#we're still on the wave arc

[digoload]

part THREE! of drawing bedrock bros as kakashi & naruto screencaps (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

i know i said "day 1" in part one and have continued to post every day since then but we're setting ourselves up for success so dont continue to expect daily art. however. having said this. therapy is expensive and drawing bedrock bros as p!kakanaru is free :sunglasses_emoji:

[ghostbsuter]

"And? What did you decide on?" Duke asks, fork slipping from his mouth and chewing, focused on Danny.

The boy in question hums. "Oh yeah, I'm totally joining in on the nightlife."

The statement has all of them stopping in their tracks, blatantly staring at the still eating boy.

"This will be my emo arc, daylight vigilante turned dark."

Tim snorts, Jason gives a smirk, nudging the eldest sibling next to him from his frozen state.

"Ooooh," Steph leans forward. "Have you decided? Bat or Bird?"

"New name?" Cass jumps in on the questioning with a small smile, eyes crinkling.

"Will you be joining us tonight then, danyal?" His twin speaks up for the first time during dinner, eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Yes." Is the short reply, with the way damian's lips turn down and displeasure makes itself clear, the intention of giving such a short answer has been met.

"Danny," Bruce gains the attention, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked and brows furrowed with what must be worry.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into this just because everyone else is—"

"I'm more than sure, B!"

The man sighs. "And I won't be able to stop you?"

"Mhm." He gives a nod.

"Okay," his shoulders sag in defeat. "Do you have everything then—?"

"Yep!"

"Even—"

"B, I'm pretty sure I got everything, you can, if in your opinion I am missing something, give it to me later!"

Danny grins, pushing himself up from the table and rounding around towards the door.

"Besides! My whole get up will be a suprise!! So stay awake folks because I'm gonna blow ya all away."

As he leaves, Steph and Duke make sounds of anticipation, curiosity eating at all of them.

(They dont know whats gonna hit 'em.)

"I'm betting 50 bucks that he's gonna be a bat."

Alfred shakes his head at the newfound excitement.

—

What an exciting night.

There is still no sight of their newest, despite oracle's teasing, having apparently already been included in the suprise.

"Well well well," a sly, yet teasing voice makes itself into the open. Catwoman, in all her glory, walks up to the group of bats and birds.

"If it isn't the bat, what's with the gloomy face?"

Batman gives her a nod. "Cat."

Her eyes roam the group and she tilts her head. "Everyone seems to be here tonight." She comments.

"We're waiting," the man shares. "Our newest decided to be more secretive about his debut."

Catwoman gives him a smug smirk. "So I have heard," a chuckle. "I've come here to introduce you to someone, truthfully."

"Oh? Who is it?" Nightwing perks up, having finally decided to join in.

"Me."

Some yelp, whip their head around and away from the lady in black, gasps and cooing (particularly from steph) fill the roof and Danny joins them.

He wears black combat boots, they're heavy just from the look, but make no sound as he jumps around. The front of the boots look like cat paws, they're reaching up to his knees.

Then comes the baggy black pants, knees protected by poleyn and his belt acting as a cats tail. The hoodie he is wearing is also black, with fingerless gloves (only the middle finger is covered) and reaching up to his neck.

Instead of a domino mask, he wears a hood with cat ears and a dark face mask. Cass claps, knowing fully well he took inspiration from her own get up.

The whole outfit is detailed with orange spots, some parts brown and others grayish.

"Meet my new mentee, Calico."

Danny, Calico, waves.

[torakowalski]

Bit of a delay since the last part, but we're back! It's still late 1986/early 1987, they're still in a hotel, Eddie has still recently seen Steve's dick. This little pre getting-together mini arc should be three parts, then we're back to swimming!

(part one | part two | part three)

Robin is laughing so hard she sounds like she's gonna die, which isn't really helping Eddie's troubles but is making him smile despite himself. Girl's got an infectious cackle, what can he say.

"Oh my god," she says, more air than words, making static blow down the phone and right into his ear canal. He winces. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I know it's not funny, but you told it like it was funny to make me laugh, don't deny it."

Eddie had told his tale of woe like it was funny to make her laugh, so he doesn't deny it. "I know I'm being stupid," he says, feeling serious now, and listening as her laughter trails off. "But I kind of feel like I'm being a creep? Like, he thinks we're straight guys together, and it's totally chill if he comes out of the shower naked, but we're not."

Not to mention that seeing so much of Steve so often is doing nothing for Eddie's stupid crush, but he doesn't mention that. Either Robin knows about it or she doesn't, and if she doesn't, he's not gonna tell her.

She sighs. "Yeah, I know that feeling. But I mean, being naked is just like the norm for him; you know what jocks are like. And even when he is dressed, it's in tiny speedos half the time. I'm lucky, he never got totally naked around me, but I literally had to scream at him to get him to remember pants."

Eddie grins to himself. "What did you scream?" he asks, privately hoping it was just the word PANTS! over and over until Steve got the message.

Robin does a little cackle. "Okay, bear in mind I was at the end of my tether but it may have been, 'PUT YUR DICK AWAY, I AM TOO GAY FOR THIS!'"

It's Eddie's turn to laugh until he's maybe gonna choke. That is so much better than 'PANTS.'

"You're an inspiration, Buckley," he tells her and he means it.

They were always friendly in Hawkins, but he thinks they might be real friends now. Mostly because half the time she calls for Steve lately, his training is running long and she gets stuck talking to Eddie, instead, just like she is right now.

It's nice, having a friend who just gets it. Who knows not just the painful things that come from growing up gay in a small town, but the weird things and the funny things, too.

"I mean, you could do it too," Robin says, like it's easy. "Yell that in Steve's face, and I guarantee he'll feel super guilty and take you seriously and never wave his dick around in front of you again."

"He's not exactly waving it," Eddie protests, except now that's all he can picture. "That'd be a hell of a way to come out to him I guess though, huh? Just scream it in his face."

"Isn't that how you tell everyone everything?" Robin asks. "Or does it only work if there's a lunch table to strut around on."

"Nah, I'm resourceful." Eddie grips the phone receiver tighter, checks the length of the cord. "Hang on, I'm getting up on the bed."

"Eddie," Robin laughs, but Eddie's already done it.

Feet planted on the slippery hotel comforter, he does an experimental bounce and almost immediately brushes the top of his head against the popcorn ceiling.

"Okay, I'm up. So? I picture I'm in the lunch room?"

"Yup," says Robin. "Table of cheerleaders over there, table of jocks over there, me waving at you from the band geek table, and Steve standing in front of you, totally naked."

"I think I've had that dream," Eddie mutters.

"Ew," she says. "Moving on. You're Eddie the Brave, you're on your stage, what do you say?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. "STEVE HARRINGTON, PUT YOUR DICK AWAY, I AM TOO GAY TO SEE IT!"

He doesn't yell it as loudly as he could, since he doesn't want anyone in the rooms next door to hear, but Robin still says, "Yes! Perfect!" sounding delighted.

Eddie grins, flops down onto the bed. Then sits up again in a startled rush, when the door handle turns and Steve lets himself in.

Any hope that he didn't hear dies the second Eddie sees his face. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are up in his hairline, and he is definitely, definitely blushing.

"Steve," Eddie says strangled. Then, louder, "Robin! Steve's back!" He shoves the receiver at Steve who takes it automatically. "It's Robin. For you. Robin! Calling for you! I'll give you guys some privacy. Have a good talk. Goodbye."

Shoeless, he flees the room.

(continued here)

[unluckywisher]

Hi:) can I request some Rafayel fluff pls? (Perhaps drawing time together?) If not, whatever inspires you feel free to add more things to it.

~ Drawing with Rafayel ~

Tags: Rafayel x Reader, fluff, no warnings, reader isn't proficient at drawing, sitting on his lap but it's non-sexual, he helps you relax, he helps you draw.

Style: Second person narration, no description of reader, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! It's always fun to write the lil sassy fish. Sorry if this took a long time, I had exams 😭

Word count: ~0,8k

You are hanging out at Rafayel's house, watching him paint like any other day. But to be honest with yourself, you are growing slightly bored with the painting he's working on today. Not that there's anything wrong with it, you normally would have enjoyed it, but today you aren't really vibing with the situation.

Maybe it's because you've been on vacation for a week and you're itching to go back into action against some Wanderers, or maybe it's just a random change in mood, but the fact of the matter is that you can't stay still. You have to do something. So much so that you don't notice how your fingers have been drumming against the couch's armrest for a while now. But he does.

"With all that noise, I can barely concentrate, you know?" He says, turning to face you, brush in hand.

You immediately stop, realizing what you're doing.

"Sorry."

"What's on your mind? You seem restless," he says, putting down the brush and sitting next to you on the couch.

"Yeah, I don't know... I guess I miss work. Feeling like I'm doing something."

He scoffs.

"You have to learn how to have a moment of peace. In fact, we're going to do that right now."

He stands up, your eyes following his movements with curiosity. He grabs a sketchbook and two pencils, then makes his way back to the couch.

"Are you going to make me draw?"

"Exactly."

You sigh, taking the pencil he offers you.

"Raf, you know my drawing skills are mediocre."

"You don't need to have good drawing skills to be able to unwind by drawing," he says, sitting right next to you and opening the sketchbook to a blank page.

"I don't even know what to draw."

"You're right, you need inspiration before you do this. So let's go."

He stands up once more, making you question why he is so excited about this. He extends his free hand toward you. You grab it, and he pulls you to your feet, leading you out of the house.

The ocean expands all across your field of view. No matter how many times you see it, you're always mesmerized by how beautiful it looks.

Still holding hands, you walk up to the shore. The sun is bright in the sky, but it's not uncomfortable; the sea breeze tousling your hair. Rafayel smiles at you.

"Well? Anything you wanna draw?"

You shrug. The view is pretty, sure, but you don't know if you're up for the task of drawing what you see.

He rolls his eyes. Letting go of your hand, he sits down on the sand.

"Fine, come here." He motions for you to sit on his lap.

You do, resting the sketchbook on your legs. He leans his head on your shoulder and whispers, "Close your eyes."

"What? Why? How am I going to choose something to draw with my eyes closed?"

"Forget about that for a second."

You decide to do as he says. Eyes closed, your focus switches to what you can hear. The waves lapping, the sway of vegetation, a bird chirping, Rafayel's heartbeat and breathing, your own... You find yourself syncing your breath with his.

You feel his hand caressing the side of your face, his fingers sliding through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You lean into his touch.

"Okay, now, after taking a deep breath, I want you to open your eyes again."

The view is the same, but now that your mind isn't running a mile a minute, you're able to take it in better.

"We're going to draw the waves," he says. "They're easy, look."

He looks over your shoulder at the open sketchbook, and using his pencil, he makes a few arcs across the page. He stops to let you do the same.

"Don't overthink it."

Heeding his words, you attempt to do the same as he did. Your lines aren't as even or as elegant as his, but that's not the point. You know it isn't.

"Now we're going to add the shoreline..."

He puts his pencil aside and takes your hand as you hold yours. He guides it to the bottom of the page, etching a soft line. You let your hand be lead without much thought about what you're drawing, and this time the line looks nicer.

"A line at the top for the horizon..." He continues to whisper.

He guides your hand to the top of the page, a few straight lines mirrored across the waves you drew.

He lets go of your hand.

"See? You made a drawing," he praises, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"Well, you helped me. I feel like I cheated," you say, holding up the sketchbook.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone," he smiles against your ear.

"Thank you. For helping me relax," you turn your head towards him, kissing his cheek.

"Well, if you give me a kiss each time, I'll have to help you more often," he muses, his ears turning red.

You laugh, leaning back to rest against him. It's a nice day.

[wheeloffortune-design]

'You need to understand,' I tell my brother with a manic look in my eyes, 'that, as a community, we were used to queerbaiting. We were used to crumbs. If a show had two semi-attractive male leads with a minimum of chemistry, we shipped them. Yeah, sure, it could be cringe, but it's not like we had a lot of queer characters to obsess over.

'And most of us were girls, right, or at least were subjected to media aimed at girls all our lives, and we were trained to recognize romance. We know the story beats, the dialogue, the framing, the language used in media that says this is a romantic scene. And then, there was a decade or two where all the stories were about male friendship (but let's be honest all the stories are about male friendship since bloody Gilgamesh and Enkidu, but don't get me started on that)-- and anyway, they kept using all those framing devices for romance to talk about friendship. The silences, the stares, the jokes, the sacrifices and promises and-- you get what I mean. So of course we shipped the hell out of these guys.

'And if they really wanted us to ship straight couples, maybe they should have given bigger roles to women, huh. But that was the scene: great shows with a male lead and his best friend, and they were all interesting and handsome and they faced adversity together, and overall had the most romantic story arcs without being romantically together. Yeah, I know you've seen the Winter Soldier.

'So we were pretty okay with crumbs. We made mountains out of crumbs. It was fine, relatively speaking.

'And then there was Sherlock,' I say, waving at the tv, where episode one is on pause on a frame of John Watson licking his lips while he asks Sherlock if he has a boyfriend. 'That show brought it all to eleven. The handsomeness, the chemistry, the drama, the stares. The jokes about them being a couple, so many jokes. You know that haha are you a married couple is a romance trope, right?

'The actors made acting choices that hinted at attraction, and the directors kept those choices and framed them in images and music and timing-- because everything in a show is a choice. Those are the choices they made.

'So of course we went crazy.

'And the people who made that show loved the attention. They had fun with us, until it was too much for them. And then they started making fun of us.

'I think it kinda broke us, as a community. Because we loved the show, and the characters, and the actors, and the writers. And the show kept framing the story in a way that said "You're right! This is a romance!"

'And then the interviews went from hinting at romance to plainly mocking us. Haha those silly fangirls, they see gay stuff, but Shelock Holmes isn't gay, what are they thinking, huh. Silly little girls.

'I'll be honest, it hurt. And it's not like there was a lot of queer media to focus on either, at least not mainstream, well produced shows like that. It took many years after that whole debacle to get canon queer characters. We're still all surprised that Our Flag Means Death had a real kiss.

'So yeah,' I sigh, looking at the paused tv, 'imagine, in an era where queerbaiting was the norm, to become the one show that became synonymous with queerbaiting.'

I unpause.

"It's fine, it's all fine," says the tv.

'Yeah right,' I scoff.

[rwac96]

Play Bunny Antics # 1 (Silent Knight)

Welcome to the first installment of Play Bunny Antics, and we're here to introduce our Play Bunny: Neopolitan, or Neo for short.

(source: Leux 21)

Neo: *waves, smiling*

Neo, what's your favorite thing to do, your cute mute bunny?

Neo: *holds up a sign* 'Getting my guts rearranged.'

Um, please be more specific.

Neo: *rolls her eyes, turning around, spanking her own ass and spreading her buttocks apart*

So, anal?

Neo: *releases her cheeks, holds up another sign* "Anal and getting my muff stuffed!"

Okay! Okay! Let's bring out the himbo--Uh, our bunny fucker-- I mean our bunny lover, Jaune Arc!

Jaune: *blinks in confusion* "Why am I here?"

Neo: *approaches Jaune, swaying her hips with each step and winks at him*

You've read the agreement about participating in Play Bunny Antics.

Neo: *signs* 'You heard that no-name, Himbo.' *peels the stickers off of her breasts, revealing her nipples*

Jaune: *eyes widened, blushes* "Oh! Now I get it!" *smacks Neo's ass*

Neo: *shudders, turning around and 'adjusts' her corset, signs* 'That's it, Baby~.' *bends over, shaking her ass at Jaune*

*Jaune tugs his jeans down, letting his cock out, and grabs Neo's hips*

Wow! Someone's eager!

Jaune: "Yup!" *pushes his cock inside the Play Bunny, beginning to thrust back and forth*

Platt!-Platt!-Platt!-Platt!-Platt!-Platt!-Platt!-Platt!

Neo: *ahgeaos, signs* 'Fuck me! Fuck me!! FUCK ME!!!'

Jaune: *grunts, still thrusting* "Nnngh, you feel so good, Ice Cream Bunny!"

Jumping the gun there, but, I like your spirit!

Neo: *moans silently, signs* 'He can cum in my pussy, right?'

Sure thing.

Jaune: *blinks in confusion* "What if you get pregnant?"

Neo: *pushes her ass against the thrusts, signs* 'It sounds like they're okay with it~.'

Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!-Pwalp!

Jaune: *thrusts faster and harder* "F-Fuck!"

Looks like Jaune's about to burst!

Three!

Two!

One!

FILL!

*Jaune slams his hips against Neo's ass, flooding her womb with his spunk*

Neo: *red-faced cum leaking from her pussy, signs* 'Fuck! That certainly feels like a Knock-Up.'

And that's the conclusion of the First Play Bunny Antics! Hope you've enjoyed the show~!

Neo: *turns to Jaune, signs* 'Hey, you doin' anything after this~?'

Jaune: *pants, sweaty* "I was going to a carnival with Nora and Ren, but this' better than being a third wheel."

[grandlinedreams]

childhood friends trope with Law please and thank you <3333 This particular trope always has me in shambles THE INTIMACY?? OR KNOWING EVERY VERSION OF THAT PERSON?? THE INSIDE JOKES? UGHHH And lets not forget the tenderness that comes with knowing that person for years and then some. Good shit. I just want this lonely brooding twink to have something constant in his from from his childhood to adulthood. The softness makes me wanna hurl i love it

YESSSSS i am also such a sucker for childhood friends trope bls I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: fluff, a touch of angst, dressrosa arc spoilers]

He's lucky to not be dead.

You kneel on Law's other side, limp hand in both of yours. You've never seen him so still and quite frankly, you're terrified.

You know you should talk to him, try to keep him tethered here in the land of the living ㅡ but your mind is horribly blank given the chaos still unfolding around you.

Were you more sentimental, you'd beg. A thousand pinky promises and accompanying eyerolls, the smirk you so often threaten to punch him for when he's being insufferable ㅡ you'd take it over this.

"You must care for him quite a bit," Viola says, and you know she's trying to find something to say, to reassure you that Law is going to be just fine. "Are you..."

She trails off, tact where there often is none when it comes to you and Law. Because there's only so in sync you can be with someone else, share looks and understand what the other wants, seemingly operate as two halves of a whole before you get that question.

"No," you say, "we're just friends."

ㅡ

You're a lot more than just friends. That implies that there's been much of a time where you didn't know each other, and there really hasn't. Or that the two of you met through traditional means.

That isn't quite true either. You meet when the world is on fire for the both of you, in ways so similar and yet not.

Grief is such a funny thing when you find comfort in someone who's lost just as much as you. It's easier to tread those dark waves when someone else is threatening to sink with you ㅡ find solid ground in linked pinkies and eyerolls that follow, wide grins made hole-punched by missing baby teeth.

Of course there's also Shachi, Penguin and Bepo ㅡ they aren't far behind you in knowing Law, but it still stands that you've been a constant for longer.

"Of course I'm gonna come with you, idiot," you huff, eyes gleaming with laughter, "who else is gonna put up with you the way I do?"

You don't need to tell him you'd gladly follow him through the gates of hell. He knows, because he'd do the same for you.

There's only one person who knows you better than yourself, and his name is Trafalgar Law. You don't turn as he exits Kyros' house, eyes still skyward as he sinks onto the step beside you.

"The stars are pretty," you remark.

"You should be asleep." Law's eyes narrow when you mouth his words at the same time, and you scoff.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who got shot, then almost lost an arm." Law meets your gaze, then looks away. "I'm not expecting you to apologize, because that isn't how we operate. But we made a promise, didn't we?"

"[Name]ㅡ"

"Law."

Law huffs. "We were kids."

"So? Hasn't stopped us before. As I recall, you've pulled this card on me several times." You hold your hand up, pinky extended. "Do it, Law."

Law stares at you, as thrilled about your tradition as he ever is, but links his pinky around yours. You grin, and he rolls his eyes. "You're a pain."

"Yeah," you answer, scooting closer to settle your head on his shoulder. "You're my pain, and I'm yours. That's how it works, right?"

Law is quiet, undoubtedly still coming to terms with the end of all of this and what it means for him ㅡ catharsis, a shackle unclamped from around his neck. Your hand finds his, fingers braced through the gaps of his, and you squeeze. You don't say a word, and you don't have to.

"Yeah," Law finally answers, lets his head rest against yours. "It is."

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26, PART 27, UPDATE

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

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

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

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

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Nine: Sacrifice

Chapter WC: 7,533

Chapter Tags/Warnings: canon-typical violence

A/N: We're getting somewhere! Kinda!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Felucia, 21 BBY

Morning comes, and with it, a new day, and a new wave of attacks. You're woken early by the sounds of the blaster fire, the shouts and screams of the men echoing through the jungle. There's barely enough time to get your armor on before you're running out into the battlefield, lightsabers already ignited. The same thing happens the next day, and the next.

On the third day, you find yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with Rex, the two of you fighting a retreating battle. The droids are advancing, and you're struggling to hold them off. This part of the planet is sparser than the others, with giant blooms acting as cover. You and Rex are crouched behind a particularly large flower, its petals the size of a star cruiser.

"This is a bad position," Rex yells over the sound of the battle.

"I know!" you shout back, and you duck down, the blast narrowly missing your head.

"What are your orders?"

You curse, and you reach out, your mind searching for the other Jedi. You connect with Obi-Wan almost instantaneously, the bond thrumming between the two of you, and you realize he's reaching for you too. The feeling of his presence washes over you, and his thoughts flood your mind, the concern and the urgency bleeding into your own emotions.

"We're falling back to your position," Obi-Wan tells you. "Hold your ground until we get there."

"Understood," you reply, and the connection is severed, the bond dissolving. You open your eyes and turn to Rex, the worry etched on your face. "We're not going anywhere."

"Yes, sir," he says, and he rises and shoots, taking out several of the droids, the bolts slamming into the metal bodies. They collapse in a pile of twisted metal, but the others continue their approach, unphased. Rex curses and ducks back down. "This isn't going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is," you mutter. "Cover me."

"What are you—" He cuts himself off when he realizes you're already gone. You rush forward, throwing your shoto in an arc as you leap over the droids. The blade slices through them like butter, and they fall, the clattering sound filling the air. You land on the other side and turn, the saber returning to your hand. 

The droids have turned their attention to you, and you can hear Rex shouting. You ignore him, and the incoming shots, and you charge, lightsabers swinging. The frustration and the panic fuel you to keep fighting, to push forward, to win. The rage burns hotter with each passing second, and the darkness at the edge of your consciousness threatens to engulf you. You fight against the urge, pushing it back, but the control is slipping through your fingers.

And then, just as suddenly, the pressure is released, and the energy around you changes. You don't have to look to know who has arrived, but you do anyway, watching as Obi-Wan and Anakin descend upon the droids, their blades flashing in the sunlight. They cut through the metal army, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, the first respite you've had in what feels like hours.

"You good?" Anakin asks as he stops next to you, and he glances at the carnage, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," you pant. "You?"

He gives you a look that clearly communicates how ridiculous a question it is. "Are you serious?"

"Sorry," you huff. "Forgot who I was talking to."

Anakin smirks and looks at Obi-Wan, who's still slashing through the droids, his blade a blur. "You think he needs any help?"

You shake your head. "He seems fine to me."

Obi-Wan's movements are swift and precise, and there's a ferocity, a desperation, to them that has your eyebrows raising. He's cutting down the droids like they're made of paper, and there's a fire in his eyes, the anger visible. You can't help but wonder what happened, what triggered his sudden surge of aggression, and you make a note to ask him later. But for now, you focus on keeping up, on staying alive.

Anakin and Obi-Wan hold the front of the line, and you let them, keeping your attention on the forces trying to flank. Ahsoka is still off with a small contingent, sent away to patrol the jungle, much to her displeasure. You'd tried to argue on her behalf, but Anakin had insisted, and in the end, she'd left, a sullen expression on her face. You can only pray she's faring better than the rest of you.

You push that thought away, and you turn, lightsaber swinging. A blast hits the ground near your feet, and you curse, the dirt and smoke kicking up. You lunge, and your blade sinks into the droid, the metal melting under the heat. It collapses, and you pull your blade free, the metal glowing red. The others keep firing, and you duck and roll, the bolts whizzing over your head.

The battle rages on, and the minutes bleed together, the blood pounding in your ears and your lungs burning. The exhaustion is creeping in, and you're struggling to hold onto the hope that you'll survive this. 

Every night since you've arrived, you've had the same nightmare, and every night, you wake up, gasping and sweating. You don't remember what it was about, but the feeling of dread lingers, and the sense of foreboding weighs heavily on you. And, even though the sun is shining, and the air is warm, the chill hasn't left you, and you're afraid. Afraid that something terrible is coming, that something is going to happen. You're not sure if it's the Force or the fatigue or the stress, but the feeling has grown, and it's getting harder to ignore.

You try to put the thoughts aside, to focus on the battle, but the unease refuses to fade. You can feel it in the air, and in the energy around you. The battle is turning, and you can sense it, the shift in the tide. 

"We have to move," Rex says over the comm, his voice firm. "We're exposed."

"Rex is right," you tell Anakin. "We can't hold this position."

Anakin curses, and he glances over, his gaze finding yours. His eyes are wild, and his breathing is ragged, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. You know he doesn't want to retreat any more than you do, but it's the only option, and the both of you know it. You hold his gaze, and you nod, the understanding passing between the two of you.

"Fall back," he orders, and the words echo through the comms. "We're retreating."

The men are reluctant to abandon their positions, and there's a murmur of protest, but they obey, moving back in a steady retreat. You fall back with them, keeping an eye on the enemy, and on Anakin and Obi-Wan. The battle continues to rage, and the droids are relentless, pursuing you even as the clones shoot them down.

"The 104th has broken through the blockade," Cody reports over the comms. "They're en route to the surface."

The news is a welcome relief, and the anxiety in your chest eases, if only slightly. It's taken them far too long to reach you, and you know that it's no longer a matter of reinforcement, but of evacuation. The battle is lost, and you need to get off the planet, and soon. If not, you'll be trapped, and you'll all die. It's a reality you can't afford to ignore.

"It's about damn time," Anakin growls. "I was starting to think the Council had forgotten about us."

"Don't count on their help just yet," Obi-Wan responds grimly. "If things are as bad as we think they are, then the 104th won't be able to hold the line for long."

"So what's the plan?" you ask, your eyes focused on the approaching droids, and the destruction they're leaving in their wake. The jungle is burning, the smell of smoke and ash heavy in the air. You can't see far, but you know that the planet will not recover, not after this. Everything is on fire, and the heat is intense, the flames licking the sky. "We can't wait much longer."

"I'm aware," Obi-Wan snaps. He seems to think the better of it immediately, and his voice softens. "For now, we keep moving, and we get as many men out of here as we can. That's our priority."

"Then, what?"

"We'll figure it out."

"Fine," you huff, and you turn, throwing yourself into the fight. Your lightsabers flash, and you cut down the droids, their metal bodies falling at your feet. You're not sure how long you fight, but you push through the exhaustion, and the pain, and the fear. You focus on surviving, on staying alive, and the minutes pass in a blur.

You can't help but wonder how many times you're going to have to fight these battles, how many lives will be lost before the Republic finally ends the war. And you're beginning to realize that there's no end in sight. You've been fighting for months, and the conflict seems to be escalating. The stakes are higher, the losses more devastating. You can't keep doing this, and yet, there's no choice.

The battle rages, and the minutes drag by. You've fallen back to Rex's side at the feet of an AT-TE, its cannons firing and its legs stomping down droids as the enemy tries to advance. You're barely able to keep your focus, your body aching and your mind exhausted. All you can think about is the men who have died, the lives that have been lost, the pointless nature of it all. The frustration, and the despair, are overwhelming, and you're barely able to keep it together.

"Rex," you call out. "Have you heard from Ahsoka?"

"No," he replies. "The last I heard, she was engaged in combat, and was trying to regroup."

The worry settles in, and you can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Whatever it is, it can't be good. Your eyes scan the battlefield, and the anxiety grows. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of burning metal, and it's hard to see through the haze. "And the 104th?"

"They're en route," he says. His voice is calm despite the chaos around you, and you try to focus on it, to channel his energy, but it's not working. "ETA is five minutes."

"That's too long," you mutter, shaking your head. Your breath catches in your throat, and the panic rises, the feeling of impending doom growing stronger. "Something's not right. We need to get out of here."

"What?"

"I don't know," you admit, and you glance at Rex, your eyes meeting through the visor of his helmet. "They need to get here now."

"What's wrong?" he asks as he takes a step towards you. The concern radiates off him, and the intensity of his stare, even through the helmet, is overwhelming. "Talk to me."

"I'm not sure," you reply, and you swallow. You've never felt this way before, and it's making it hard to concentrate. You barely manage to dodge a blaster shot, and Rex swears, pulling you behind the tank.

“Sir, you need to focus," Rex tells you, his tone urgent. "I need you here, and not wherever you are right now."

You nod, and you take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself, but the worry is still there. You're not sure what's causing it, and the uncertainty is almost worse, the anxiety clawing at your chest.

"It's alright," he soothes. "We'll figure it out, but you have to stay focused."

"I can't," you whisper, your eyes wide and your hands shaking. You can't get your heart rate under control, and you can feel the sweat running down your neck, the tremors wracking your body. It's as if someone has reached into your chest and squeezed the air from your lungs. It's like someone is standing over you, watching, waiting. "I can't, Rex."

"Hey, it's okay," he reassures, and his voice is calm, the sound a balm to your senses. "We'll get through this, and we'll get everyone out of here. I promise."

You want to believe him, and you're desperately clinging to his words, to the strength of his voice, to the warmth of his hand. You nod, and you try to slow your breathing, to force the panic down. You can't break, not now, not when there are so many lives depending on you. Not when you're needed.

"I'm okay," you say, more to yourself than anyone, and you straighten, your lightsabers igniting. "I'm fine."

The words are hollow, and you're not sure if you believe them, but you have no other choice. Rex lets go of your arm, and you're surprised, your brow furrowing. You hadn't even realized he was still holding you. He doesn't apologize, and he doesn't give any indication that anything happened, but you can sense his concern, his fear. He's worried about you, and the guilt settles in. You have no idea what's going on, but it's obviously affecting you more than you'd thought.

"Rex, I'm..." You trail off, unsure of what to say, and you let out a shaky breath, the anxiety rising. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he tells you, his voice soft despite how loud the battle is. "Just...be careful, sir. Please."

"I will."

His helmet is still turned towards you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze. You want to reassure him, to tell him that everything will be fine, that he has nothing to worry about. But the words are stuck in your throat, and the lie won't come.

And then you look up.

There’s barely enough time to react as the burning remains of a Vulture droid hurdle toward you, its engine roaring and the smoke billowing. You're not sure how it made it past the AT-TE's defenses, or why the ship isn't firing, but you have no time to think. 

You push with all your might, using the Force to send Rex flying out of the path of the falling droid. It crashes to the ground and explodes, sending dirt and debris into the air, the shock wave reverberating. The explosion knocks you off your feet, and you're thrown several meters away. The pain shoots through your body as you slam into the ground, and your lightsabers fly out of your hands, the blades blinking out of existence as they skid across the dirt. Your head smashes against the hard surface, and you roll a few times before coming to a stop, dazed.

The world is spinning, and you're struggling to get your bearings, your vision blurry and dark. There's a ringing in your ears, and you can't hear anything else, not even the sound of the battle. All you can see is the burning wreckage, and the thick, black smoke. You cough, the air filled with the acrid scent of burning metal and plastic. Your entire body aches, and you're having a hard time catching your breath.

You feel something warm and sticky trickling down your face, and you lift your hand to wipe it away. When you pull it back, your palm is stained with blood, and you're momentarily confused, your thoughts disjointed and scattered. Then, the realization sets in, and the panic returns. You try to stand, but your legs give out, and you collapse, your body hitting the ground with a thud.

Everything hurts, and the ringing is getting louder, and all you can think about is the blood on your hands, and the burning droid, and Rex. You need to find Rex, to make sure he's okay, to get him to safety. You need to—

There's a shadow in front of you, and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus, the image swimming in your vision. When it finally does, you see Rex kneeling over you, his helmet gone and his face covered in dirt. 

He's shouting something, but you can't hear him, the words garbled and distorted. His expression is panicked, and his eyes are wide, his mouth moving rapidly. You can see the fear in his gaze, and you try to respond, but the words are stuck in your throat. You want to tell him that you're fine, that everything is going to be okay, but you can't.

All you can do is watch as he slips his arms under your body and lifts you. You try to protest, but the words come out as a moan, the sound weak and pained. Rex doesn't seem to notice, and he holds you tightly against his chest as he begins to run. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his armor, and you press your face into his neck, tears stinging your eyes. You don't know where he's taking you, or what he's going to do, but you trust him, and you have no other choice.

The pain is becoming too much to bear, and you close your eyes, letting the darkness take over.

The last thing you hear is Rex shouting your name. And then, nothing.

Hyperspace, 21 BBY

Your eyes fly open, and you gasp for air, your body lurching forward violently. A scream dies on your lips, and you fall, your knees hitting the floor of the ship with a thud. You can feel the cold, hard metal against your palms as you grip the edge of the table in front of you, the blood roaring in your ears. 

You try to steady your breathing, but the fear, and the panic, are threatening to consume you. You can't get the images out of your mind. You can't get the feeling of the pain, or the heat of the flames, out of your body. You can't forget the smell of the burning jungle, or the sounds of the screams, or the look in Rex's eyes as he held you.

The tears sting, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to force them back. When you open them again, you wince as the lights of the medbay assault your senses. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and when they do, you see the sterile, white walls, and the curtain drawn around you, and the bacta patches on your arms and legs. 

You blink, and the reality sinks in. You're on the floor next to a hospital bed, on a Republic cruiser, somewhere in the vastness of space. And you're alive.

A voice calls your name, and you turn to see Obi-Wan rushing toward you, his robes billowing behind him. You try to stand, but your legs give out, and you collapse. Your body is wracked with tremors that won’t still, and your vision is blurred, the colors bleeding together. Only then do you realize you’re crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, hot and fast.

"Easy," Obi-Wan soothes as he crouches down next to you. He gently lifts you and places you back on the bed. His eyes are wide and filled with worry, his hands gripping your arms tightly, and he takes a moment to examine you. You can feel the panic, and the fear, emanating from him, and you swallow, trying to control your emotions, to reign in the chaos that is consuming your thoughts. 

"Just breathe, my dear," he says. His voice is gentle, and he's still looking at you, his eyes searching yours. "Breathe."

You inhale, and the air fills your lungs, the oxygen soothing the ache in your chest. The tears fall harder, and you let them, too exhausted to fight, and too tired to care. Obi-Wan doesn't seem to mind, and he doesn't push you to stop. He pulls you into his arms, and he holds you, his chin resting on the top of your head. You bury your face into his shoulder, and you clutch his robe, your fingers twisting in the fabric. He whispers soft words of comfort, his hand moving in slow, steady circles on your back. His touch is familiar, and you allow yourself to lean into him, to let him take some of the weight.

You're not sure how long you sit there, lost in the warmth of his embrace. But, eventually, the tears subside, and your breathing evens, and you feel a little less broken. He seems to sense the change, and he pulls back, his eyes finding yours. He brushes the hair out of your face, his fingers tender.

"Better?" he asks. You nod, and he smiles, the relief washing over his features. "Good. I was afraid we were going to have to sedate you."

The joke is unexpected, and you huff a small laugh, the sound coming out as a choked sob.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your voice hoarse. You're not sure what you're apologizing for, or why, but the words come out anyway. "I don't...I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan frowns, his brow furrowing, and his gaze grows serious, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about? There's nothing to be sorry for." He pauses, and the silence stretches, his eyes searching yours.

"Do you know where you are?" he asks after a moment.

You nod again, and his frown deepens, the worry still present.

"And do you know why you're here?"

Another nod. "I got hurt. During the battle."

He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, you did,” he says slowly. He hesitates, and he seems to debate what he wants to say, the silence heavy between the two of you. You know he's concerned, and he has every right to be. You know what he's going to ask, and the question hangs in the air, the answer on the tip of your tongue. But the words won't come, and you're afraid, the fear still lingering. And so, you remain silent, and you wait, the tension mounting.

"Tell me what happened," Obi-Wan finally says, his voice quiet. He doesn't sound angry, or upset, just curious, and a little apprehensive. "Start at the beginning."

"We were retreating," you begin. Your voice is rough, and you have to force the words out, the emotions swirling in your chest. You hesitate, and he waits, giving you time. You take a deep breath, and you continue, telling him about the Vulture droid, and the explosion, and how Rex saved you. When you're finished, you look up, your gaze finding his. "And then I woke up."

Obi-Wan is silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, his jaw clenched.

"I see," he says softly, his tone unreadable. He pulls away and sits down next to the bed, his posture rigid, his shoulders tense. You can feel the anger, and the frustration, radiating off him, and it's unnerving, the feelings so at odds with the calm demeanor he usually projects. You try to delve further, but he pushes back, blocking you, and then you feel nothing at all. 

It's not malicious, but you know it's deliberate. And it hurts. A lot. The realization of it hits you like a blow, and your eyes sting, the tears threatening to fall. You bite back the pain, and you keep your expression neutral, the mask slipping into place.

You sit there, waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything. But he doesn't. The silence stretches on, and it's suffocating, the tension building. Finally, you can't take it anymore.

"Please," you plead, the desperation creeping into your voice. "Please talk to me."

“I…” Obi-Wan pauses and shakes his head, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. 

"I don't know what to say," he admits. He rubs his face and lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "I'm so tired of losing people."

The words are unexpected, and they hit you hard, the sadness weighing heavily on your heart. You hadn't realized just how much this was affecting him. You reach out, and he flinches, but he doesn't pull away, and you cover his hand with yours. The gesture is simple, but the meaning is not, the contact an anchor. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," he murmurs, and he turns his hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. His eyes are bright with unshed tears, and his grip is tight, the tension visible in his posture. "So am I." 

He takes a breath and looks at you, his expression unreadable, and he seems to steel himself. "You shouldn’t have done that.”

You're taken aback by the sudden change in tone, and the anger in his voice, and your eyes widen, your head jerking back. You hadn't been expecting that.

"I didn't have a choice," you say quietly, and you try to pull your hand away, but his grip tightens, and you can't.

"You did," he counters. He's staring at you, his gaze piercing, his eyes narrowed. "You made a choice."

"Obi-Wan..."

"No," he snaps, his tone sharp, and he pulls his hand away. The sudden loss of contact sends a jolt through you, and you can't help the hurt that crosses your features. "You risked your life, and you didn't think about the consequences."

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," he interrupts, his voice rising. "You didn't think, and now, we're both here, and I'm not going to lose anyone else. I can't."

"Obi-Wan, listen to me," you insist, and your voice cracks, the emotion bleeding through. "I couldn't just let him die."

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You didn’t have to. He would've been able to move. You didn't have to push him."

You don't respond.

"You didn't have to," he repeats, and his voice breaks, the anger giving way to sorrow.

"But, I did," you whisper. You look at him, your gaze unwavering. "I couldn't let him die."

Obi-Wan falls silent. The grief, and the pain, is plain on his face, and you can't bear it.

"I'm sorry," you tell him. "But—“

"I know," he says softly. He runs a hand over his jaw, smoothing his beard, and he lets out a sigh, the weariness returning. "I know."

The silence stretches on, the minutes passing by. You sit there, watching him, the emotions playing out on his face. The frustration, and the anger, fade, and all that's left is exhaustion, a resignation.

"Why did you do it?" he finally asks. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "Why did you push him, when you knew that it could cost you your life?"

"I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I don’t believe you.”

You can't meet his gaze, and you focus on the ground, your fingers fidgeting with the blankets. "It doesn't matter why," you say softly. "I did what I had to do, and it worked."

Obi-Wan shakes his head and rises from his chair, his face contorted in disbelief, the hurt palpable.

"It matters to me," he tells you.

"It doesn't have to."

"It does," he insists. His eyes are hard, and his mouth is set, the determination written on his features. "There was a hundred things you could’ve done. A hundred different ways to get out of that situation. Why did you choose the one that put you at the greatest risk?"

"Because he's important."

The confession is sudden, and it catches you off guard, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. 

You don't mean to say it, and you want to take it back, but the damage is done. You're not sure why, but the truth is there, and it's out, the realization dawning on the both of you.

Obi-Wan is looking at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and understanding, and there's a softness, a fondness, in his eyes, and you know. You know he's figured it out. You can see it in his face, and in the way he's looking at you.

"Important," he repeats.

"Yes."

"Important enough to die for?"

"Yes."

He sighs and turns, his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared. He paces the length of the room, eyes fixed on the ground. He's silent for a long moment, and you watch him, waiting, the nerves rising. You know what he's thinking, and you know what he's going to say. But you don't want to hear it, and you can't stand the tension, the silence. It's too much.

"Just say it," you say. “Please."

Obi-Wan stops. He turns, and his gaze meets yours, the sadness written on his face.

"This is a dangerous path," he tells you. "One that I've walked before."

"I'm aware."

"Are you?" he asks, his eyes searching yours. "Because I don't think you are."

You don't respond, and he continues, his voice growing softer, his expression more pained. "It's not fair to him, or to yourself. And, I fear, if you're not careful, then the both of you will be paying the price."

The words sting, and they cut deep, but the truth in them is undeniable. You can't deny it, and the guilt settles in, the reality hitting you like a slap in the face. You've been selfish, and reckless, and the consequences of your actions have weighed heavily on everyone around you. And now you’ve only made things worse.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. The tears are hot on your cheeks, and you look down, trying to hide them, but it's too late, and you know Obi-Wan has already seen them. He lets out a sigh and walks over to you, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

"There's nothing to apologize for," he says softly, his voice filled with empathy. "I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

"What do I do?"

"You keep moving," he replies. "You carry on."

You nod, and you wipe away the tears, your breathing ragged. Obi-Wan pulls you into his arms, and he holds you, the weight of his words still heavy on your shoulders. He doesn't say anything else, and the silence stretches, the minutes passing. And then, he pulls away, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes meeting yours.

"Now, get some rest," he tells you, and he smiles, the sadness still present, but the worry fading. "We'll talk later."

You nod, and he turns, heading for the door. He pauses in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame, and he glances back at you.

"I'm proud of you," he says. His gaze lingers for a moment, and then, he's gone, the door closing behind him. You're alone in the room, and the quiet settles in, the air thick with the aftermath of the conversation.

You lean back and close your eyes, scrubbing at your face. The guilt is still there, and it's still heavy, but you feel better, and you're starting to see a little clearer. Obi-Wan is right. You need to carry on, to not allow this attachment, or whatever it is, to affect your judgment, or to control your actions. And you need to be careful. You can't put Rex in any more danger than he already is. He deserves better. They all do.

And you can do that. You can.

You take a breath and exhale, pushing the emotions away, burying them deep. When you open your eyes again, they're dry, and your breathing has steadied, and the weight, while not gone, has lessened. It's a start. You can work with that. You can.

And then you hear it.

"Sir."

You turn, and your eyes land on Rex, standing in the doorway, his helmet tucked under his arm. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, to push the feelings aside. To pretend. You can do that, right?

"Captain," you greet, and you smile, your expression masking the turmoil that's raging within you. "I'm glad you're alright."

Rex nods, and his lips twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his features. He doesn't seem surprised, and you realize, with a start, that Obi-Wan must have sent him a message before he'd even left the room. That man always has a plan.

"I should be the one telling you that," he says. He walks over to you and stands at attention, his posture rigid, his shoulders straight. His armor is covered in dirt, and there are a few new dents and scratches, but he's intact. And that's what matters. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Better, thanks."

"I'm glad to hear it," he replies, and his gaze meets yours, his eyes searching yours. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Yeah, well, I've had worse," you say with a shrug. You lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, your gaze never leaving his. "I'll be fine. It's going to take more than a little explosion to keep me down."

Rex chuckles and shakes his head, his shoulders relaxing. He places his helmet on the foot of the bed, and he takes a step towards you, the distance between the two of you narrowing. His eyes find yours, and he hesitates, the emotions flashing across his face, his mouth opening and closing. He seems conflicted, and there's something there, a question that he wants to ask, but he can't. You can see it in the way he's looking at you, the worry plain on his features. And so, you decide to give him an out.

"Come on," you say. You jerk your head toward the empty chair next to you. "Have a seat."

He frowns, but he does as you ask, taking a seat next to the bed. The silence stretches on, the tension mounting, and you can tell he's still debating what he wants to say, his brow furrowed. He doesn't seem to be getting anywhere with his internal battle, and you sigh, the impatience rising. "Rex."

"Permission to speak freely, sir," he blurts out. The words come out in a rush, and he winces before squaring his shoulders and looking you straight in the eye.

"Of course," you tell him, and your brow furrows, the worry starting to seep through. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," he says. He pauses, and his frown deepens. "No. No, it's not. I...I wanted to apologize, sir."

You're taken aback, and you blink, the surprise registering on your face. "For what?"

"For putting you in harm's way," he says, and his expression is serious, his jaw set, his eyes never leaving yours. "For not believing you, when you tried to tell me about the danger. For not trusting you. If I had, we could've avoided the entire situation, and none of us would've been in any danger. And, if you hadn't pushed me out of the way, then—"

"Hey, stop," you interrupt. You reach over and cover his hand with yours, and he stops, his eyes widening. You smile, and you squeeze his fingers, hoping that the touch will reassure him. "It's okay."

"But, I—"

"No," you say firmly. You let go, and you sit up straight, the mask slipping back into place. "This isn't your fault, Rex. It was mine."

"Sir," he protests.

"I'm serious," you insist. "I could've told you what was happening, and I didn't. I kept it to myself, and I made the wrong decision, and it nearly got us both killed. So, if anything, I should be the one apologizing to you."

"You were trying to protect me."

"And look where it got us," you snap. The frustration is creeping back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing the emotions down, the anger and the hurt. "I'm sorry. I just...I should've been more careful."

"Maybe," he concedes. He's silent for a moment, his gaze drifting, and he shifts in his chair. "Or maybe not. We might not be here, if you had."

You're not sure what to say, and you can't help the guilt, the regret. You could've done something different, could've done more. But in that moment, the only thing you'd been able to think about was saving Rex. Saving him, even if it meant risking your own life. And, deep down, you can't bring yourself to regret that. Not entirely.

"I guess we'll never know," you say softly.

"I guess not."

You sit there, staring at each other, the silence stretching. Neither of you seems to know what to say, the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Finally, Rex breaks the tension, clearing his throat. "In any case, thank you. For saving my life."

"Don't mention it," you reply, and you grin, the smile coming easily. "Besides, I told you I owed you one. Two, actually."

"You didn't," he insists, and he gives you a small, crooked smile, his eyes sparkling. "You still don't."

"If you say so."

You glance around the room and take in your surroundings. The space is quiet, and the ship is flying through hyperspace, the blue light flickering over the walls. It's peaceful, and for the first time since the battle, you feel a sense of calm settling in.

You turn back to Rex to find him watching you, his expression soft, and you smile. "So, tell me what I've missed. What happened after I passed out?"

Rex spends the next hour telling you about the battle. The 104th had arrived mere moments after you fell unconscious, and most of the men on the ground were able to retreat. Ahsoka had resisted orders to abandon her push into the center of the battle, and it had nearly cost the lives of her and her men. She was awaiting punishment at the hands of the Council upon your return, and Rex could tell that Anakin was still fuming over the disobedience. The planet had been lost, and the casualties were mounting. It was a disheartening end to what had begun as such a hopeful mission.

You had barely escaped the carnage, the ships limping back through the blockade and into the safety of hyperspace. Now, you were on your way back to Coruscant, and the trip would take several days. You weren't looking forward to facing the Council, but there was nothing else to be done. You would deal with the fallout, and move on. You had to.

"I'm sure the Jedi Council will be lenient with her," Rex says, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. "She's still young, and she's a good soldier."

"That's not going to matter," you sigh. "Ahsoka disobeyed direct orders. There are consequences for that. I'm not sure what they'll do, but..." Your voice trails off, and you look away, your jaw clenched. "They'll do what they think is necessary. They always do."

Rex's expression grows concerned, and his brow furrows, his gaze searching yours. "Have you spoken to them about what happened?"

"No."

"Then, how do you know what they'll do?" he asks, his frown deepening. "Do you think they'll punish you, too?"

"Probably."

"What?"

"Look," you say. You pause, and you take a breath, the weariness settling in. "I know the Council, and I know how they work. They're not going to let this go. They're not going to be happy about what happened."

"That doesn't mean they'll punish you," Rex counters. "You're one of the best fighters they have. You've helped them countless times."

"That doesn't matter," you say. You shake your head and look down at your hands, your fingers intertwined, your thumbs rubbing together. "It's not about the work. It's about the principle. The fact that I made a choice that they wouldn't have. That I put myself before the mission. They're not going to like that."

"You put me before the mission," he says quietly.

"Yes," you agree. You meet his gaze, and you hold it, the honesty written on your face. "I did."

He stares at you, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He looks as though he's seen a ghost, and you can't help the chuckle, the sound escaping before you can stop it.

"Are you...are you laughing?" he asks. His tone is incredulous, and he seems torn between being offended and joining you, a smile tugging at his lips. "This is not funny."

"It is a little," you say, and the laugh grows, the mirth bubbling up. "Just a bit."

"It's not," he says. But his voice is lighter, and the corners of his mouth are turning upward, and he can't quite hide the smile. "Stop laughing. It's not funny."

"Okay, okay," you concede, and you hold up your hands in surrender, the laughter dying. "It's not funny."

He glares at you, his lips twitching, and the expression sends another round of giggles through you, and you have to bite your lip, the grin spreading across your face. "I'm sorry. Really."

He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, and then, he's smiling, his eyes sparkling, and you can't help but think how handsome he is. How the laughter suits him, and how much happier, and younger, it makes him look. You wish you could see it more often.

"You're something else," he mutters. But his tone is fond, and the look he gives you is warm, his eyes soft. "Really."

"Thanks," you reply, and your smile grows. "So are you."

"Thanks." He chuckles and looks away, and you're not sure, but you think you catch the hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. He takes a breath, and his expression sobers, his eyes meeting yours. "Seriously, though, you didn't have to do that."

"I know."

"You didn't have to put yourself in danger," he continues.

"I know," you say again.

"You shouldn't have," he insists. "You shouldn't have risked your life for mine."

"I would've done the same for any one of the men," you reply. "Or anyone else who was in trouble. I'm a Jedi. It's my job."

"Still," he says softly. "You didn't have to."

"I did," you tell him. You meet his gaze, and you hold it, the truth written on your face. "And I would do it again."

Rex doesn't respond. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he looks at you, and you stare back, neither of you speaking. It's not uncomfortable, and there's no tension. Just the quiet, and the understanding. He knows why you did what you did, and, while he may not like it, or approve of it, he's grateful. And that's enough.

After a moment, he nods. And that's the end of the conversation.

He stands, and he picks up his helmet, turning to leave. But something keeps him from going. He looks at you, his expression hesitant, and then he reaches into one of the pouches of his utility belt.

"I almost forgot," he says. Rex walks back over to you, and his fingers withdraw a gold chain. Your breath catches at the familiar sight of the blue stone pendant dangling in front of you. "The medics found this on you when they were transferring you to bacta. Kix asked me to hold onto it for you.”

You swallow and take the necklace, running your fingers over the smooth surface, the cool metal a comforting weight in your palm. You feel a flash of guilt, and your heart sinks. You hadn't even thought about it.

"A gift from General Kenobi, sir?” he asks quietly.

“Hm?” you hum, nearly missing his words in your distraction. You look up, and Rex is watching you, a strange look on his face. "Oh. No, no this was my Master’s. It’s…the only thing I have left of her. Thank you, Rex."

Rex nods, and the tension in his shoulders relaxes slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity and sympathy in his tone. You wrack your memory of the last ten years, and you realize you can't remember a single time anyone had said those words to you, not even Obi-Wan. They mean more than you ever thought they would, and you’re not prepared for the rush of gratitude and affection that falls over you in a wave.

"Thank you," you say again. "For everything."

"You're welcome," he replies. His gaze is still locked on yours, and there's a flicker of something, a shadow of an emotion that crosses his face. He hesitates, his fingers tapping his helmet, and then he takes a step back. "Just, be careful, sir."

"I will."

He nods and turns to leave. As he steps out into the corridor, he stops, and he glances back at you. "And...thank you again.”

"You would've done the same for me,” you point out.

"That doesn't matter," he replies. There's an edge to his voice, a stubbornness, but then he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Get some rest. We'll talk later."

The door slides closed behind him, and the room falls silent.

You lean back and close your eyes, the necklace still clutched in your fist. You feel something inside of you, a fluttering in your chest, a lightness, that feels almost foreign. You wonder if he felt it too.

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[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon!Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a College

Summary: Ciel is given a new assignment, and Sebastian and (Y/N) find a way to blend in at Weston College.

Mouse Note: We're jumping right into the plot! Also, MC and Sebastian as a couple looooove to, you know, be in love. Writing them makes me blush. But, welcome back to One Hell of a Love! I had a ton of fun writing the Public School Arc. I have no idea if my updates will get ahead of the anime so just be wary of that (I read the manga so sometimes I am unsure). But please enjoy, feel free to comment (it's encouraged because it helps me stay motivated), and welcome back to the series!

            “Hello, darling,” said Sebastian, smiling at (Y/N) as he finished plating Ciel’s afternoon tea. On the tray lay a letter from the Queen, the seal easily recognizable.

            “My love,” said (Y/N), letting him pull them in for a light kiss. “Sneaking kisses in the halls? How scandalous.”

            “But you tempt me so,” said Sebastian with a smirk. “How can I resist?”

            (Y/N) let out a light laugh before turning around to walk with him towards Ciel’s office. Since their confession, the pair of demons had been quite satisfied together. They doubted the humans knew they were together, but they didn’t care. Their connection was different than humans’, their relationship didn’t follow the rules set by the ruling class.

            Besides, (Y/N) and Sebastian were singularly minded demons. Sebastian still had a job to do, and (Y/N) was entertained enough to continue helping him. Having a relationship merely added to their enjoyment of existence together in the otherwise monotonous, dull living and contracts.

            What was a little fun with the demon they love if not adding spice to existence?

            Sebastian knocked lightly on Ciel’s office door, and Ciel acknowledged their arrival. (Y/N) opened the door, and Sebastian rolled in the cart. Pleased with himself as usual, Sebastian announced the day’s tea and cake combination. He also offered Ciel the letter from the Queen, but Ciel opted to eat his sweet treat before attending to business. Sebastian and (Y/N) suppressed amused smirks at Ciel pushing back work in favor of treats.

            Finaly, Ciel unsealed the letter.

            “ ‘To my dear boy,’ ” he read. “ ‘The Campania incident was a frightful calamity. Have you already recovered? Are you enjoying your Easter? For my part, though Easter is here at long last, I find myself unable to whole-heartedly enjoy the holiday as there is something that weighs upon my mind.

            “I am worried about Derrick, the son of my cousin Duke Clemens. Derrick is in the fifth form at Weston College. But for some reason, it seems he has not returned home since last summer. He used to write home every day, but his letters abruptly stopped as well…The anxious duchess has called at his house, but he refuses to return home and so on. If it was Derrick alone, we might chalk it up to a rebellious phase. However, other students have also not returned home. I wonder what in the world could have brought about this behavior.

            “Because his only son is acting thusly, Duke Clemens continues to lose heart…The whole affair has me very concerned indeed. I pray my loved ones can enjoy Easter in high, peaceful spirits as soon as possible. Victoria.’ ”

            Sebastian considered. “So, in short, Her Majesty has charged you to investigate the reason why students have failed to return home from Weston College.”

            Ciel nodded. “Public schools are independent institutions that refuse all government intervention, so it’s hard to lay a finger on them. Rather, those involved with the school don’t want to publicize their internal circumstances by making waves.”

            Sebastian raised a brow. “Worrying about appearances even at a time like this. My, my, this is why humans are so tiring.”

            “You understand vanity quite well,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            “I am one hell of a butler,” said Sebastian. “Of course I must act accordingly.”

            (Y/N) simply looked at him in amusement.

            Nearly rolling his eyes at their obvious flirting—Ciel was not nearly as oblivious as the other servants—Ciel spoke. “I’d like someone to infiltrate the school, but Weston usually only lets in the sons of aristocrats. Those with titles are few, and I’m acquainted with most of them. If it comes down to sneaking in, a disguise would be dangerous.”

            “So you will go as yourself?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “I have no choice,” said Ciel, taking a sip of his tea. “And I certainly wouldn’t mind having the Queen in my debt. The problem lies not in whether or not there’s an open place at Weston.”

            “If there is none, you simply need to make one,” remarked Sebastian with a light smirk.

            “I’ll handle the investigation within the school,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), you will have to support me without being discovered yourself. How you go about it is up to you.”

            Sebastian and (Y/N) bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

            (Y/N) knew that that order—“up to you”—would be put to good, entertaining use.

l

            “What is our plan for assisting the Young Master?” said (Y/N), sitting down in the library of the Phantomhive Mansion.

            “You do not think we will simply lurk in the shadows until needed?” said Sebastian. “It would give us quite a few private moments.”

            “As lovely as that possibility is, I suspect you have more planned,” said (Y/N), leaning their head on their hand with a sharp grin.

            “Perceptive as ever,” said Sebastian, pleased at (Y/N)’s acumen. “I feel we can better keep an eye on the situation and gather our own information as housemasters.” As adults in the college, they would be able to go places at times students weren’t—imperative for investigations.

            “Playing professors?” (Y/N) considered. “I haven’t done that yet, and I rarely play a masculine role. It sounds fun.”

            “I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully,” said Sebastian. “And I look forward to seeing in a more masculine role.” He knew for damn sure he’d be just as attracted to them no matter what form they took—he loved who they were, not their appearance. That meant little to demons.

            He tilted his head. “However…we should try to craft the proper disguise for your role.” Sebastian put his hand on his chest. “I have the perfect outfit for myself, but we shall have to see how you look.”

            “I can look masculine,” said (Y/N).

            “You can,” agreed Sebastian. “But I want you to look dashing, not just masculine.” He smirked. “Come alone, darling.”

            “You’re doing this to play dress up,” said (Y/N), smirking as they stood to follow him.

            “Or to undress you,” said Sebastian.

            “You’re insatiable.”

            “Positively gluttonous~”

l

            “I think robes would add to the outfit,” said Sebastian as he finished buttoning (Y/N)’s vest.

            They rolled their eyes. “I can’t wear a professor’s robes until I am hired. This is enough, I’m sure.”

            They wore a dark grey button-up with black pants, a black vest, a tie, and a coat overtop (which would become robes if hired). Around (Y/N)’s neck hung a silver cross. Some religious figures would claim the demons wouldn’t be able to handle the holy symbol, but they would be wrong. Unless being used with some sort of religious or divine magic, they were fine wearing it. In fact, (Y/N) and Sebastian knew that being religious would help them get the jobs as housemaster and assistant—they’d be seen as intelligent, well-rounded individuals.

            “You do look quite handsome,” said Sebastian, brushing a hand over (Y/N)’s hair fondly. They had altered it slightly, too, in order to fall in a traditionally masculine style (the length would never matter, though, since men like Viscount Druitt were as respect as Lord Midford, it was just the styling to present more masculine). “However, we could run a test.”

            “Go on,” said (Y/N), smirking. They were looking forward to learning what Sebastian was suggesting.

            Sebastian stepped out of the room and called down the hall. “Mey-Rin, come here, please.”

            “Of course, Mr. Sebastian!” said Mey-Rin, running down the hall. She, unsurprisingly, tripped, but Sebastian caught her and set her upright before she could knock anything over.

            “Really, Mey-Rin, you must be more careful,” tutted Sebastian.

            “S-Sorry, I am,” said Mey-Rin sheepishly, red as usual.

            “Now that you’re here, I need you to see someone,” said Sebastian.

            “Is it a guest?” said Mey-Rin nervously.

            “If you’d like to classify them as so,” said Sebastian, his words avoiding a lie with practiced ease. He stepped to the side, and (Y/N) stepped into their masculine role.

            “Hello, Mey-Rin,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            Mey-Rin’s eyes widened, and a heavy blush appeared on her cheek’s like it did when she faced Sebastian. Obviously, she found this masc form of (Y/N)’s quite attractive (and who could blame her?)

            “Oh, uh, sir, uh, h-hello! Nice to meet you!” She bowed awkwardly and ran off.

            (Y/N) watched her in amusement. “I barely changed my form, and yet that’s the reaction I got.” They smirked at Sebastian. “I think this disguise will work perfectly. Humans always do love a nice face and figure~”

            “They do indeed,” said Sebastian.

            “And I know another being who likes to look at me,” teased (Y/N).

            Sebastian smirked with sharp teeth, not caring in the slightest to look away.

            “Now that we have our plans,” said (Y/N), continuing on, “We should ensure there are…job openings for us.” They glanced at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”

            “Indeed,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure there will be an opportunity quite soon.”

            They shared devilish grins which promised murder. They were going to have fun at Weston College.

l

            “Heave-ho!”

            The students of Sapphire Owl House threw their arms up, and Ciel was tossed up by the white sheet. It was an unusual welcome party (though Ciel had worried about hazing), but Weston College was already proving a bit…strange anyways.

            “Well, how do you like the traditional welcome of our house?” said Clayton, grinning. “Devote yourself to your studies all the more as a member of Sapphire Owl house, do you hear? Okay! Toss him higher next. One, two—”

            “What is the meaning of all this racket?” snapped an authoritative voice.

            “Dash it all!” cried one boy.

            “It’s the Housemasters!” said another, freezing as they realized they were caught.

            Ciel rolled haphazardly from the sheet to the ground with a yelp.

            “Clayton,” said a second calm, though commanding, voice. “An upperclassman such as you is involved in this? I’m ashamed.”

            “Explain yourself.”

            “Well, er, this is our house tradition…” said Clayton, formal as ever but a bit hesitant.

            “My, my, tradition is all well and good, but try not to overdo it.”

            Ciel looked up while someone knelt before him.

            “So you’re the new Phantomhive boy.” (Y/N) smiled at him with a hand outstretched. “Hello, I am Assistant Housemaster Noir.” Now their outfit was completed with robes instead of a jacket.

            “And I am Housemaster Michaelis,” said Sebastian, dressed in his own set of housemaster robes. His hair was pushed back, and glasses balanced on his face. He smiled. “Welcome to Sapphire Owl House.”

            Ciel’s eyebrow twitched. So this was how they planned to get in to Weston College. Ciel hated Sebastian as a teacher, and now he was stuck with him.

            Demons.

l

            Ciel, Sebastian, and (Y/N)’s time at Weston College commenced and was as British as it could be. It was a highly regulated school that raised its students into diligent workers and well-rounded men while also catering to aristocrats. Now, they tried to teach diligence by having the boys do certain chores occasionally, but when Ciel had to clean the dining hall…It of course became Sebastian and (Y/N)’s chores instead of Ciel’s.

            “Sebastian,” he called, pulling off his eyepatch.

            In an instant, Sebastian appeared beside him, and (Y/N) only took a moment longer to follow Sebastian.

            “Right here,” said Sebastian.

            “Already calling upon help? My, not even a day has passed,” said (Y/N).

            Ciel ignored the teasing and faced them with his hands on his hips. “It seems that Derrick has been transferred to another house.”

            “We did check the student roll and found the same information,” said Sebastian, flipping the clipboard paper over. “His name is on the list of Violet Wolf residents.”

            “An abrupt change,” said (Y/N). Their nose twitched. They didn’t trust it.

            “He should be at his house now,” said Ciel. “I’ll go there directly, so you tidy up here.”

            “Very good, sir,” said Sebastian, bowing as Ciel ran out of the room.

            “Now, then,” said (Y/N), taking off their long robes and surveying the mess in the dining room. “To work, Sebastian?”

            “To work,” confirmed Sebastian.

            He smirked. They were about to clean this room so well that it would be inhuman. (Poor Ciel was going to be heralded as an excellent cleaner and be asked to do it more often. He’d hate that, and what was Sebastian to do if not make some small irritation for his master?)

l

            Sure enough, once the dining room was spotless and Ciel had returned (unsuccessful) from Violet Wolf, he was giving great praise by Clayton at the amazing job he’d done cleaning.

            “Mr. Michaelis, Mr. Noir!” said Clayton as he spotted the housemasters. “Please feast your eyes on the dining hall! Phantomhive put it in order.” He patted an irritated, exhausted Ciel on the shoulder.”

            “Nice work, Phantomhive,” said Sebastian with an innocent smile while Ciel glared at him.

            “Truly an excellent job,” said (Y/N).

            “You, too, sirs,” said Ciel, gritting his teeth. Then, he paused. He could use this to his advantage. He needed to get close to the Prefects, and since Clayton was Bluewer’s Drudge…he needed to get close to Clayton.

            “I’m very glad to hear that my work pleases you so!” said Ciel, suddenly grinning brightly. He put on a performance of boyish gratitude and eagerness. “You see, I’m actually quite good at housekeeping and such!” He saluted. “So, please, Clayton, consider me at your service whenever you need aaanything done.”

            What a brat, offering up our services, thought (Y/N). That being said, his manipulation of others was entertaining. They supposed it was a fair tradeoff.

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[softmangoes]

after all these years | sunny day jack

one day, joseph looks in the mirror and finds out that he's grown old. there are smile lines around his mouth, crow's feet crinkling the edges of his eyes from all the days he's spent doubled over laughing over some dumb joke he doesn't remember. his skin has become soft and leathery after all these years, the remnants of old scars now faded after so much time. he still keeps his hair long, the waves are just now streaked with silver like the stars arcing across the desert sky.

but after all these years, his eyes are still the same. they're the same eyes that protected him on those cold nights, shifting from side to side to detect any threats. the same eyes that folks still recognize at the grocery store, decades after the show ended, because those eyes had watched them grow and learn and become themselves. the same eyes that found you, staring right back.

you find him in the bathroom, his fingertips grazing his cheeks as he examines his face in the mirror.

"you okay there, handsome?" when joseph turns to meet you, his eyes are glistening.

"we're old," he says, as if he can't believe it. as if he can't be more grateful.

you pause. your joints have been creaking more lately and there are new freckles under your knuckles. the both of you were young once and by the grace of fate, you were given all this time.

"yeah," you answer, taking his face in your hands, stubble brushing against your palm as he leans into your touch. after all these years, he still looks at you in the same way he always has. "it's nice, isn't it?"

[bu-blegh-ost]

I think that Chip's luck comes in some sort of waves. Phases, if you will. There are times in this campaign when he's just perfectly fine and he's getting good rolls left and right, and then there are certain arcs in which literally nothing goes well for the guy. I mean, I know we're having a complicated relationship with destiny as of now, but it must be some sort of cruel streak of faith to roll a nat20 for your own impulse to drink a clearly toxic beverage from the depths of hell, survive it only cause you died tragically two episodes ago, have an agonizing experience of climbing a mountain of Black ice which leaves you blinded for the next two hours only to be ambushed halfway to the top and forced to take a quiz about the guy you briefly knew 10 years ago, when you were 9. And on top of that, you also have to acknowledge the existance of the unholy abomination of a mountain goat you helped to create and now can't get rid of, cause your fish got attached. And the thing dares to stand there an baa at you, cause somehow this demon made of the corrupted snow and Water is still more holy than your undead body. Black Sea Arc is just not a good time to be Chibo, I feel.

[loupy-mongoose]

Lavender floated into the kitchen. She grimaced at the salty smell of eggs cooking. But she didn't let it ruin her mood from her night's fun. Morning Daddy~!

Randy turned to her in surprise before smiling. Morning Hon! Give me a minute to finish this, and I'll whip you up some pancakes.

Lav thought as she approached her dad. Y'know what? I'll make 'em, Daddy. Your eggs'll get cold!

Randy's brows raised. You sure? I can. I don't mind cold eggs.

Nah, I got this! I'm a big girl, and I've helped you so many times, I wanna try it myself! Now go enjoy your breakfast!

Randy smiled warmly and plated his meal. Alright, if you say so. Let me know if you need help.

Will do! She locked her fingers, stretched her arms in confident determination, and began prepping the materials.

By the time Lav was finished, Akoya and the twins had joined Randy at the table. They were chatting as she sat down with her first ever self-made pancakes.

Not bad, Lav.

Lav smiled. Thanks!

Akoya looked up from watching Momo munching on a bit of egg from her dad's plate. I suppose you're going to drown them in maple syrup as usual?

You kidding?? Lav grinned wide and held out a glowing hand, into which a container of maple syrup flew. That's the best part!

She poured the sweet syrup onto her slightly mishappen stack. Midas watched, enamored, so she dipped her finger into it and placed a small drop on the table for him.

After watching her little brother lick the table for a moment, she turned back to her drowning pancakes and cut a bite off.

I met with Nico again.

The jolt of fear she felt from her dad was unmistakable, and Lav fought the urge to flinch. Even after all this time, he still had some fear regarding Nico...

Akoya turned to her warmly. Lav couldn't tell if she'd felt her mate's fear or not. How was it? You seem like you had a good visit.

It was cool! He showed me a trick he practiced while we were away. He used his memories to show me some of the places where he lives. She couldn't hide the admiration and joy she was feeling all over again thinking about it. He showed me a little town in a forest and a gorgeous cavern with moonlight beaming in... It was awesome!

Her expression softened a little. ...But... I think he's lonely. He doesn't seem to have any friends other than Jovie... and me.

Akoya gave a slight smirk. He could learn a lot about friend-making from you, Lav. You're a master at it.

Well... She felt her face grow warm at the compliment. I guess... But... I wish I could help him in person.

She felt another wave of fear from her dad, and felt a little bad for bringing this up so soon after they'd come back from a long, arduous, ocean spanning trip.

If you want to try visiting him... w-we can make it happen... But it'll be a while before we're ready to do that.

Akoya looked uncertain. I think it would be best to wait until the twins are more self-sufficient. Maybe until both of them are flying.

Lav nodded, her eyes sparkling at the promise of it happening. I understand. Thanks, Mom, Dad.

Later, on her own, Lavender reflected on their breakfast conversation.

She could wait.

Waiting didn't really bother her.

What bothered her...

...was his fear...

What was he afraid of?

Did he know something she didn't? Or was it purely speculation based on scant information?

Was Nico really as dangerous as her dad thought he was?

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

I feel I should share my thinking on the timing of this arc.

My thought is that this arc started soon after they arrived back in Paldea, around August 20th. So, this falls in somewhere between August 20th--26th. I plan on doing a time-skip post at some point, so I wanted to bring that up beforehand. ^^

[waitmyturtles]

Unknown: The Final Episodes (Episodes 10, 11, and 12)

(*CAVEAT!!!!* I wrote this screed before the producers of Unknown cut a different version of episode 11. I have only watched the first version, the version that the Taiwanese BL gods had originally intended us to watch, hmph. My commentary below only reflects my thoughts on this first version. I'm gonna allow myself to be old and crabby and say, "BAH! We didn't revise episodes back in *mah* day!" to excuse myself from watching it and I'm an old mom, I have no fuckin' time to watch a revise, so so sorry fam lmaooo ok byeeeee)

So -- I'll repeat what I think a lot of us have thought about the final arcs of Unknown, and where I could have used more of the delicate, thoughtful exploration about family roles and boundaries that the first nine episodes of this show displayed. These are the elements that drew me to the show, as well as Yuan's general spiciness and empathic intelligence towards Qian.

Anyone who reads around here knows that themes that I'm driven by include Asian intergenerational trauma and Asian family systems and dynamics. This show (here, here, and my tag) -- oh lordo, this show tackled expected, internalized, and externalized roles and responsibilities within families head-the-fuck-on, at least for the first nine episodes.

Let me state the obvious first: this show veered off the highway a bit too early to demonstrate that, WOW, Qian really is the

HORNIEST MAN ALIVE, WOW, EVER --

(dang dude, you really needed to get down EARLIER and MORE OFTEN, because that IN-OFFICE AFTERGLOW, MY MAN, like, listen, I'm down for the post-nut vibes! all support and celebration and respect, but also, we need to delegate these tasks, we're on the clock, you are a co-owner of this company, back to work! chop-chop)

and MAN, could I have used a quick wave of a flag or hand that his deficit for love, care, and tenderness would hit at THAT SPECIFIC angle (HEH HEH) so very quickly and VERY INTENSELY at the start of episode 11. That took me out. I had to just scream at @lurkingshan. I watched that episode IN PUBLIC, PEOPLE!

We were missing some steps there. It was a FABULOUS actual love scene. But I could have used more of

1) Yuan contemplating the reality of what was going to go down BEFORE that scene began, and

2) To see Qian enter that moment as well. Instead, we hit the sheets, and had to process that very intense scene WITH flashbacks, which, whew, was a whole thing, all while I was just kinda literally screaming.

Those flashbacks were supposed to tell me that Qian had come to terms with Yuan's lifelong longing, but the down-dirty confirmed that for me before I was ready to get to the same mindset that Qian had started that scene with. The very important timing and pacing of the emotional exploration and reveals that we had been presented with in the previous episodes was jettisoned for the booty.

So, yeah. That was out of order.

What I also missed in these episodes was, as I stated earlier, the previous and very intentional exploration of family roles and boundaries that this show was playing with prior to the last three episodes.

With this emotional line concluding in episode 10, Qian showed us consistently that his struggle with negotiating his older-brother-and-fatherly responsibilities was his biggest burden, alongside the lifelong processing of the abuse he had received at the hands of his mother, and his further processing of her death.

Qian and Yuan get together in episode 11, literally go out on a date, and Qian woos Yuan.

Qian's continued resistance to being open about his health to Yuan is extremely reminiscent of a parent (I think of Asian parents, but I think this is common to global parenthood) hiding a health status from a child. This part of the story was still an important one. Qian was STILL holding onto his understanding of his responsibilities to Yuan and Lili as a parent/older sibling figure. If he didn't get out of that surgery in perfect condition, he worried about their futures -- regardless of the facts that Yuan was self-sufficient, and Lili was both self-sufficient and supported by a loving partner. Because that's how so many parents are: no matter the stability of their children, parents will see children as their children.

What I liked about this storyline, and what I could have used a bit more of (ideally in an extra episode) WAS HOW YUAN'S FAMILY ROLE CHANGES AUTOMATICALLY BY BECOMING QIAN'S PARTNER.

Lili calls Yuan a "sister-in-law," but he also becomes a

brother-in-law, AND a stepdad, AND THEN ALSO BECOMES A VERY NOT TECHNICAL GRANDPA, ALONG WITH GRANDPA/UNCLE/OLDER BROTHER QIAN

AND, AND!

We see Yuan THEN CARING FOR QIAN as the younger brother he's always been, AND

AS QIAN'S PARTNER

which they're calling wife or sister-in-law in the show, which, bleh to gendered terms, but

THEY WERE GOING THERE WITH YUAN

but we didn't get enough of it.

THAT IS A HUGE CHANGE FOR YUAN.

HE IS EQUAL NOW!

We just didn't get enough exploration there. Because the show was centering Qian's narrative (which I don't blame the show for at all), and mans was in his post-boop vibe the whole time, that we didn't sit enough with the changing of these roles FOR THESE TWO MEN, and while Lili hinted at it, I would have liked just a few more minutes at the macro-high level to explore what this meant for this entire, wonderful family unit. This is just huge Asian family dynamics stuff regarding who has power, and how that impacts how Qian interacts with Yuan, how Qian has to internally process the growth of his "child," as it were, to be LITERALLY EQUAL to him as his partner; and also for Lili to contemplate as she regards Yuan now as someone partnered with her caretaker. Yuan now would kind of step into that role, as well. THAT'S HUGE for dynamics changing and rebuilding.

Let's also remember that San Peng transcends these boundaries, too, but it's a bit easier for him, because he hasn't lived in that house. But he's the family's benefactor, in a way, which both Yuan and Lili acknowledge. And his turning into a partner into the family is also a significant boundary-crossing.

Finally, Qian's concern for Lili. Yes, he was concerned for her career. He didn't want Lili to turn out like his mom.

I would have liked to have proof in that concern, literally. I say this as a mom.

Qian was missing something big. Lili's baby was going to be born into a nice big family unit that Qian was the creator and anchor of.

At least they had Qian and Yuan sitting on baby toys to end the series. Lili, truly, had nothing to worry about. The gay uncle-grandpas were going to be there to help raise the baby, because as an Asian viewer, I am going to assume the extended family's participation

(NOT ASSISTANCE! ACTIVE PARTICIPATION!)

in the raising of that child.

I'm not sure why Qian missed that, except for the very real reason of familial PTSD and intergenerational trauma from his mother. But San Peng was right there as Lili's partner and as the actual dad. And Qian was valid to have a concern. But that could have been a moment where Yuan, also, as a new equal "elder" of this newly readjusted family, could have reassured everyone that this baby was going to be born in a wonderful, close-knit, loving extended family.

These readjusted roles were not fully named and explored. If I were Lili, I know I'd be having that baby in the good hands of all of the men around me that would help me raise the kiddo in a happy and supportive environment.

One more point about the baby. We need more babies in BLs. We need to show men becoming fathers, people becoming parents. This is a right that all people have. We need more of it to emphasize that all people are deserving of the families that they want to create -- and truly, it was so BEAUTIFULLY SYMBOLIC that Qian would be such a good caretaker as to be blessed with further generations, because he literally cared so well for Yuan and Lili that they could bless him back with growing the family he tended to. We just didn't get enough sitting with that.

Finally! TF was up with that office vibe in the end. The tops, the bottoms, the public kissing. That we got that instead of the role explorations -- k, but the tone of all that was a little off, if it was meant to be comedic. And yes, I definitely took away that I was meant to ship Dr. Lin and Le Ge. I have NO IDEA why they were talking otherwise. Doc and Don are meant to, ya know, YA KNOW? Right? Ummm, lol.

All of this together is enough to put a touch of a damper on my memories of this show. I didn't end with a high.

But I ABSOLUTELY LOVED what this show accomplished through the first 10 episodes. All these complicated, delicious boundaries and roles and responsibilities being explored! It's a joy, as an Asian, to watch this being explored in a queer Asian show.

We ended on some tropey bumps, but I'm going to remember this show overall with fondness, and I'm ultimately very happy that this was my first Taiwanese BL. I can't wait to catch up in this space more in due time.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x03

so there aren't al l that many costumes to talk about this week from a min cast perspective as pretty much everyone is either in uniform, or a costume they've been wearing for the previous two episodes!

I do have a few things to talk about though so I'm still writing this meta and then I'll be gearing myself up for next week when I have a feeling I'll be up to my eyeballs in new costumes!!

Check theory

The danger around Jared played out - he large bold check signalled that he would be in danger - and he met a grim end!

Pink Theory

I feel like I'm spending every episode playing spot the bright pink and this one came to the pink party as well - we have Corey's dad in this pink sweater and then Corey's two siblings in pink.

Its really interesting to me that we're not seeing this bright pink on any of our mains up to this point (Athena has worn pale pink but not bright pink)- its always been on guest cast (Marisol, Lola, Norman, the mom trapped in the car) and there's a fairly even split between the characters who are in one episode and the multi episode arc characters.

I've already pointed this out but the various traits associated with bright magenta/fuchsia pinks are as follows

Things that are considered positive traits for this shade of pink are; intensity, acceptance, kindness and it's supportive and uplifting nature. It's connected to naive love (as in lust rather than the passionate and enduring love of red) can also be considered a nurturing colour.

Negative traits are; intensity, volatility, arrogant and impatient, irritability and irritating and frustration. it is also said to be a stress inducing colour and is said to be overly emotional and childish.

Stripe Theory

Then we have the stripes - Corey (who I'm convinced is autistic but thats maybe just me projecting!!) is in stripes pretty much the entire time.

The only exception is when the family is on Manzanillo - when he is wearing a watery themed shirt - again separating him from most of the rest of the family - who are all in floral prints (older brother is all in white and not the floral Hawaiian prints but he and his sister (I think they're meant to be twins?!) switch between who is wearing the bold print and who is in a white top throughout the episode)

Mom wears stripes as well - before she gets onto the ship - we see her in this striped coat. Dad and the sister also wear stripes and check scarves, showing that the entire family is in peril, but the largest amount of stripes are saved for the ones who will be in the most danger - which makes total sense from a pattern theory perspective.

An amusing aside that had me giggling - this top is shear perfection when paired with the 118 deciding their new moto is who cares!!😂

Right off to the firehouse to finish up! - I've mentioned before how uniform variation is used to separate out a character where needed (I wrote about it in my 6x09 meta) so here in the firehouse we have two separations going on - Buck and Eddie are the only ones in t-shirts - separating them from everyone else.

In connection to this separating them from the rest of the firehouse crew is that yellow rag Buck is waving around - it feels a little bit like that red one we saw him with several times in season 6 - the season of red flags.

In the same way t hat red cloth was like a red flag, this reads like a yellow flag - now yellow flags are interesting. In shipping terms they were historically a signal of quarantine (this isn' the case any more), and in sports generally they are used to denote hazardous conditions (motor racing and on beaches relating to surf and currents).

But the more interesting yellow flag concept is the yellow flag in a relationship - generally speaking they are indicators of things that could become problematic and turn into red flags if not dealt with or communicated about (yup communication again). Paired with the fact that Buck and Eddie have been 'singled' out through their uniform, its telling us issues ahead (even if we didn't know about them) and that its their dynamic that is going to be tested and that they are going to need to communicate.

Now all those yellow hoses hanging around in the back ground and then one hose physically connecting them - is certainly a choice (remember they could have used one of the non yellow hoses if it wasn't important) and a pretty loud one. I go on and on about yellow lines of communication, a lot, and I have in my metas for this season so far, but here we have another example of yellow ropes.. lines, cables etc.

The really really key thing here is that we haven't actually seen Buck and Eddie connected by a yellow anything since the end of season 3 and having not seen them connected with a yellow anything since season 3 - when their respective yellow lines got cut/burnt. This one here is about , a yellow line of communication being re-established. What adds to this is the directorial choices - the yellow flag is waves around before they connect themselves with a yellow line (hose) - as a piece of directorial foreshadowing I am in love - its telling us the Buck is the one who is the creator of the yellow flags (read his jealousy) and he is the one with the yellow rag (in the same way he was the one with the red rag previously), but that it will ultimately lead to Buck and Eddie reconnecting after those flags are raised and dealt with. I cannot stress enough the importance of that yellow line between them being reconnected - it really speaks of their communication improving and that we'll see them operating on a level we haven't seen before - they cut their yellow lines at the time when Eddie was changing his will, and whilst they have spoken on important topics etc since then, there has always been something in between them - they haven't had a proper full cards on the table conversation. My feeling is that we might be about to get that (especially combined with what we know from what Oliver and Ryan have teased!)

Then there is Chimney who is separated from everyone else by virtue of being the only one in a long sleeved shirt. If you watch the scene through, and pay attentiion to the background, you'll see all the firefighters in either short sleeve shirts or wearing bomber jackets. there is one exception - a guy carrying a medical bag who I'm pretty sure is meant to be a representaion of Hen's reinstatment to the 118 as he crosses Chim at the time Chim announces Hen has been reinstated!

Thats all from me this week - hope you enjoyed! I'm off to prepare myself for Thursday night!!!

Tagged peeps below!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @tommykinarddd @satashiiwrites

[vavialdavi]

Frozen fandom, I have a message for you!

Y'all really need to calm down on the asumptions cause it's possible that none of them turn on canon. I'm gonna adress the two big ones: Norse myth and Hans (by extension Helsa)

Unless, we've heard completely different speeches, Jennifer Lee never mentionned Norse myth. The castle in the sky could be Asgard as much as it could not. Let's not forget the question castle ruins in Ahtohallan. Ahtohallan already being its own entity. Norse myth could play a role in F3 and F4 as well as it could not. Yes, Frozen has inspirations and references to Norse myth, but it's not the only one . One thing you tend to forget is the great inspiration of Saami culture the Frozen franchise have, especially in the second movie. It would be more logical if they keep that way for the new movies instead of going after Norse myth as their main base. Nothing's confirmed.

Y'all have the right to make every theory you want but, keep in mind that at the end of the day, they remain theories. Mrs Lee told us to not hold onto that concept art. Let's consider all possibilities. It could be completely wipped off and we wouldn't know before 2027. Don't forget they were still chanoine the script a few months before F2 premiere and that Elsa was villian before Mrs got involved in the project. We're never sure with Frozen.

I'ma be fully honest, I don't want Hans to be a relevant character again and I'm quite fine with him being a joke along the franchise. The idea of a redemption arc with him having a positive role in the sisters' story, the possibility of Helsa even more make me sick. BUT all I'm about to say could also apply to my views on Honeymaren and elsamaren.

"Coming out of Frozen 2, we still have some questions. A lot of questions. That is just page one. Now you see why it will take two films to answer them. Just a tease, once again just a tease." These are Mrs Lee's words

This more looks like a list of the questions they've received. Rather than the ones F3 and F4 are gonna answer. Mrs Lee didn't say that. Considering the fact that the first two are already answered. Ahtohallan. The fifth spirit is the human spirit, Elsa and Anna are the bridge between spirits and humans (one side of each). Just watch Frozen 2 and the Myth short, please.

But let's say, all of these questions are gonna get answered. Some of them can just be mentionned a few seconds. And It's still not a confirmation of Hans's return and even less of a potential redemption arc. You can theorize what you want but Hans could also remain a blatant franchise joke. Or we could just see a memory of him in Ahtohallan showing what he became. Mrs Lee didn't confirm which characters are coming back for the sequels (even though it seems clear our five MCs and the Nokk are). We don't know anything about Hans's future.

1- Long story short, I'm not telling y'all what you should believe or not, I'm just asking to not act like what is NOT confirmed is. Don't hold too much on your asumptions cause you might end up not appreciating the actual movies if none of them happens. As an elsamaren shipper, I feel what I say.

2- I also fear y'all might start a new misinformation wave. Critical thinking and media literacy being concepts unknown in most of the fandoms, it can turn out really bad. I haven't forgotten how dirty some of you did Honeymaren just you didn't like the idea of lesbian Elsa. To this day, there are still being convinced she is her cousin. I remember really well how many people fall for that ai fake news made by a SATIRE disney account that Elsa was getting married to a woman in F3...