#the rest of the senate: he had it coming!

[boldlygoingtohell]

brutus singing the cell block tango: and he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times

[gffa]

Okay, so. The senator's speech. Here's why I'm okay with it: It fundamentally misunderstands the worldbuilding of Star Wars and the Force, in a way that's reasonable for a senator to misunderstand. To say the senator is right, you would have to say that the entire foundations of the Force are wrong, as well as it's pretty laughable to say that you shouldn't control your emotions. "Check yourself before you wreck yourself." is pretty good advice and that's literally just "control your emotions, before they control you". Because that's how the Force works, it's based on the emotions you pour into it--if you don't control your emotions, then you will run wild and out of control. To say that the Jedi seek to control their emotions, which is an impossible thing to do, fundamentally misunderstands that it's entirely possible. This is a speech coming from a member of the Senate, which has historically not always had the purest motivations, that Padme and Bail and Mon are written specifically as a contrast to the vast majority of senators who don't actually care beyond their own desires. We don't know anything about this senator specifically, but that's the weight that comes with having a character like this introduced--especially one who is trying to drag the Jedi into being more politically bogged down. Because that's the solution he's suggesting here, to weigh the Jedi down with outside oversight that doesn't actually understand who they are or what they do, who fundamentally misunderstand who they are (they're not a religion? come on, my guy, they are very clearly a religion, they have specific beliefs, practices, rites, and attitudes, to say they're not a religion is either dumb as shit or malicious bad faith lmao) and is very clearly not interested in the Jedi beyond them being a political enemy of his. He says, "But it's only a matter of time before one of you snaps." as if the Jedi haven't existed for literally 20,000 years at this point in galactic history and been aligned with the Republic since it's inception, something like 900 years ago at this point. His speech acts like a Jedi has never gone bad before or that the Jedi pretend they're above it--they very much don't. The Jedi are constantly making a point about how no one is above the dark side within them (TCW has a whole scene where the High Council say not even Yoda is beyond the dark side, and Yoda straight up agrees immediately), to say that one of them will snap and "who will be powerful enough to stop them?" is deliberately ignoring the worldbuilding. It ignores what the Jedi actually practice (it's a lifelong challenge not to give in to anger, so they're constantly on the path to turn away from it), it ignores that emotions very much are controllable, it ignores that the Jedi Order has been keeping a handle on their shit for thousands of years at this point, and it ignores that there's dark siders out there that were never trained by the Jedi, so if the Jedi aren't around to stop them, the Sith would have been wrecking the Republic's shit for the last 500 years. To be fair, they don't know that (but we the audience do, so we should know a bullshit argument when we hear one), but "who will be strong enough to stop him"? Idk, maybe the rest of the level 100 psychic space wizard monks? Pretty sure there's enough of them to stop someone who "snaps", if that happens. The senator's speech just flat out doesn't work with the established worldbuilding, in a way that really works for me, because that's kind of a huge established point throughout just about every piece of canon with the Jedi in it--people just do not understand them and hate the idea that anyone might actually be truly good because they can't imagine it for themselves. Because, as is a theme in Star Wars: "As much as people loved the Jedi, they also hated them, on some level. It is hard to look at people who have become their best selves. It reminds you that you have not."

The senator cannot fathom the idea that a group of people could become their best selves, he doesn't believe that it's possible, because he has not achieved it, and so seeing it in others unsettles him. And, yeah, that's a whole thing that happens with the Jedi in Star Wars, so this speech made a whole lot of sense to me, especially combined with, "So the answer is more bogging them down in political oversight that does not bother to or even want to understand them?" Like, yeah, I see where you're coming from, sir. And that's not even touching the idea of calling the Buddhist-inspired religion (which the Jedi explicitly are) a "cult", because anyone who unironically says that should not be trusted.

[rooksunday]

thinking about fox getting his first poll card after the vode get citizenship. the guard scattered after sithsplosion day, but he and a score or so that were functionally useless without each other, like nervous space greyhounds with military training, all ended up bundled together on some planet in the mid rim.

he’s been working on a book about his years at the senate. no one knows about it aside from thorn, who has been checking his basic, and advising him where he needs to wind the reveals back a little because libel. the rest of the time he does payroll for a number of small businesses, picking and choosing his hours, and delighting in sending invoices for his business: the shiny security fund, he’s called it, to continue the tradition in a more official manner.

(when they’d been on triple zero, the fund had been for rations. blankets. bacta. they’d conned credits from tourists and stolen them from senators and turned those credits into hope for the poor bastards shipped to the city that ate shinies before they could ever earn paint. these days, the fund was for whatever his guard wanted. aside from a pony. fox couldn’t figure out where hound would keep the pony.)

the book had been born from two lists. one was the blackmail and gossip the guard had collected during their stint on coruscant; that was where thorn needed to check for dangers, but since most of those senators had died in sith-related incidents, or had been jailed when the media got hold of their dealings, all fox was doing was providing context.

the other part of the book was fox’s List. thire sometimes called it a manifesto, because he had been studying for his degree and liked to show off occasionally. the list was a suggestion of changes to the republic, some small, some large. it was a silly fancy of fox’s, as the whole book was, but if he couldn’t indulge himself in his own karkin’ book then they might as well have punted him off the high levels back on coruscant.

yet for all that he’d settled—and paid taxes, even—fox hadn’t felt part of the citizenship of the planet. then the poll card had arrived. and suddenly he mattered in a tangible way. just like the bothan baker next door did. just like the twi’lek downstairs, the one with the noisy kriffin’ speeder, did.

thorn found fox in the kitchen, still staring at the scrap of card. he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

“you okay there, chief?” he asked. he’d been trying out alternatives to ‘sir’. “noise complaint again?”

fox shook his head. he didn’t look up. “voting thing. there’s an election.”

“oh! yeah, we got ours yesterday. are you— what’s that face you’re making. i don’t think i like it.”

fox raised his head and gleamed his smile at thorn, who backed away slightly, one hand drifting to where a blaster once hung. fox’s eyes felt very wide. he jabbed the poll card like a vibroknife.

“do you know what this means?”

“democracy comes in two postal batches?”

“no! well, yes, apparently, and that’s inefficient, but— no!” fox jabbed the card again. “this means i am a citizen and i am about to make that a senator’s problem. where’s my manifes— list, thorn? it’s time for an update.”

[siempre-bucky]

peace

Qimir x Senator!Reader

Summary: you tried to enjoy your morning alone on the planet he brought you and Mae to, till he called for you.

Genre: fluff

WC: 836

A/N: I'm a little rustyyyyyy but oh man has Qimir stirred something within meeeeee <3 requests are currently open for him!

Your chest rose in harmony with the waves colliding into the rocks that stood strong in the ocean and crashed onto the beach just a few feet away, the salty morning air creating a beautiful sheen on your skin. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head up to the grey sky, fingertips grazing the greenery that grew on the rope that kept you from the small ledge that led down to the beach. 

It was peaceful here, especially in the mornings when the shroud of fog began to dissipate, revealing the true beauty of the planet. You never knew why he chose this planet, whenever you asked, he kept it mainly a mystery. His pupil muttered once that it was a nice place to have a “lair” as she described it. 

It was comfortable, sure, it wasn’t as lavish as the room you called yours back on Coruscant. But you had him, and that’s all you really needed. 

Suddenly, taking you away from your thoughts, you felt as if someone was wrapping their arm around your waist. Warmth cut through the morning chill, a smile spread across your lips once you discovered what was happening, who was opening a connection to your mind. 

“Come to me,” a voice whispered in your mind, clear as day. 

“I’m enjoying my morning,” you spoke aloud, feigning annoyance. 

“Enjoy it with me,” he chuckled. 

A small laugh escaped your lips, letting your hands fall from the ropes and back into the warm protection of the navy blue cloak you put on that morning. “Don’t move,” you sighed, hoping he could feel the smile.

The connection faded as you hurried along the beach, and carefully trekked the moss-covered stone stairs that led up the cliffside. Your lungs burned by the time you reached the top of the grass-covered cliff, cursing why he chose this spot as his favorite on the whole island. You tried to mask it, but whatever breath you had left was instantly taken away as you saw him in the near distance. His back was turned, overgrown black hair dancing in the wind.  

He wore grey today, you noted as you made your way to him. You liked him in that color compared to his usual black attire, it reminded you of the day you met when he pretended to be an apothecary owner and you— running from those who tried to kill you. 

Your arms snaked around his waist, the side of your face resting on his clothed back. His strong hands covered your cortosis-bound wrists, admiring the craftsmanship of the bracelets he made as a present. At the time, he called them a peace offering between ‘Sith and Senator’, you rarely took them off now.  “I missed you,” he sighed, breaking the tranquil silence. 

“I missed you, Qimir,” you whispered happily, enjoying the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of your hand. 

After a while, he stepped away and turned to face you. His sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes, and surprisingly soft smile greeted you. He looked you up and down so that he could further engrave your beauty to memory—adding to the attachment he was denied so long ago. “Come here,” he said, taking you by the hand and leading you to the edge. 

A thought of him pushing you over the cliff flashed before your eyes, he wouldn’t do that. You got over the thought of betrayal a long time ago, witnessing a red lightsaber going through the chest of a once-trusted advisor will do that to a person. “What is it??” You asked as his body pressed against your back.

Qimir’s arm draped across your chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. In response, you put your hands comfortably on his forearm, your chin resting in the center. “I heard your thoughts.” 

“Which ones?” you questioned raising an eyebrow. 

“The ones of why I like it here.” 

“Are you ever going to tell me?” 

Qimir shifted his head so he could press his lips to the side of your neck, a small pause followed. “I like it here because of you,” he admitted finally, “it was the only place that brought any kind of peace that resembled the peace I felt when I met you.” 

Your cheeks tingled and burned as his words flooded your mind. He spoke fondly of you before, but never in this capacity. Because what did a Sith know of peace? “Qimir” you whispered, barely audible. 

“Once I find my true Acoltye and train them, I want to stay here till the end of my days, with you.” 

You quickly turned to look at him, your eyes wide at his admission, “That’s what you truly want?” 

His hands found the sides of your face and yours found his wrists, thumbs against his pulse. “It’s my deepest desire,” he spoke low and certain, his eyes never leaving yours. “Since the apothecary.” 

You rose to your tiptoes and kissed him soundly. “Ok,” you told him joyfully against his lips, “ok.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the arrangement. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary: you have to ask General Acacius for help and you know that only one thing can convince him

Warnings: anger, mention of attempted rape, Acacius is violent, breeding kink, mention of slavery, meantion of death

A/N: I had a few sentences in my head, I saw a few scenes, and I wrote the rest of the story. scribbles.

[PART 2]

The dark sky was covered with shining stars, and the area was silent when you appeared in front of General Acacius' house. The tall and vast building, just like its owner, made its visitors feel respect and a hint of fear. But you didn't have time for that.

You almost ran up the short stairs and banged on the door. The doorman was surprised by your late visit, but he took you deeper into the house without any questions. You both walked along the corridor lit by burning torches until you stood in front of the open door to the main room where, despite the late hour, its owner was supposed to be there.

"General." the servant walked in, bowing, “Lady Y/N has come to visit.”

""Bring her in," a deep and soft voice replied, but you didn't wait a second longer.

"General Acacius, please forgive me." you said, entering the room and nodding quickly. "I shouldn't have visited you this late, but I couldn't wait. This matter couldn't wait."

The room was illuminated by soft light, and the cool evening air flowed in from the open window. The general was sitting behind an ornately carved desk, looking through some papers, but he perked up visibly when he saw you.

The white robes he wore highlighted his sun-kissed skin, and you were surprised at how noble he looked even when he wasn't wearing his armor.

“Y/N, you know very well that you are always welcome in my home.” he replied, standing up and walking over to you, "What did I do to deserve your lovely company on this pleasant evening?"

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it.

"I'm afraid that the matter I came for will destroy your peace, General." you replied, "But I don't know anyone else I could turn to. Only you can help me."

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you carefully. His brown eyes bored into you so much that you could almost feel him beneath your skin. He always had this effect on you, from the moment you met him you knew you would never find peace again.

"I think you overestimate my abilities." he muttered, smiling lazily, "I'm just an ordinary soldier."

"I don't think so."

"I'm listening."

"General..." you started, but he immediately interrupted you.

"Marcus. Let's drop the titles if we're talking in private."

You nodded.

"Marcus." you started and he tilted his head to the side slightly, listening to your voice. "I'm sure you know my situation and what happened a few days ago. My maid, Margo, has been arrested."

"I heard about it."

"Then you know how unfair it is to her. Meanwhile, as I have been informed, she will be sentenced. During the next gladiator fights. Along with common criminals and scum. It shouldn't..."

"That's the law." Marcus interrupted you, "Your slave broke it by attacking one of the senators. She injured him."

"She was defending herself!" you raised your voice in anger "What was she supposed to do when that bag of dung tried to rape her!"

“Hold your words, Y/N.” he raised his hand "I don't know if you've forgotten, but she's still a slave."

"She's a woman. And my friend."

"It doesn't change the fact that she attacked a free man in a high position."

"Did you explain in the same way what you did to me at one of the last receptions in the Emperor's palace?"

The words fell out of you like arrows that instantly hit Marcus. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, and his eyes darkened.

The memories of that evening still loomed between the two of you. That was a hard and long evening. Too much wine, music, suffocating aromas from incense. 

Marcus felt intoxicated not so much by the wine he drank but by your presence. You were his unattainable goddess. His fame and heroism meant nothing when he stood before you, and he couldn't even be sure that looking at you wouldn’t bring down the wrath of the Gods upon him.

And then it happened. Marcus found you alone on one of the balconies and his lust finally got the better of him. His lips crashed against yours brutally, strong arms pulled you against his body so tightly that for a moment you felt paralyzed. Even though he felt your resistance and struggle, he thought for a moment that he could take you by force. Here and now.

And then you took advantage of his moment of weakness, freed yourself from his arms and slapped him, hissing that even if he drowned the whole world in blood and threw all the treasures at your feet, you would never be his.

The brutality he was capable of terrified you. And even though you pretended that nothing had happened between you, and Marcus apologized to you for his intrusive behavior, that crack was still there between you.

And now you were standing in front of him, asking for help despite all the resentment you might have felt towards him. Because wasn't Marcus watching your every move? Wasn't he the one who took every possible opportunity to be close? So why were you so afraid of him? He wanted to adore you, honor you on an equal footing with the Gods. He would give you the whole world because he already gave you his heart a long time ago.

“Marcus…” your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Please.. No, I'm begging you.”

Your knees went weak under you as you knelt before him in supplication.

"I'm begging you, do something. I don't know anyone else who could stand up for me..."

“Please get up, love…” he muttered, confused by your behavior.

"Marcus..."

"Get up, for God's sake!" he roared and you quickly got up from the cold floor.

You saw the wildness swirling behind his eyes. He clenched his jaw and thrashed around like an animal in a cage. After a while, however, he sat down in the chair, clasping his hands and looking at you carefully.

"Why this one slave girl?" he hissed, "You can have a new one. I can give you a dozen new ones!"

"I could ask you the same thing." you replied quietly.

Madness.

His blood boiled at the thought of comparing you to this woman. You were more than anything else. Yes, he knew perfectly well that at his beck and call, a dozen other women, hundreds of other women, would take your place. But you were engraved in his heart like words in marble, you became his treasure and blessing in one person.

You walked over to him slowly and crouched down by his lap. Your eyes were shining and your chest was heaving with nervous breathing.

"Marcus..." his name sounded like a prayer on your lips, "I'll do anything... I'll give you anything you want, but try to help me. I'm not asking for more. I don't want you to incur the Emperor's wrath, but you're the only one who can speak to him..."

"You're asking for so much..." he replied calmly, and his hand tentatively moved to touch your smooth cheek, to caress it for just a moment, "What can you give me, Y/N? You know that I would do anything for you, just for your one tender look..."

Your fingers found his hand and you kissed his knuckles.

"I will give myself to you." you whispered, "I'll give myself completely to you..."

His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but then his eyebrows knitted together as if he was trying to understand what you meant.

“Y/N…”

"I will be yours." you continued, staring into his dark eyes, completely determined, "I will be your wife. I will be loyal, devoted, and humble."

"Do not say that." Marcus interrupted you.

"I will give you what you want, General Acacius." your fingers gripped his hand tighter. "I will give you an offspring. Many healthy and strong sons. And as many beautiful and wise daughters. They will be the pride of your house. That's what a man as powerful and wise as you wants, isn't it?"

You knew your words resonated with him. They definitely hit his loins, because his body tensed and his breathing quickened. The general had a soft spot for you, you knew it perfectly well. You were flattered by his attention, but you were afraid of his power and the violence that hid within him. He wasn't like any other man you knew. Maybe if you had met in another time and place…

But the image of you swollen and full of his baby was so tempting for him.

“Y/N, is this what you want?” he asked "Will you put your life on the line for hers?"

You nodded, and Marcus knew he would do the same for you.

"Do you think... Do you think you could ever love me? That you would learn to love me? I don't want you to look at me with disgust and fear..."

Your warm hands cupped his face tenderly. A soft beard laced with gray hair tickled your skin pleasantly. You looked into the eyes of the man who had brought glory to the Empire, and now he sat before you, uncovered and uncertain. All desires were stirring within him and only you could give it purpose.

"I'm sure it will happen, Marcus." you replied "I never thought you were a bad person. Maybe if we had new chances..."

"I will never hurt you, love. I won't let anyone hurt you. I will make you the happiest woman in the world..."

"I know that." you smiled softly.

He leaned carefully towards you. His warm breath touched your lips, and after a moment you tasted them again.

Marcus kissed you tenderly and gently, as if he was afraid that he would lose you again in a moment. But when you kissed him back and your lips parted slightly, he didn't need any more. He immersed himself in you, kissing you passionately, stealing your every breath and almost leaving you breathless.

You were like an antidote to all his pain and fear. The promise of a better tomorrow.

He rested his forehead against yours, sighing softly.

"You make me your servant, and I humbly accept it." he said.

You tangled your fingers in his soft hair and Marcus purred softly.

"I'll talk to the Emperor tomorrow. I can't promise you anything, love."

"That's enough for me. I want to know that I did everything I could for her. I'm leaving our life in your hands, Marcus."

"Don't talk to anyone else about this. Go home." he gave further instructions, looking at you with tenderness. "You must show up at the next gladiatorial games."

"Will you be there too?"

"Yes, I will find you. But listen, you have to be careful now. One wrong move and the Emperor could change his mind. If I can convince him..."

"Thank you for at least trying..."

Marcus stroked your face tenderly.

"If you knew how much I could do for you... Go home. I'll see you soon."

You kissed him one last time and after a while you were escorted to the door by his servant.

The promise to try to save Margo gave you a little hope. You knew you would do anything for her and General Acacius was the only person who could change the Emperor's decision at that moment. Did you also seal your fate? Maybe...

But we will all do anything for the people we love…

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Tim had heard the phrase 'The wrong twin made it home' a number of times in his life, his parents were always very upfront about how the felt towards him. But... 'made it home' doesn't indicate death, does it? ...Tim ends up taking Danny's place by Sam's side in front of Congress to lobby the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

...

Tim has been up for hours passed when he told Alfred he would be resting and he's wrapped up his case files into neat little bows to deliver to Babs and the GCPD/Lawyers to do their jobs. Damian had made a comment earlier in their patrol that night about Tim being the wrong sibling to make it to his rescue and... and it got him thinking about that phrase. His parents were negligent with him, certainly, but they were always very clear about how he stood in their eyes. Praise and criticism were the two options, and very strictly limited passes of 'I love yous' that faded as he got older.

He's run his DNA before in the national databases- it was critical for maintaining his Alias' that multiple people didn't flag- but he's never searched in records before. About his twin. About the one who didn't make it home.

And its definitely the lack of sleep, and definitely the lack of brotherly affection he feels these days, but Tim just can't close the door until he's seen a death certificate. He's hacked Gotham General Hospital a million times for work, but doing it for his own gain feels wrong some how and he works with extreme caution. He finds his own birth certificate and... One Theodore Daniel Drake.

Tim snorts with a short ha, pretentious name alert and goes on to find not a single certificate of death or medical record of atypia. Oh no, what he finds is adoption paperwork meant to be closed to all wondering eyes and one Daniel James Fenton leaving the hospital instead. Tim blinks a few times, retraces his steps and then sure enough, learns for a second time that his TWIN was still alive.

Finding the Fentons was easy enough, their Lab address on all of their patents was seemingly also their home address. Danny had a much better hidden internet presence, it was good cybersecurity he'd have to praise him, but Tim had been trained better. Getting into his brother's files... Raised a number of new questions. Why was he compiling evidence against the government? What the fuck was he doing analyzing policy? Why did he have 'rogue' files???

Then Tim hacks into Danny's phone (he's learned at this point that Daniel was a no-go) and sees the conversations between his twin and his twin's best friends.

Sam Manson has an appointment with a Senator to Lobby for the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts. She wants Danny to join her, demonstrate something Tim can't determine, but he's refusing to leave and let his adoptive parents have even a moment to develop a new weapon without him there to destroy it. Someone called CW warned him about changes coming his way or something cryptic. Tim learns a lot from their back and forth, but stops reading once it gets to their personal squabbles.

Tim gets the meeting details and forwards it to Tam- If Danny can't make it... Tim will. And if Tim can't demonstrate whatever Danny was going to, it would at least help to throw around his name.

Tim writes an email to Danny- It's meant to go out after the lobbying appointment- and it explains that Tim found out about him and wants to connect if Danny does, and if Danny doesn't he at least wants to get him set up with his half of the Drake family inheritance. He includes a few personal facts, including that he too ended up adopted in life and had siblings, that he helped run a company and took on the world too soon. It takes a lot out of Tim to be so candid- but he doesn't want Danny to be too blindsided by the Waynes. He attaches a family photo with the label "you'll be able to tell which one is me'.

...

Sam is tapping her stupid, uncomfortable heels waiting for these dumbass, elderly politicians to get their shit together so she can speak. Sam was resourceful and surprisingly, the second she took on politics as a way to waste the family money, her mother Pamela was all for it. She's wanting Sam to run for president now... At least she doesn't complain when Sam organizes protests.

The door behind her opens, and while she knows its not going to be Danny behind her, a girl can feel a bit crushed. She really thought he would be behind her today, but Danny was being weird about this whole thing. Clockwork had him spooked about something changing today, and Danny wanted to be in Amity Park in case it was another Pariah situation or something. His parents had been on edge lately too...

"Sorry, I'm not late am I?" A voice asks and it's just so close but not- Sam turns her head to see Danny in a nice suit with long hair and eyebags way darker than she'd seen on him in a while. This... Wasn't Danny. She blinks, and then something in her anxiously decides that the universe is fucking with her and she will be fighting back.

"Everyone is late." She glares at him, appraising his every move. The woman behind him is typing dedicatedly on her tablet and the man himself looks like he might fall over while he shuffles his files in hand.

"Well, then I'm on time. My name is Tim Drake, I'm here to help your cause in getting the Anti-Ecto acts repealed and the parties responsible for it apprehended."

"Tim Drake? As in-"

"As in Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises. And I've done a lot of research, so I hope you'll let me play a supportive role while you speak."

"There's no way you've been able to research if you've been out of Amity, The whole city is under a media blackout." Sam's glare looks like it could cut him.

"Not to brag, but that sort of thing doesn't slow me down these days. I've made physical copies of the things they're most likely to delete and I've sent everything to the Justice League, who in turn are sending it to the Lantern Corps." He states matter-of-factly and Sam finally stops being angry at the world to just be... stumped. What the hell was going on?

"How did you... Why?"

"Tam, tell Ms. Manson how passionate I am about human rights?" The guy sounds anxious, the woman rolls her eyes and says "Very." without stopping her typing.

The doors open and Sam has only a moment to decide that Tim can join her... He proves himself to be an asset, and his name alone gets them further than she had anticipated getting today.

....

Danny is watching Sam walk into the space via C-span, gasping when his own likeness follows behind her. What the fuck???

He can barely drag his eyes away as the clone (?) introduces himself as Tim Drake and proceeds to rip them into shreds for delaying Sam Manson of all people. Danny is transfixed and Tucker is blowing up his phone.

"DUDE ARE YOU SEEING THIS?" Tucker's voice loudly calls out the second danny blindly answers.

"Dude, I just, I don't even know? He cant be a clone right? But he's gotta be?" Danny hypothesizes.

"Nah dude, there's like, a whole lifetime of media presence for Tim Drake since he was like, tiny. This is so weird he looks just like you..."

"This is so weird." Danny dumbly agrees because he can't think of anything else to say.

Sam finishes her points, Tim submits the evidence to the court and they leave. Danny's phone pings with an email notification.

"Danny my guy, you should check that, Sam isn't responding yet. Her phone is probably still off."

He follows Tucker's advise and opening his email... Is a new message from Tim Drake.

"...I don't know what the fuck is going on?" Danny continues to say, and Tucker asks him just to read it out loud, "It's just... Apparently I am both adopted and a twin?"

"...My guy." Tucker sounds just as much at a loss.

...

Sam calls them both after Tim Drake is rushed away by his PA Tam (who she found herself admiring more and more), and is relieved when they dont immediately answer by screaming.

"So Danny, Tucker, you guys are traveling with me next weekend." Sam deadpans.

"Apparently shit gets twilight-zone level weird anytime you leave Amity!" Tucker exclaims.

"...What's next weekend?" Danny asks, hesitation in his voice.

"Your twin invited us, well, mostly you, to a Wayne Family Brunch. We're going cause those assholes have money and political influence, you're going because we all probably need to know what the fuck is going on with that guy."

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[padawansuggest]

Do you think the clones know about espresso? Do you think they know caf comes in a condensed and bitter form?

CODY’S SPACEBUCKS ORDER THAT ONE 17 SHOT ESPRESSO AND FIVE PUMPS OF BLUEBERRY SYRUP THAT THE BARISTAS WILL REMEMBER IN HORROR FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES

Fox just replaces his water with espresso and ends up in medical within a week for the resulting rage he unleashed on the senate and probably a single lightsaber ouchie (the doctors will kiss it better) when Palpatine thought Fox was trying to murder him.

Anyways. Cody bats his pretty eyelashes at Obi-Wan who in turn bats his pretty eyelashes at Bail who in turn buys them a ten thousand credit espresso machine and Cody never has to deal with the SpaceBucks workers looking at him Like That again. Also his orders were all like 50 credits each and that was really cutting into his stolen credit card money.

Anyways. Obi-Wan becomes used to dirty chai lattes because it’s the only tea that Cody consistently gets right for him out of some sort of horrible spite. He loves his adorable caffeinated monster so much. He’s gonna bat his pretty eyelashes at Bail and convince him to send them on a fancy vacation. Bail is a fan of anything that gets these menaces to his chastity out of his office.

Anakin once mixed up his caf mug and a can of grease while working on a new droid in Padme’s space garage while less than half awake because him and Padme are trading off who’s watching the twins to keep them from getting out of their cribs with the force, and trust me, he didn’t notice till a couple gulps in, and yes, he made this everyone else’s problem. Rex had to hold his hair back while he puked. Ahsoka is the one that switched his mug and the can of oil.

Fox drinks herbal tea now.

Fives once made coffee but replaced the water with monster and Echo still thinks of it and weeps sometimes. Why did he do that??? The smell was radioactive.

Omega pouts at Hunter whenever he drinks caf around her because ewwwww but he’s too dad shaped to stop that is his fuel, come on kid, let’s go fishing. Horrible. She would like to be unadopted plz (if you stop cuddling her she WILL tantrum thanks.)

Bail Organa for Chancellor, this is all. Elect him for the title because he’s the hardest working man in the galaxy. (Plz don’t fucking elect him he would like to go home to his wife next week he’s exhausted.)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Badash at NCRM:

Republicans ground the House to a halt Wednesday afternoon after U.S. Rep. Erin Houchin (R-IN) objected to remarks made by Rules Committee Ranking Member Jim McGovern (D-MA), during which he delivered a short overview of the 88 criminal charges Donald Trump is facing, and civil court findings including one deeming him an adjudicated rapist. “Take down his words,” Congresswoman Houchin declared, interrupting Rep. McGovern. “I demand that his words be taken down.” For more than one hour, according to Fox News’ Chad Pergram, the people’s business stopped as Republicans, angered by the Democrat’s factual remarks, had them investigated by the House Parliamentarian. “Donald Trump might want to be a king, but he is not a king,” Congressman McGovern observed. “He is not a presumptive king. he’s not even the president – he’s a presumptive nominee.”

“At some point,” McGovern told his congressional colleagues, “it’s time for this body to recognize that there is no precedent for this situation. We have a presumptive nominee for President facing 88 felony counts, and we’re being prevented from even acknowledging it. These are not alternative facts. These are real facts. A candidate for President of the United States is on trial for sending a hush money payment to a porn star to avoid a sex scandal during his 2016 campaign, and then fraudulently disguising those payments in violation of the law. He’s also charged with conspiring to overturn the election. He’s also charged with stealing classified information and a jury has already found him liable for rape and a civil court. And yet, in this Republican controlled House, it’s okay to talk about the trial but you have to call it a sham.” The decision to strike McGovern’s “offensive” remarks appears to have come from U.S. Rep. Jerry Carl (R-AL), who was presiding over the chamber. He cited House Rule XVII, which Pergram reported “says House members are prohibited from impugning the motives of fellow House members, senators or the President. And in this case, the former President.”

Earlier, before Rep. Houchin demanded his remarks be stricken, McGovern also blasted Republicans for traveling to New York in their “cult uniforms,” to show support for Donald Trump at his criminal trial in Lower Manhattan. The Massachusetts Democrat told his colleagues, “my friends over the other side of the aisle have pandered to their most extreme members over and over and over again. They let the extremists kick out their own Speaker. They let the extremists dictate the agenda on the House floor. They let the extremists take down seven rule votes since January 2023 – a stunning indictment of their ability to get anything done. And speaking of indictments, Republicans are skipping their real jobs to take day trips up to New York to try to undermine Donald Trump’s criminal trial. No time to work with Democrats, but plenty of time to put on weird matching cult uniforms and stand behind President Trump with their bright red ties like pathetic props.”

Rep. Jim McGovern (D-MA)’s speech on the House floor calling out criminal defendant Donald Trump was delivering truth bombs left and right, and it made Republicans upset, especially the part in which he said that Trump “might want to be a king, but he is not a king” and the fact that he was calling out his criminality.

Rep. Erin Houchin (R-IN) was the Republican who ordered a frivolous halt to McGovern’s speech by demanding “that his words be taken down.” Floor Presider Jerry Carl (R-AL) granted Houchin’s request, and McGovern was barred from speaking on the Floor for the rest of the day.

See Also:

NBC News: Democrat McGovern ruled 'out of order' after listing off Trump's legal woes on the House floor

Daily Kos: GOP brings House to a halt to debate whether facts are allowed

[varpusvaras]

So Palpatine is found out to be the Sith and to having been playing the war on both sides.

The Senate is furious. They want to know how no one caught this earlier. They cannot admit that they didn't see anything, either, and were fully on board with almost everything Palpatine had said and done before. They cannot admit that they had been in the wrong.

They try to blame the Jedi. Some of it sticks, but not permanently, because the Jedi are like yo bro wtf we were on the battlefields for 99 percent of the time, we didn't have the time to stand there and stare at him, so they need to find even more scapegoats.

They turn to look at the Guard.

It's their job to protect the Republic! How did they not notice! They must've been in on it!

The Guard is like ????? okay sir first of all, we were too busy to be crawling around in the prisons and on the lower levels to ever even talk to the Chancellor during our entire lives, we weren't that important

But one of you has been reporting to the Chancellor. Doing his datawork for him. He must've noticed! How could he have not! Who was this one Guard!

It's Commander Fox.

The Senate wants to take Fox to the courts. But he is not there. The Guard goes Commander Fox who? Never heard of him. Are you sure that it's not just some ploy made by the Sith? Maybe he's someone who is just impersonating a Guard or something, we don't know. We have never had a Commander by that name in the Coruscant Guard

They interrogate the entire Guard for days, weeks. They all just say that there has never been a Commander Fox in the Guard. No one can find him. Commander Fox has never been seen without a helmet by anyone who is not a clone. They cannot verify who he is, if he is trying to hide among the other Guards

The Senate finds out that Commander Fox has brothers outside of the Guard. They bring them in. Cody and the others are just as confused by all of this as the rest of them. They know Fox exists. The Jedi keep reassuring them that everything will be okay if Fox comes forward, so they try to see if Fox is there. He is not. Cody goes to ask Thorn what is going on. Thorn looks him dead in the eyes and says he has never even heard of a Commander Fox before all of this. He just keeps staring at Cody with absolutely no expression when Cody tries to insist. No, never heard of Commander Fox before this. Are you sure you're okay Marshal Commander Sir? You've been in many close calls during the war. That scar looks rather nasty. Must've been quite a hit. Have you ever gone and checked it out? Could be a concussion.

Cody knows that Thorn knows that he got the scar on Kamino. Cody points this out. Thorn continues to look him in the eyes and flat out says no you didn't.

Cody looks at Thorn. Thorn looks at Cody.

Cody gives up.

All the other Guard Commanders say the same. To all of them. So do all the troopers, down to the newest shiny.

The Jedi try to go in and ask. It doesn't work. Their working theory is that being so close to the Sith has made them develope stronger mental shields. Maybe. Anyway no one is saying anything to them either. Yoda thinks this is hilarious. He keeps cackling behind his stick. Mace looks at him like bffr.

The Guard is firm in their stance. Commander Fox does not exist.

The Senate is still in an uproar about all of this. Bail looks at Padmé and Mon and goes you know what? I'm getting a headache from all of this. This is stupid. I'm going home. I suggest that all of you do the same. My wife said that we are renewing our vows and then taking another honeymoon. I'm going now goodbye.

Yeah, sure, Padmé and Mon say. They all pack up their things and go home the next day.

(The Organa family has a beautiful vacation home on the mountains. The sun is shining warmly but there is still snow at this time of the year. Some rare flowers are in the bloom amidst the ice on the rocky sides of the mountain. There's a view for a glacial lake from the front windows. The fire place is lit and the beds are warmed up and have thick blankets on them.

Fox sits in front of the fireplace, being sandwhiched between his wife and husband, and he looks out at the lake and takes a sip from the sugariest cup of hot chocolate that exists in the entire Galaxy.

Commander Fox does not exist.

Fox Organa does.

And he's on a vacation.

Please do not disturb)

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 1

Part 2 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I'll update the tags as the story progresses, there should only be two more parts.

I'm not sure how far I'll go with certain behaviors, so leave a comment and let me know what you think <3

(This first part is to provide context, the other two will set the story in motion)

Becoming a Padawan was a lifelong dream. Of course, I was young, so my view of the world and what I would experience in the coming years was very limited. The idea of being taken under the wing of a more experienced Jedi master, learning many more techniques, the missions, the travels, all the people and aliens I could meet... I was bursting with happiness.

Not that the exercises at the temple weren't stimulating, I was glad to have made friends, to have developed a routine with them, but I was ready for something new.

So, when I was finally introduced to my future master, I was bursting with joy. I recognized her immediately, it was hard not to. Vernestra was an important member of the Order, involved with the Senate, and was known for her numerous successes. It was an honor for me to receive that position by her side.

Over the years, I had been recognized as an excellent future Padawan, with the ability to learn quickly, a strong sense of observation, and a positive and kind character that always accompanied me. I was often praised for the way I presented myself to others. In short, everyone saw a bright future for me, but I had difficulty seeing it myself. I was young and inexperienced and I believed that the important thing was to follow the rules, the rest was just a part of me, something I did naturally.

I imagine that becoming Vernestra’s Padawan was just the confirmation of that golden path everyone saw me on, but I was too caught up in the newness to really think about it.

However, I soon realized that I lost the balance I had created up to that point, I lost some friends, some simply due to distance, others were... cold towards me.

I didn't understand what had changed. I would never have accused anyone of feeling emotions like jealousy or anger towards me, we were children. Missteps were normal, and we were taught that it was right to face them and learn from them.

But if you asked around, many would have described me as someone who never made mistakes, who always responded with a gentle smile, a comforting word, a hand on the shoulder, or even just a pleasant company if you needed to vent. Perhaps that was the problem. I appeared too perfect in the eyes of others.

And yet, the Master didn’t make me feel that way. She taught me everything calmly, I followed her every step, she reprimanded me harshly, but always with care. She soon realized how much I sought validation in everything I did.

It was stronger than me, I believed I was always making a mistake, that I was in the wrong. After all, who was I to say something was right or wrong? I was just a Padawan. A child.

And anyway, it wasn’t the Jedi’s job to give answers, but rather to push people to understand for themselves.

Even though it was a concept I found difficult to grasp myself.

Anyway, that’s how I met Qimir.

He was Vernestra’s former Padawan, now promoted to Jedi Knight and independent in his duties, but he often visited us, either to seek advice from his old Master or just to ask how she was doing. I found him very sweet.

The first time I met him in person, I already knew his name. He had managed to stand out as soon as he started his duties as a Knight. Among the younger ones, there was a sense of reverence towards him even though we had never seen him in person. And besides, it was rumored that he was terribly handsome, not that it particularly interested me at the time.

I remember I was in the library with Vernestra, she had assigned me some basic readings to start my future physical training. Young ones are already taught at an early age to defend themselves and to learn various positions, but it was more about building an understanding of your Force signature, learning to trust your senses. The real training would then be individual for the student once they had a Master, so she had recommended these introductory readings on the various forms of combat and their use.

Those were afternoons I remembered with particular affection. Sitting in silence, she would take a more suitable book or bring her work documents on her datapad, and the hours would pass in an instant. Sometimes, I would glance at her to see what she was doing. She noticed every time, smiled slightly, and gently scolded me, telling me to return to my tasks.

I was happy. I felt cared for, appreciated, but not in the cold manner of a teacher with their student. It was a feeling I didn’t quite know how to place in my heart, and it worried me a bit, but I kept my doubts for another day.

On one of those quiet afternoons, I met Qimir. The room was particularly deserted that day, so the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard clearly along the shelves. Thinking it was the librarian, I didn’t pay much attention and remained with my nose buried in the book. Even when he stopped in front of our table I didn’t pay attention. Then, a deep male voice I didn’t recognize spoke Vernestra’s name.

Curiosity flared up in an instant, and as the two began a light conversation next to me, I slowly raised my gaze, the book almost serving as a shield, my hair partly covering my eyes. In front of us stood a young man in his twenties, dressed in the classic brown Jedi Knight attire, speaking casually to Vernestra. His slightly long, smooth hair, a light smile, and dark eyes framed by a chiseled jaw.

It was the first time I saw him. And the first time my heart beat so fast in my chest.

I didn’t know if it was because he was undeniably a handsome guy. I had never been too interested in that sort of thing, and anyway, it was forbidden for Jedi to have too impure thoughts. It was more... his aura. The amused smile but attentive eyes, the neat but relaxed posture... he seemed to shine with his own light. It was what I felt when I saw a member of the council, when I glimpsed Master Yoda in the corridors, reverence, respect, a bit of fear.

He was captivating, and he seemed to be aware of it.

I didn’t even realize that I had been staring at him longer than I should have. He noticed the insistent gaze on him. I must have looked quite ridiculous, a young girl hiding behind a book while staring at the great Jedi Knight, but the smile he gave me right after almost took my breath away as I blushed, perhaps for the first time in my life.

“And you must be the new Padawan who took my place. Nice to meet you, I’m Qimir” he said, extending a hand, and after casting a nervous glance at Vernestra, who was smiling at me, I hugged the book to my chest with one arm, my palm tingling, unsure whether to return the handshake.

Another inner turmoil came with that first touch. His hands had long, slender fingers, marked by numerous calluses, probably from gripping the lightsaber or the various missions he faced. It was just another reason why I started to admire him. I could see all the dots connecting in this figure that represented everything I wanted to become. A Jedi. A reference point for those in need.

I said my name in a low, timid voice, and he leaned towards me with a slight frown “Such a small voice, are you always like this, or am I making you nervous?” he joked, but I bit my lip, not knowing what to reply, I pulled my hand away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he began to gently rub my knuckles with his thumb.

“Leave her alone, Qimir. She’s shy, don’t start with your teasing” Vernestra scolded him, at which he let go. I hid my hand under the table, clenching it into a fist, my skin tingling.

“Sorry, sorry. It must be a relief for you to have someone like this after me” she sighed but didn’t deny it either, at which I let out a smile and he, noticing, winked at me.

That was the first time I had dealings with him. But soon I began to see him everywhere. When he wasn’t on a mission, he stayed around the temple, so I encountered him in the corridors, in the halls, in the meditation room, and he always had a kind smile for me.

He made me feel special even though I knew it was a selfish feeling. When I managed to study with other Padawans in the library or practiced in the courtyard, he always stopped by to give me a nod. My friends were jealous, but I wasn’t really offended. Qimir was... kind.

It was like seeing the Force alive and pulsing around him. It was impossible not to look at him, not to wish that he would glance at you even just once.

Everyone wanted to be like him. Charismatic. Confident. Everyone wanted to be his friend.

One of the first missions I did with Master Vernestra was another point of contact. Being young, I wasn’t yet allowed in particularly dangerous scenarios, not to mention that if there was one thing I was lacking in, it was combat. I followed the Master almost everywhere, political life was just as important in a Jedi’s path, and I had to understand the mechanics early on for when I would be older, even though they were often more moments of leisure.

The meetings lasted hours, often discussing places, people, and things I knew nothing about. I tried to stay focused, but it was really difficult, and even Vernestra thought I shouldn’t strain myself too much, so she let me roam around, maybe continue studying, or even just take a little break.

One day, ready to depart, we were loading the luggage onto the ship. We were going to spend a few days on Hoth, and I was incredibly excited since I had never experienced a planet with that kind of climate before. As I was lost in my thoughts, a light knock interrupted me. At the foot of the ramp, Qimir gave me a half-smile "Is there room for me too?" I was still intimidated by his presence since we had never really spoken before. I opened my mouth several times, glancing around awkwardly, not sure if he was teasing me or if I was too stupid to understand what he meant.

"I hope you didn’t bring your usual baggage" Vernestra said behind me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked at her, confused "Excuse me Master, is Qimir coming with us?" I struggled even to pronounce his name, it felt like an insult to do so, as if I didn’t have enough experience to earn such a privilege.

"What, you don't want me around?" he smiled as he walked up the ramp. I squirmed uncomfortably, realizing the embarrassing situation I had caused "N-no, I didn’t mean that—" He smiled even more, but Vernestra intervened again, scolding him "Give her some space Qimir."

The plan was simple: it was a diplomatic mission, and Qimir had joined us to study for a few days with his former master. I didn’t know exactly what he needed, but he wanted her advice. We left a few minutes later, and I avoided the control room like the plague. I only entered once to ask how much longer it would take, burning alive under Qimir’s gaze, then I shut myself in the bedroom and did my homework.

Hoth was as beautiful as it was freezing. But it was worth it; I had never seen such an immense expanse of white, the ground soft underfoot from the snow, the ice mountains, creatures I had never seen before. Vernestra stopped to talk to some locals, and I approached the enormous door overlooking the ice field. I wondered if the entire planet was like this. Did anyone live in those isolated areas? How could anyone survive in such a harsh climate?

A gloved hand rested on my back, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turned, expecting to see my master, but under the hood, it was Qimir’s dark eyes that looked at me with a gentle smile on his face.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked before turning back to look at the white expanse before us. I nodded hesitantly. Nervous about speaking to him, I bit my lip but managed to gather the courage "Do you know... if there’s anyone who lives in these lands?" He looked at me, puzzled, and I quickly corrected myself "I mean... besides the local species. Or aliens accustomed to these temperatures. Do you think others could live in a place like this?" He let out a small amused puff, "Well, we actually know for sure. There are many bandits or pirates hiding in these lands. Mainly to hide something, you know, it’s not worth sending search teams into snowstorms for a single man" he explained.

I made a sound of acknowledgment, but he continued "And if we’re talking about others... I think so. Someone who likes solitude or seeks peace. It seems like a good place not to be found" At that point, I turned toward him "Completely alone? It seems..." sad. But I was afraid to say it out loud, sadness wasn’t one of those emotions a Jedi should typically feel, but it felt natural to feel melancholy at the thought of people wanting to lose themselves in nothingness, to never be found again.

"Sad?" he seemed to read my mind "You see, emotions are very complicated to recognize. What might seem sad to you might mean peace to others. As Jedi, we often take many emotions for granted, but we often forget to give them context" I listened, hanging on his every word.

The conversation seemed... strange in some way. It made sense. Of course it did, he was older than me, had more experience in the field, and knew what he was talking about. I should have just nodded and thanked him for sharing those words.

I ignored the burning sensation I felt and thanked him in a faint voice It felt silly to do so, but it was the least I could do.

He smiled at me and gently took my hand "Let’s go, we need to warm up a bit. Trust me, in two more minutes, you won’t be able to feel the tip of your nose" he joked. I stifled a giggle and let him lead me inside toward the rooms. I didn’t know if it was because we were both wearing gloves or because of the conversation we had just had, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable being held by the hand.

A couple of days later, I was alone in one of the bases scattered across the ice. Vernestra was in a meeting and had forbidden me from attending due to the sensitivity of some of the information that would be exchanged. The problem was that these places weren’t particularly full of people or things to do. Yes, there was a bar area, but after the third cup of hot chocolate, I was afraid of pushing my stomach to the limit, so I stayed at the entrance, my feet in a pile of snow as I doodled or made small, questionable-looking statues.

I was so engrossed in the crooked little house I was shaping out of the ice that I didn’t notice the snowball being thrown in my direction.

I let out a startled yelp when it hit the hood on my head. I spun around just in time to see Qimir burst into laughter "Why did you do that?!" I stood up quickly, brushing the snow off my head.

"You looked so bored, I woke you up, didn’t I?" he chuckled.

I glared at him with a pout while he continued to laugh, so I decided to get revenge.

I bent down to grab a pile of snow, quickly making two balls. I threw the first one, but he easily dodged it.

He turned with an arrogant smile, ready to boast when the second one hit him square in the face.

I burst into laughter. He wiped the snow from his nose, his smile gone before bending down to grab more snow.

I shouted his name, realizing immediately what he was about to do, and started running through the snow with him on my heels. We didn’t even have time to make proper snowballs, we just grabbed the snow in our hands, compacted it as best we could, and threw it at each other in a never-ending war. Sometimes I noticed people giving us amused looks as they arrived or departed from the base, but I didn’t care, I was so happy that, for the first time, I didn’t even care what people thought of me.

An hour later, Vernestra called us back, giving us a confused look. She sighed and sent us to dry off. I felt a bit embarrassed at that moment, and I apologized for the childish behavior, but she smiled at me and assured me there was nothing wrong with what we had done.

In the end I took a full shower someone had left dinner on my bed, considering how long I had been under the hot water. I ate and, putting on one of the heavy local pajamas, decided to step out into the hallway to ask the Master what we would be doing the next day. I knew she wasn’t in bed yet, based on her nightly habits.

I walked down the hallway on the second floor, where the various guest rooms were located, when I noticed that her door was already open.

I approached slowly and immediately recognized Qimir’s voice.

"I’m just saying, if we block the main routes, they’d be forced to come out into the open" With a sense of curiosity, I pressed myself against the wall to peek into the room. The two were looking at an old map spread out on the table.

"I agree, but it would take too many resources, and we don’t know the exact times or routes. It would take a lot of time" she replied wearily. Qimir, standing next to her, bit his lip before flashing one of his smiles, "Or... we could sneak in"

She sighed again "The point is the same. We don’t have the resources—"

"I’ll go in myself. I’ll cut the power right under their noses, and—" She interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"Do you realize what you’re saying? Sneaking in like a thief, and then what? Even if I let you do it, they could still escape, and..." He circled the desk, positioning himself in front of her, his back to me, so I barely heard what he said "No one said we need them alive—"

A sudden thud made me jump. I pressed my hands to my mouth, paralyzed, afraid they had heard me "No. Stop this nonsense, Qimir."

I don’t know what they said after that, I was too busy slipping back into my room, the conversation I had just overheard spinning in my head.

Sometimes, as a Jedi, you had to make drastic choices, right?

Or at least, it seemed that way.

I tried to forget about it and went to sleep.

[euphemiaamillais]

imagining worshipping coryo the way he deserves to be worshipped. he just comes home from a long day and you’re on your knees for him, ready to just take his cock into your mouth

mdni | worshipping coryo

oh especially president!coryo. he’s had a rough day at work, fed up with stupid senators and the constant threat of the districts rebelling. when he comes home, he’s angry, his hands are balled into fists, but he can’t help but smile when he sees you on your knees, waiting and eager.

‘i’ve waited all day,’ you pout, crawling towards him.

he groans at the sight of you in his favourite lingerie, the one that’s a deep red and made of the finest lace from district 8. your breasts are practically spilling out of the bra, and he feels himself harden at just the mere sight of you, all ready for him.

‘yeah? just can’t wait to please me?’ he asks, stroking your chin with his cold fingers.

‘mhm, i’ve missed you so much, coryo,’ you paw your way up his thighs, clutching at him.

you rub your cheek against the leg of his pants, and gaze up at him, wide-eyed, in awe that you belong to him. he pats your head, admiring your dedication, the way you kiss the fucking ground he walks on. it’s what he deserves, after all. he’s the fucking president of panem. everybody should grovel beneath him. at least if nobody else does, he can rest assured that you always will.

‘i’m so wet for you, coryo,’ you moan, head now pressed against the outline of his bulge in his pants. ‘i wanna suck your dick so bad.’

your eyes are brimming with tears, and there’s a noticeable whimper in your voice. god, are you crying? he can’t believe you want him that bad. your hands fiddle with his belt, and then his zipper, pulling his pants down as swift you can without creasing them. if you did ruin them, he’d have been pissed.

when you tug his boxers down, a steady stream of saliva trickles out the corner of your lips. knowing he’s not in the mood to be gentle, you merely open your mouth, ready to receive.

he buries himself right in, groaning as his cock hits the back of your throat. the first time he’d made you suck him off, you were still a virgin, and you’d cried so hard and made such a mess, because he was just too big. now you knew exactly how to take him, but you still gagged, and this pleased him, because it reminded him that he was practically a god to you. and you would do anything to kneel before the altar.

coryo isn’t slow with his thrusts, he’s already chasing his release, and doesn’t hesitate to force your head down when he feels like you’re not taking him far enough. his balls slap against your chin as you choke him down, hands grasping at his thighs. you love it so much, the way he treats you like nothing but a fuck doll while you grovel to him—you would do anything to make him happy, and he likes it best that way.

‘so fucking good,’ he grunts, fisting your hair. you try not to cry because he’s ruined your perfect blow-out, but you want to cum later so you swallow back the tears.

he only likes it when you cry because he’s making you feel good. if you’ve pleased him particularly well, he’ll spend hours lapping at your cunt, eating you like you’re his last meal.

‘gonna swallow up all my cum, aren’t you? you love it,’ he laughs, sliding himself all the way out only to slam himself back in, watching as you sputter.

your cunt is aching to be filled, and you hope that later you can show him just how much you worship his cock by letting him pound you into the mattress. your favourite thing is to ride him, though, and watch as he spurts a sticky load of pearls into your tight cunt.

he lets out a heavy groan as he feels himself unfurl. he holds your head down against his cock, your nose brushing against the thatch of blonde hair on his pubic bone, and comes right down your throat.

you swallow it up obediently, and lick your lips when you feel the excess cum that’s dribbled from his tip. he tastes perfect. you love the taste of him more than anything else in the world, and beam up at him with a pretty smile.

you’re his most devoted disciple, taking his word as if it were creed; taking his cum like it’s holy water, and taking his body as if it’s what gives you life.

[chvoswxtch]

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint. 

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth. 

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read. 

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison. 

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up. 

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far. 

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[rooksunday]

when the coruscant guard toured their new barracks, they immediately clocked a problem.

“where are the rest of the bunks?” stone asked, looking between his datapad of assignments, and the last of the dozen bunkrooms.

even sleeping two to a pod, with four pods to a room— even hotbunking, like they were going to have to if the ‘suggested’ shift schedule was correct— there simply weren’t enough beds.

thorn grimaced. “we could give up the rec room and mess.”

“and eat where? and we need at least one room for sitting in and staring into the middle distance,” stone countered. they’d been doing a lot of the latter that day already.

with a conceding shrug, thorn turned to fox, who had been increasingly stiff and silent as the inspection had continued. stone couldn’t blame him. the building that the senate had ‘generously provided’ appeared to be held together by force of habit and spite; stone could relate, but he didn’t want to spend a war there.

“what are you thinking, sir?” stone prompted fox. the vod was always thinking something. that was his problem.

fox shook his head slightly, as if stepping out of deep water. he hummed.

“i saw something on the holonet… leave it with me,” he said.

after fox had left—marching with determination toward the broom cupboard he’d claimed as a an office—stone turned to face thorn, who was already looking at him with a particular tilt to his visor.

“on the holonet?” thorn repeated. “have you got any idea what he’s talking about? all he looks at on there is conspiracy theories and pictures of tookas.”

stone slowly shook his head. “i’m sure it’ll be fine. i’m sure it’ll be… fine.”

the guard moved in. they made it work. what other option did they have?

six weeks after landing on coruscant, fox burst into the commanders’ shared bunk with something fluorescent streaked across his armour and the stench of burnt feathers in his wake. he’d lost his helmet somewhere. stone had been cleaning his armour and threw the cloth at fox in instinctive reaction, but fox just batted it away.

“what the kark, sir?” stone spat out, heart thick in his throat.

“whuzzat?” thorn mumbled as he rose to a sit. “fox, you stink.”

“of victory,” fox countered. he stalked across the room and thrust and vial of smoking … something… to stone. “here, drink this.”

stone’s eyebrows rose. “no? sir?”

“is it tasty?” thorn asked, sleepily.

fox produced another vial from his utility belt and held that one out to thorn. he popped the cap with his thumb. smoke boiled out, glittering like dust motes. this vial was presented to thorn.

“i put honey in yours,” fox said.

of course he did.

but if fox was handing mysterious vials to thorn, he probably wasn’t planning to kill them all. probably. besides, it had been a long assignment and the war wasn’t going anywhere. the chancellor wasn’t going anywhere. stone took his vial, and saw thorn take his.

“well. cheers, i suppose,” he said, catching eyes with thorn, who rose his vial in turn.

between them, fox danced from foot to foot like he’d drank too much water before a long shift. his attention flickered between stone and thorn as they drank. his eyes were bright and he kept making and unmaking fists at his sides. he looked like a tubie waiting for their first live fire drill.

stone drank.

“huh. that doesn’t—“

then things got really kriffed up.

cody rubbed at his comm as if that would help comprehension.

“say again? some interference on my end,” he said.

the tiny blue rex rubbed the bridge of his nose. “tookas, vod. hundreds of tookas. they’re all over the senate building. they’ve herded the chancellor into his office and are blocking the hallway. no one can move them. the optics would be terrible.”

“where did they come from? can’t the coruscant guard take care of it?” cody didn’t want to assign fox to animal crowd control, but wasn’t protecting the senate his job? an invasion probably counted.

“that’s the problem. one of the tookas… it knows dadita.”

“excuse me, captain. did you say there’s a tooka that knows dadita?” general kenobi asked, leaning in to see rex. he’d been working on the other side of the office on the negotiator; sound didn’t have far to travel.

“that’s right, sir.”

“fascinating. what did it have to say for itself?”

rex shifted his weight. he looked off-camera. “it said, ‘tell cody i’m the kar— i’m still the smart one’. sir.”

silence weighed heavily in the room. cody scratched his nose and turned the message over for a second time. a third. an eleventh.

“therefore you believe that this tooka—“

“is commander fox, sir, yes,” cody said, so rex didn’t have to.

“fascinating,” kenobi said again.

“yes, sir,” rex said, his tone implying that fascination wasn’t really the problem. “and also— excuse me, sirs, one moment.” his voice became louder as he looked off-cam again, and his brow furrowed. “did someone give fox’ika a lightsaber? why is it red? what do you mean, you found it in the chancellor’s office?”

cody met his general’s eyes, and suspected his own were as wide.

blast it, fox was the smart one.

[corroded-hellfire]

Steve having a little sister (who’s like a first-time) senior who has a crush on Eddie. But she’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League, senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him.

I had so much fun writing this request! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, and if you notice the joke I stole from Glee, no you didn't. Reader’s race is not specified and she could be adopted because adoption is a wonderful, amazing thing. Harrington!reader and Eddie 4ever.

Words: 3.1k

“Mr. Munson, late again, I see.” 

Mrs. O’Donnell heaves a disappointed sigh as Eddie gives her an over the top smile.

“Sorry, had a meeting with the principal. He wanted to know why you gave me detention again.”

Mrs. O’Donnell frowns. “I didn’t give you detention.”

“Oh, phew,” Eddie says as he slides into his seat. “Glad to hear it. I’ll try and be on time next time.” 

The class lets out a titter of laughter as Mrs. O’Donnell rolls her eyes and turns back to the board. The dopey grin is stuck on your face as you lean forward in your seat. Resting your upper body on your desk, you bite your bottom lip as you look Eddie up and down. From your vantage point, you can only see the back left side of him, but you’ll stare at that for the entirety of the class period if you can. 

“Miss Harrington?”

Begrudgingly, you tear your gaze away from Eddie’s glorious hair and see Mrs. O’Donnell watching you impatiently. 

“Um, yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to enlighten us about the Stamp Act?” the elderly woman says. 

“Uh…” you trail off, mind suddenly blank of everything that isn’t Eddie Munson. “I would not.”

A few people in the class let out snorts of laughter, but Eddie barks out the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It makes your stomach fizzle, and your head feel all floaty. Even O’Donnell’s disapproving scowl can’t dampen your giddiness. 

The rest of class, you’re riding on a high. You made Eddie laugh. Out of all the accomplishments in your life, you’re not sure if one has ever meant more to you. Making honor roll? Eh. Becoming a cheerleader? So what? Doesn’t compare to making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen laugh.

Okay, you tell yourself. When class is over, you’re going to talk to him. The bell rings, and you’re scrambling to get your things together. Tossing them into your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Eddie out of the classroom. 

“H-Hey, Eddie?” you manage.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder and gives you a smile that has your heart stuttering.

“Hey, Harrington. What’s up?”

“Did you see A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2?” you ask, somehow not stumbling over your words. You’d had Steve bring the VHS tape home for you to watch just so you could ask Eddie about it.

“Freddy’s Revenge?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up. “Such a letdown after the first one.”

“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle. “The first one was pretty good. This one made me want to fall asleep.”

“Ironic,” Eddie says with a smirk. He opens the school door for you, and you give him a grateful smile as you step out into the parking lot. You watch as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Bye, Eddie.” You’re staring at him as he walks away, and you know you need to stop. But how can you when his ass looks the way it does in his jeans? Once he hops into his van, the trance is broken, and you make your way to your brother waiting in his car at the other end of the parking lot. 

You groan as you yank open the car door and slip inside. Steve looks less than thrilled himself, but it has nothing to do with you. Your parents are forcing the two of you to join them at a company party tonight, which both of you are vehemently against. But Steve was tasked with picking you up from school, taking you home so both of you can get ready, then to the party. 

“Think I can fake an epileptic seizure and get out of this?” Steve asks on the way home.

“You’re not epileptic,” you say.

“That’s why I said ‘fake’ it,” Steve says with a scoff. 

“They’d find a way to make you come anyway,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

The party is just as horrible as you and your older brother imagined it would be. You’re forced into an itchy blue dress and Steve looks like he’s about two seconds away from ripping his tie off. The stuffy guests walk around with their noses in the air, only deigning to talk to those they deem successful enough. You want to throw yourself out of one of the windows as you see your parents approaching you with an older couple that they’ll probably expect you to remember from somewhere. 

“Well, look at you,” the older man says. “All grown up.” The way he says it makes a shiver go down your spine. 

“You must have all the boys chasing after you,” his wife says with a wink. It’s like they’re competing to see who can make you the most uncomfortable. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your mom jumps in.

“Oh, we have high hopes for her,” she says with a chuckle. “Going to go to Yale or Stanford and find her an Ivy League man to settle down with.”

And when exactly did we decide this? you think to yourself. 

“Someone well-to-do,” your father adds. “A senator’s son, maybe. Who knows? We could be raising a future First Lady here.”

You want to gag. Steve must sense your temper rising, because he rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Remember us when you’re famous,” the older man says. 

I don’t even remember you right now. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your dad changes the subject to something about profit reports. 

Steve drives the two of you home before your parents, the two of them insisting they were going to stick around a little longer. The minute you get into your room, you throw your heels towards your closet. Your brother hears you banging around and comes to stand in your doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s taken his tie off and undone the first few buttons of his white button up shirt. 

“What’s the matter, First Lady? Didn’t like getting signed up for an arranged marriage?”

You whirl on him, practically shoving a finger in his face. “Do not call me that. I am not some prized pig they can sell at the fair.”

“Technically, I think the pigs are judged at the fair, not sold.”

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. 

“I’m running away,” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m joining the circus. Or a motorcycle gang. Anything! As long as it’s not here.”

“Oh, relax,” Steve says. “When you go off to college you can date whoever you want. They’ll never know.”

“Why do I have to wait until I go off to college?” you demand. “Why can’t I date whoever I want right now?”

“Do you want to date someone right now?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s not the point,” you say, but you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, you do,” Steve says with a huff of laughter. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Who is it?”

“Goodnight, Steve.” You shove him out of your doorway before slamming and locking your bedroom door. 

“The fuck did you say, Freak?”

Jason Carver’s voice grates on your nerves as you make your way down the hall. Unfortunately, there’s only one person the jock douche would be calling that name and it has you seeing red. You were still steamed from your parents’ comments last night, and this is just going to push you over the top.

“Who, me?” 

You walk into the cafeteria to see Eddie grinning at the basketball playing asshole.

“You’re the only freak here,” Jason says.

Your white cheer sneakers squeak to a stop on the linoleum floor, and you drop your bag down by your feet. The clatter has Jason’s gaze shifting to you. Most of the cafeteria’s attention shifts to you, actually. But you don’t notice as you stalk up to the bully. Normally, you might say something snarky to him, but you’re done with words. All your pent up frustration is taken out on Jason’s chin as you serve him a right hook. He stumbles back a few steps and there are gasps around the cafeteria. Your hand is throbbing, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel at shutting that jerk up. The small smear of blood above his upper lip has you smirking.

“Miss Harrington!”

With a groan, your satisfaction wanes when you see Principal Higgins glaring at you. His glasses are perched low on his nose and his hands are high on his hips.

“My office. Now.”

Thankfully, Principal Higgins’s secretary is kind enough to give you some ice to put on your knuckles. Some staffing emergency took precedence, so you’re stuck sitting on a bench outside his office while he deals. 

“You’ve got some arm.”

The voice that you’d know anywhere sounds from above you and your neck cracks from how quickly you look up. Eddie stands there with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“Oh. T-Thanks,” you say. 

Eddie takes a seat next to you on the bench. He yanks a black bandana out of his back pocket and smooths it out across his lap before folding it lengthwise. 

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ice you’re holding against your hand. 

“Sure.” You extend your injured hand out, and Eddie secures the ice against your knuckles with the bandana, then ties it tight enough to keep everything in place.

“How’s that?” he asks. 

“Better. Thank you.” You find it hard to meet his eyes, so you keep your focus on your hand as you bring it back into your lap. 

“So,” Eddie says, turning himself sideways on the bench and making himself comfortable. “What made you punch ol’ Carver? I mean, I know we all want to do it, but no one’s been quite so brave. Not until you, that is. And from a cheerleader? One of his own?”

“I’m not one of his own,” you say, looking up at him. But Eddie has a playful smirk on his lips.

“Nah, I know you’re not. I’m just teasing you. But what did want to make you do that? Couldn’t have been all on my account.”

“Why not?” you ask with a frown.

Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Listen, Harrington. I don’t see you as someone who goes around punching people for the hell of it. You’re one of the nicest people in this hell hole of a town. The jackass must’ve done something to deserve it.”

“He did,” you say. “He called you a freak.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, leaning in towards you with a conspiratorial whisper. “But most people do.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you say with a frown. “You’re not. And I hate how Jason always does it in front of a crowd. It’s like he needs to put you down in front of others to prove he’s this king or whatever. So, someone needed to knock him off his throne in front of people, too.”

“My knight in shining cheer skirt,” Eddie teases with a wink. He’s shocked when your face goes red and you’re unable to look him in the eye. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in your face is getting worse by the second and you feel it’s only a matter of time before you crack. 

“You sure? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

God, that’s the last thing Eddie could ever make you feel. You immediately shake your head, refusing to let him think those thoughts even for a moment. 

“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just an…awkward person,” you say with a wince. 

“Maybe I like awkward,” Eddie says, gently kicking his black boot against your white sneaker. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and they have plenty of room to buzz about, seeing as you hadn’t gotten to eat your lunch.

“Maybe I like awkward, too,” you say softly. 

Eddie smirks. “Oh, then you must adore me, Harrington.”

“Maybe I do,” you say with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him. 

“Well, maybe I like sweet, pretty cheerleaders who can sucker punch like Bruce Lee and talk to me about horror movies.”

Your mind stopped listening after Eddie called you “pretty” though. Did he really think that? Or was he just saying it to be nice? 

“Hmm,” you muse. “Guess I should send Hailey Hudson from the team your way to talk about Halloween then, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and the same sensation as when you made him laugh before fills your body. 

“Nightmare on Elm Street is more my cup of tea,” Eddie says. “Plus, talking to any other cheerleader bedsides you doesn’t seem very appealing to me.”

“Miss Harrington,” Principal Higgins says, sticking his head out of his office. “You can come in now.” He steps back inside, and you release a sigh. Of course talking to Eddie would have to come to an end eventually, but why now?

“Well,” you say, standing up from the bench. “Guess it’s time to hear my sentence.”

“Maybe if you get released early for good behavior, we could grab pizza sometime?” Eddie looks nervous, and that alone makes you want to laugh. Why on earth would he be nervous asking if you wanted to hang out? 

“That sounds great,” you say, the euphoric smile unable to stay off your face no matter how hard you try. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, seeming shocked. 

“Why do you sound surprised?” you ask with a giggle. Taking courage from the fact that he seems to be getting nervous around you as well, you decide to be a little bolder. “I don’t just throw punches for anyone, you know.”

The most endearing smile grows on Eddie’s face, and he places one of his ring-clad hands over his heart. 

“I am very honored to have the most beautiful girl in school defending my honor.” He outstretches his hand out to you as you begin to walk backwards towards the principal’s office. “I’ll wait for you.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “I’ll have my parole officer contact you.”

“Should be easy since I’m in the phone book.”

“I’ll make sure to let her know. Bye, Munson.”

“See you later, Harrington.” He gives you one last smile before you step into the office.

The worst part isn’t the detention you were given or that you have to apologize to Carver. It’s that you’re told to call your parents to come and get you. Apparently, the school nurse is out for the day, and they can’t have you staying in school with a potentially injured hand. It hardly even hurts anymore, but you’re not going to let them know that. Let them think that you’ll be headed to the hospital for all you care. 

When you pick up the phone from the desk, your finger hovers over the numbers. Principal Higgins is sitting right there, making sure you’re going to tell your parents exactly why you need to be picked up. At the last second though, you dial a different number. 

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, Dad,” you say, gripping at the receiver pressed against your ear. 

“Dad?” you hear Steve ask in confusion. “This is—”

“I-I know,” you say. “I’m just calling, Dad, because I need you to pick me up from school. I’m in Principal Higgins’ office. 

You can tell Steve understands now by the sigh that comes across the line. “What did you do?”

“Well, my hand is injured, and the nurse isn’t on duty today, so they don’t want me staying at school while I’m hurt and no one can check it out.”

“Tell him why it’s injured,” Principal Higgins says.

“Yes, tell me,” Steve echoes, obviously being able to hear his former principal’s words.

“I, um, I punched Jason Carver,” you say.

“You did what?!” Steve all but screams.

“He called Eddie Munson a freak in front of the whole cafeteria.” You say this piece looking Higgins dead in the eye. Are you going to do anything about that? you want to ask. “So, I punched Carver to shut him up.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed,” Steve says. 

“Thanks. So, uh, can you come get me?”

“My shift is over in ten minutes,” Steve says. “I’ll head there as soon as I get out of here.”

“Thanks, St—uh, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the phone and Principal Higgins stares at you over the rims of his glasses.

“He on his way?” he asks.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I can’t believe you punched Jason Carver,” Steve says, shaking his head in amusement as he drives you home. 

“He’s an asshole,” you defend with a shrug. 

“Over Munson, though?” Steve asks incredulously. “Seriously? Couldn’t have picked another hill to die on?”

“Nope,” you say through gritted teeth. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the passenger window. 

“Why Munson, though, I—” Steve cuts himself off with a groan and shakes his head. “Oh, no. Please tell me I’m wrong.” 

“I’d love to,” you reply. “But I need to know what you’re wrong about first.”

“Munson isn’t the guy you want to date, is he?” Steve asks nervously.

Your face gets hot for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days. But that’s all the confirmation your brother needs, because he’s letting out a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony.

“You really have a thing for the Freak?”

“I have one good fist left,” you say. “Want me to use it on you?”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your detention then,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Then I’d tell them about you moving the dirty magazines from beneath your bed into the air vent,” you counter.

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, shooting you a glare before looking back at the road. 

“Your room and mine share the same vent and I can hear the pages rustling when the air is on.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve grumbles. 

“You also have no room to complain with some of the trash you’ve dated,” you point out. 

“Are you and Munson…a thing?” Steve asks, sounding like he hates every syllable of the question.

“No,” you tell him. “But he asked me to go get pizza with him. So, maybe soon.”

“And that will make you happy?” your brother asks.

A smile comes to your face just thinking about it. “It would.”

Steve nods his head and lets out a deep breath as if he’s resigning himself to the fact that you have feelings for Eddie. 

“Okay, but you’re telling Mom and Dad.”

[sollis-occasum]

a night like this - anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you kept saying that everything was over between the two of you but anakin kept coming back to you every time.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, insecurity, jealousy, miscommunication, mention of blood and injury, quinlan vos beheads a bounty hunter (just one sentence and it's not in detail either), mention of a vomiting twi-lek, reader is working in a pub, no proofread

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i haven't decided yet but i may write a few more parts to this story. i hope you like it guys. please don't mind the english mistakes, i'm not a native speaker.

Being injured was not unusual for Anakin Skywalker, but he could never remember feeling so vulnerable before.

As he moved, his battle-weary body convulsed with a kind of pain he had never felt before, reopening wounds that had begun to close, filling his nostrils with the metallic scent of blood. If your delicate sighs had not mixed with his moans from his blood-soaked lips, the pain he was in would have caused him to lose all sense of time and space. But how could he have allowed this to happen as you gently ran your hands over his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead? This was perhaps the last time you would welcome him into this house where you had created so many precious memories together, and Anakin wanted to engrave everything from that night deep in his mind. Every sound, every image, every detail...

You had tried to tell him hundreds, maybe thousands of times before that everything between you was over, that you belonged in two different worlds. Anakin Skywalker was a young Jedi fighting to ensure that the light side of the Force prevailed over the darkness in the galaxy. You were just an ordinary barmaid working in a seedy pub in a backstreet of Coruscant. Unlike Anakin, your life was not full of fearless warriors and nobles with endless wealth, but of hardened criminals, addicts, and bounty hunters. How could you trust him and open your heart to him when he had been trained to fight the people you considered your family for almost his entire life?

And your experiences were very different, too. Anakin had traveled to planets you had never even heard of before, and met people you could never even see on the HoloNet. Some nights when you couldn't sleep, you would ask him to talk, to tell you things, thinking that hearing his soft voice would help you drift off. He would tell you stories from his missions. Sometimes these stories took place on a mountain on Alderaan, sometimes in an underwater city on Naboo. Usually, the people who accompanied Anakin on these planets were just as interesting as the mission itself. Master Jedi, senators, stormtroopers, sometimes even Chancellor Palpatine himself...

These stories that you listened to with great excitement at first, started to create a thin ache in your heart that even you didn't want to accept. You knew that Anakin had no bad intentions, that he just wanted to share something with you, but no matter what you did you couldn't resist the jealousy that was trying to take over your soul. Knowing that there is another life somewhere outside of this swamp you were trapped in and that you could only hear about it from others was driving you crazy inside.

Sometimes Anakin would ask you questions about your life, but you would either ignore them or leave them unanswered. You had no intention of appearing mysterious or keeping secrets. You just didn't have stories that would interest someone like him who had seen the entire galaxy. What were you going to tell him? Do you know, Anakin, today a Jedi named Quinlan Vos came to our pub and cut off the head of a bounty hunter with his lightsaber. The man's head fell into the lap of one of the stripper Twi-leks and she started throwing up. I had to clean up the vomit along with the blood on the walls. What a beautiful day, isn't it?

No, no... You would rather remain silent for the rest of your life than endure Anakin's pitying gaze as he listened to these. At least that way you wouldn't have lost your self-respect.

You took a deep breath to clear your mind and turned your gaze to Anakin lying on your bed. He looked so innocent and defenseless with his wounded state that your heart ached for him. You wanted to protect him from all the evil in the universe by hiding him in your house, which was a temple of memories for you, but how could you do that when you didn't even have the strength to protect yourself? The only good thing you could do for him was to get out of his life before you could hurt him any further. You tucked a lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead behind his ear and muttered in a voice you could barely hear, "You shouldn't have come here, Anakin." You tried to make your voice sound firm and determined, but you couldn't stop it from shaking.

The young Jedi tried to sit up in bed, but couldn’t. He winced in pain and slowly lowered himself onto the headboard. He pressed his mechanical hand to the wound on his abdomen, as if the coldness of the metal would ease the pain. You placed your hand over his and began to gently stroke the metal surface with your thumb. Even though he couldn’t feel your touch, the gesture always soothed him. When you realized that having a cybernetic hand embarrassed him, you started doing it to show him that you loved everything about him, and over time it had become a habit. To Anakin, this robotic hand might have been a symbol of his weakness but to you, it was just a part of the man you loved.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a burden to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ani, you’re not a burden to me. You couldn’t be even if you wanted to.” You slowly removed his hand from his wound, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and kissed it. “What I was trying to say was that the Jedi at the temple could take better care of you. You know, with spells and all that.”

"Jedi don't do magic, they use the Force." He smiled for the first time since he had come to you. You shrugged, smiling. "They're all the same to me. I'm not sensitive to any of them anyway."

Your smiles and chuckles were not enough to break the serious air in the room. You had to stop for a few seconds and gather your courage to continue speaking. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed in the meantime, and your lips were drawn into a thin line. A sadder expression than Anakin had ever seen appeared in his eyes, reflected by the moonlight. The wrinkles on your forehead made you look like you had aged a few years in a few seconds.

"But we can't keep doing this, Anakin. You know that too. You can't come to me every time. We've talked about this many times before."

Anakin tried to get closer to you, but the burns and wounds were hurting him so much that he couldn't. He leaned back once more, taking deep, raspy breaths, and unconsciously began to squeeze the old sheet. Despite the pained expression on his face, he neither blinked nor took his gaze away from yours. You knew that by looking directly into you eyes, he was trying to see something deep inside your soul. Maybe a trace of the affection you had only ever felt for him, or maybe a glimmer of hope that you would never give up on him... But he could see nothing but determination on your face, blurred by his misty eyes.

“Don’t do this to us,” he said in a pleading voice. The tears he had been trying to hold back had finally started to flow down his cheeks. With a quick movement, he pulled his mechanical hand from yours and wiped his face, hoping that you hadn’t seen them. He hated the power you had over him.

“Don’t give up on us like this.”

When you saw Anakin’s wet eyelashes, you felt an overwhelming desire in your heart to pull him close to you, to lay him on your chest, to caress the soft hair he had grown for your sake while he cried and tell him that everything would be okay, but you couldn’t do it. You knew that the moment you showed weakness, your ex-lover would draw strength from your hesitation and try to fight against your inevitable end. You did the only thing you could do and shook your head, hiding behind your cold expression. "I have no choice, Ani."

"I love you, does that mean nothing to you?" The sadness in his eyes was giving way to anger, but his voice was so weak that he could not convey his rebellion to you.

"Of course that means something." you said in a calm tone, almost mocking his anger. "I love you too, but I will not allow you to waste your life on a relationship that has no future. If you are so determined to go against the Jedi Code, you should at least do it for someone worthy. Senator Amidala, for example. She is a beautiful and noble woman, and it is clear that she has feelings for you. She can use her power and position to help you. I will only be a hindrance."

"Nonsense," Anakin snapped. "Padme is nothing more than a trusted friend to me. You are the only person I need to continue. I can fight the whole galaxy as long as you're by my side."

You sighed slightly and got out of bed. “We won’t have this conversation again, Anakin. My decision is final and there is nothing you can do to make me change my mind.”

You knew you were doing the right thing for both of you, but why did it hurt so much? Why did the right choice always require such sacrifices?

You bid Anakin a last farewell with an innocent kiss on the lips and started walking towards the old wooden door of the room. You could feel the salty taste of your lovers tears on your lips.

“Stay the night here and get some good rest. But I don’t want to see you here when I get home from work tomorrow.”

Those were the last words you said to Anakin before you left the room and his life forever. “This can’t be the end of us,” he muttered as he looked at your shrinking figure. He started to tangle his fingers in his hair that you had been gently stroking a few minutes ago and started to squeeze it. He shook his head violently from side to side as if denying the cruel words echoing in his mind.

"I swear I will find a way to fix everything and bring you back to me."