catching this mysterious vigilante. He even has a prime suspect in mind, but he can neither track him down nor prove that it was him.

Meanwhile, the time Fouché has to rehabilitate the police force is running out. Soon he too might face the music at long last, as well as learn exactly why sparing one of your enemies while killing the rest is considered to be a classic mistake.

Will the vigilante get to Fouché? How much time does the Minister of Police actually have left before karma knocks on his door? And why does the youngest police inspector in history, who is Fouché’s beloved protégé, turn against his mentor?

32. When the protagonist decided to sneak into the Catacombs of Paris for “shits and giggles” with their buddies, the last thing they expected was a sudden time travel to a closet in an apartment of a prominent revolutionary, whose skull the protagonist was holding in their hands seconds ago.

Naturally, the protagonist gets caught by the housekeeper and promptly accused of breaking and entering at best, and an assasination attempt at worst. It doesn’t help that the protagonist has strange pills and a baseball bat on their person.

But when they’re about to get prosecuted, the inhabitant of that same apartment suddenly speaks up on their behalf and defends the protagonist, claiming that it was a mere misunderstanding. Later, that same revolutionary visits the protagonist, reveals that he knows about the existence of time travel and promises to help, as long as the protagonist goes along with his plan.

Despite suspecting that the revolutionary has an ulterior motive, the protagonist does want answers so they agree to play along...at least for a while.

33. After the Revolutionary War in America, the protagonist follows his friend and mentor, Marquis de Lafayette, to Paris as he is the only family the hero has at this point.

At first, when the French Revolution rolls around, the hero still stays by his mentor’s side, never questioning his opinions and decisions and admiring him as a hero.

But after the September Massacres reveal Lafayette’s...less heroic side the hero is utterly broken and disappointed that he trusted the wrong person yet again. This revelation prompts the hero to switch sides and become a double agent, working with the Jacobins while pretending that he is still loyal to Lafayette.

Is this the correct choice to make or will the hero’s naïveté and a simple desire to belong betray him once again?

34. Maximilien Robespierre finds himself in a difficult situation. Somehow, everyone who crosses his path keeps going missing, only to turn up brutally murdered.

Moreover, Robespierre keeps receiving notes with rather...stalkerish messages written by the culprit. The stress and the crippling paranoia are slowly taking a toll on his frail body and he collapses altogether after finding out that Camille Desmoulins and Antoine de Saint-Just got attacked as well.

Fortunately, Saint-Just and Desmoulins manage to survive the ordeal and decide that enough is enough. After a long recovery, the two men decide to set aside their differences and track down the mysterious stalker before other people close to Robespierre get hurt.

Who knows, perhaps this buddy cop-esque adventure will even help Saint-Just and Desmoulins resolve their rivalry once and for all, now that a mutual friend of theirs needs both of them.

35. An immigrant enrolls into a high school in the country where they live now, a country located on the other side of the planet, miles away from their homeland.

Isolated from the rest of the students, shunned for their Eastern European accent (feel free to pick the specific country) and their Socialist beliefs, the protagonist has very few friends and even they are imaginary - three French revolutionaries whom the protagonist admires the most.

However, things change when a classmate bonds with the protagonist over their fascination with the French Revolution and the two decide to team up and write a novel about their favorite topic, all while the three imaginary friends, who may or may not be something more than a simple product of imagination, are guiding these kids on their quest to rehabilitate the legacy of the revolution.

P. S. The Fouché tag has been graciously lent to me by @frevandrest , the tag’s inventor. This needs to become an official tag imo.

[yanderecandystore]

Rip Tumblr D-do you have any dragon ocs that might kidnap their s/o? Also I know that this is a stupid question but can I call myself Cold anon? ;-;

Hello 🍨 Cold ❄️!! I'm really glad you sent me this request!

 The current app that I use for writing is bugging out a lot, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors and mistakes here and there.

 And uh... Cold? I think I fucked up your ask? I think I got a little too excited and went in a different direction?? If you don't like it I understand, I could always do another one 😳😋

 TW/Tags: Guess who is being an emotional ball once again?? Me! Yey! Send help! // look, I'm sorry but, low-key? This is edginess overload lol (medieval bitch times, which by that I mean: dark times with terrible people in it) // deaths // abuse of power // Reader said: eat the rich // non-binary reader just because // cursing // slight plot twist? But, like, bad plot twist // soft dragon boi 

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

You curious little thing - [Yandere!Dragon x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

" Deep in the forest, up in the mountains, legend says that a dragon sleeps deep within the caves. And as the old story goes, gold awaits inside his domain, but only those courageous enough to enter the deep cave and defeat the dragon, would be able to take the creature's treasure.

Many have persuaded the quest of defeating said dragon, yet no one ever came back to tell the story.

And while you sit at the comfort of your small cottage reading about the old tales of the dragon's cave, you can't help but consider the story to be just that, a story. A piece of fiction made to scare the local children away from the mountains, or to enchant those that were easily invested into these types of stories.

It seems like you're one of those that were fascinated by the old tales. Regardless of if you find it true or not. The old tales still hold a mysterious charm that manages to keep you intrigued no matter what age you re-read them.

Tales of the forest spirits protecting their land with mischievous wit, tales of monsters that crawled out of your bed to cause nightmares on the simple minded, tales of mighty dragons who could easily rule the world if they so pleased to.

Yet they didn't. Either because they didn't want to, or maybe they really didn't exist. Who knows, right [Y/N]? Not that you, a simple commoner, would know any better.

Although, from the tales you read, isn't always the common folk the ones to first encounter these things?

It always ends bad, but still.

A commoner would be the first one to be affected by the wrath of such supernatural creatures.

However, as stated before, there is no way of knowing if such a thing is real or not, right? It's been eons since the last time someone even mentioned a dragon's presence in your kingdom, and it's been centuries that the concepts of dragons had fallen into the mythological category.

There hasn't been a single person to mention the beast's names in years. There was no visible way of them being remotely real, right? That sounded absurd.

But of course, like all tales are written, your's seem to have reached the beginning of your own personal adventure when the king mentioned the need of soldiers willing to face the beast inside the cave, who was presumably hibernating throughout this whole time.

And of course, the public had only laughed at this sort of news. You see, your king's authority over the entire land has been dangling by a thin thread. The taxes, the frauds, the imminent wars threatening to occur at any second now, has helped a small portion of people to start questioning if not downright rebelling against him and his reign of terror.

The revolution was rising slowly, yet something needed to push it forward, the straw that broke the camel's back.

"What could it be?" You might be wondering.

How about kidnapping and force recruitment with the help of blackmailing? Specifically targeting the poorest people in the kingdom and taking their family members hostage if they don't comply?

Sounds so evil that you may think it's bullshit right? So inhumane, that the villain of this story might as well be your crazy king, right?

Oh, [Y/N]. You're absolutely right, yet a little bit wrong considering that even if such an evil act sounds absurd, it's absolutely real. It's part of your reality now.

And even if your king is a vile creature of pure hatred and deserves to be fed to the rats, by being a terrible ruler, husband, and father- You were soon about to learn that there are worse, more powerful forces that can easily overpower the insanity of that sad, pathetic evil man.

To your dismay, your family was one of the chosen ones to suffer from this. Because of poverty, you and your father lived in the outskirts of the kingdom. It was perfect for the king and his soldiers, as you and your father lived distant from the main town, if any of you two ever die on the process of going into the beast's cave, or disobey the king's orders, no one would notice if you two were suddenly wiped from the face of the Earth.

And of course, holding hostage just one person was easier than multiple family members. Although your king was absolutely insane if not completely psychotic, you could at least understand how he moved his pieces in this massive game of chess.

I mean, yes, you understand his reasoning. Still doesn't mean he is right.

Soldiers didn't wait too long to show up and try to force your father to go with them. But you didn't take none of that, you wouldn't let your dying father be taken by them.

You screamed, you shout, you let venom spill out of your mouth by each profanity you threw at the soldiers and the king they claimed to serve. It didn't take long before the general noticed that you were one of the rascals forming a rebellion. Well, you didn't really need to be officially part of the revolution, just disagreeing was enough to make the general decide to take you instead of your old father.

You can still remember how he was trying to scream his lungs out, to stop the soldiers somehow.

This was it, right? The day, for you and possibly all these other commoners to die in the name of an asshole. How honoring.

Among you and other miserably unlucky individuals, there were all kinds of different people. From innocent, to criminals. From young to old, from poor to… Well, mildly not as poor. Nobles would never be subjected to this, you know that. All of these individuals were carried away by a carriage. All crammed into one little vehicle, away from the public sight.

After being far enough from the town and now deep within the forest, the soldiers commanded all of you to get out of the carriage as now you'll begin to walk straight to the mountain while carrying… Gold?

"- It's a gift from the king. Survive long enough, and you'll be able to take it with you." The general said, his tone being condescending as ever.

You could…. Technically run away, right now. They haven't really put any restrains in any of you-

"- Over there!" A soldier alerted the general, who looked little surprised by seeing two of your group running away with the gold in hands.

Without hesitation, or even a slight hint of empathy, the general shot both with his crossbow. Their bodies fall flat in the forest ground, with all that gold and jewelry accompanying them. All that gold being wasted and left behind, just like the bodies of the people carrying them.

You felt sick, the need to vomit was surfacing through your stomach. This- This is terrible!? This is so cruel! How can they continue to walk like nothing happened??

God, how did a once prospering kingdom has now fallen in such a low pit?

As you can imagine, the walk was torturous and it felt like it was going forever. Of course, a lot of questions were emerging about the strange situation.

One: how did the king know and was certain that the myth of the dragon was real and that the dragon was awake?

Two: why didn't he call his own army to attend to such issues instead of the common folk being forced to go with his wishes?

Actually, now that you think about it, why are there so few skilled, trained soldiers taking a bunch of people to a cave unprepared?

Carrying a bunch of gold for fucks sake, this stuff is heavy!

If it was truly a gift from the king to your group, then why were you obligated to carry it all the way to the cave? Sounds unreasonable and if anything, absolutely ridiculous. It would only slow your group down, and for what?!

Sounds like a trap to be…. Honest. Wait a minute-

"- Shit!" You whisper to yourself at the sudden realization that you're fucked, which unfortunately, caused a soldier that was near you to hear it.

"- Nothing sir, I just stabbed my foot in a rock." You weren't lying though. This whole walk bullshit your doing has destroyed your low quality sandals, and now you could basically feel the ground stabbing you every time you stept.

The soldier just grunted at you, and as much as you wished to take his sword and shove it up his bum, you couldn't help but go back to your original train of thought before you got interrupted.

You were going straight to death right? You're not supposed to fight a dragon, but rather serve as an offering?? What?!

You can't even speak or alert your fellow companions in any way. The last three people that have spoken without being directed to, were shot in the head.

The realization has sadly come in too late for you to make any plans now, as you forward as your group walk upwards, following the mountain's trail, you find yourself facing not only the entrance to a presumably dangerous cave infested with predators, but also the gates to your inevitable death.

You would now have to think of how to escape the soldiers and their arrows, or how to possibly make your death less painful. Being eaten by a dragon doesn't sound really fun.

When entering the cave you're met with more-

"- Are you fucking kidding me?!" Someone screamed, while easily accepting their death.

You couldn't help but agree with the person. While entering the cave, you're met with a great ravine, going in a spiral fashion deeper into the cave.

In other words, you have not only walked all the way up to a fucking mountain, but you would now need to get down into a creepy cave.

You almost considered asking for some eternal peace before remembering that your father's life was still in line. You just… Don't want to go away like this, you don't want your father to go like this.

And once again your group, that was now a lot shorter due to the amount of deaths along the way, was now following the general once again. Only this time, the soldiers were behind all of you, probably to guarantee no one ran away. Too late for that now anyway, so why even bother?

You didn't realize how you were on the very front of everyone, side by side with the man that was leading you to your doom.

You felt his eyes fall into your form a couple of times, but he never really turned his face to look at you. After a long silence of just a bunch of miserable people stepping closer to a terrible plan that was not well thought-out, he said:

"- You know it already. Right?" His voice was rough and still held the nonchalant tone that was written all over his face. You doubt this man could have ever smiled once in his life.

You almost choked with your own breathing, the nerve of this man! You couldn't help but let out the only thing you have wanted to say this whole time:

"- I hate you." You say as your eyes start to become a little watery. The feeling of desperation was eating you up ever since you entered the carriage, but only now you felt how bad the teeth of despair hurt.

"- I know kid. Me too." He responded, his tone never changed, even while saying that.

You guess he didn't really appreciate his job as much as you thought he did. Yet, you couldn't find in your heart to pity the man, as he was complicit in all of this mess. But I guess, you do hope for this man to find some sort of redemption, either presently or in his after life.

You still think he did a lot of bad things of course, his crimes are probably never gonna be forgiven. But just because of that, it didn't mean he couldn't start to do some good actions now, not for the sake of finding inner forgiveness, but for the sake of others. For the sake of the innocent people being not only met with unfair treatment, but also being ruled by a psychotic tyrant who is a complete imbecile. No wonder the queen and his son were missing for so long, you would probably have run away if you were them too.

When finally coming down, with your feet now hurting like a bitch, you can find some time for yourself to appreciate the beauty of this place.

You know, before you lose your head? To a freaking dragon??

Honestly, you at least hope that the stories you read were true, because holy fuck- Imagine how exhausted your body is from walking for what it feels like an eternity, holding jewelry made with gold, only to find an empty cave?

Then you would be able to go feral kill one or two soldiers before getting your ass beaten. As you don't have enough reason to just do that right now, right?

You expected to be met with disappointment, but what you truly saw while finally getting into the dragon's territory, you were able to not only feel enchanted by the magnitude of these treasure places, but also forget the danger of the situation, as you look around and remember the tales you read.

This is so much better than what you have imagined it to be like. It's… Mesmerising! It 's beautiful! The underground pond, the glowing crystals, the pile of gold, the stolen statues of the great warriors of your kingdom, golden weapons all scattered across the floor, the white feathered looking dragon staring down at you from his nest, that little tea set that is really cute and fragile yet it probably cost way more than your house, your clothes, and all of your furniture all together.

Oh no wait-

"- We came with what you asked for, Artemio." Said the general fast walking his way to be in between you and the beast.

To say you were freaking out would be an understatement. You knew dragons were huge, but you didn't expect it to be so… Huge! You know??

Oh my God, you're dead-

You looked around to see only you, your group of commoners ready to be probably eaten, and the general. And while looking for the soldiers, you noticed them trying to close the opening with a man built gate, created to keep the beast.

But obviously, that gate looks absolutely ridiculous, there is no way this guy couldn't destroy it by simply slapping it. It's quite laughable, yet…

You feel this is not just a coincidence or a bad made joke. You have a feeling they know the gate is essentially useless. It was really old, so, clearly this has been going on from quite some time.

Has… Has your kingdom been doing this for centuries?? Bringing offerings to please the dragon and beg it to sleep for more centuries to come?

"- This is absolute bullshit!" You screamed, not noticing how your heart was racing and your breathing had started to become frantic. You were panicking while coming to terms with the fact that your whole world was collapsing in front of your eyes. Your scream clearly surprised your fellow companions, yet it didn't surprise the dragon or the general.

The dragon had, well, a dragon face, so you have no idea what it was thinking, and the general was still with the same non-expressive face since the beginning of this stupid trip!

"- What?! You have nothing to say?? You brought us here to die, at least say something, you coward!" You were fuming with rage. How can a person like this be so annoying even when he is not saying anything.

He looks at you with an understanding expression, yet you don't think about what it could mean as you reach to one of the many golden weapons spread around across the floor. They were heavy and quite frankly completely useless, yet you still hold into that golden sword like your life depended on it.

And it did, actually.

Have you gone insane or just completely blind with rage and the instinct of survival? You're not sure just yet, but you'll lose your last bit of sanity to stand your ground.

You aren't going down without a fight.

"- Come at me, you big bird!" You yelled, looking kinda epic and kinda goofy at the same time. You probably shouldn't insult a dragon who hasn't decided who he'll first, it may change his appetite.

Before the general could interfere with your foolish behavior, the one and only had spoken:

"- Where exactly is what we had agreed on?" Like in true entitled brat fashion, Artemio asked the general while putting his head in his pawn.

"- We had to eliminate a couple of the troublemakers. In the end some of the gold was left behind in the progress-"

"- No, I mean, where truly is what I asked for? The jewelry is quite frankly ugly, the gold coins don't matter as I already have plenty, and none of these humans look really edible. Or well… Appetising." You could swear a pouty face was appearing in Artemio's face, yet only one thing had taken your attention. That's the reason why they needed so many disposable people? Oh… Wait a minute, did the dragon just call everyone here too ugly to eat?

"- If you can't compromise with your promises, then I think we'll have to change the deal-" Artemio started getting up from his nest, stretching out like a cat.

"- Oh, please no, can't you just-" The general panicked, thinking that the dragon would destroy the village.

"- I want that one." Artemio said. Pointing at you.

"- What?" You looked behind you just in case you were in the way of someone else. No, you weren't.

"- Uhn… What?" Oh look, even the general was confused as you, and well, the entire cast of people that were thrown in this hell hole.

"- Yes, that one holding the spear."

"- Just… That one, or-"

"- Just that one. And I won't get out of the cave for at least a century, I promise!" He sounds and acts like both a child and a cat, preparing himself to pounce on its prey any moment now.

"- ….. Okay then, fair enough. It's your problem now kid." He said, making a motion for all the other captives to follow him. Which they gladly did, because, you know, they aren't the protagonist of the story.

"- What?! You can't leave me here, you bastard!!" You screamed, although subconsciously you already knew his answer.

"- I think I'm just doing that!" He screamed from the other side of the cave, fuckz they really didn't waste no time at all, did they?

Sigh, who are you kidding? If you were one of them, you would have ran away as fast as you could. At least some gave you sympathetic looks before going back to their "freedom".

You heard the heavy gate closing. Well, shit. It's you and him now.

You tried going back into your original threatening stance, but before you could, you saw a glimpse of Artemio coming in at full speed, taking no time to jump at you. This is it [Y/N], send your last prayers to your father and your old life before-

Before he starts licking you... like a dog? What?

He pauses and you tense up, looking up and seeing a dragon powerful enough to destroy villages, looking at you like a precious little gift.

Artemio picks you up and hugs you in an almost bone breaking hug. Confused and frustrated with how the situation was going, you asked:

"- A-Aren't you going to kill me?" Yes, it was a pathetic question, if a dragon isn't killing you, then why ask it to do it??

"- I have been so lonely since the last human that I chose! I usually prefer to have many friends around but all of the other options seemed so boring, you know?" His voice is oddly cheerful and sweet to someone that sees humans as pets, or "friends". So… What is really going on here?

"- I thought you ate people." You said, still frustrated that you were betrayed and lied to through this entire day.

"- Well, I guess I can eat humans-" Says the giant bird-lizard acting like a child trying to lie about doing something wrong- "- But I really don't like doing it, I promise!"

"- I just wanted someone to play with, you know? All the dragons that I know are just so boring and take everything seriously." He huffed in annoyance.

"- Well… Do you-" You started questioning if you really want to to know the answer, but curiosity sure is killing this cat!- "- What happened to the other humans that were here?"

"- Oh, they… Uhn, they died, because of your shirt lifespan and all ya know." He responded.

"- Oh… Then why did the soldiers bring us here saying you were going to eat us?" Why not go full balls in and ask everything, right?

"- It's- Sigh, it's really embarrassing, but I didn't know any other way of how to ask for company down here." He said shyly, which only confirmed your suspicion of this being complete bullshit.

"- And you threaten to burn a whole kingdom just because of that?" You asked.

"- Yes!" He answered with no shame whatsoever. This guy was a dog wearing a dragon costume, you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"- Sigh, oh my God…"

"- Hey, uhn, what's your name?" Artemio spoke, he thought that he should also ask questions as he wants to be able to enjoy every second with his new pet.

"- It is [Y/N]. And you're Artemio, right?" You can't believe any of this, really. You went from an absolutely terrible life or death situation, to a… Well, you can't even tell what the hell is going on anymore!

"- [Y/N].... [Y/N]! [Y/N], that's such a good name!" The excited dragon repeated your name multiple times before interrupting your peace once again. You can't be mad at him, but-

Come on, you needed some time to accept everything that just went down. You didn't even notice you were on the floor until Artemio was in front of your view again.

"- [Y/N]!" He was so easy to please, that just saying your name was fun to him.

"- Sigh… Hey Artemio." You sighed as there was no way in hell this dragon would leave you to deal with this weird feeling of emptiness arising in your chest.

"- What do you want to do now?" He asked cheerfully, but not completely oblivious to your feelings of being abandoned underground with him by force.

You stayed silent for a second, again, trying to come with terms with this new lifestyle that you were subjected to. You technically could ask Artemio to open the gate, he doesn't seem to have any intention of hurting you. But who knows? He has a different point of view in this whole thing than you do.

Silence was taking over the cave, but not exactly an awkward silence, just… A comforting one.

The water dripped from the ceiling. You felt the ground underneath you shake a little as Artemio followed your "guidance". He decided to lay on his back near you.

He wasn't really doing any self reflection at all, he just wanted to join in with you, yet all he could think is how happy he is to have someone else to spend time with.

You may only see him slightly from the corner of your eyes, yet you still feel a little, strange, by seeing a dragon mimic your ways.

You don't feel nessecerally homesick, but you do miss your father. You absolutely hate the idea of coming back to the kingdom, but… If you could see your father one last time, and probably help him with the gold that is in this place….

Maybe you could even-!.....

"- Artemio."

"- Yes, [Y/N]!*

"- AAH!" He turned himself to meet your face so fast that you whimpered because of his sudden motion.

He was going to check if you were okay, but you stopped him showing that you were fine, just a little spooked.

"- Hey, Artemio-" You said again, as you were still reformulating your question in your head-

"- Do you know how to burn an entire castle?"

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[chessdaze]

@khoc-week ⭐ Day 1 - 8/1 

◾ Reference Sheet 

I actually drew one for Sid last year but I decided to update it. His design overall hasn’t changed it’s mostly my style that has - and the quality of my work so I’m glad I was able to redo him for this year. I really want people to get to know him properly this time. 

I’ll repost the original world lore and his background below, but I also want to answer the prompt question In character so here’s that:

◾ How would your character describe themselves?

“Eh, what kinda question is that?” Sid raises an eyebrow, but it’s barely noticeable over his large round sunglasses. “I dunno, smart, stubborn, and uhhhh tough?” There’s a pause. “I was one o’ the only kids t’ even go t’ school back in the city, and Helio and Mari never fuckin’ give me a moment t’ breathe without telling me o’ my stubbornness. As for tough, well, the muscles ain’t for show, I guess.”

“What ya askin’ me this for anyhow? I got work t’ be doin’, these houses won’t build themselves.” 

Now for world info and sid’s bio:

the world trapped in a desert

The Basics

Cindergate is a city that has seemingly seen disasters, parts of the city are being rebuilt and other parts completely abandoned and falling apart. It’s cut off from the vast desert around it by a large, also crumbling, gate. The city has a mix of technology, though seems to shun anything too ‘high tech’.

The city has a population of tough individuals who know how to survive in harsh conditions. Most of the population in this world are human, with occasional animals who can also survive the harsh sun and heat. These people are ruled over by one family - who govern and help make and enforce laws. Because of this the head of the family is often referred to as ‘sheriff’. The family keeps laws strict in the town. There is one law in particular that the sheriff is always eager to punish those for breaking-

The Keyblade Wielder Ban

The people of Cindergate are aware of the keyblade, heartless, the worlds, etc - however they consider Keyblade wielders evil, no matter who they are or what their motivations may be. They believe that the wielders are dragging darkness into the world and are the reason so many heartless live in the desert that surrounds the city. The city has to constantly beat the heartless back, and are the reason why a good portion of the city has been abandoned or is always needing to be rebuilt.

It has been the tradition of the world for a while that if a wielder is found, they are to be branded as a traitor to the city - both metaphorically and literally. After a trial to determine if someone is a wielder or not - they are branded with a mark in the shape of a keyhole. Then they are dragged through the city and out to the gates that surround it. The wielders are then exiled, pushed out to the near lifeless desert. The people of the city will often attack them with weapons or throw objects at them to make sure they don’t try to run back into the city. They consider the wielders ‘sacrifices’ to the heartless to keep them at bay.

At times the heartless in the desert will get the better of the wielders with no training. Those who manage to survive their first day and night have the chance to come across a safehaven made by wielders in the reaches of the desert and on the edges of a canyon.

Landscape.

The city is the mix of a steampunk and wild west setting. There are some technology around the city but it’s big, clunky, and steam or coal powered. The part of the city that has been abandoned has a chance of heartless sneaking in, and so there are people here who patrol at night on occasion but besides that at times kids sneak into the area to play - but it’s strictly forbidden to do so and they will be punished if they do.

The desert surrounding the city is vast and nearly lifeless. Aside from the heartless, there are few plants and animals that live there.

Past the nearly lifeless desert is an area of plateaus and canyons. Within this area those who have been exiled from the city attempt to make a living. They find items that the people of cindergate ‘sacrifice’ to the heartless, (pieces of machinery, cloth, food, etc) and try to repurpose it for their own needs. There’s a bit more life in this area, but not much in terms of subsistence.

The Survivors

The wielders and those who were exiled with them (family members who hid them, other accomplices, and even people who were falsely convicted of being a wielder) have been managing to survive so far, though it’s a constant struggle. They’ve made houses out of spare pieces of wood, tarp, scrap metal, and hide themselves in as much shade as they possibly can.

Some practice with their keyblades in order to get a handle on their abilities and fight off heartless that come near the safe haven. Others completely shun the fact that they can use a keyblade and refuse to wield it. Those who are not wielders try to contribute by making food or volunteering for other odd jobs. There are also wielders dedicated to finding a way off world.

AND NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY -

Sid’s about:

Born to the ruling family of Cindergate, Sid had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he hated it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the strict rules of the town or the terrible court system. Any time he would try to speak up on this though was met with punishment from his parents. So he decided to bide his time, becoming their perfect ‘puppet’ so that he could become the leader one day and change things for the better.

While still considered a bit of a rebel, his parents at least ‘admired his change of heart’ and let him walk around Cindergate freely. While growing up he made two friends - a girl name Mari and a boy named Helio. The three of them were practically inseparable, they were some of the only ones that didn’t care who Sid was related to. He could be himself around them, and so he vowed to keep them safe most out of everyone in the town.

Mari revealed to the boys one day that she was a keyblade wielder - which was a terrible discovery. Keyblade Wielders were banned from Cindergate and it she was found to be a wielder she would be arrested, branded, and exiled to the harsh desert that surrounded the town. The desert that was filled with heartless. At the same time Helio revealed himself to be a wielder as well - having been one of the longest out of all of them, since he was a child. He knew better than anyone what would happen to wielders who got caught as his mother had been cast out when he was a child. Sid promised that he wouldn’t let them get caught and that he would lift the ban, they just needed to keep their keyblades hidden until he became the leader of the town.

This was easier said than done, especially since Sid would come to be a wielder as well. An old friend of his family invited Sid to his deathbed. This old man revealed how close Sid’s father and him used to be, and how they had a dream to make Cindergate a thriving place. But Sid’s father had done nothing more than oppress the people and make the ban more strict than it needed to be. So the old man had a solution - to pass on the power of the keyblade to Sid. He had kept it hidden all of his life, hoping that one day Sid’s father would change his mind on the ban - but he never did. In his last moments he forced Sid to take the power of the keyblade from him, saying it was Sid’s responsibility now, before passing.

Sid was terrified and furious with the power he had been given. Yes, he had been wanting to make CinderGate a better place for wielders and non wielders alike but - he didn’t want it to be like this. Still, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He told his friends of his new found gift and worked to become even more like the 'perfect’ leader his parents wanted him to be, just so he could take over quicker and get the stupid ban taken down.

Not long after this, Helio and Mari were caught for being keyblade wielders. Sid stood up to his parents to try and get them to see reason. When they still wouldn’t listen he revealed himself as a wielder in front of the whole town - saying if they were going to throw out his friends they would have to throw out him as well.

And they did, but not before branding him as a traitor - literally. They burned the keyhole shaped brand onto the side of his face before exiling him,Helio, and Mari out of the town. The three ran until they couldn’t anymore, fought off heartless, then collapsed with laughter - surprised but grateful they were still alive.

A while longer of traveling lead them to a survivor camp. Other people like them who had been exiled from Cindergate. It wasn’t much, but it became home for the three wielders. Sid took it upon himself to improve the day to day lives of the survivors by building various machines and other contraptions to make life easier for them. But still, it wasn’t enough. Thanks to his parents hoard of keyblade wielder knowledge (because how else were they supposed to fight off such a 'threat’ without an entire library full of knowledge?), he knew of other worlds and he knew that the keyblade could get them there. He just wasn’t sure how to unlock the power. None of the survivors were masters by any means, some of them didn’t even have a keyblade - and were friends or family of wielders exiled or falsely accused and wanted nothing to do with the keyblade.

Sid, taking another burden onto his shoulders, did the only thing he could think he could accomplish - he made himself and his two friends keyblade armor. He hoped that with the armor they could brave the passages in between worlds and find a way to get all the survivors to a new home.

[warriorlid14]

So Gale and Delly. I had honestly never considered them at first, thinking they were far too different. Buuuuuuut.... I think it works? And is actually super cute when you think about for a second?

So here’s my take on how it would happen. It was supposed to be a series of short bullet points, but instead, you get a disorganized mini-fic. I’ll edit it later into an actual fic format, but for now, here ya go:

Delly goes to District 2. Gale is surprised to see her in one of their rebel/reconstruction/rebuilding/whatever their name was meetings two weeks after he had officially moved to D2. She had greeted him warmly and he supposed he had looked confused, because she suddenly had a sad smile and said, “There’s too many memories back in Twelve.” He didn’t have a response for that. He had too many ghosts back in Twelve, too.

He had never given Delly a second thought. She wasn’t in his grade level and he vaguely recognized her when he’d first seen her in D13. He supposed she was nice enough, what with the whole helping Peeta come back from... well, helping Peeta come back. But they didn’t interact, they didn’t cross paths, and he’d never had a reason to form much of an opinion of her.

But then after two days of her quietly listening in to the meetings, after Pike proposed simply demolishing the buildings near the square and rebuilding from scratch, Delly broke her silence and softly said, “Well, what do the citizens from District 2 want?”

There was silence, and then Pike said, “This will be the easier than attempting to repair every single building to its original standard.” And  Delly said “But this is their home,” her voice going up a decibal. After some debate within the team, Pike had told her that if she wanted to speak to all 60k (now 50k) residents of D2, to be his guest. 

Five days later, Delly showed up with 700 written testimonies with  requests to not tear down the buildings as well as grievances the team hadn’t even considered. Everybody was fed and had some sort of shelter- even if it was mostly camps. That had been the team’s main focus. But people wanted shoes, and shower facilities, and actual funerals for the dead.

They decided not to tear down the buildings. And Gale decided that he had underestimated Delly Cartwright.

Two weeks later Gale decided he detested Delly Cartwright. Okay, so detested was a strong word, but she absolutely aggravated him. How, just how, could a person be so cheery? At seven in the morning? It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to waking up at the crack of dawn, but that was to go to the forest. Their work place was a dimly lit, dampy building. Which also happened to house half of them, including the two of them. And if she chirpily asked him how his previous day was one more time on the elevator while he was busy trying to wake up, he would snap.

But she was from D12. The only other person from Twelve. And she meant nothing to him before, and in a way, still didn’t. It wasn’t like they were friends. But she was from home. And that counted for something. 

One day, a woman asked Delly if there was any way to retrieve her dead husband’s wedding band from the moratorium. Which led to dozens of similar requests. So Gale and Delly and five volunteers found themselves trying to ID bodies and gather belongings. The rebels had started doing this at first, but the bodies had piled up, and there were simply too many of them to continue.

For the first time, Gale saw Delly lose her smile and cheery demeanor. He told her she didn’t have to go in. He’d seen enough corpses. Some of them by his hand. A few more wouldn't make a difference. But Delly shook her head and headed to the first corpse. Gale decided that she was growing on him.

That night, Gale wondered if the corpses littered across D12 still had wedding bands on.

The first time Gale saw Delly angry was two months in when she demanded that workers from The Nut be given food and shelter instead of being left to fend for themselves. Pike yelled at her and called her naive, stepping closer towards her and Gale instinctively stepped in closer as well, protectively.

Delly’s face was flushed and she had tears in her eyes- she wasn’t one for confrontations- but she looked at Pike in the eyes and didn’t step back.

It was funny, really, how not so long ago, he would have agreed with Pike. Not so long ago, he would have looked at the workers from the Nut, Capitol supporters, and said “No. You don’t get to work for the enemy for years, you don’t get to kill for the enemy, and then demand the same rights as those who fought for freedom. That’s not fair.” Not so long ago, he had stood by that mountain and felt the ghost of the fire licking at his feet, burning his side, seen the fire flash in his mind and burn down his home, his neighbors, children, felt the fire wrap around his chest, his heart, his soul, and said, “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. You killed my district. Now you deserve to die.” But now the fire he remembered the most was the one that had taken a blond-haired, blue-eyed, little girl that he loved like a sister. And for what? What had he fought for? Freedom. Protection. Justice. Revenge? But the war was over. And what had he fought for? All that loss could not have been in vain.

So he stepped behind Delly and loudly agreed with her. And when she smiled at him, it was almost contagious.

Delly left their department not long after they started looking for shelter for the workers at The Nut. She was now working on forming some sort of social program. Trying to build a community. Scrounging for resources outside of immediate survival. She was only two doors down from him, but Gale was surprised to find that he actually missed her constant humming in the office.

He supposed that this was why he accepted the invitation to attend the community dinner she organized a couple of weeks later. He kept his head down the entire time, focused on his meal. He had never been particularly quiet or reserved. He hadn’t been particularly outgoing, either, but he had never been shy. Now, though, he looked at his plate and didn’t offer any input to the conversation, weary of accusatory looks and swearing that he could hear people thinking murderer. 

So he was quiet, until Delly loudly announced “I’m sure Mr. Hawthorne would love to play with you,” and he looked up to see a group of five boys aged eight to twelve holding a ball and looking at him hopefully. He gave Delly a half-glare and was about to say that Mr. Hawthorne would most certainly not love to play, but she smiled brightly at him, ignoring him. And so he found himself being dragged off to a game that included kicking a ball into a makeshift net.

When he sat back down half an hour later, hair mussed and actually smiling, Pike said, “I didn’t know you were any good with kids, Hawthorne.” Delly piped up, “Oh, Gale’s great with kids. He has three younger siblings, and he was always making them laugh back in District 13.” Gale was surprised that she knew this, that she’d noticed. He gave her a questioning look, but she just smiled in return.

He kept stealing glances at her throughout the night, mostly quizzically. Maybe it was that he hadn’t been looking closely at her, but he noticed that she had gained some of her old weight back, cheeks fuller. Hair shinier. He didn’t know her before, but he did know what had happened to her parents, and knew what grief did to a person. But she looked healthier now. Good. She deserved good things in her life.

The next time they saw each other was two days later when Gale was cursing at his unit’s jammed door that was refusing to open. He was so desperate for some sleep, having just pulled a fourteen hour shift, that he was considering just ramming it down when Delly walked by, saw his predicament, and offered to let him sleep on her couch. He was so tired, he agreed without much hesitation.

The next day he woke up to the sound of loud singing, a little off-key, and mentally groaned, shifting on the couch to try to find a comfortable position again. But Delly took this as a sign that he had woken up and brightly said, "Good morning, Gale! I hope you had a great night's sleep! Was the couch comfortable?" Gale mentally cursed, but responded and got up. He found himself sitting down across from Delly and eating some toast she had made, while Delly happily chirped on about how it was going to rain that day and how she loved the smell of freshly-water grass. Gale couldn't stop himself from asking "How are you so happy all the time?" She looked surprised, and said, "I'm not happy all the time." He must have given her an incredulous look, because she shrugged and said, "I just like to focus on the small things. On the brighter things." She paused, then said softly, "It makes it easier, on the bad days, to pick myself up again."

Gale dismissed this at first, thinking that it was just a Delly thing. But then one day he woke up with the image of burning blond hair and pained blue eyes and clipped mockingjay wings. And his heart hurt so much that it was hard to breathe, that he was sure someone had reached into his chest and started to squeeze. But that day, when he visited one of the camps with his team he caught sight of two children laughing, kicking around a ball. Saw their parents smiling, with a genuineness and lightheartedness that was hard to find before the war. He held that image in his head the entire day, focused hard on it. It had been for something. The pain, the destruction, the deaths. Selling his soul to the fight. It had been for something. And the pain in his heart didn't disappear. But he did felt the pressure lessen, just a bit.

It started with an invite to dinner at her unit. And then he reciprocated because it was the polite thing to do. And then they were at each other's places once, twice, three times a week after work. And suddenly he found that he was friends with Delly Cartwright. It had been a while since he'd had a friend. He had plenty back in 12, and there was Katniss of course, and a few in 13. But now half of them were dead or hated him or were back in a district he couldn't force himself to visit. He hadn't realized how much he missed easy companionship, how much he needed actual human contact, until he found himself smiling at Delly's animated retelling of a family her team had reunified the day prior. She was a breath of fresh air in a place that was still wounded, that was still bleeding.(But somehow, it was still healing)

Delly tried to pick up new habits and hobbies often. She told him about how she failed at baking, and was decent at gardening, but could never keep track of which plants needed more or less water. A week after they had started actually hanging out, she had taken up knitting and had dragged Gale along to practice with her. To his surprise, he found that he was actually good at it. It made sense, though, considering his ability with snares. Delly smiled encouragingly at him, but still seemed a little annoyed that he had picked up her new hobby much quicker than she had. Gale grinned at this, glad to see that Delly wasn't actually superhuman and also had normal, petty, human emotions. When she held up her poor attempt at a glove that inexplicably seemed to have a thumb in the middle of the hand, he but burst out laughing. He stopped when he saw her giving him a strange look, and asked "What?" She shrugged, and said, "I don't think I've heard you laugh since we were at District 13." But then she smiled and said, "It's a nice laugh, though. It suits you. I wished you would do it more often." And to his horror, he felt himself actually blush. It wasn't like he wasn't used to compliments. Oh, he heard "gorgeous" and "hot" and the occasional "sexy" and felt eyes looking him up and down, sometimes enough to make him uncomfortable, especially when the person was significantly older. But he didn't think he'd ever heard someone compliment his laugh. It was... nice, actually. He muttered a quick "thanks" and went back to his attempt at making a hat. There was an awkward silence for a bit, but half an hour later, he was lightly teasing Delly on her skills.

It turned out that laughing was easier when Delly was around. Maybe it was having a friend once more. Maybe it was just Delly, her lightness contagious.

Delly was ranting about Pike. Except that, because she was Delly, she wasn't actually insulting him. And kept saying phrases like "while I understand where he's coming from" and "he's a good man, really, but". So Gale said, "You can call him a dick, you know. We all do it." Delly hesitated and said, "But he isn't. Not really. He just doesn't understand that we also need funding for community building and healing." Gale shook his head, amused. "Call him a dick, Delly. You know you want to." Delly sighed, and said, "I think you want me to. Would it make you feel better, to hear me call him that?" Gale grinned. "Yes, it would. I need to know that you can physically curse." Delly rolled her eyes and said, "Fine." Then softly, hesitant, she said, "he's a dick." Gale burst out laughing and Delly rolled her eyes once more, but she was laughing too. "This isn't about my ability to curse, you know. I was talking about funding for mental health professionals. The community needs it." Gale, still laughing, said, "Delly Cartwright, defender of human rights." Delly shook her head exasperatedly, but then said, "that term applies to you too, you know." That stopped his laughter. He thought about a time, not long ago, when he'd stood by a mountain full of weapons and suggested destroying them along with everyone inside. Thought about the weapons that had ended the war- and taken dozens of innocent children with them. Gale swallowed. "I wouldn't say that." Delly smiled softly at him. "You risked your life everyday fighting for freedom. Don't underestimate yourself, Gale."

Spending so much time with Delly made him become more attuned with her emotions. Which was why a couple of months later, he began to notice the strain in her smile, the way it didn't quite reach her eyes. So he took her out to the woods one weekend in an attempt to cheer her up. He didn't hunt, though. He didn't think she'd appreciate the sight of dead squirrels. But she did appreciate the freedom of the woods and the wind in her hair and the sound of the river cutting through a valley. She had sat down next to it, picking out flowers along the edge of the river and talking about how maybe he could teach her how to swim. When she looked up at him, a warm smile on her face, her blue eyes brighter in the sunlight and blond hair glowing almost gold, his answer caught in his throat. For a second, he couldn't think about anything else but how pretty she looked, but quickly buried the thought down at her expectant eyes. He told her that it was getting too cold to go swimming, now almost November. But he could teach her once it was warmer.

They stayed there for a few more hours, and she slowly became more quiet. Finally, she admitted that it was her parent's birthday that week- their birthdays fell three days apart. She said that they usually celebrated with pastries and board games then became silent once more, wistfully looking out to the horizon, eyes tearing up pulling knees to her chest. He awkwardly placed an arm around her in an attempt at comfort, but she seemed to think it was enough, burying her head in his shoulder.

Sometimes, when he felt unbearably homesick he spent hours out in the woods. They weren't the same as his woods, but they were close enough. And if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was home. Delly didn't have something like the woods to comfort her, though. The only real connection she had to D12 in D2 was himself, and it wasn't like they knew each other before the war. He had an idea then, of someone who did know her before, someone who could help. And he hated that he suddenly felt afraid.

He and Peeta Mellark had never been friends. Not exactly. He had tried hating him once, long ago, but had quickly given up. He was too nice, too kind, too caring and never treated Gale with anything less than respect. Which led to Gale grudgingly respecting him on a bad day and actually liking the guy on a good day. In another world, maybe they could have been good friends. But in this world, he was the person closest to Katniss, at least according to Greasy Sae who he talked to once a month, and that thought filled him with dread. That Peeta could mention him to Katniss. That Peeta would know whether Katniss hated him outright or not. That he could ask Peeta to talk to Katniss on his behalf. That he could call Peeta and accidentally get Katniss on the line. And though sometimes he longed to at least hear her voice, to confirm that she was okay, he had left for a reason. And as much as he wanted to hear from her, he knew she didn't want to hear from him. But this wasn't for himself. This was for Delly. And Peeta was the one person who might be able to help. So a week later, he sucked up his fears and picked up the phone.

As soon as Peeta's voice came from the other line, Gale's mind went blank and all he could come up with as a greeting was "Um, hi." There was a pause, and then "Gale?" He swallowed. "Yeah, yeah it's me." There was another pause where Gale tried to sort through his thoughts, but before he could bring up Delly's name, Peeta awkwardly and reluctantly asked, "Do you want me to put Katniss on the line?" which caused Gale to practically shout "No!" into the receiver. "No," he said again, not shouting this time. "It's you I wanted to talk to, actually." Gale quickly explained his plan, and after a few seconds of silence, Peeta said, "That's a good idea. That's really kind of you, Gale." Gale said, "Well, she's my friend," almost defensively. "No, I know. I'm glad she's got you looking out for her," Peeta said. "Right." There was a silence, and Gale thought that maybe now would be the right time to hang up, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. "I really miss her," Peeta said finally. "She misses you, too," Gale said. Which was true, but he usually wouldn't be saying that. There was another silence, but Gale still didn't hang up. "Maybe I should go up there to visit her," Peeta said. Gale noticed how he said I instead of we. No Katniss then. Which Gale didn't know whether to be relieved it or not. Still, he said, "I'm sure she'd like that." Still, he didn't hang up. But he couldn't bring himself to ask either. And Peeta, ever perceptive, caught on to the reason for his hesitation and finally said, "Katniss is doing better, Gale."

Relief. That was the immediate feeling that overwhelmed him, followed closely by longing. There was once a time when he and Katniss lived in each other's pocket. When they depended on each other for survival, for their sanity. And no matter what had happened between them, romantic or not, Katniss was his best friend. He missed her. He missed her so much it physically hurt some days. And for a second he wanted nothing more than to hop on the next train to D12 to see his friend. But friends didn't kill each other's siblings. So he said, "Thanks, um, take care," and hung up. He desperately hoped Peeta hadn’t heard the lump that had formed in his throat.

His order arrived a few days later in some sort of container to preserve the baked books. Gale looked inside the box to find the invoice he had requested, but of course Peeta didn’t include it. He rolled his eyes and made a mental note to ask Greasy Sae how much she thought the food was worth. What he did find was a piece of paper with a phone number. Which wasn’t needed, really, because he had memorized that number months and months ago and every week got closer to dialing it. He knew he wouldn’t though. Peeta may have been closer to Katniss now, but that didn’t mean that Gale didn’t know her, too. And his presence would hurt her too much at the moment. But the fact that Peeta had given him her number meant that she probably didn’t despise the ground he walked on, then. And that was something.

When Delly opened the box to reveal an assortment of muffins, cupcakes, and cookies, all distinctly District Twelve, her eyes widened and she practically jumped at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug. He pulled her closer towards him, inhaling the scent of cinnamon that was always present in her unit and lingered on her at all times. He felt a sense of loss when she let go and was tempted to pull her back into his arms when she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and said, “Thank you.” She stood on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The feel of her lips on his cheek lingered for the rest of the evening.

Gale lay awake that night in his bed, heart pounding hard in his chest. He wasn’t dense. He knew what his recent thoughts about  his cheerful, peppy friend meant. And the only coherent thought he could come up with about his predicament was Oh no.

It was his own little secret he carried around for months. He tried not to stare at her too hard  and tried to avoid thinking about her lips or about how her smile seemed to light up the entire world in the darkest of times. His world, at least. Sometimes it felt like the war, the bombs, had extinguished all the fire and passion inside of him. That the fire that had one day burned so strongly had died, taking with it his friend and his sister and his soul. Sometimes it felt like he was running on autopilot, doing what was expected of him, trying his best to amend his mistakes but feeling... not much, really. Empty But one look at Delly who shone so bright and he felt the warmth back in his chest. He wouldn’t tell her, of course. He couldn’t risk losing their friendship, going back to being bitter and miserable and oh so lonely all the time.

He really needed to stop falling in love with his friends.

On the anniversary of the end of the war, the anniversary of Prim’s death, Gale didn’t leave his unit. He had every intention to, even got dressed and brushed his teeth, he had a job to do after all. But then he heard the sound of some kids laughing outside his window and he fell back down on his couch. He didn’t get back up.

The pain was sudden and intense, suffocating him, and for a second he thought he was back in D12, choking under the fumes and screaming as his shirt caught on fire. He wondered if that was what Prim had felt, what all those kids had felt, those last few seconds, and he laid down and curled into himself. But he knew that no matter how horrible he felt, somewhere hundreds of miles away, Katniss was feeling worse. He had never wished for anything more than to be able to switch places with Prim at that moment. Little Prim who wanted to be a doctor. Little Prim who risked her life to save her cat. Little Prim who wanted nothing more than to heal others. Prim. Dead. At his hand.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, but eventually the door to his unit opened. Delly. He had given her a key for emergencies ages ago. And suddenly Delly was sitting on the couch and his head was in her lap and she was running her fingers through his hair and whispering something he couldn’t decipher. So he closed his eyes and tried to let her voice and smell and the feel of her fingers on his scalp ground him.

He wasn’t sure what Delly saw in him, why she stuck around. But Delly was good and kind saw the best in everyone. And had decided he was worth her friendship. And maybe if sweet and kind Delly saw something good in him, that meant there was something in him that was salvageable.

District 2 didn’t abide to the laws of science and weather because there was a huge snowstorm in the middle of March. Delly’s team and his team worked diligently for days to get the last 500 people or so moved out of camps and into the newly rebuilt compounds. Hours before the three-day storm was to hit, they were finally released and sent home. He and Delly had decided that they would weather out the storm at her place and spent the first night huddled in front of the fire, retelling old stories and playing board games and laughing into the night.

The next morning Gale woke up to the sound of Delly bustling in the kitchen, singing loudly and a little off-key. He smiled to himself, and thought that he really wouldn’t mind waking up to her voice more often.

He wasn’t sure how it happened. If he had leaned in first, if she had. But on that third night of the storm, one minute snuggling and laughing under the blanket and the next wrapped in each other’s arms, they broke apart, grinning at each other and lips tingling.

Gale decided in that moment, that he had never felt more at peace.

[hendrickfw]

A ray of hope/LU AU

The end was near. An enormous asteroid, a hundred kilometers wide, was about to impact Earth. The last time it happened was about seven hundred years ago, during the golden years of heroism. A young white duck astronomer wearing a red jacket watched through his telescope, noting the object getting closer to Earth.

-Jet? Please turn off the light and get to sleep.

Jet´s brother, Turbo, was sleeping in a blue pajama. He stood up and walked to his brother.

-I can´t. I´m a witness of a cosmological event never seen before!

-Wait. Space, you mean?

Turbo loved space. He pushed his brother apart and started watching through the telescope. His eyes opened wide at the incredible sight of the rock.

-Guys, someone is trying to sleep here- said Rebel, putting his pillow over his head.

Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were triplets, all brothers of the large Duck family. They lived in Acmetropolis in their uncle´s Nash Duck house. Their mother traveled through all the galaxy, so she rarely was with them. The trio also passed their time with their uncle Ebenezer McDuck.

Rebel went with them after his complaints were unheard. He used some green pajamas. He wasn´t so happy about being out of bed.

-Wow, that´s so cool! You never told me a pink lady was flying over there!- exclaimed Turbo, making Jet curious.

-Pink lady? What are you talking about?

Jet pushed his brother and started watching through the telescope, impressed by the phenomenon before his eyes. A strange pink-dressed woman flying near the asteroid fired some kind of ray to it. The meteor was destroyed, although some debris continued its trajectory to Acmetropolis.

-That´s impossible! That is some abnormal event! How is a woman able to fly? What did she fire? Why...?

-Kids. What are you doing?

Another white duck opened the door. He was Nash, the uncle of the ducklings. He seemed mad after seeing his nephews out of bed late at night.

-Nothing, Uncle Nash- responded the three, hiding the telescope behind them.

-You should be sleeping. Remember that tomorrow we´ll visit your uncle Ebenezer.

-Ok, Uncle Nash- the trio responded again in unison.

The ducklings returned to bed, ready for the next day. Although, the strange event they have just seen got them intrigued.

While they were sleeping, some meteor debris fell to the city with some cosmic energy. Fortunately, it wouldn´t affect any individual. Right?

Acmetropolis University

It was a summer day in the city. The people could feel the heat of the day. There was, at least, one person, or animal, without that kind of problem. He was Tech E. Coyote, a Ph.D. student of the Technology Department of the biggest and most important university in the city.

Tech, as his ancient name suggests, was a coyote with brown fur. His green eyes, concentrated on his latest invention, still showed a wild persona, but also wisdom. He was wearing a lab coat. Despite someone's sound entering into the lab, his concentration didn't leave the device in front of him. Smith Pierce, Tech's professor, entered the lab. The coyote did not hear his presence until he felt someone touch the chair where he was sitting.

“You should rest. We're going to have a meal with the rest of the class at Pizza Fest. You coming?”

“I don't think so, sir. If I want to investigate the astrological phenomenon of the time, I must finish the intercosmic suit.”

Of course, the genius knew about the asteroid in the direction of the planet and wanted to investigate it closely. Very close. Smith, as much as he wanted to convince Tech to get out, knew he wouldn't make it. The professor sighed and walked out.

“If you change your mind, we will be waiting for you. Warner Street corner with Mouse.”

Tech nodded from afar, still adjusting the suit's protection systems. There wasn't much time, as the asteroid would arrive in a few days.

“You know? If you listened to me, I'd introduce you to my friend the roadrunner. Both could complement each other very well in the lab” asked a female voice. Tech had to start paying more attention to his surroundings while he was working.

“The delivery guy? You know I don't trust working with anyone since Casey, Lexi.”

After Smith's departure came Lexi Bunny, a tan fur bunny. She didn't study anything related to science. Instead, she was an athlete. She had been a cheerleader in high school and was now looking to pursue basketball. Despite this, she had taken some physics and engineering courses (specially to learn more about those subjects than his brother) under Tech's mentoring. Since then, they have become good friends, although Tech has had confidence issues.

And that's why Lexi wants to include him in ger close group of friends. In addition to the roadrunner whose name went through Rev, there was his older brother Ace. Rev also claimed to have two friends who would introduce them today. Just the ideal situation to take Tech.

“Today Rev will introduce me and my brother some friends. You should come, it'll be fun.”

“I can't. I have to finish this before I miss the opportunity.”

“Then do it as a favor. Remember the time you...?”

When Lexi pursued an objective, she usually made it. That's what he admired her. Well, he had to admit that, from the few times they'd come out, he'd had more fun than usual. Maybe he'd do the same this time, even though there'd be more people outside of her brother and herself.

“All right, all right. I 'm going. Just help me put some things in store” the most he tried to hide his smile, he just couldn't. He really enjoyed the company of the bunny.

As they both began to pack the objects Tech used, Tech recalled a recent comment from the bunny. That would serve to kill the silence in which they were involved.

“And... are you sure you want to do it?”

“I don't know. It's a big step and, so far, Ace hasn't taken it well.”

“We can postpone it so you can think about it better, discuss it with him and, well, with me. We haven't decided everything.”

“Doesn't it bother you? It's a decision that's yours too.”

“Not at all. I'd rather you be comfortable, specially.”

Lexi felt unsure of the action to take, but at least she was happy to have Tech's support. It was comforting to some extent.

Once they both finished storing everything, they left the University and walked to the city subway, from where they took transportation to downtown. Tech felt somewhat uncomfortable about being in such unhygienic, crowded environments, but at least having Lexi by his side giving him conversation took those thoughts out of his head. Soon they arrived and took to the streets of the metropolis. A short time passed, and they entered the Pizzarriba establishment.

Pizzarriba was a pizza restaurant created in the 21st century, miraculously afloat after losing almost all its establishments to Pizza Fest. Luckily, the original restaurant was still standing. It continued to maintain the same style as in its founding years, specially to attract customers.

Lexi, followed by Tech, walked through the door. It was Tech's first time on the establishment. Lexi quickly ran to one of the tables. Tech recognized her brother, Ace, whose grey fur was unmistakable for the coyote. He wore a jacket and jeans, his typical outfit after finishing his auditions. He was the only one on site, probably saving space for the group. The table was big. How many friends would the roadrunner bring?

- What's up, Doc? Ace asked Tech after hugging and greeting her sister.

-Hi, Ace.

Ace gave room for both of them to sit down. Lexi sat next to him and Tech was left next to her. Before they could start chatting, the three of them heard the door of the restaurant open with an unusual sound of someone talking.

“... a-robot-commissioned-by-my-dad-so-I-had-to-look-for-a-replacement-and-you-know-how-difficult-it-is-to-find-a-modulator-at-the-middle-of-desert-so-I-improvised-putting-together-several-remnants-of-old-inventions-with-something-of-cheese--which-reminds-me-have-you-proven-this-pizza-is-delicious-and-look-there-are-my-friends-hello-Ace-Lexi-and-you-should-be-Tech-is-a-pleasure-Lexi-told-me-a lot-about-you-and-your-inventions-sound-awesome...”

Tech started to feel dizzy. He didn't know what it could be, but it started a little after the roadrunner arrived. By focusing on his problem, he failed to hear the last words of him, at least until Lexi interrupted him.

“Hello Rev. Tech, he is the friend I have told you about.”

Tech tried to return to his posture and reached out to say hello. He didn't expect a loud, quick handshake from the roadrunner. He heard that he continued to speak with the same speed and joviality, which caused the coyote more dizziness. It was nothing to his liking. Rev was the typical roadrunner one could find in the desert, with blue plumage on the body and violet on the tail. He was wearing a sports suit because he probably was used to run a lot. After the introduction, Rev returned with his friends and introduced them.

“He-is-Slam-the-Tasmanian-demon-and-he-is-a-professional-fighter-and-very-good-at-it-I must-admit...”

Slam was a little bigger than the average Tasmanian demon. He was huge in Lexi's opinion, but behind his smile she saw the personality of someone friendly rather than intimidating. They hoped it would, even though Lexi didn't hesitate. Tech failed to understand Slam's growls, but by his raised hand he suspected it was a greeting.

“... and-he-is-Duck-and-between-him-my-brother-Rip-and-I-we-are-best-friends-practically-brothers-or-what-do-you-say?”

The black duck was crossing his arms, without saying a word. Everyone noticed that he looked coldly at Ace, who looked back at him the same way.

“Rev, I didn't know you knew the duck.”

“Umm-yes-why-do-you-know each other?”

"Unfortunately," Duck replied.

"And this got awkward," Tech said louder than he wanted. Slam made sounds agreeing.

The three newcomers sat in front of those who were already there. The large size Slam occupied in the chair explained the size of the reserved table. Lexi was the first to break the tension when she saw Duck's shirt.

“Where did you get that? I've been looking for that shirt for centuries!”

Duck watched his shirt. He changed his expression of discomfort to a smirk. He looked at the bunny pointing at his shirt.

“This shirt? Please, the biggest fans of Duck Dodgers are the only ones who can carry them.”

"I-didn't-know-that-you-were-fan-of-Duck-Dogers-too-Lexi-I-mean-it-is-fantastic-other-thing-that-we-have-in-common.”

“Well, lady, it is your lucky day. I´m the Duck Dodgers fan club leader so I may allow you to join us. Do you know where we are?”

“Please give me something easy. Here was Dodgers' first fight in 2021 during the concert of a famous band of the time.”

“2021? Wasn't he a hero in 2500?” Ace asked, intrigued or her sisters´ knowledge of the character. He knew of her love for the hero, but not how much she had dived into his history.

“Actually, no. It's a common mistake. Duck Dodgers debuted at this restaurant in the 21st century but is best known for his heroics in the 25th century. Besides, it wasn't at a concert by a famous band of the time. The Caballeros were not popular when they played in the incident" corrected Tech. Everyone looked at him and Tech felt uncomfortable. “What? You can't be the only ones interested in superheroes.”

“Told you” bragged Lexi to her brother with a big smirk.

"Sure, I already knew that." Duck bragged too, though everyone distrusted his sincerity.

“Wouldn’t-it-be-amazing-to-have-superpowers-or-what-do-you-think-guys?” Rev asked with his speaking speed. “I-mean-I-already-run-fast-but-I-wouldn´t-be-annoyed-if-I-was-faster-or-which-powers-would-you-guys-like-to-have?”

"Definitely jump higher, be able to reach places I couldn´t." Lexi replied, already knowing the answer.

“Besides the intellect, which I already possess, probably some form of technokinesis. It would be helpful to me when working.” Tech replied, showing off and being honest at the same time.

Slam made incomprehensible sounds to others again, but Rev interpreted them as the ability to eat more.

“I don't want superpowers. With my agility I could kick any thief” said Ace confidently.

“Finally, you share my opinion, Ace. I wouldn't need either. Duck Dodgers never needed. I just need my natural duck strength.” Duck added.

“Where was that strength when you needed my help moving a ladder in the supermarket, Duck?” The others couldn't help but laugh a little bit about the anecdote.

“The ones with wheels to move around, Ace?”

“Nice deduction, Tech.”

"You are despicable..."

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

The afternoon passed quickly and was fun, even for Tech or Duck, who were the most apathic. After eating the pizza and getting to know each other a little better, everyone returned to their homes. Everyone had their own responsibilities to attend.

Rev was the first to get home thanks to his speed, despite being the one who lived the farther away. The roadrunner arrived at his parents' house. Ralph, his father, greeted him immediately, diverting the little attention paid to his son Rip. He asked his favorite son to help him build his new Robo-Amigo as Rip was too "inexperienced" in the robotics area. Without hesitation the roadrunner arrived to the garage, where he began to work.

Slam, after lunch, arrived at the arena where he had a contract to fight. At the moment his fights were against unexperienced players, as his sponsor, Pierre Le Pew, still kept him to fight the great cup champion for later. The demon didn't want to serve just cheap entertainment because he wanted to have fun with the fights, besides being able to have an extra income if it wasn't too much, because the economy wasn't going well lately for him.

Duck came to his apartment, which was extremely messy, with dirty laundry all over the place. It looked like a homeless man lived there. And, honestly, it was near the truth. Despite the ducks´ confident and arrogant behavior, Duck was nothing but a drag on society. Not even that house was his: it was an unpaid hotel room for four months. Duck's life was miserable, and he knew it very well. Only his job of picking up trash from a public pool said it all. Duck threw himself in his bed and looked at a photograph of his adoptive parents, dead at that point. Duck missed them and would do anything to bring them back. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Tech returned to college, to the same lab where he spent the rest of the week working. He was already late and had to continue with his armor. He had Lexi's insecurity in mind. The coyote hoped she could solve the problem. But the voice of the roadrunner didn't go out of his mind either. In truth, listening to him speak so much, with that force and speed caused him a terrible headache. He didn't dislike him, on the contrary, they were almost “birds of a feather”, but that voice detail was still there.

Lexi and Ace returned to their apartment. It was humble, the best they could get. With Lexi's scholarship and Ace's salary as a stunt, it was the best they could rent. It was cozy, but Lexi wanted to change. Between the two brothers several discussions had been emerging and Lexi thought the best was to take some time apart. Luckily, she had found support in a coyote, who was willing to share the same roof with her. It was a possible way out.

Ace, meanwhile, was saddened by the constant conflicts with his sister. He understood that she needed her space and was no longer a child, but he was the older brother and their parents had commissioned him to protect her. Was he wrong to want to do his job?

But, despite each other's problems, the same event brought them together. It wasn't their meeting at Pizzarriba. At about 6:30, they all fainted without any apparent explanation. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed and they were taken to the hospital.

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

Some general stuff. This is my AU fanfiction of Loonatics Unleashed where the heroes have some solo adventures before they form the team. This is an awfully done introduction. I don´t really trust my English writing abilities, so please tell me if you find any grammatical mistake. If any hero wants to help me with that part I will not be able of thank you enough.

I finally decided to make it a shared universe with my other fanfiction: Los Tres Caballeros viajan de nuevo. I´m not sure if I´ll use any characters referencing that story because I want to focus on the show cast. For now I just want to put the important pieces on place before starting everything.

And feel free to comment. I´ll try to upload more but, I´m finishing this semester and the exams and essays will take my time. Anyway, for those shippers, I may have some Tech/Lexi at the start but I´ll transition it to Tech/Rev and Danger/Lexi.

I hope you like it and happy weekend to everyone.

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part two

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: thank you guys so much for the incredible response i got to part one!! it made me so happy so thank you. let me know wha yall think of this bit, we’ve got some plot going on which i always enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one

You don’t hear from Bucky for a while after the party. It’s disappointing - you’re self-aware enough to admit that. But you also aren’t stupid enough to expect anything else. Bucky asked you to that party as a favour, you got a one-night-only special being in his life and you’re not expecting anything else.

You had hoped it wouldn’t have impacted your nightly rendezvous, but those had stopped too. You suppose Bucky decided not to trust you after all.

Almost three weeks later and you’re at work, thoughts of Bucky barely a buzz in the back of your head compared to the job at hand. You’ve always been able to let your work consume you, and it pays off in your line of business. Being a private investigator requires attention to detail, lateral thinking, and a questionable moral compass. Your patented paranoia doesn’t hurt either. Your dad tells you every time you visit that he wishes you’d get into something more stable, something less dirty, but you’re not really good at anything else. Considering the majority of your clients are partners trying to figure out if their significant other is cheating, it also pays well for quite minimal effort.

Quick rule of thumb for aspiring PI’s: they’re almost always cheating.

Today is one of those clients. You’ve tailed the guy in question to a tattoo shop in Red Hook, which is already a red flag. He’s an investment banker and buys Louis Vuitton cufflinks for his ugly work suits. He stands out like a sore thumb in this grungy neighbourhood. You snap a few photos of him outside the store, very obviously checking left and right for a tail before entering the place. People suck at being subtle, you’ve come to realise over the years. And at being observant, because all you’ve bothered to do to hide is sit at the cafe across the road and pretend to be taking photos of the latte art on your coffee.

Entering the tattoo parlour is a no-go, even if your grunge aesthetic would fit in with the clientele more than your straight-laced prey. There are other ways, though. You leave some bills on the table and cross the street into the alley beside the tattoo shop, wrinkling your nose at the dumpster smell. There’s a fire escape which you can reach if you stand on the lid of the offensive dumpster in question, leading to a window you hope will get you some insight into what Mike Shorditch of suspected-cheating fame is up to. Maybe he has a tattooed, lip-ringed young girlfriend he meets here? Or a heavy-set biker boyfriend? Or he just wants a tattoo and his wife is as paranoid as you are.

Squeezed uncomfortably between the bars of the fire-escape, you manage to aim your camera lens at the window and zoom in - jackpot. It’s a small window near the ceiling of the high-roofed shop, letting in minimal light to ruin the dark aesthetic of the place, allowing you a somewhat clear view of the shop inside. It’s really nice, you notice, and they have good taste in music. Slowly Slowly bleeds minimally through the glass and you try focus your lens on the faces inside, catching Mike among them like a unicorn in a goth reunion. He’s talking to someone, waving his hands around dramatically while the guy he talks to towers over him, arms folded over a ginormous chest.

You know that face, you realise as you aim your lens a little higher. The shock burns, almost makes you drop your camera and fall off the fire escape you’re precariously lying on. It’s Steve, blonde head unmistakeable as he glares at your target and dismisses whatever Mike says to him with an eyeroll. Without questioning it, you snap a few photos of Steve’s imposing figure - so at odds with the friendly, downright cuddly man you met at the party a few weeks ago. Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of thoughts about that night, they show up at your work. How is this possible?

None of this sits right with you. This strange coincidence, the weird behaviour at the party towards Bucky and his friends, Bucky’s general evasiveness and the feeling you get of being watched just being around him. Nothing is adding up and you’ve never been the kind of person to leave well enough alone. You snap photos of the shop, as much as you can - Steve’s tattoo sleeve that had been hidden under a jumper at the party, the stencils lining the walls, the locks on the front door, the counter where a scrawny kid in glasses bends over what looks like genuine high-school homework and ignores the adults in the shop. There are too many variables - you have to start making sense of one of them.

The easiest thread to pull is Mike, and he’s the one you’re being paid to solve, so it makes sense to start there. Clearly it isn’t cheating his wife should be worried about, but the meeting he’s having with Steve and the others doesn’t look like a friendly catch up with friends either. His personal cybersecurity is poor enough you figure you’ll be able to solve that particular mystery easy enough.

Bucky and his friends, however? That’s going to take a bit more digging.

***

According to Mike Shoreditch’s bank records, he owes somebody a lot of money. You get this from an account his wife doesn’t even know he has, believing all their money goes into a shared account with a completely different bank. Mike has a lot of secrets but cheating isn’t one of them - the print outs of his secret bank account statements and the pictures of him at Steve’s tattoo parlour would be enough for you to close the case and get your money. But you don’t. Not just yet. You have your own itch to scratch, now.

You’ve taken to watching the tattoo shop’s comings and goings, snapping pictures here and there. Steve comes in at ten in the morning, ready to open the shop up by lunchtime for customers and doesn’t close it until midnight. His customers are the usual sort you’d imagine at a rough tattoo shop in Red Hook - heavy set guys with full sleeves and chest pieces, grungy couples who probably live upstate but are rebelling against their trust-fund parents, random walk-ins who’s nerves you can sense from across the street at what’s become your usual table. There are a few, though, who stand out. Leather jackets and motorbikes they park in the alley beside the shop, using the back entrance you snap a shot of one night once they all went home.

You’re not jumping to conclusions just yet, you’ve learnt the hard way from doing that, but you’re also not stupid. Whatever Steve is into, whatever Bucky is by association a part of, there are some shady looking people involved as well.

It’s one of those days where you’re watching the shop from the cafe, camera left on the table in favour of devouring an almond croissant and cataloguing the people you’ve now dubbed regulars at Steve’s as they enter the shop. You should probably be doing your actual job but you can’t bring yourself to, too caught up in the shady business across the street from you. Absorbed, in fact, so you practically jump out of your skin as your phone rings and you send it flying to the pavement with an errant elbow.

You pick up without checking the ID, and boy was that a mistake. Heart pounding painfully in your chest, you answer, “Hi, hello, hi, this is (Y/n) speaking,” all in a rush.

A familiar, honey-warm laugh rumbles down the phone to you and your previously racing heart all but stops beating. Bucky says, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Does he know? Had Steve caught you spying and called Bucky asking why the random girl he brought to a party that one time was stalking him? You glance around the street, half expecting Bucky to be standing behind you and catching you red-handed. He’s not, of course he’s not, you’re just losing your mind a little bit.

“No, no, sorry,” you say, running a shaky hand through your hair. “I’m at work. What’s up?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and you hate how the rough catch of his voice through the phone all but erases the suspicions you have for him, warning you to stay away. You had missed him, is all. He says, as if plucking the thought from your brain, “I was missing you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glad he can’t see the grin you send to the table. “That why you disappeared after the party?”

“Let me explain over drinks?” Bucky asks, dodging your jab with ease. No, no, no, don’t be stupid, he’s bad news and you’ve got the proof, don’t-

“You’re paying,” you say instead, silencing the smart side of your brain.

“Always do,” he says, which is blatantly not true but whatever, “Nine at Joey’s?”

“See you there,” you say, and hang up before you can do anything else stupid.

You bury your hands in your hair, leaning your elbows on the table and letting out a frustrated sound probably inappropriate for a public place. How are you going to go meet Bucky and pretend you aren’t, essentially, investigating his best friend? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you use this to get more answers, full-stop some of the question marks that have been playing havoc with your head all week.

And sex. You’re not going to pretend you won’t be ending up in Bucky’s bed again, shady secrets be damned.

***

Joey’s is a divey, underground bar you absolutely adore, and you’ve met Bucky here multiple times. He introduced you to the place, actually, a week or so into meeting up him. He’d laughed at how excited you were over the movie posters they used as decor behind the booths, the bartender who squeezed fresh apple juice into your shot of Jameson, the dirty bass-heavy music you eventually convinced him to dance with you to. Bucky is clearly trying to win you over by meeting you here, and you can’t say it’s not working. Just a little bit. You’ll still make him work for it.

Bucky’s got a booth at the back when you arrive, two whiskey apple’s already waiting on the table as he stands up to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, not letting you set the tone at all, but you can’t find it in you to mind as you’re crushed into his chest and he rests his stubbly chin atop your head. He smells nice, reminding you of spiced rum or something else warm and comforting, and his hands feel real nice as they dip under your top to press against your bare skin. Had you really missed him this much? You squeeze him tightly, ignoring the thump of your heart as he starts rubbing circles into your back, and you stand there in his arms for far too long to be appropriate.

Pulling away, though, feels like you’ve lost something.

Across the booth from you, now, Bucky slides a drink towards you with his usual cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, popping the straw in your mouth and looking out at the bar so you can pretend not to pay attention to him. He bumps your foot under the table but you ignore him, hiding your smirk in the rim of your glass.

“Doll,” he says, exasperated, and reaches across the booth to place his giant hand on the arm you have resting on the table. You look at him then, scrunching your nose up at the pet name which makes him smile. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, all soft and blurry blue, and you feel yourself forgetting why you’re supposed to be mad at him in the first place.

“What,” you say, mimicking his tone just to watch his jaw clench. His frustration is hot, what of it? You love winding him up like this.

“Brat,” he retorts, and oh, that makes you feel something you probably shouldn’t, all low and coiled hot in your belly. “Did you think I was avoiding you?”

“You were avoiding me,” you correct, raising your eyebrows at him. He hasn’t let go of your arm, now taking to rubbing his thumb back and forth across the leather of your jacket. You refuse to let it melt you.

“I was away,” he says, eyes sparkling. He’s practically laughing at you, which is- rude. You huff, barely believing him, and he says, “I was! Did you want me to tell you I was going or something?”

“No,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. You sigh - he’s right, what did you expect? Nothing, and yet you were put out anyway, but that’s a problem you’ve got to deal with on your own. Bucky doesn’t owe you anything and he knows it. You relax, finally, putting your drink down to cover Bucky’s hand with your own. You smile, say, “I’m just messing with you, Bucky.”

“Sure you are,” he says easily, but you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s dropped, then, forgotten as you sit there staring at each other in the dim light of the bar. You really had missed him, even if you still barely knew him. His stubbly jaw, the close-cropped sides of the new haircut he’d gotten since you’d last seen him, the glint of his dog togs against tanned skin disappearing under his t-shirt. The swirl of his chest piece peeking out from the neckline, and you can fill in the blanks because you’ve seen what’s under that t-shirt. You’ve traced your tongue over it, as well as every other inch of him you’re trying to memorise in case another month passed before you saw him again. If you ever saw him at all.

“What?” you ask when you realise he’s starting to smile at you, holding back a laugh. He shakes his head, looking down to pick up his drink and take a sip. You lean back, retracting yourself from his grip and folding your arms across your chest - he’s making fun of you, you know it, but you don’t know why. He does laugh then, also leaning back in his seat and regarding you with that head tilt that infuriates you.

“Nothing,” he laughs, eyes saying the opposite. “It’s just- it’s nice to see you.”

“You going soft on me, tough guy?” you tease, but he sobers at your words, the smile dying on his pillow-plump lips. He stares you down, that deep thing that reminds you how easy it is to get lost in him (if you aren’t already).

“Maybe I am,” he says, and that surprises you. You had been joking, but the heady way he’s looking at you turns it serious. “Would that bother you?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to say the right thing. You don’t even know if that’s a good response or not, but you’ve done it now and Bucky nods, downs his drink, all without ever breaking eye contact with you. You get the distinct feeling you’ve just agreed to something you don’t entirely understand, entangling yourself further into Bucky without even trying to. Given what you’d been uncovering about his friends the past week, you should know better. You should leave.

But you don’t. You lean across the booth, coming to him this time, and peel his hand off his glass to entwine your fingers with his. The cool metal of his signet rings offsets the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way he grips your fingers tightly signs the deal. Bucky is too enticing to stay away from, and you are too tired of trying to.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you ask, but it’s not really a question. You watch his eyes dart across your face, tongue flicking out over his lips, stalling for time. You wonder what he’ll say. My friends run dodgy business deals out of a tattoo parlour? I’m involved in that, too? I’m dangerous, I’m a liar, you should stay away?

“I’m a mechanic,” he says. You try not to show your disappointment, but still, this is information you didn’t have before and you’re greedy for anything. “I have my own shop in Queens. Natasha helps me out, helps me run it. I’ve been obsessed with cars and bikes and shit since I was five.”

You smile at that, imaging little Bucky running around a car yard trying to convince his dad, or whoever, to teach him how to drive even if he couldn’t reach the pedals yet. You imagine him now, the hand you’re holding all greased up and elbow deep in a car’s guts, maybe with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his back. You’ve got to see that one day before you die, you decide right then. That’s too hot to just stay in your brain.

“Your turn,” he says, shit-eating smirk in place like he can read your mind. You blush, despite yourself, and scramble for something to say that’s not I’ve been investigating your friends all week and it’s not looking too good for them.

“My dad,” you blurt out, and Bucky give you a funny look like he thinks that’s your fact - you have a dad, isn’t that something. You curse yourself for starting this, you could’ve gone with anything and you said ‘my dad’? But you’re here now, so, “He raised me on his own, like, I don’t know my mum at all, but he always said he wanted me to have something of her so he taught me Russian. She taught him, apparently, and he taught her English. Now it’s like our secret language.”

“Russian, hey?” Bucky asks, and he seems far too surprised for the anecdote you’ve just given but you suppose it is the first actually personal thing you’ve told him. He doesn’t seem off-put by it, though, like you have expected him to be because you don’t do personal. In fact he just leans closer, almost unconsciously, baiting you to tell him more.

“Yeah,” you say, compelled to keep going. “We’d leave each other notes around the house in ‘code’, y’know, but it was just in Cyrillic. Thought it was so cool.”

“It is cool,” Bucky says, smirking at you again, “You’re cool.”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, kicking his ankle under the table but immeasurably grateful for the tone change. You don’t know why you’ve just told him that. You don’t know if you’ve ever told anyone that - Russian isn’t exactly a handy language to know. You feel drunker than you should be after a tiny bit of whiskey, high on the rush of unleashing a secret. Drunk enough that Bucky unlatching his fingers from yours to grip your wrist tight, a bit bruising, tugging you close, makes you flush from your scalp to your toes.

Bucky looks at you, dark and heavy, and asks, “Want to?”

You nod, throat suddenly very dry, and Bucky tugs you out of the booth without another word. Usually you wait a bit longer before getting on Bucky’s bike, have a few more drinks, maybe dance a bit if you can coax Bucky into it. Not tonight. You’re both on the same page - it’s been too long and you need his mouth on you about five days ago.

He pushes you into the apartment by the shoulders, rough enough you stumble but you’re quickly righted as he strides through the door after you and grabs you by the hips. Bucky crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your needy whine with soft lips and velvet tongue as you fist his t-shirt and drag you both backwards, going and going until your back hits a wall. His palm slams into the drywall by your head but you don’t flinch, only groan as he smudges his spit-slick mouth across your jaw and down your neck. Bucky bites down, sharp teeth on soft skin, and you rake your nails down his stomach as payback for the mark you’ll have later.

“Off,” Bucky grumbles as he shoves at your jacket, getting it stuck at your elbows and trapping your arms by your sides. He seems to like like this, eyes flashing something dangerous in the dark of his hallway. You hold his eyes, heart thrumming something wild in your throat at being caught, pinned, vulnerable. With Bucky, though, you like that.

You want to reach for him but you can’t, so you wait for him to come to you. Kissing you breathless, hand fisted in your hair, other undoing the front of your jeans. God, you wanna touch him so bad but Bucky has you in his grip, yanking your head back to kiss that same bruised spot.  He sucks another under your chin as you cry out, pinpricks of pain-turned-pleasure bursting at the base of your scalp.

He gets his hand in your jeans, in your panties, runs two fingers down your cunt so easy with how wet you are already before rubbing bruising, slow circles on your clit. Your whole body jerks against Bucky’s hold on you, his thighs bracketing your body into the wall and his hand still fisted in your hair. Your mouth drops open in a soundless moan and you feel, rather than hear Bucky laugh against your throat. All executive function has diverted to the radiating ache of pure pleasure from Bucky’s fingers on you.

Bucky lets go of you hair only to press his hand on your throat, cold rings digging into your burnt-up skin and pressing you back into the wall. Long fingers tilt your jaw to look at him, increased pressure warning you against looking away, but you don’t want to anyway. Bucky’s eyes are dark like a sea storm, molten blue, and he squeezes his grip just once before saying, “Still think I’ve gone soft?”

Jesus christ, but you can’t answer him like this - not with your pulse thundering against his palm and the way he picks up the pace on your clit, making your thighs shake with the effort of holding yourself up. Bucky grins, boyish and crinkly, and it’s so at odds with the way he slides his two fingers down and pushes into you, twisting to the knuckle, that you think you might be losing your mind. Unravelling, Bucky pulling at the threads, and the only thing holding you together is his hand on your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, his name a broken breath as you start to lose focus. Everything’s hazy, glassy, your toes are going numb and tingly so you know it’s coming, building tight in your stomach as he rubs his fingers back and forth inside of you. At his name Bucky makes a sound almost like a growl, pressing his body against yours and somehow further into the wall. You need that contact,  the press of his muscles holding you up as it gets harder and harder to breath with the heat coiling up inside of you. He presses his forehead against yours so all you can see is blue edged out by black, claiming your every breath and moan, drawing you in deeper and deeper because you’re his, now. There’s no way back from this.

He presses his thumb to your clit, thrusts his fingers deeper into you, mouth parting with yours as you moan as if he means to swallow the sound. You’re there, you’re right there, and then he kisses you so soft you might’ve imagined it and you’re coming, your whole body clenching up and whiting out while he finger fucks you through it.

Trembling muscles come to leant against the wall, barely holding yourself up as Bucky extricates himself and allows you room to breath. He gently tugs your jacket all the way off, freeing your arms to come up sluggish and heavy around his neck, holding on. He laughs, just quietly, letting you nuzzle your way into the side of his neck and breath in that warm honey Bucky smell as you try and regain mental functions. It’s hard. You think Bucky’s just blended up your brain with a swizzle stuck and sucked it out through a straw.

“C’mon,” he says, gravel rough, and nudges his nose against the side of your head. “Not done with you yet.”

“Hmph,” you say, but let yourself be picked up under the ass and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. You press a kiss to the skin of his neck you can reach with every second your body comes back online, digging your teeth in a little when he squeezes your ass as he walks. You’re both still fully clothes, basically, but you don’t plan to be for long. You’ve got tattoos to kiss and a dick you want anyway Bucky’ll let you. You’ve got all night, after all.

***

It’s late, you should be going, but you steal a few more minutes lying on Bucky’s chest. He’s sat up against the headboard, trying to braid little pieces of your hair with the cutest look of concentration on his face. The way he goes from dirty to dork always makes your heart do complicated things in your chest. You’re drumming your fingers on his chest, right next to his dog tags, and before you can overthink it too much you pause your drum solo to pick them up.

Bucky doesn’t pause in his hair-braiding but you can feel him watching you as you turn the worn metal over in your fingers. They’re well loved, a bit bent in places and the letters starting to rub flat  but you can still read it. His birthday, March 10th, and his name. You’d never thought to read these before - they always seemed part of Bucky’s past, something you weren’t allowed into yet. But tonight has made you bold, and you run your thumb over the letters of his name so you can memorise the feel of them.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you mumble, words half said into his skin. Bucky hums but doesn’t respond, so you say, “I always knew no mother could look at their newborn child and call it Bucky.”

“Watch it,” Bucky warns, but without any real heat. You don’t ask what the tags mean, which war he fought in, when he got back. You lay them back on his skin carefully, straightening out the chain, before turning in Bucky’s arms to prop your chin on his chest piece and look at him.

“I should go,” you say, as you continue to lie there with legs tangled and Bucky’s hand now resting idle, cupping the back of your head. He bites his lip, strokes his big hand down the back of your hair and making you close your eyes for a second. You’re enjoying his touch too much, you’re getting too close for a man you don’t know. A man who you know has secrets you probably don’t want to uncover, but you can’t stop yourself.

“You could stay.” Bucky’s words hang there, suspended in the space between you. He’s never said that before. You never thought he would say that, ever. Bucky looks at you, face unreadable, and you don’t know why you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden but you do. There are lines being crossed that you can’t backtrack from. You’re not ready to make that step yet.

“Not tonight,” you say, and it’s not a no but it’s not what Bucky wants to hear. He withdraws his hand from you, letting it drop uselessly to the bed beside him. You take that as your cue to go, rolling off the bed and dressing silently with Bucky’s eyes burning a hole in your skin.

You’re pulling away, trying desperately to regain some distance and control from his man who already has you swallowed whole, he just doesn’t know it yet. Even still, you can’t stop yourself crawling back on the bed and straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him. You want him to remember this - not you saying no, but the way your body will always say yes to him as he holds your hips and keeps you there, kissing you back as desperate as you feel.

But now you know you have reason to climb through the laundry room window that night and sneak away from Bucky’s apartment building, that you’re not just being paranoid because you’ve got photos to prove it. It’s that thought alone that makes it bearable to leave him, even if your heart is begging you to stay.

Part 3

[alj4890]

May the Fourth Be With You Drabble

(Thomas Hunt x OC) in a And Then I Met You Drabble.

A/N I am a big, we're talking huge, Star Wars dork. I also love the books by Jeffrey Brown showing Darth Vader as a father to little Luke and Leia. Since Thomas and Amanda have a set of fraternal twins after their daughter, Kathleen, in this AU; this idea came to me today.

@lxaah11   @alleksa16   @penguininapinktuxedo   @blackcoffee85   @stopforamoment           @krsnlove     @annekebbphotography        @hopelessromantic1352   . @sunflowergirl05      @greywitchyshots   @lilyoffandoms  @moodyvalentinestories  @emceesynonymroll   @my-heart-beats-for-ya @aworldoffandoms   @ab1901     @lolablackwrites     @flyawayboo   @sophxwithers​   @trappedinfandoms   @esmckenzie. @choicesficwriterscreations

Masterlist

May The Fourth

Every few minutes there was some type of pounding of footsteps running past or squeals. An occasional argument could be detected, yet mercifully Thomas couldn't make out the words.

Of all the days, why had Amanda agreed to host a playdate between their three children and Addison and Matt's brood of five?

He tried once more to focus his attention on a potential screenplay he had been given. There were some scenes that he had difficulty picturing as the voices beyond his study door rose and fell like the tide.

He jumped when his door was thrown open and his son, Ian, burst in. Out of breath, the little four year old quickly shut the door and pressed his body to it.

"Ian, I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed." Thomas reminded him. "When that door is shut, it means I am working."

"Sorry." Ian whispered. "But it's May the fourth!"

Thomas merely blinked. "And?"

"And they're after me because I'm your son!" Ian gleefully explained.

"Who--"

Kathleen poked her head inside. "There you are! Hurry! We found a way past the guards!"

"Coming!" Ian dashed after his older sister.

Thomas softly groaned and shut his door once more.

Just as he was deep within another scene, he was startled by his youngest child peeping over his arm.

Four year old Elizabeth' s eyes narrowed at the paper in his hand. "Are those the plans?"

"Elizabeth," Thomas muttered. "Go play with your siblings and friends."

He made the mistake of looking at her face. Her big hazel eyes, so like her mother's, were filled with sadness when she turned toward him.

"But Daddy, it's May the Fourth!" She pointed at her hair made up with two small buns at her ears and the white nightgown she was wearing. "It's your turn!"

"Turn for what?"

"To be in the story!" Elizabeth took his hand and tugged. "Come on, Daddy!"

"I am working." He reminded her. "When I finish, I will come see what it is you're talking about."

"But then it will be too late!" She wailed.

"Elizabeth, I don't--"

Just then Ian appeared with a toy lightsaber.

"There you are, princess!" Ian said with all the drama worthy of being a director's son. "I'm here to rescue you!"

Elizabeth sighed. "You forgot to say who you are."

Ian's frown firmed at that. "I'm Luke Skywalker."

"And?" Elizabeth prompted.

"Oh! I came with Ben Kenobi."

"Obi-wan! Here!" She replied.

"Yeah." Ian grabbed her hand and tugged.

"Aren't you going to fight Daddy?" Elizabeth asked her twin.

"I don't fight him now. Mommy does." Ian explained.

"But, I'm with him." She looked up at their father.

Ian tilted his head too at this unexpected development. "But he isn't in costume yet!"

"Oh." Elizabeth's shoulders dropped. "Daddy! You have to change! Your part is coming up."

Knowing it was futile to keep arguing with these two, Thomas set the screenplay in his desk drawer."

"Those were the Death Star plans." Elizabeth said in a loud whisper.

"They were?" Ian's eyes widened.

Thomas's lips trembled with mirth. "It is fully operational."

Ian and Elizabeth's mouths dropped open at his deep voice reminding them what the Death Star was capable of. They both had to fight their giddiness at finally having their father play with them.

When Thomas followed them out, he saw the complete transformation of his home. The living room had multiple rolling chairs in different positions. A tan blanket covered the floor in one corner with stuffed Jawas strewn about.

He noticed his daughter, Kathleen, dressed in gold and moving like a robot with Addison's youngest, Myles, wearing a blue shirt and a silver mixing bowl on his head.

Michael and Marcus jumped out from behind the couch toward their two little sisters. Marcus was clearly Han Solo while his tall older brother was Chewbacca. Both of the Rodriguez girls were Storm Troopers.

As they made pew pew sounds while aiming toy guns at each other, he saw Ian help his twin up on a recliner. The two looked down while Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her brother.

Ian mimed throwing a rope at the ceiling fan. His little face scrunched in disgust when Elizabeth kissed his cheek.

"For luck." She told him.

The two jumped off the chair, neither able to hide their smiles as they ran off once more.

While dodging the Rodriguez battle, Thomas made his way upstairs.

"Stupid beard." He could hear his wife mutter in the master bathroom. "Why do men even bother?"

Thomas leaned against the doorframe and watched her try to loop the beard just so around her ears. She had on one of his old tan bathrobes with the hood pulled up to hide her dark hair in a bun.

She smiled when she noticed him. "There you are!" She kissed his cheek while hurrying to point out his costume she had prepared on the bed. "Hurry. Our big lightsaber battle is about to start."

"So I heard." He folded his arms. "I was trying to get some work in before we leave for Cordonia."

"But it's May the Fourth." Amanda replied, as if he should automatically know what that meant.

"Yes, our children have been repeating the date to me with each interruption." He reached out to straighten her lopsided beard. "Why does that matter?"

"May the Fourth?" She repeated. "May the Force Be with You."

"Ah." His children had become obsessed with the franchise. "And I'm Darth Vader."

"Well, not to point out the obvious," Amanda's smile brought his own out, "but you are the father of twins."

He snorted softly.

She wrapped her arms around him. "I know you wanted to work, but these moments we have with them are rushing by so fast. Soon they won't want us to play with them." She raised her hand to his cheek. "An hour or so won't matter with work but it will to them."

She had hit in the one area he could never say no to. If there was one group of people he would drop everything for, it was his family.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

She kissed him then burst out laughing when he told her she better shave before doing that again.

Within minutes he was dressed in all black, had a cape on, and the voice modulated Vader mask had been placed over his head.

Amanda tossed him a red lightsaber while snatching up a blue one.

"Just in case you forgot," her eyes twinkled with mischief, "I was trained in fencing by some of the best masters in Europe."

"Yes, but I'm the master now." He taunted back.

Her smile, so like the excited ones on their children's faces, brought out his own once more as he followed her downstairs.

All the children froze when they heard the familiar breathing sound.

"Rebel scum." He greeted with a slight bow. "Princess, shouldn't you still be in your cell?"

Elizabeth clasped her hands over her mouth while bouncing in excitement.

"You'll never get ahold of her again!" Ian yelled out. "Right, Marcus-I mean Han?"

"Yeah! Chewie and I are getting paid for this rescue." Marcus nudged his brother.

Michael tried to do the growl, causing Kathleen to giggle.

"Lord Vader!" Ashley and Ally saluted him. "We've rounded them up for you."

"Excellent." He replied. "Though I sense something I haven't felt in a long time."

"Get him Ben!" Ian cheered when his mother turned her lightsaber on.

All the children sat down and watched the two adults fight. The couple gave them a sparring match that had them cheering with each near blow.

Amanda winked at Thomas. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine."

Lifting his lightsaber, he slowly brought it across her. She fell to the ground, his large robe hiding her body perfectly.

The children gasped. Ian, remembering that he was supposed to react to Ben dying, jumped to his feet and yelled out, no.

The rest of the time was spent with the kids in various rolling chairs, pretending to fly and dodge each other. Thomas remained behind his son until Michael and Marcus sneaked up behind him, sending his chair to spin as it rolled off into a corner.

After Elizabeth gave them medals, Amanda called an end to their playing by saying that lunch was ready.

Thomas collapsed on the sofa after pulling his mask and cape off. He wished he had thought to film their play. Each one had truly tried to be the characters they portrayed.

Amanda leaned over his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I shaved for you." She teased.

He chuckled while tugging her around to sit with him.

"Do you think they had a good time?" He asked.

The children's excited voices could be heard, each fighting for a chance to share their favorite parts.

"Very much so." She replied, resting her head on his shoulder. "They will remember this...always."