#whats good and bad for your teeth and a lot of obscure knowledge like how to operate a pax 3d pan ceph

[dragpinkman]

everytime i see skincare morning routine whatever videos on pinterest im like damn you guys are ruining your enamel

[prettyboykatsuki]

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speakeasy | s. aizawa 

➳ tags ;; dirty talk, smut, fem!reader, aizawa being a menace, mirror sex?, readers wearing a dress, the word violate ?, petnames like good girl, praise kink, fingering etc. 

➳ wc ;; 1.6k

➳ a/n ;; well-spoken men make my brain empty n my kitty wet dslkfjskdf hi mr. aizawa sir.. i like u 

➳ plot ;; aizawa likes to talk you through everything, even filthy mirror sex

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Aizawa is clasically well-spoken. 

He used to get made fun of for it when he was younger - especially in high school where his formal speech felt out of place for his age. The older he gets, the more attractive the quality becomes. He speaks so smoothly - doesn’t stutter when he talks at all. It’s always slow, concise, and to the point. 

The content of what he says matches his tone of voice well. Aizawa is a conversationalist almost by nature. Despite how quiet he is upon meeting him for the first time, if the subject interests - he could harp on about it for hours and hours. He’s just as eager to hear you respond, loves adding to your ideas and building a concept up until it reaches the ceiling.

He’s knowledgeable too. Unsurprisingly, he reads a lot. But he also has a bad habit of deep diving into obscure things. He knows a lot about how clothes are made and the way honeybees fly. He’s a natural at the retention of information - of both the important and unimportant kind. Aizawa makes habit of these things - the ability to speak and communicate anything he wants. 

His vocabulary is vast as seven seas and his voice is pleasant to listen to - a raspy baritone, low in his throat. You could listen to him talk all day. 

The problem only lies with how Aizawa likes to use his voice. Selective by nature, it can’t help but feel purposeful whenever he talks to you this way. You can almost feel the hum of his throat, how it gets. With his hand placed so carefully between your legs - all you can hear is that deep chuckle that he likes to. 

Aizawa is uncharacteristically built. His body is all muscle, and you can feel it against your back as he holds you this chest. Your legs are spread apart over his - seated comfortably in his lap as your being exposed. It doesn’t help that you can’t see him, can only listen to the way he speaks to you. 

His voice is warm as it ghosts the nape of your neck - it smells like spearmint and coffee and sleep. His tongue smooths over the side, sharp teeth sinking into soft flesh as a hand rests your thigh. He massages your legs with a hum - and you squirm at his overbearing presence. 

“You look beautiful today” 

The compliment is well-meaning. You nod absently at it. You dressed up for this date with no expectations, masking your surprise is proving difficult. It’s like he senses it.  

“Why’re you so nervous, love?” 

“You’re.. hands are uhm..” 

He pauses, a free hand settling right at your belly. His knuckles brush over lace panties with a crooked yet lazy grin. You can feel it against your clit. It throbs with anticipation and desire. A wetness forms between your legs, drips like a broken faucet with repetition. You shift your weight around, feeling his cock in the small of your back. 

“My hands? What about them?” 

You want to say something, anything  really but you come up blank. His finger slides underneath the cotton barrier, snaps it against your sex a few times - amused. A little whimper carries through you as his fingers get closer and closer. The mirror in front of you is a terrible reminder of everything. The way Aizawa has you spread apart, the way his tired eyes glaze over your body. Your nipples are stiff underneath your dress - when he pulls the fabric to bunch underneath your tits you yelp. His thumb and forefinger are tender against your nipples as he pinches and twists them. 

All you can see is yourself and him over your shoulder, onxy black locks pulled up out of his vision. 

“Do you not like where my hands are touching you?” 

You moan, soft and sweet as he plays with your tits, shaking your head. It’s a losing game - you’re sure of it. 

‘N-no - ‘s just a lot” 

“That’s good, that’s good. It’d be unreasonable if you dressed like this and told me not to touch you, don’t you think?” 

And you want to respond back about something with bodily autonomy, something coherent and cohesive. But your body is running feverishly high and your mind feels blank. When your dress gets pulled up past your hips, bunching at the top of your thighs - you lose sight of your control. You want to squeeze your eyes closed, embarrassed by the graphic image of his hand. He pulls your panties back - lets it rub between your folds until your slick makes a mess of the light fabric. 

“Shouta, ngh,” 

“I haven’t even touched you yet but you’re drenched,” 

Aizawas hands are strong, pretty too - they look like they fit in your panties just right. His fingers brush the circle of nerves till your back arches, a piercing wave of pleasure that has you crying out his name. Such a small touch is enough to send you reeling as the beginnings of on orgasm snap in your gut. 

It feels like your skin is firing off, blazing heat encompassing you. His fingers are thick as they stretch your hole out, first one then another. He pumps two fingers in your cunt, scissoring it until he feels the tension of the stretch around them. Your insides feels soft against his touch, molded to the shape of his careful hands as your entire body throbs for his touch. Your pussy feels like it’s weeping and your eyes feel hazy. You can see yourself, bearing witness to the way he violates your cunt with ease. 

“Look at your cunt taking me in so good, right there in the mirror, my love” 

And he’s right, you know he is - you can see it with your eyes half-lidded. But your body craves more, even as an orgasm feels like it’s right there. You know you can’t reach it without getting what you need and Aizawa knows that too. You whimper soft in your throat, clenching around his fingers as you whine. It’s good but not good enough - has you grinding your hips back for more. 

“Shouta..” 

Your voice trails off and he smiles at you, chin tucked over your shoulder. 

“Hm? What is it” 

You whine, screwing your eyes closed as he goes faster and faster. You can feel yourself gush around his hands, orgasm impending but not quite there. You hiccup 

“Sho, please” 

“Please what, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want - I can’t read your mind after all,” 

You could argue that he could - that he can right now with how his cock keeps twitching in his pants at the way you moan so shamelessly. Your legs trap his hand as you squeeze them shut - almost crushing his wrist but not being strong enough. Emabrassment drowns your senses. 

“Your cock, Sho -  please” 

His laughter is smug, almost sarcastic. 

“So greedy. You want me to split you apart on it just like this? I didn’t stretch you out yet, arent you afraid I’ll break your pretty little pussy in half?” ― you can feel him push his pants down his thighs as he hoists your hips up with one leg. Suddenly his cock is sitting between your legs, brushing up against your swollen pussy ― “or is that what you wanted in the first me? For me to break you open?” 

The tip throbs right against your clit, sending electricity through you. And you’re begging him again to fuck you. His hand rests on your belly, loving and tender, as the head nudges against your hole. 

“Keep your eyes on it or no cumming, got it?” 

You exhale a shaky breath of confirmation, hear ricocheting against your ribs. And you watch like he asks - watch the way your whole stretches open and tries to accommodate his size. Watch as he penetrates you inch by inch, thick and hard and hot until you feel him against your cervix. Aizawa’s never been particularly big but the way he fills you up makes you think otherwise.

“Does it feel good?” 

You know the question is rhetorical with the way he bounces you on his dick - the smug grin on his face as your expression becomes messy. Skin covered with a sheer of sweet, tits bouncing, feet  kicking as he lifts you by your hips and fucks into you. You can still see yourself in the mirror being taken and it makes everything feel more sweet. 

Delirium is the only thing you can feel as he fucks up into, brushing your cervix with a spare hand on your clit. Pleasure is overbearing emotion, burning a hole in your stomach as heat licks at your calves. You can feel him so fucking deep you can barely breathe. His whispered sweet nothings only add fuel to the fire. Aizawa’s jsut got that voice  - that tone that makes each word of praise go straight to your core. You’re half dressed and getting fucked so hard you feel it in your lungs but all you can hear is Aizawa groaning “good girl” against the shell of your ear. 

“You’re ― shit, haah ― clenching down on me so tight. Are you gonna cum, hm? Gonna cum all over my cock, like a good girl? So fucking pretty aren’t you?” 

Your orgasm knocks into you full force as his words fill your empty head. Convulsing, your spine arches you cum hard and fast all over his cock - still full to the brim. You twitch as you ride it out, slow thrusts making you mewl as he kisses the crown of your head. 

Aizawa hums, soft and low 

“I haven’t finished yet so you’ll have to bear with me. I’m sure you can take it though, right?” 

And you nod your head, thighs trembling. You’re sure with how he speaks to you, Aizawa could convince you of anything at all. 

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[tomtenadia]

My knight in shining armour

Rowaelin month Day 2 - University AU

I literally just finished this. I wasn’t going to write for this prompt but then an idea finally hit me.

The title as usual is bad... sorry

2k words

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Aelin had days in which she hated men. That was one of those days. 

After finishing high school she decided to took a challenging course at the University of Terrasen. Her dad, before he retired, had been an airforce pilot. She had grown up going around his base, visiting him when he was back. In doing so, she had become obsessed with planes. As she grew up, her dad had let her get friendly with his engineer and the man had started teaching her all she needed to know about aircrafts. From the basic physics to the more obscure detail of how the jet worked. Aelin had been fascinated. She had started reading all the possible books, and as she got older, her dad’s engineer had also started having her to actually help her in the hangar. In the summer when school was out, she would actually get a part-time job as an apprentice at the base and she had loved every moment of it. She had also become very close with the two female pilots and together they had spent time talking about the life of a woman in a boys club. The two women had become her role models very quickly.

Terrasen was quite and open minded country but some ideas were still quite obsolete.

In high school at the question “what you want to be when you grow up?” She always answered an aircraft engineer for the airforce. She never faltered or never doubted. That’s what she wanted to, that was her path.

But when time for uni arrived and she applied for a degree in aeronautical engineering, that’s when she realised that the boys club extended far more than she expected.

She was basically the only woman in the class. None of the guys had approached her and on the first day she had walked in the classroom, one of them had the guts to tell her that the humanities department was in the annex c. She ignored the bastard and sat down at the front. She belonged in that room and she would prove it to every single one of them.

Day after day she had shown her knowledge and surprised her professor who was amazed at the fact that she could answer such in depth questions. Last time it happened, she had turned to Chaol - the asshole who had told her about the annex c, and gave him a smirk. That had removed his stupid grin from his face. It felt amazing.

During a private one-to-one with her professor she had confessed to him she had been working at the airbase as an apprentice during the past three summers. Her teacher had luckily been very supportive and encouraged her to keep up the good work.

Now, six months in, she still hated with a vengeance the arseholes she had to study with. Some of them even had the guts to ask her for some help after they realised she was actually good. She had answered that surely they didn’t want the help of a woman, and walked away.

After another class it was finally lunch time and she was meeting Rowan down at their spot on the grass. They were a couple. He had asked her out in the summer after high school was over and they had been together ever since. He was a med student and he knew her pain about choosing a challenging degree. Both their degrees were very intense and required a lot of time so they would just try and spend as much time together as they could. They had a flat together but the public library was were they spent most of their time.

And when their schedules allowed it, they would enjoy lunch together, venting about their academical choices.

“I fucking hate that bastard.” She raged, dropping her bag on the grass and sitting at his side, depositing a kiss on his lips. She felt better almost immediately, being in his arms was all she needed to feel okay again.

“What did he do now?” Asked Rowan knowing of her struggles in her classes.

Aelin grabbed her bag and pulled out her food, the dinner that Rowan had prepared the previous night and then packed away for both of them.

“The teacher gave us an exercise where we had to design an aircraft with what we had learned so far.” She told him, while munching away her food “He was up first and his project was a effing disaster. Seriously, I’d wouldn’t want to fly on a plane designed by him.” She took a sip of her water “the teacher asked us to say what was wrong and it took me ten minutes to stop. I mean, a two year old would have done a better job with lego bricks.”

Rowan giggled at her side “then my turn came and the bastard had the guts to tell me that the aerodynamics of my plane were off and that my ailerons where wrong as well and would not allow the plane to function properly. I took my laptop and shoved it in his face and told him to find the error in my math. He had no clue.” Her face turned smug “then the teacher took over and said that actually my project was, among all, the only one that could actually fly. I felt smug as fuck.”

Rowan pulled an arm around Aelin’s shoulder and pulled her to him. He was proud of her. Every damn day.

“Then after class, he threw me a paper plane and inside it had a message saying this is the only plane you will ever build or work on. I swear, the guy is still alive only because I am not looking forward to finishing my degree via distance learning from a prison.”

She calmed down “how was your day?”

Rowan leaned back against the tree “I had anatomy and physiology. Today we covered the endocrine system and it must be one most boring of them all.”

“Well,” she added with a big smile “when you cover the reproductive system you are welcome to practice with me…”

He laughed and squished her to her chest “I am a very big fan of your… bits.” She kissed him deeply not caring that they were in public, she wanted him and hated that they had more classes before being able to go home and then alas, study more. Maybe for one evening they could study something different.

“Aelin?”

“Yes, buzzard?”

His tongue gently teased her and she opened for him while his hand brushed off a rebel strand of hair.

He pulled back “Nothing, you had tomato sauce on you lips. I was just wiping it off. Did you think I wanted to kiss you?” 

Aelin gently punched him on the shoulder, in return he gave her a massive grin. Rowan was a very reserved man who struggled with stranger, but she had her own version, the goofy one, the one who made jokes and loved to cuddle with her. She would treasure that version forever. That was just for her.

They were busy chatting away and she was showing him on her laptop the exercise she had been working on and her plane prototype and although what she was saying was greek to him, he still listened to her in fascination.

She was telling him how a plane flew and the four forces when a figure stopped in front of them.

“It must be exciting to brag with your boyfriend about your hopeless projects.” Said the man.

Rowan raised his eyes and finally saw the face of the man that had been making Aelin’s life miserable.

“What did you just say?” Rowan stood and towered on the brown-haired man by twenty centimetres. Chaol also looked frail compared to Rowan’s muscular frame.

“Chaol, you’d better go.” Not that she cared about the man, she just didn’t want Rowan to get into trouble for a petty man.

“You’d better give up while you still can, Galathynius. Aeronautical engineering is not a field for a woman.” He crossed his arms at his chest trying to look intimidating but the look in Rowan’s eyes told her it was a useless attempt. Her boyfriend was ready to attack. She knew he had never hit anyone, but had a feeling that if Chaol didn’t stop it could be a first for Rowan.

“Chaol,” she stood as well and growled his name in warning.

“Oh, so you are one of those arseholes who believes that certain jobs can be done only by those who were born with a penis. It’s the fucking 21st century. Grow up, idiot.”

Rowan swore, alarm bells rang in Aelin’s head. He only swore when he was extremely mad, something that her unflappable boyfriend rarely was.

“Oh look, Galathynius, you have a knight in shining armour.”

Aelin moved between Rowan and Chaol, trying to separate them when her boyfriend moved a step closer to the other guy.

Chaol chuckled “Did you sleep with every professor—” but Chaol never finished his sentence. She saw the scene develop in slow motion in front of her. At those words Rowan’s face had turned feral and as on instinct his arm moved and a second later his fist found its target in Chaol’s face. 

Rowan then grabbed Chaol by the collar and lifted him up slightly “You take it back, immediately or I’ll smash all the twenty two bones in your skull.”

“Go on,” said Chaol, nursing a broken lips.

Aelin stopped in between and grasped Rowan’s hand gently “Put him down, Ro, he is not worth it.”

Her gaze then turned to Chaol “now you go back to whatever shithole you came from and perhaps go back working on your project and design a real aircraft.” She moved closer to him “I know what the fuck I am doing. And I know I will have a job in the airforce after this. You will just go back being daddy’s little spoiled boy.”

Chaol glared at her and Rowan finally let go of him, bur before he fully released him he pulled the man close enough that his mouth was near his ear “you disrespect her like that one more time and you’ll finish your degree from a hospital bed while sipping your food from a straw.” Rowan flashed his teeth in a threatening gesture “you leave her alone, because if I hear you have been a bastard to her one more time, I will make your life a living hell.” And eventually released him. Chaol shrugged his t-shirt back into place and walked away without adding another word.

Rowan sighed and then turned to her, his expression back being soft as soon as she looked back at him.

“You didn’t have to punch him,” she said while snuggling against his chest. His arms quickly around her.

“Yes I had to. What he said….” She felt him tense up again “he made me so mad, fireheart.”

“Seeing you thump him was very sexy,” she kissed him gently on the lips “my knight in shining armour.”

Rowan chuckled and looked into he blue eyes “you don’t need a knight. You are fierce, brave and strong and do not need any protection,” he added, his lips on her head. Nesting under his chin was her favourite position. They fit perfectly “I, on the other hand, as a male who is hopelessly in love with you, felt the desperate need to avenge the sullied honour of my amazing other half.”

Aelin giggled hard “you really sound like a knight.”

“Come on, Sir Rowan Whitethorn of Wendlyn, let’s finish our lunch, I have an hour of mechanics of flight coming up and I need sustenance.”

“Yes, my queen,” he said kneeling in front of her.

Aelin laughed and kissed him deeply “maybe I can be your queen tonight in bed as well.”

His smirk grew wider and Aelin felt heat pool at her core at his expression.

“Whatever m’lady commands.”

They finished their lunch in peace without any more interruptions and eventually they parted ways, going to their respective classes.

Chaol did not bothered her anymore. He didn’t even met her gaze and him ignoring her was all she asked. She was there to learn, he could just go and sulk in the afterburner of a jet, perhaps while on, for all she cared.

Aelin texted Rowan a thank you and his reply was a simple To whatever end.

[labyrinth-runner]

Become the Beast

Alright! So, No Content November is officially over. To break the spell, I am posting this.

Huge Thank you to @thepanakinanakin​ and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ for reading this every day when I wrote more for it. Seriously. This would not be here without your support and spitballing.

Summary: A Suitless!Vader x Reader fan fiction based off the song Become the Beast by Karliene. It takes place after the fall of the Order as Reader struggles to carve out a life without the guidance of the Order. It’s a discussion of fate versus the will of man, and whether we can run from our destiny. It’s got love, it’s got an unlikely friendship, it’s got angst, and a lot of OCs and adventures. It’s essentially like I took one-sided pining to enemies to lovers and dosed it with crack.

Word Count: almost 23k. I’ve literally been working on this the entire month of November.

Main Ship: Suitless! Vader x g/n Reader (truly Gender Neutral). 

Warnings: Um. Violence/fighting. It’s got a lot more action in it than I originally planned. But it’s not like its anything that SWs HASN’T done before. 

With one order, the world was in shambles. The balance was shifting. Where once there was light, there was now an all-consuming darkness like hundreds of candles that once burned brighter than the sun were snuffed out with precision and without mercy. Cries of agony could be felt like a ripple through the force, washing over you with an intensity that sent you to your knees. You held your head with one hand as your heart hammered in your chest. Kenobi and Skywalker must have failed. Your men called out for you, but you knew you couldn’t trust them. Hot tears stung your eyes as you felt that in your bones. The Order was over, your Master was dead, and you would be, too, if you didn’t get out of there. 

Placing a hand on the dusty ground, you slowed your breathing and listened, letting the force tell you all you needed to know. They were coming for you, but there was a city ahead with a spaceport. Rising to your feet, you took your braid in your hand. Your trials were to commence soon, but that didn’t matter now. You were no longer a Jedi, and no longer a Padawan. Taking your lightsaber from your hip, it felt heavy in your hand. Heavy with the knowledge that this war had destroyed everything the Order stood for. How many things had been destroyed with this saber? You mused as you turned it over in your hand. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It ignited with a flash of light and with one fell swoop, it severed the last tie you had to the Order. To your Master. It barely made a sound as it landed on the scorched earth. Deactivating your weapon for what might be the last time, you replaced it on your hip before running, never looking back.

By the time the clones arrived to your last known position, it was too late. You were gone. The only thing left was the severed Padawan braid lying forgotten in the dirt.

You had ran that day, and in a sense, you never stopped. You were running from the Empire, from your past, afraid it would catch up to you. From world to world, you ran, taking the odd job here or there to afford fuel for your next adventure. If you could call it that. You never stayed in one place too long, too afraid you’d get attached. Attachments were bad, but not in the way the Jedi had taught you. Attachments meant you’d care about what happened when you were gone. You’d hear the boots of the stormtroopers on the ground as they ran their drills in the morning and you’d worry about the locals if you stayed too long. A few rotations here, a sabbatical there... never a full revolution on a planet. Your mind was always ten steps ahead of your feet, trying to stay under the radar. It was a game you played with the Empire, not that they knew you were playing. A wry smile crossed your face as you realized this. After all, wasn't that what the Clone Wars were? A game that the Jedi were pawns in, not even realizing they were playing. Not even the Chosen One had been spared, having fallen on Mustafar. 

You didn’t mind running, after all, you had gotten good at it. However, the ache for a home was apparent every now and then. A glimpse of a family here, or a group of friends there would send you into a deep reverie. You had had that once. Now, it was a luxury you couldn’t afford. It was an isolating life, but it was your life, running like a scared animal separated from its pack. Possibly the last of its kind. No, you weren’t the last. Somehow you could feel that much. There were still flames out there, but like yours they were muted, masking themselves from the Empire the best they could. Although there was strength in numbers, there was also safety in solitude. It was an unspoken law amongst the survivors. Worlds were not big enough for two, not when there was a target on your back. Still, looking at the families you’d seen along the way made you miss your own. Deep down you longed for the safety of the Temple and the support of a Master to guide you. Without both you felt like you were drifting in space, running blindly into the night in the hopes that you’d make it to dawn without being hunted by the predators that thrived in the dark. 

Your latest planet was quiet. Almost too quiet. The air was charged with anticipation, like they knew something you didn’t as you walked around the open air market. The citizens were tense, which put you on edge. Tension settled into your back, pulling taut across your shoulders as you pulled your hood further down your face to obscure you. You quickly placed your credits in the outstretched hand before taking your fruit and placing it in your pack. You were too exposed out here. Something told you that you should hide, like warning bells going off in your head. The hair on the nape of your neck stood up. That was when you heard it.

Footsteps.

They resounded in the distance, steadily drawing closer. Multiple feet in time with each other as they pounded the ground in a march. You could hear the unmistakable whines overhead.

TIE fighters.

Kriff. 

Taking a settling breath, you analyzed your surroundings. Fighting your way out of this was not something you were prepared to do. You’d just make your way towards the spaceport as quickly as you could. It would be fine. Pressing your back against the building, you prepared to blend into your surroundings. 

That was when you felt it. A dark, coldness creeping into your bones. It was a presence larger than life that you had never felt before. It was overwhelming, debilitating almost. Your hand reached out for the stone wall behind you, grabbing it to catch yourself as the force signature of this being almost sent you to your knees. Never had you felt such power. Never had you felt such anger. There was a rage in that presence that threatened to consume. 

Shots rang out. You glanced up to catch blaster fire being traded between the local pocket of rebels and the imperial stormtroopers, their uniforms so tauntingly white, like they weren’t created with the blood of the people. With the blood of the galaxy. Blood that was going to be spilled now. Right here. In front of your eyes as you watched normal citizens getting caught in the crossfire. A father and a child ran from one booth to another, trying to make it back to the arms of the mother in the doorway across the square. You turned to the side as you heard him get gunned down, dropping the child to the dusty ground. 

A familiar sound came next, a sound you hadn’t heard in years, but recognized instantly. The hum of the blade was steady and red, bleeding rage. You could feel it coming off the blade in waves. The blade was drawing closer to the child.

“Give him to me,” the man instructed. Turning your attention back to the child, you noticed the mother had come out of the sanctuary of their home to hold the crying child close to her. A mother’s first instinct was always to protect.

“Never,” she rasped out, staring at him with an unwavering gaze. Her courage was formidable, but you knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

Letting out a shaking breath, you straightened, prepared to run. You were always running. Scrunching your eyes shut, you remembered your teachings. You remembered the younglings at the Temple that you had helped train. Invisible tendrils from the past tugging at you, guiding your motions like a marionette. Feet moved on instinct, arms swung on their own accord until the hiss of a connection could be heard.

Your eyes focused on the feet in front of you as the heat from the interlocked blades warmed your face, casting you in a dangerous red glow. Your eyes trailed up the body of the opponent in front of you until you locked eyes. He was handsome, in a distracting way. His hair whipped around in the breeze as a twisted smirk settled on his face. He was as ferocious as a lion, drawing you in, yet holding you in place as he stared into your soul. Forbidden, yet wanted.

“Padawan,” he purred, “Where’s your braid?”

“I cut it off. I had nothing left to learn,” you ground out through gritted teeth, pushing back with all your might. He had the upper hand without effort.

“Nothing left to learn, or no one left to learn from?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He was testing you. The heat in his gaze stirred something within you, like a spark turning into a flame. You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, or you’d be defenseless. Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you conceded that match. He was still much too close for comfort. You needed to remedy that.

“Same difference!” You replied before using the force to push him back, knocking him a few feet back. How dare he? You thought indignantly. What right did this Sith have to mock the Order?

“Good,” he grinned, dropping his saber to his side. He looked at you with great interest. You were his prey and he was going to play. It had been so long since he’d had a formidable opponent. The way he stood exuded power, raw and crackling. You could almost feel the charge in the air, but that’s all it was, right? His power, nothing more. The way he stood, to any onlooker it would seem defenseless, but in truth he was setting a trap. “Get angry. It’ll make this more fun.”

He was goading you, and you knew it. You tried to breathe, exhaling all the anger bubbling in you threatening to spill over. A tenuous control over your emotions started to build, forcing your inner anger back into the rickety cage it was struggling against. 

“Give in,” he murmured, watching your turmoil with great interest. “Feel the power.”

“Like you did?” you ground out. You knew exactly who this man was. You’d seen him in the Temple. You had even admired him, having had countless conversations with him at the Temple. He was just as captivating now as he was back then. His presence had always drawn you in, made you want more than you knew you should have. This man was everything you had wanted to be. You’d looked up to him. He had it all, but he had thrown it away. An irrational part of your mind added, threw you away. “You betrayed your own.”

“They were never my own,” he spat. “I was their savior, reluctantly.”

“Some savior you were. You killed them all,” you seethed before attacking. Your control was gone as the lives of your friends flashed before your eyes. His life flashed before your eyes. He could have been so much more than this. You could have been so much more than this, but this was what he had reduced you to: a lonely wanderer who lived hand-to-mouth. Your anger made you sloppy, but you managed to catch him off guard at first.

Trading blows, he was barely breaking a sweat while your chest was heaving from exertion. He was magnificent, and that was not lost on you. It was impressive, watching him move gracefully. His hair flowed like a mane around him. A wry smile crossed your face at the realization, a lion among man. 

“You’re weak,” he taunted, pinning you with the force to a wall. “You have power, but you don’t know how to use it. How to control it. You’re unbalanced.”

“No, you’re wrong!” You called out, straining against his power. Memories flashed in your head to when he’d first pinned you against the wall during training so many years ago, but this was not the same. Your eyes locked with his as you swallowed. It wouldn’t end. Not like this. You lunged at him, swinging wildly with your arms. You weren’t unbalanced. You were one a Jedi. You were one with the force. Your swing missed, but his didn’t. The sting of the blade as it singed your shoulder made you grit your teeth as your knees gave out. You wouldn’t let this man see you cry out. You would not beg for mercy that you knew he would not give. His saber was lifted.

“Pity,” he murmured, reaching down to tip your chin up towards him. Locking eyes, you came to the realization that you were to die at the hands of the most handsome beast you’d ever met. Yet, all he could do was offer you a sad smile, and something else: a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but not at what he was about to do. “You could have been something.”

Blaster fire lit up the square, interrupting your battle. His face contorted into a grimace as he had to move his lightsaber to block the shots. Using the distraction, you scuffled back towards a building. Your hand blindly searched for a hold on the rough stone to push yourself up, staring back at him. Even when he was at a disadvantage, he was captivating. The way he moved as if the world were his to control was breathtaking. A pang of regret hit your heart. The two of you together could have been unstoppable. The brick cut your skin, but you didn’t care. It brought you back to reality. The reality that he was a monster, and most of all, he could never be yours. 

“Come on,” a woman called out, wrapping a hand around your arm. “You can’t stay here.”

You looked up into the face of the mother you had saved. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know a place,” she murmured, clutching her child to her chest.

You stared at her for a moment, listening to the sound of the skirmish outside. Then, you nodded. Anywhere was better than here. She led you to the spaceport. Rebels provided cover fire as they engaged with stormtroopers outside the hanger bay. You clamored up the ramp into the ship.

A woman with short red hair looked at the mother.

“You’ve brought a friend,” she murmured. “We were told it was just your family we were extracting.”

“I lost my husband,” the mother replied. “The amount of passengers is the same.”

The woman looked at you, studying you. Measuring you. But to what, you didn’t know. Her eyes settled on your lightsaber at your hip, widening slightly.

“Well, come on. We can’t stay on this world anymore,” the woman replied before pressing her comm link. “Pilot, get us out of here.”

“Right away, Senator,” a response came before the woman and the mother walked further down the corridor.

You looked down at the ramp as it closed. Although you couldn’t see the fighting anymore, you could feel it. You could feel his wrath as he lashed out at the rebels like a cornered animal, using his rage as fuel. They would all die. Their blasters were nothing in comparison to his power. He’d snuff out their lives like a shrine of candles in a rainstorm. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slid down to the floor. Your legs could no longer hold you now that the adrenaline had worn off. You were tired, so tired. Your shoulder cried out in pain, but worst of all was the knowledge of what was happening below on the planet as you felt the ship rise from the ground. Tears flowed freely at all that was lost today.

You had run for so long.

You had avoided the Empire for so long.

Now they knew you were out there, and you knew they would come looking for you. Your anonymity was gone. In the back of your mind, you heard his voice over and over again.

Weak.

You were weak. You’d gone soft. You were out of practice. Unbalanced. He was right.

Swiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, a resolve etched itself on your face. Not for much longer, you thought. Placing your hands on your knees, you pushed yourself back to your feet, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You ignited your saber, feeling its weight in your hand. The hum of the blade in tune with your soul as you closed your eyes. The next time you faced that beast of a man, you would be ready. There was a fire in your eyes as you deactivated the saber, placing it back on your hip. Your footsteps resounded, sure and deliberate as you followed the path the rebels had taken.

Rounding the corner towards where the mother and her child were seated with the senator before, you felt a watchful set of eyes on your entrance.

“I haven’t seen a Jedi in some time,” the woman said, as much to the mother as to you.

“They protected us after my husband was...” the mother trailed off as her eyes rimmed red, the words getting caught in the emotion in her throat.

“There was nothing you could have done,” the Senator told her, placing a hand on top of hers. “You and your child have had a long day. We’ll be arriving on Chandrila in a few hours. You should rest, Jynna. You’ll need your strength.”

Jynna nodded, sliding out of the booth with her child in her arms. She stopped in front of you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I could never thank you enough, Jedi.”

You swallowed the awkward lump in your throat at the praise, especially since you hadn’t planned on stepping in, and especially because you were not a Jedi. Not anymore. “Of course.”

Jynna gave you a sad smile, letting her hand drop to her side before leaving down the corridor.

After a moment of silence, listening to the woman’s retreating steps, the other woman cleared her throat. “Please, have a seat.”

You slipped into the booth across from her. 

“Finding a Jedi in this current climate is like finding a kyber crystal on Tatooine,” the woman remarked.

“The Jedi no longer exist,” you replied, looking at the dirt under your nails from your fight.

“That’s what the Emperor wants us to think,” the woman replied leaning in. “I’m sure there are more of you than you know. You’re all in hiding.”

“What do you want us to do?” you shot back, “Come out into the open to be executed?”

“From what I understand, you were almost executed today due to your recklessness,” she replied.

Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. 

“Yet you live,” she added. She appraised you for not the first time that day. “We could use someone like you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” you asked, leaning back.

“The rebellion,” she clarified.

“I already have a target on my back,” you sighed. “Why would I push my luck further?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “You already are a target, might as well give them a run for their credits. What else are you going to do? Go back into hiding on some back water world? The Empire’s presence is growing every day. Nowhere is safe.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you asked. “Look, Senator, I’m not sure what you want me to be.”

“Just yourself,” she said, patting your hand. “You have so much potential, and you can make a difference.”

“Senator Mothma, we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace to refuel,” a crew member said, coming back from the cockpit.

She nodded to them. “Good.”

Then, she turned back to you, a bright fiery look in her eyes that rivaled her hair. “Think about it. You can no more run from who you are than night can resist the dawn. I’ll leave the ramp unlocked when we dock to fuel. The choice is yours.”

You watched as she slipped from the booth, heading back, presumably to where her chambers were on the ship. You stared at the table in front of you. You’d already decided you weren’t going to run anymore, and here you had an opportunity to help. The way she looked at you... it wasn’t as if you were just a Jedi. It was as if you were more than that. You were hope. Hope that, try as the Empire might, they could not erase every ounce of opposition in the galaxy. Join or perish. That was what you’d felt more than once today. First, with Skywalker on that dust ball, and now with Mon Mothma. The only difference was that the Empire would kill you for not joining, whereas the Rebellion would just leave you to your own devices. You’d learned today that those were not enough. At least, not right now. 

You were being given a choice, a choice to make something of yourself, or the choice to fade away into oblivion. Earlier, your body had acted on its own accord, pulling you into the fray. Fading was no longer an option. To fade was to be complacent with an overlord taking over a galaxy and enslaving the very people you had once fought to protect. No, you were going to fight. You’d lend your hand to this Rebellion, and in doing so, it would make you stronger. It would make the people stronger to know that the Force was no longer wielded by just the dark side. Your destiny and the Rebellion’s would be entwined, feeding each other and making you both strong until the light could burn out the darkness. 

A rumble could be felt through the ship as it landed on the fueling platform. You didn’t even get up from your seat.

“Welcome aboard, Jedi,” Mon Mothma said as she walked by the booth to talk to the pilot. “You, too, should rest. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do once we land.”

You nodded, stalking back towards the cabins. 

You found the room that Jynna had entered. Her child was asleep, curled into her. Jynna herself seemed to be having a fitful rest. A small sigh passed through your lips as you walked further into the room. Holding a hand out above her forehead, you concentrated on smoothing her furrowed brow. She’d have enough time to deal with the horrors of the day during her waking hours. There was no reason for her to suffer in her sleep as well. As her face settled into a smooth serenity, you let your hand drop back to your side before sitting on the bunk across from them.

Fatigue from the day hit you like a pod racer on Tatooine running into a canyon wall. 

Weak.

A wry smirk settled on your face. Well, sleep will give me strength, you thought in amusement.

Flattening yourself against the mattress, the weight of your body settled into your bones. With each breath you expelled yourself until you were one with the Force. it was something you hadn’t done in a long time, unable to afford this level of vulnerability. It was in this moment that you realized you hadn’t rested in so long. Too long, your body cried out. 

The Force gives strength. The Force restores. All are reborn in the Force if they learn to let go of their corporeal form. Like a bacta tank heals, so too does the Force. You allowed yourself to submerge in its icy depths, awakening in you a sensation that you had almost forgotten. Your eyes were open wide to the world, now, no longer content to just float along. You were prepared to swim. The pain in your shoulder faded the closer you got to the surface. 

When you emerged from the Force, your eyes opened to the dimly lit cabin. Jynna was awake on her cot, cuddling her child as she watched you with great interest.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” you replied.

“When you became one with the Force,” she clarified, “What is it like?”

“It’s different for all,” you sighed, turning on your side to face her. “Just now it was cold.”

“Like a bath that you’ve left for too long?” she asked.

A genuine smile grew on your face, “In a way.”

She looked down at her son like she didn’t know him. “He has a gift. That’s why they want him.”

“The Order is no more,” you replied. 

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t sought after,” she shot back, meeting your eyes.

“They won’t lay a hand on your son,” you stated, but it was more like a promise.

She nodded, brushing a dark brown curl out of her son’s face. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

You didn’t want to tell her that they had already gone through her husband. You didn’t want to point out that going through her would be child’s play. Instead, you made an actual promise. Turning your back to her, you murmured, “It won’t come to that.”

“You don’t like being called a Jedi,” she murmured.

“Because I’m not,” you sighed.

She let your truth hang in the air, but you knew it fell on deaf ears.

You stared at the wall of your bunk, listening as her breathing evened out and she fell back asleep. Closing your eyes, you did something you hadn’t wanted to do before. You began to remember. Not too much, no. That would be like ripping a scab off of a wound that barely healed. No, you remembered just enough, letting the wound breath before bundling it back up in bandages again.

The Temple had been a wonderful place to grow up- not that you remembered any other. You were sure that you had a family somewhere. A mother. A father. After all, how else would you have come to be? But, you didn’t know them. They were shadows in your mind, like they were backlit from the sun. Hazy. No, the people you remembered most from your childhood were the Masters. They were the ones who raised you, taught you everything you knew. Would you have been better off with a family? It was something you had wondered about after the Republic fell, but then you came to the realization that you had had a family, just not in the normal sense. Your lips tilted up slightly as you remembered the day you were chosen to be a Padawan. That had been the happiest day of your life. Your thoughts drifted to what your Master would think if they could see you now. Would they be proud? Or would they be disappointed? You didn’t know, and that bothered you. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your eyes tight, willing the Force to take you over again into that sea of bliss and belonging. When it finally did, it was warmer this time, more familiar as it washed over you, wrapping you in reassurance.

When you woke next, the ship was touching down on Chandrila. The sky was a myriad of colors as the planet awoke from the night. As you walked down the ramp, you looked up at the yellow, pink, and purple that swathed the sky in an inviting glow. Your gaze felt the gravitational pull, taking in your immediate surroundings now. The planet reminded you a bit of Naboo and Alderaan in the sense that it had a significant amount of water and greenery. The architecture was white. A wry smile crossed your face. Pure. Untouched. If only the rest of the galaxy were as lucky.

Footsteps sounded behind you as Senator Mothma disembarked. She walked swiftly towards a nearby building. When the rest of the party followed, so did you. 

Soon, you found yourself crowded into a lift and descending. 

The doors opened onto a bustling operations center. Screens were alight with data points. Everyone had a mission, and idleness was not tolerated. After all, if the Empire never stopped, then why should they? It was like a swimming beast. If it stopped, it could die. 

Jynna and her son were ushered off down a hallway. You moved to follow them, but Senator Mothma placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Not yet,” she murmured.

You turned your head to look at her. “What will happen to them?”

“We’ll keep them safe. The Empire will not get ahold of that child, or it’s mother,” she assured you. “Now, come. There is someone who will be eager to meet you.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to decipher who she could be talking about as you followed her into a war conference room. The door shut behind you, leaving just you, the Senator, and a man looking down at a hologram projected up from the table.

“You’re late, Senator,” the man said, but there wasn’t a hint of animosity or annoyance in his tone.

“Yes, well, there were complications,” Mothma replied.

“Complications or complication?” the man asked, turning to look at her. His eyes settled on you with express interest.

Senator Mothma looked between you and the man before speaking. “Complications. Of the Sith variety.”

“Vader,” he muttered in disgust.

“They knew of the child,” Mothma informed him.

“How? Only the Jedi had this information,” the man replied.

“You know where they made their headquarters,” Mothma said pointedly. “Who’s to say they haven’t entered the archives and gained access to the information.”

“I was with Kenobi on that Sith planet. Only a Jedi can open one of their holocrons, just as only a Sith can open their devices.”

Kenobi? Your eyes widened. Now there was a name you hadn’t heard in a long, long time, and it was usually accompanied by...

“Skywalker was a Jedi before this. He could have opened it,” Mothma added. 

The man looked down. “No. He’s too far gone.” When he picked his head up again, he looked straight at you. “What’s your story?”

“They’re a Jedi, Bail,” Mothma said, with a glint in her eyes.

“Is this true?” Bail asked, studying you.

You wanted to say no, but you could no longer run from that title anymore than you could run from yourself. “I was, before the fall.”

A wry smirk settled on Bail’s face. “The fall of Skywalker, or the fall of the Order?”

“Are they not the same?” you asked quietly. After all, losing Anakin had led to losing the Order, and to the rise of Vader.

He sighed, “I suppose they are. Are you here to help?”

“I’m here to train,” you replied. “I’ll help in any way I can while I do that. Vader bested me once. That won’t happen again.”

Bail nodded, admiring your determination. “Sometimes the best teacher is experience. Although, I’m not quite sure that hunting the galaxy’s boogeyman is the way to go about this.”

“You have your mission, and I have mine,” you replied. “If they both achieve the same goal, then does it matter how we get there?”

His brow furrowed, “In my experience, it is a thin line between that line of thinking and tyranny.” He looked back at Mothma, “I don’t need another Saw Gerrera.”

You looked at Bail. You couldn’t lose this opportunity. You felt it in your bones. This was the will of the force. You were meant to be here. You were meant to help. “Look, I just want peace in the galaxy. In order to do that, you have to stop Vader and the Emperor. I’ll do whatever else you want me to do. I’ll help in whatever way I can, but I need to stop him.”

Bail locked eyes with you for a charged moment before letting out a breath. “Alright, but our missions come first. If they just happen to coincide with your search for Vader, then so be it. I will not allow you to jeopardize the resistance by leading him to our door. If you poke the beast enough, he’ll attack. This is the only warning you’ll get from me.”

You nodded. “Yes, Senator Organa.”

“So you know who I am,” he said with an amused smirk.

“How could I forget?” you winked. “We never would have been allowed use of Toydaria without you and representative Binks.”

He nodded, “Well, Jedi, I think you better start training. I’m sure you’ll have an assignment soon enough.”

You smiled, turning to leave the two Senators to their plotting. 

The base was bustling. Everywhere you stepped, you felt as though you were in the way. Eventually, you stuck to creeping around the walls until you were in a hall that was deserted. A look of curiosity came over your face as you started to open the doors that lined the hall. An empty bedroom here. A storage closet there. But then... then you found a wide open room, swathed in white. A control panel was set into the wall. 

Your breath caught in your chest. You were familiar with rooms like this. In fact, you’d often trained in rooms like this. If you closed your eyes, you could almost hear your Master coaching you from the sidelines as the room moved around you. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you engaged the training program, dropping your bag on the ground and taking off your cloak you grinned as the room awoke around you.

It was like getting back on a speeder bike. You were rusty, but you were slowly reawakening your abilities. The more you moved, the more sure of yourself you became. You deflected the blasts that the training droids shot, trying not to destroy them. You didn’t want the Senators to get mad at you for busting their things. What you hadn’t noticed were the viewports that lined the tall walls at the top.

An audience had gathered as the members in the war room watched you. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd.

“I thought they were all gone,” said one.

“My mother said they were legends,” whispered another.

“Maybe we have a chance now,” another dared to say.

Your hair stuck to your forehead from exertion as you bounded from moving platform to platform. When you closed your eyes, you could sense where they were going to be next. The force guided you. The prodigal child returning home to be welcomed with open arms. 

Eventually, you reached the top platform, thus beating that simulator as your hand pressed the buzzer. You opened your eyes to find the members of the Rebellion staring at you. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath. Wide eyes looked at you. 

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa exited their room to see the group staring at their new friend.

“Looks like the Lothcat is out of the bag,” Mothma smirked.

“So it seems,” Organa replied. “But, is the loth cat ready?”

“Why don’t you ask?” Mothma asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

Senator Organa wandered over to the intercom system and engaged it into the training arena.

“I have a mission for you,” he informed you. “Think you’re up for it?”

You swiped the sweat off your brow with your sleeve. “When do I leave?”

“Now.”

A grin broke across your face. “Good.”

Bail slapped a data card up against the transparisteel. You gave him a slight salute before jumping down to the ground. Once back on your own two feet, you picked up your bag and went back up to retrieve your mission.

“I’ll need a ship,” you told him after inspecting the data card. 

“You speak as if you’re going alone,” Bail said in amusement.

“I’m not?” you asked in confusion.

“No. You’ll be a part of a team,” he replied.

“I can do this on my own,” you said adamantly. “If it’s a stealth mission, less is more.”

“And if you get captured for being a Jedi? Then who will bring the information home?” he countered.

“That’s not what this is about,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “You don’t trust me.”

“Trust is earned,” he shot back.

“You knew my people. You know what they stood for,” you replied softly.

“Skywalker stood for that, too, once. Now look at us,” he said with his back to you.

Point, Organa.

You let out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll go with a team.”

“They’ll meet you in the hangar bay,” he said as he started to walk away, but then he paused. “And, Jedi, may the force be with you.”

You clenched the data card in your fist before making your way to meet this new team. 

The group that was waiting for you didn’t seem like much. You saw a human man in a flight suit, a blue astromech droid, a blue-skinned Twi’lek, and a Wookie. 

“You’re the Jedi?” the Twi’lek woman commented. 

“Can you be a member of something that’s disbanded?” the man asked.

You shot them a look. 

“Fiesty for a Jedi,” the Twi’lek smirked. “Seems like your type, Gavyn.”

“Knock it off, Oon’sara,” Gavyn sighed. He thumbed towards the Wookie and astromech. “That’s Chitca, and the droid’s on loan from Senator Organa.”

“Droids are not property. He’s doing this because he wants to,” you murmured as you looked at the droid, studying him. Almost as if sensing your judgment, the mech came forward to meet you and tootled. A spark of recognition settled onto your face as you watched the rest of the team head up the ship. You, however, hung back with the astromech.

“Is your new home treating you well, little droid?” you murmured.

Artoo looked up at you before letting out a sad noise.

Resting a hand on his dome, you gave him a sad smile. “I know. I miss the old days, too.”

Artoo looked down and started up the ramp. You followed him before settling into a seat in the cargo hold to go over the data again. If trust was something that had to be earned, then, maker, you were going to earn it.

Once in hyperspace, the crew trickled back to where you were, sitting on their own makeshift seats. You could feel their gaze on you as you rested your arms on your knees.

“Credit for your thoughts,” you eventually ventured.

“You’re injured,” Gavyn murmured, pointing at the burn on your arm. “It looks fresh.”

“It’s a lightsaber, isn’t it,” Oon’sara said, but it wasn’t a question. “He did it.”

“What do you know of him?” You asked as your eyes flicked up to hers.

“We all have our score to settle with the Empire,” Gavyn replied. “The Emperor’s shadow is infamous. Few see him and survive. He’s a harbinger of death.”

“He’s just a man,” you replied, thinking of his face, so close to yours as you had locked sabers.

“Tell that to the people of Ryloth,” Oon’sara sneered. “If you even mention the possibility of him coming, the Imperials crack down on us.”

“Is that your ‘score’ then?” you asked.

“If I free the galaxy, then I can free my people,” she said.

You turned to look at the others. “And you?”

“The Empire killed my parents,” Gavyn replied. “They tried to stop them from roughing up the local civilian market. I was seventeen. Barely a man, but no longer a kid. I ended up on the streets relying on the goodness of strangers. That was how Senator Organa found me.”

“Where’d you learn to fly?” you asked out of curiosity.

“My mom. She was a cargo pilot,” he grinned. “Best at maneuvering out of a sticky situation.”

You turned to the Wookie who blinked in surprise. “You?”

She tilted her head before responding. You were glad you’d grown up in the Temple at that moment, being able to understand other languages always came in handy. “You should know about Kashyyk. When Master Yoda escaped at the end of the war, the rest of us were not so lucky.”

“He’s alive?” you asked softly.

She shrugged. “He was when he left Kashyyk.”

Artoo bumped your leg where it hung over the side of the crate.

“I already know your story, little droid,” you murmured, patting his head. He’d lost just as much as you had that day. Part of you wondered if he knew what his old master was up to. It was odd, having Anakin’s droid here. This might be the only piece of him you’d have left.

“But we don’t know yours,” Gavyn said, folding his arms.

“It’s simple, really. I was a Jedi on the run after the Order fell. I piqued the interest of some undesirable people, and now I’m helping the Rebellion while I look for them,” you shrugged.

“I’ve never heard someone refer to Vader as an ‘undesirable’ person,” Oon’sara smirked.

“He took everything from me,” you replied. Including Anakin, you thought. “I’d call that undesirable.”

“So you’re hunting him,” Gavyn said thoughtfully. “Revenge doesn’t sound like the Jedi way.”

“It isn’t revenge,” you replied. “It’s justice. It’s for freedom and peace. If we get rid of Vader, the Emperor loses his ace. It’ll be over then.”

“The Emperor will still exist,” Oon’sara pointed out.

“The Emperor is an old man,” you spat. The Emperor was nothing compared to the man you’d sparred with. Vader was a formidable match in battle, but the Emperor was weak, having to rely upon someone else to fight his battles for him.

“He’s a Sith Lord,” Gavyn countered.

“Do you know how to defeat darkness?” You asked, looking out a viewport as you reverted back to real space. The Lothal System’s sun came into view, warming your face. You turned back to them with a smirk on your face. “You turn a light on.”

The crew started to disperse, but Gavyn hung back for a moment, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“You know, I always respected the Jedi. When things seemed bleak, they’d show up and save the day like heroes. It seemed inevitable that they would always win,” he admitted.

“Like the sun ending the night,” you murmured.

“Exactly,” he replied. “A spark of hope lights a flame. If you’re going to turn a light on, you’ll need a lot more of it.”

“A lot more of what?” you asked.

“Hope. One spark is a start, but it’s not enough on its own.”

Somehow you didn’t think he was talking about fires anymore. He turned and went back up to the cockpit to land the ship on world. 

You looked down at the droid beside you who shuffled in anticipation. “You ready for some action, friend?”

He tootled an affirmative.

The landing went smoothly. Even sneaking onto the base went well. You and Gavyn stole some armor to maneuver Chitca like a prisoner with Artoo bringing up the rear. Oon’sara stayed with the ship, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. 

Walking in the white armor felt wrong. How many clones had died wearing this flimsy armor? Too many for you to count. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed that thought from your mind. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” you asked Gavyn.

“Vaguely,” he replied.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you murmured as you entered a control room. “Artoo, plug in and see if you can find where the TIE schematics are.”

Artoo rolled forward, extending his arm until he connected to the interface. You peered down the hall, watching for troopers in order to cover the droid. You had no doubt in his capabilities. After all, you knew who he had once belonged to.

“We need to get going,” Gavyn whispered.

“Don’t rush him,” you murmured absentmindedly. 

Soon enough, Artoo had the information you were looking for. It was located several floors below your current location. You opened the door and started down the hall with Artoo. Halfway down, you realized the others weren’t following. 

“Where are you going?” you asked them.

“Chitca says there’s some Wookies in the detention level. We’re going to free them,” he said with a grin.

“Gavyn, there’s no time. This is our mission!” you replied, having been used to making hard decisions during the clone wars. You knew all too well that you couldn’t save everybody.

“Take Artoo and get the schematics. We’re going to free them. We’ll meet back up in orbit if we get separated,” he said with a reassuring nod, like everything would be fine.

You couldn’t fight the feeling of dread knotting in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t stop this. You gave him a curt nod before continuing to run down the hall towards the schematics with Artoo rolling beside you to keep up.

Artoo let out a worried whistle.

“They’ll be fine, Artoo,” you told the droid. Silently, you added, I hope.

The base was a maze. You knew you’d be fine with Artoo and the force to guide you, but you were worried for the others. You found yourself down a hallway that looked just like the ones you’d been running through since you arrived. 

“It’s a wonder they can find anything here with how uniform it is,” you muttered as you rounded a corner. You skidded to a stop in front of the door that Artoo said housed the information you needed. 

After shooting a dubious look at Artoo, you reached out your hand towards the door. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on feeling the lock with the force, reaching into the circuitry to flip the switch and open it.

The door slid open, revealing a group of surprised imperial workers. They blinked at you.

“You’re not authorized to be here,” one of the officers said.

You raised a hand to try a mind trick that you hadn’t done in years.

“That’s not an imperial paint job,” another officer pointed out, hand poised over an alarm button. You had to act quickly.

“I am allowed to be here,” you murmured.

“You are allowed to be here,” One of the officers repeated.

“I am taking the TIE schematics,” you said, pushing your luck.

“You are taking the TIE schematics,” they repeated.

You shot a furtive glance at Artoo before going over to take the data pad from the holo-projector displaying the plans. 

Tossing it to Artoo, you instructed him, “Keep it safe.”

He tootled an affirmative before you left. You weren’t going to kill them. It wasn’t necessary since you were able to trick them into helping.

“Come on, Artoo, let’s get going. We have to find the others,” you murmured as you ran towards where you felt they were. A sigh passed through your lips. “They better be okay.”

As you made your way back towards the flight deck, you saw a commotion up ahead. Gavyn’s ship was firing at the ground turrets as the Wookie prisoners were being led out into the open.

“Gavyn, this was supposed to be a stealth mission!” You shouted at the man as you caught sight of him on the platform below.

“Change of plans!” He yelled back.

“Oon’sara isn’t going to be able to land unless we take out the towers, Artoo,” you said to the little droid beside you. 

Artoo rolled over to the port to plug in, giving you a sad whimper.

“Manual controls, huh?” you sighed. “That’s what I was worried about.” 

Jumping down from the platform and onto the flight deck below, you skirted the fray, with your back to the wall, the imperial troopers barely noticed you as you blended into the shadows. Making your way over to the turrets, you listened to Artoo in your commlink telling you how to disable the guns. 

“You’re free and clear to land,” you informed Oon’sara.

“Copy that, Jedi. Coming in hot for a landing!” she shouted back as the ship started to land. 

On the opposite side of the flight deck, you watched the crew and the Wookies load onto the ship with Gavyn providing cover fire. There was a stretch between you and the ship that was rapidly filling with storm troopers as they called for reinforcements.

“Gavyn, there’s too many of them!” Oon’sara called over the comm as she did her best to shoot at them with the ship.

“We’re almost done,” Gavyn said, but they were surrounded by troopers who were picking them off one by one.

In his haste, Gavyn got clipped on the shoulder by blaster fire and doubled over in pain.

“Gavyn!” You called out as he reached up to hold his arm, limping back towards the ramp.

“We’ve got to go now, there are too many of them!” Gavyn told you over the comm, locking eyes with you as he backed up the ramp, barely being missed by the shots as the ramp started to close. “Get to a ship and rendezvous with us in orbit. There’s no time to argue.”

Your mouth was in a grim line as you nodded. Artoo rocketed down to the space next to you.

The troopers turned and spotted you.

“Look, there’s another one!” one called out as they opened fire. You engaged your lightsaber to deflect the bolts anywhere but where you were.

“Come on, Artoo,” you said, racing off towards an open transport ship. It was small, but it would do. The two of you got in and started up the ship. “Disable the tracking, buddy. We can’t risk bringing the Imps back to base.”

Artoo zoomed over to do as he was told as you started flight sequence, picking up from the ground. A voice came over the radio.

“Transport H359, you do not have clearance to leave base. On who’s authority are you flying?” the base command asked.

“Kriff your clearance,” you shot back, pulling back on the throttle to lift the ship off the ground.

“Engage tractor beam,” the radio voice announced.

You didn’t much like their news, so you shut the radio off. “Hold on, Artoo. Time for some evasive maneuvers.”

Leaning your body into it, becoming one with the craft, you rolled the ship through the air, avoiding the beam. They were so focused on you that it made for an easy escape for the team. Soon you were out in the space above the planet.

Artoo tootled something you could have sworn sounded like, ‘Now this is pod racing!’

“Well, so much for stealth,” Oon’sara snorted over the radio.

“At least we got what we came for,” you replied.

“And then some,” Gavyn added. You could hear the smile in his voice at the Wookie chatter behind him.

“Let’s just get back to base,” you said, but you had a smile on your face as well.

Setting the coordinates for the hyperspace jump, you were ready to go when a group of ships reverted out of hyperspace in front of you. A pit formed in your stomach as a familiar feeling of apprehension and darkness washed over you. He’s here, you realized. 

“We’ve got to go, now!” you informed them hurriedly as a group of TIE fighters flew out of the hangar bay of the star destroyer in front of you. 

“They’re blocking the path!” Oon’sara pointed out.

You scanned the field of view around you. “Move to quadrant 6. You’ll be free and clear there.”

Watching as the ship started to evade the TIE fighters, you realized you were powerless. Your transport was unarmed. It was dangerous for you to stay, but you also couldn’t leave without knowing they were okay.

Artoo bumped your chair.

“I can’t just leave them, Artoo,” you said, starting to fly towards their ship to offer them a distraction and a chance to escape. You trusted your flying skills enough, even if you were a little unfamiliar with the current craft.

One of the TIE fighters stopped abruptly and turned to follow you, and so you started flying across the space, zooming out of his firing range and employing evasive maneuvers you hadn’t used in years. It had to be him. Only Anakin Skywalker could keep up with flying like this... because he had been the one who had taught you based off his pod-racing adventures. A thrill rushed through you, at the moment feeling like it was just like old times, two people practicing flying drills between campaigns. You barrel rolled, but your smile faltered when witty banter didn’t come over the comms. It wasn’t like old times.

Artoo let out an alarmed scream as a blast shot past the wing of your ship. Then, he let out a series of beeps, holding the data pad out to you before letting out a sad whimper.

“You’re right,” you sighed. “We have a mission.”

You shot one last look towards their ship, seeing it get hit by one of the TIE fighters who stuck with them. Regretfully, you spun out, flying into clear space and shooting off into hyperspace. “May the force be with them.”

A smile tugged at Lord Vader’s lips as he watched your ship leave real space. His TIE fighter hovered in space as his hands tightened on the controls. The sound of leather being stretched was faintly heard before the sound of a nearby explosion took over. “So the lamb has made some friends.”

As you broke into hyperspace, your let your head fall back against your chair. It was a quiet ride back, neither you nor Artoo wanting to acknowledge what just happened. Not the fact that you had lost your team, and also not the fact that you had almost let yourself get captured in the name of nostalgia. Your memories seeped in from the box you’d so carefully locked them away in.

“No brother gets left behind,” your clone commander said when your Master suggested moving forward.

“We have to continue the mission,” your Master pointed out.

“You go ahead, Master. I’ll stay here until the transport arrives,” you smiled.

The commander nodded thanks as the group moved on. 

You looked down at the trooper who's head laid in your lap. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“I know,” the clone smiled weakly. “We clones have a saying. ‘If a Jedi is here, we have no need to fear.’”

“We aren’t always successful,” you murmured, thinking about the siege you’d just lost.

“No, but we know you’ll do your best and take care of your own,” the clone corrected as the transport landed nearby. The medic hopped down with a few other clones to transport the fallen soldier onto a stretcher. You squeezed his hand before they loaded him up on the ship.

“May the force be with you, trooper,” you said.

“And with you, always, General,” he nodded.

You opened your eyes to see Chandrilla coming into sight. It was time to face the music.

The ship touched down in the hangar bay. It was quiet with the realization that this was not the ship you had left on. As you walked down the ramp with Artoo at your side, Senator Organa parted the crowd as he walked to the front. There was a question in his eyes as he looked at you. You shook your head. He looked down at the ground. 

Turning on his heel, he started to exit the hangar. “Debrief me in the conference room.”

You looked down at Artoo before following. The data pad felt heavy in your hands as you ran your thumb along it. All that had just happened was for the sake of this. A snarl of disgust settled on your face as you entered the conference room. Was it really worth it?

Chucking the pad on the table, you looked at Organa. “Here’s your schematics.”

“What the kriff happened out there?” he demanded. “You left with a team.”

“They found another opportunity and took it,” you explained.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked what happened,” he repeated.

You closed your eyes and exhaled before answering. “They found out that the base was holding Wookies hostage. They went to free them. We split up. When we got back together, we were on opposite sides of the flight deck. Artoo and I stole a transport with the plan for us to rendezvous in orbit. When we got there, an Imperial Star Destroyer reverted to real space, unleashing a set of TIE fighters.”

“Was he one of them?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you whispered, opening your eyes to finally look at him. 

Slowly, Senator Organa picked up the schematics from the table. He looked down at it before looking up at you. “This Empire was built on blood and bone. But the rebellion.... that’s not what we’re built on.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“We may be made mostly of blood and bone, but we are also made of souls. Where they sow fear, we grow hope. We create dreams.”

“Dreams don’t come for free,” you murmured.

“There’s a price for everything these days,” he replied sadly. “I think you’re just learning yours.”

“I was never meant to survive,” you said softly. After all, the life of a survivor is a lonely one. Sometimes you wondered if it would have been easier if you had blinked out of existence when the rest of the Order was snuffed out. 

“I thought everything was the will of the force,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you really believe that?” 

“Sometimes, but I think it limits the fact that we have choices. We are not destined to one thing or another. It is the choices we make, and the steps we take that get us from one place to another. They said that Skywalker was the chosen one, meant to bring balance,” he let out a huff, “if he was destined for that and didn’t have the freedom to make his own choices, we may not be having this conversation. I’d like to think that the force wouldn’t condemn the galaxy to servitude under a tyrant. That being said... I think you were meant to be here, and the choices you made brought you here.”

“The force and my own will working in tandem,” you replied.

“Precisely. We can always fight our destiny, but we will always have to live with the choices we make,” he said. 

“I left them,” you said, looking down.

“You finished the mission. They knew the risks. Their loss will be felt, but we will move on. We must,” he said pointedly. “Do you know what I’ve noticed about the Jedi?”

“What’s that, Senator?”

“The good ones have a tendency to survive,” he said.

You knew he was trying to comfort you, but in a way, his comment was a slap to the Order. There were hundreds of Jedi who died during the end of the war. It wasn’t because they weren’t good Jedi. It was the fact that the people they trusted turned on them. In fact, in a way, they were the last good Jedi, you thought. They never had to worry about looking the other way to survive. They lived the ideals to the end. 

You raised your head to look back at him, a fire in your eyes. If you couldn’t protect a team, then you wouldn’t work with one. You’d let down your troopers by letting the Empire take control of them. You’d lost your team today because you’d allowed for distractions that split you up in a way you couldn’t protect them. Never again. You’d been on your own for so long that now you knew the only person you could protect is yourself. Anyone else would just be a liability and another hard choice on your conscience.

“What are you planning to do with those schematics?” you asked.

“Find out who’s supplying the materials,” he admitted. “There’s been a lot of movement of durasteel across the rims, but it doesn’t make sense when compared to the ship manufacturing logs. We learned they were building a new form of TIE. Our analysts are going to look into seeing if that’s the cause. Otherwise, we’re back to square one.”

“When’s my next mission?” 

“Easy, Jedi,” he said with a perplexed smile. “You just got back. Rest a bit. I’ll have something for you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Alright, Senator,” you nodded. “But... next time, I work alone.”

He sighed, the smile dripping from his face. “Understood.”

Artoo whistled beside you.

You looked down at him and rested a hand on his dome. “Make that, me and Artoo.”

“Commandeering my droid now, are you?” Senator Organa asked in amusement.

“What can I say? He gets me,” you smirked, patting the droid before going off to find a refresher. You needed a shower.

Making your way through the barracks of the underground base, you finally found what you were looking for.

Turning the water on to the highest pressure, and to as hot as your body could handle, you stepped into the column of steam. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a good shower like this. The water beat at the knots in your back as days of grime sloughed off your skin. Placing your splayed hands on the wall opposite the shower head, you let your head hang down. Your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks as you let the water wash over you, blocking out any sounds other than the water over your ears. You clenched your fist against the cool tile, replaying the mission in your head to see if there was anything you could have done differently. If you had just stuck together? If you had gone to them on the flight deck? If you had taken a different ship? If.

You slammed your fist against the wall, the sharp spike of pain bringing you back to reality.

Master Yoda’s voice played in your head, an old Jedi adage about letting go. Letting people flow in and out of your life like the force. Taking a deep breath, you unclenched your fist.

There was nothing you could have done.

This was not your fault.

Order Sixty-Six was not your fault.

You picked your head back up.

It wasn’t your fault. It was the Empire’s. It was Vader’s. 

Their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Your Master’s death wouldn’t be in vain. You’d do whatever it takes to be able to match him. To take him down. You were a Jedi. You protected the galaxy, protected it from beautiful monsters like Vader. You’d do what you had to do to bring peace back to the galaxy. 

Shutting the water off, you let the water drip down your body as you reached for a towel. Your skin was an angry tinge of pink-ish red from the heat as you wrapped it around yourself, stepping out of the refresher. Swiping your hand along the mirror, you saw your face in the cleared streak. Your eyes glinted in the light for a moment. 

Using the streak, you got dressed and prepared to face the barracks, free and on a mission of your own devising.

Going on your way, you started towards the barracks. A little droid sped up and fell in line with you.

“Hello, Artoo. Organa letting you explore?” you asked.

The droid let out a series of beeps that you took to mean, I do what I want.

“So I’ve been told,” you winked. 

Artoo rolled with you until you ran into Jynna.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” she teased.

You looked down at Artoo and smiled. “We’re getting reacquainted.”

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged her arm off. Organa’s words flowed freely from your mouth, “They knew what they signed up for.”  

“Knowing the risks doesn’t make the loss any easier,” she pointed out. “I thought you’d know that from the Clone Wars.”

A sad smile appeared on your face. “After a while, you learn to let go.”

“Letting go may make living easier, but we can also use their memories to give us strength,” she murmured. “Moving on without my husband will be hard, but I can look at his sacrifice and remember it whenever I feel lost and want to give up. That way, I wouldn’t want his sacrifice to be in vain and I can keep going. I lost half of my heart, yet the world keeps turning.”

“You’ll be together again,” you reassured her, “And he is with you now.”

“One with the force, right?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Something like that,” you sighed.

“Same thing goes for your friends, then.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them friends. We only just met,” you murmured, looking down.

“Sometimes lost potential is worse, because you’ll never know what could have been.” She paused for a moment as though struggling to ask her next question.

“What is it?” you asked, pressing slightly.

“Was it him?” she asked, chewing her lip. “You know, Lord Vader?”

You nodded, face heating up a bit. 

“You still want to take him down,” she stated.

“And you don’t?” you asked.

“He’s out of our league,” she replied. “He’s too powerful.”

“Right now, yes,” you admitted. “But, someday... maybe not.”

Artoo bumped your leg at that.

“It’s a shame, really,” Jynna murmured.

“What is?” you asked curiously.

“That someone so horrid can be so handsome,” she said with slight disgust.

“Even a beast can be majestic,” you replied, looking through her. You could see his golden hair like a halo around his head, and that smirk. You hated that smirk. It was self-assurance. It was confidence. It made your stomach turn, but gave you butterflies at the same time. Someday... Someday you would wipe that smirk right off his face. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, breaking you from your reverie. “Have you found your room yet?”

“No. I was looking for it when I ran into you,” you admitted.

“It’s right near mine. I’ll show you,” she said, nodding for you to follow her. 

You nodded, falling in line.

The room was sparse, clinical almost. You hadn’t had four walls to call your own in so long, but you still couldn’t help compare it to the home you once had. Your room at the temple had been colorful, with trinkets from all the planets you visited. You had wanted to remember how diverse the galaxy was, and to remind yourself why you wanted to be a Jedi. Now, you had nothing to your name except the few things in your bag and the clothes on your back.

Dropping your bag on the work desk, you ran your hand along the metal desk. It wasn’t the Temple, but it’d do just fine. You’d been drifting for so long, it would be nice to just plant roots somewhere. After all, in order for anything to truly grow, it needed a strong base to stand on. 

You popped up on the desk, sitting on it as you looked around the room with a critical eye. It was plain now, but you’d make it your own. Yes, this would do nicely.

Acclimating to the base took some time, months had passed before you finally decided that it was home. You had gone from being a nameless face in a crowd, fading into the surroundings to being someone that was sought out. When there was a mission that seemed impossible, Organa and Mothma called on you. You quickly raised through the ranks, making a name for yourself.   While you were once a nobody, now you were a somebody. They whispered Vader’s name in fear, but yours in awe.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if this is what it was like to be Anakin Skywalker back during the Clone Wars. A golden child of the resistance. You’d freed entire prison garrisons on your own with Artoo, stolen a myriad of information that had helped the Rebellion grow. The mere mention of you had swaying power. Those who thought the feat impossible, saw you and knew hope.

Then, one day as you were training, finding that your body was getting stronger, faster even, you began to recognize the power you were harnessing. The simulator run you were currently doing felt effortless. Jumps were as simple as willing your body from one point to another. Every fibre of your being was charged with the force, feeling alive. It was intoxicating. 

You let the force take over, giving you strength. You could close your eyes and still see, cover your ears and still hear, stand completely still and still feel. You were one with the force and the force was with you, and you felt whole. 

Now, this... This was where the fun begins, you realized as you landed on the ground when you finished. You were ready to take him on. It was time to track him down.

It was time to hunt Vader.

Tossing a towel over your shoulder, you started back towards your chambers. You were waiting on an informant to transmit you information on Vader’s current location. Working alone had given you the benefit of being able to make friends with locals who saw you as their savior, and a few of them had decided to pay it back by feeding you information that could prove useful for the Rebellion. Most information was passed on to Mothma and Organa, but the information about Vader... that was saved. You kept track of it all, looking at it when you couldn’t sleep to try and piece together what he was up to. You were studying him, trying to find ways to understand him, if only to know how better to best him. After all, that was the only reason you were doing this, wasn’t it?

Your Master’s voice played in your head, “Know your opponent as well as yourself. The best offense is a good understanding of their defense.”

A wry smirk crossed your face as you walked into your room.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Jynna stated from your desk.

“And you’ve learned to pick locks,” you shot back teasingly. “How is the little one today?”

“He’s sleeping. I’ve been trying to teach him the little things you told me about,” she admitted.

“Is he taking to it?” you asked curiously.

“Like a Mon Calamari to water,” she grinned as you moved to sit on your bed.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you asked as you leaned back against the wall.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“I have to,” you replied. 

“You don’t have to,” she replied adamantly. “Look at all the good you’ve done just since you’ve gotten here! You’ve helped people on multiple worlds!”

“But, Jynna, I could help the whole galaxy!” you said emphatically. 

“But who will help you?” she asked softly.

“Jynna, you talk as if I won’t come back,” you chuckled.

She looked at you, appraising you like a mother who could see the truth about the dreams of her child. “You barely made it out alive the last time you fought him.”

“That was months ago!” you said incredulously. “I’m stronger now! I’ve learned and trained so much. I’m ready.”

“If you don’t come back, I won’t have anyone to train him,” she said sadly. “No one to protect him should the Empire come looking.”

“That’s not true,” you said, “You’d have this whole base to protect you.”

“They’re not you!” she cried. “What’s a blaster against a lightsaber if not a weapon of suicide?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’ll come back. I promise. Besides, I don’t know where he is yet. All I know is that he’s been hanging around the banking system lately.”

She looked down at her shaking hands, clasping them in her lap. “Is he worth all this?”

“To rid the galaxy of a beast like that? That’s worth my life,” you said honestly. He was worth all this effort. In a way, he’d always been. You’d been bending over backwards to catch Anakin Skywalker’s attention for years. Only, now it was more important than ever.

She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched her leave, a feeling of regret blossoming in your chest. Maybe she was right. Maybe you shouldn’t go after Vader. But, then you remembered all the people you’d lost because of his actions. His hands were as red with blood as the color of his lightsaber. If he wouldn’t wash them himself, then you’d cleanse them for him.

Laying back on your cot, you looked up at the ceiling. You’d tell Organa in the morning about the banking system and see if there was a mission for you there. After all, you were a member of this rebellion. You weren’t about to abandon them while they were in the thick of it. Not when your goals were in line and you could work in tandem. You'd follow Vader across the galaxy in the name of the rebellion. People feared the shadows in case he lurked there, but not you. You knew the truth. You were to be his shadow. If anything, it should be he who feared you. 

And so the predator would become the prey.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled, letting yourself fall into the force and giving yourself over to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, you felt ready to conquer the galaxy. Taking your data pad from your desk, you made your way to the war room to brief Organa on the banking clan. They’d been working with the Empire to bankrupt systems that weren’t submitting to Imperial rule. People were starving and local governments were having to raise taxes just to get through it. It was unacceptable. All the while, the Empire was stockpiling those credits in the bank to build more ships as well as some monstrosity surrounded in mystery. The project was a secret that even your informants couldn’t find out about, and that made you want to know more about it. Surely, the Senator would, too.

“You’ve got that face on,” Senator Organa commented. You’d noticed he’d gotten relaxed around you, lately. He wasn’t as stoic, and he actually smiled at you every once in a while.

“What face?” you asked with an amused smirk.

“That face.”

“That’s just my face, Senator.”

“No, it’s the face of a Jedi who’s about to say they have an idea and want to pursue it,” he sighed.

“And how do you know that face, specifically?” you asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve known my fair share of Jedi,” he said with a nostalgic smile, “And my fair share of people who should have been Jedi.”

“Well, you’re correct on that part, at least,” you admitted. “I do have an idea.”

He gestured for you to continue.

You held up your data pad for him to take. “The Banking Clan is hoarding funds for the Empire at the expense of systems who are resisting. They’re lending at higher percentages that’s leading to the bankruptcy of multiple systems.”

“The people are starving and the Empire isn’t even giving them a dime of the money that’s rightfully theirs,” he commented gravely. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go and investigate the claim. Word on the ground is that the Empire is using those funds to fuel a secret project,” you said pointedly.

“What kind of secret project?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Senator, if I knew then it wouldn’t be a secret,” you deadpanned.

“Right,” he said sheepishly. “What do you need?”

“Just a ship,” you said, “I’m going alone.”

A droid tootled from nearby before rolling through the crowd towards you.

“Tell that to your friend, here,” Organa said with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was your droid.”

You looked down at Artoo with a fond smile. “Nonsense. Artoo doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“He just happens to go on all your missions with you,” Organa pointed out with a raised brow.

“What can I say? We’re friends and he likes me,” you shrugged. “Besides, he saves the day more often than I can count.”

Artoo wobbled back and forth.

“Come on, Artoo. We’ve got a conspiracy to uncover.”

The droid beeped an affirmative and started to follow you.

“May the force be with you,” Organa called after you.

You gave him a slight salute with two fingers, “Always, Senator.”

A human and a droid boarding a ship on their own seems like the start of a good joke, but everyone knew that that human and that droid were who the rebellion sent when no one else would do. That human and that droid could accomplish more than most.

As you slipped into the pilot’s seat, you nodded towards an open interface. “Plug in, little buddy,” you smiled. 

Artoo rolled over and connected with the ship, taking control of the co-pilot controls.

You took a deep breath before pulling off into the atmosphere. In the back of your head, you felt guilty. Sure, the rebellion had a legitimate reason to be interested in the banks, but the fact that you had an ulterior motive wasn’t lost on you. You hadn’t lied. Nor had you actively tried to deceive Senator Organa. Yet, you still felt bad for not disclosing the real reason you wanted to investigate to him.

Once in hyperspace, you pulled out your data pad with your notes on them to look over the intel that had been passed onto you.

“He was last spotted here, Artoo,” you murmured, scrolling through the log of information. “I doubt he’ll still be there. He doesn’t seem to stay in one place for too long. But, we should still be able to get some valuable information from the planet.”

Artoo let out a series of beeps.

“You know why I’m doing this,” you sighed.

He bumped your chair.

“No, there’s no other reason than this. The galaxy needs to be a safer place. There’s no other reason than protecting the galaxy,” you murmured as you looked up at the streaks out your viewport. 

Except, you weren’t seeing the vast expanse of the hyperspace lane. No, in your mind, you were looking into those amber eyes that glinted like the sun. You were seeing a man who’s heart had led him astray as his face glowed from the light of two interlocked lightsabers. That fight you had had was something you replayed so often in your mind. At first, it had been to analyze your own weaknesses in order to train and overcome them. Then, it had been to look for Vader’s weak points in how he fought. But, now... now, you’d replay the fight in your mind just to analyze him. He’d been a brilliant Jedi once. The brightest star of the Order. Some stars were constant, like Master Kenobi or Master Yoda. Some still shone blue at their newness, like most young Padawan learners who had the galaxy at their feet as they grew into their powers. But, Anakin Skywalker had been the brightest star. He was going to be the true north that guided the force into balance. Instead, he had become a supernova, burning brightly before burning out. 

When you looked at Vader, it was hard not to still see Skywalker. Part of you had to wonder if he was still in there, but that part was quickly squelched by the part that saw what atrocities he committed every day. No Jedi could ever condone such violence. No, what you were looking at was a man who made a series of mistakes and owned them as if they were the right thing to do. What you saw was a man who was compensating for his actions by adopting a moral depravity that explained them. Yet... that was the problem. It was easy to look at the man now and see that he was obviously always a terrible person. But it was harder to look at Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars and predict that this was what he was to become. He had had everything and he threw it away, and for what? An old man that just put him into another form of slavery not that different from his life on Tatooine. He may walk free, but his life was not his own. Not anymore. Part of that made you feel for him, since he didn’t even notice the cage he was trapped in. You’d free him soon enough.

You looked down at the controls in your hands. Perhaps none of your lives were your own anymore. You hadn’t planned on this path, and you’d even avoided it, yet here you were trudging back down it.

The will of the force.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

The inevitable path that would lead to a head-on collision with a handsome beast of a man that at one point could have been your friend. A small voice in the back of your mind made the mistake of suggesting: perhaps more than that. But you knew where this path would take you: to another fight where only one of you would walk away intact.

Your ship pulled out of hyperspace and Mygeeto came into view. From the closet, you pulled out a warm cloak to protect you from the snow on the planet as well as it’s harsh winds. Then, you settled back in your seat and took the ship down for a landing farther away from the settlement than you’d have liked. However, this was a mission for gathering intelligence. You were hoping that a quick getaway wouldn’t be necessary.

“Well, Artoo, let’s go try to blend in,” you said with a hint of a smile. 

The two of you made your way down the ramp and towards the outskirts of the city. The hood of your cloak was pulled down over your forehead, and you kept your head down, surveilling your surroundings out of your peripherals.

It was a cold world, in both climate and architecture. Although, that wasn’t surprising given the relationship that the Banking Clan had had with the Separatists. The snow quickly covered your tracks as you walked further into the city. 

“We’re almost there, Artoo,” you murmured as you maneuvered through buildings that all had the same metallic façade. 

He let out a series of sounds that sounded an awful lot like, ‘Well, how do you know?’

“I’ve been here before,” you replied. “Back in the Clone Wars. That’s how I know my contact. The Republic fought here off and on for three years. Once, my soldiers were wounded, and a local took them in while we were stuck in a snow storm. If it hadn’t been for her, we all would have died.”

Someone walking by bumped your shoulder.

A smirk crossed your face. “Doma.”

You saw the figure go down an alleyway and followed, seeing them disappear around the corner.

Artoo let out a concerned whimper as you noticed a slit of light spilling out onto the snow.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe here,” you murmured, pulling your hood off as you entered through a doorway that had been propped open.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” a woman said. “I’ve been sending you information for months now.”

“I had to get permission first,” you replied, hanging your cloak up on a hook and shutting the door.

“Even without a Master you have a Master,” she teased.

“The force is my Master.”

“I thought the Jedi mastered the force,” she shot back.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, alright,” she winked, walking further into her small apartment. “Care for a hot drink to warm you up? I’m sure not everyone is used to the Mygeeto Chill.”

“Depends. Will it be that terrible tea you served during the war?” you chuckled as you sat at her table.

“That’s a delicacy here,” she deflected.

“That’s because no one wants it elsewhere,” you teased. “I’ll take a caf if you have it.”

Doma nodded and went to her kitchenette to prepare it. “That droid looks familiar.”

You looked at Artoo sideways. “He’s a friend.”

“You always had weird friends,” she replied.

“You’re my friend.”

“Exactly.” She placed the caf down in front of you. 

You took the mug and held it in your hands to warm you. 

“So, why are you here?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Looking into your intel about the banks colluding with the Empire at the expense of planets who are sympathetic to the cause,” you replied as you lightly blew on the caf.

“Is that the only reason?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m looking to get information about Vader’s whereabouts,” you added before taking a sip.

“And?” she asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “And I missed you.”

“I knew it!” She grinned.

“Doma, can you get me into the bank?” you asked seriously. “I’ll need actual proof.”

“I can sneak you in. I’ll say you’re an intern. You’ll need a change of clothes, though,” she said thoughtfully. “They don’t trust Non-Muuns since the Clovis situation.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” you nodded.

“Good. Now, get some sleep. You’ve had a long journey, and you need to be wide awake and have no signs of lag if you’re to do this,” she said, poking you in the shoulder.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, going to settle on her couch.

“Good night, Jedi,” she smirked, going towards where her room was.

“Good night, Doma.”

You spent a bit of the night looking up at her ceiling as your thoughts drifted to Vader. Absentmindedly, you wondered what he was up to. Deep down, you wondered if he was maybe thinking about you, too. Eventually, you decided that was unlikely and turned over to fall asleep, letting yourself slip into a deep sleep.

While you slept, you did something you hadn’t done in a while. You dreamed. 

The temple surroundings appeared vibrant behind your eyelids. It took a moment, but you recognized that you were back in your room. When you went to get out of bed, you couldn’t. You were being held back. Looking down, you noticed an arm wrapped around your waist. Turning to peek over your shoulder, you saw a mop of golden hair. Now, you could feel the heartbeat of the person behind you. You could feel their breath on the crook of your neck.

“Stay,” a voice murmured. They were pleading in a way that made you want to melt back into them and acquiesce to the simple request, especially since it had been so long since you were held like this. Like you mattered.

You stiffened as you realized who that voice belonged to.

The owner of the voice picked their head up from where it had been buried in your back. You locked eyes with a pair of amber gems that bore into your soul.

“Ready to go so soon?  And here I thought you were coming for me,” he smirked. “You lack conviction.”

You shoved him away. This was only a dream. You backed away from the bed, but he followed, getting up and staring you down as he advanced. Soon, your back was against the wall. His metallic hand reached out to tip your chin up to look into his eyes. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wasn’t entirely out of fear as his thumb grazed your chin.

“You’re different, Jedi,” he smirked, making your heart skip a beat. “How interesting.”

You sat up on the couch in a cold sweat. Artoo let out a concerned murmur.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, settling your racing heart. “I’m okay.”

The droid came over next to the couch and you rested a hand on him.

“It was just a bad dream,” you murmured.

Artoo backed away slightly from you. The last time his friend had bad dreams, that didn’t end well.

You let out a sigh and laid back down. “I’ll be fine. Good night, Artoo.”

Turning to face the cushions, your brow furrowed. Why was Vader in your dream, and more importantly, why had he been holding you close like that? Some voice deep within you murmured, and why did I like it? 

Scrunching your eyes shut, you could still feel the phantom warmth at your back. It unnerved you slightly, but you didn’t have time to focus on that. You needed rest so that you would be at your best when you infiltrated the banking clan in the morning. Sleep didn’t come easily, but it came eventually. This time it was dreamless, which was a blessing. 

When you woke in the morning, it was to streaks of light across your face as they slipped in from the transparisteel. Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hand, you stretched on the couch. It wasn’t the best night of sleep in your life, and you definitely slept on your neck at a weird angle for half the night, but it wasn’t anything a hot shower couldn’t fix. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you sat up and took in a deep breath. The air in your lungs was cold, sending a shiver down your spine. If you ever had the option of staying on one world when this was all over, it would be a warm planet, because you hated the cold. 

Going towards the refresher, you noticed that Doma had laid out an outfit for you. It was a jumpsuit with an outer skirt and a weird vest. The only good thing about it was that you could hide your weapon with the skirt. Other than that, you weren’t a fan. It clung in places that you hadn’t had clothing cling before. After showering and changing into it, you were already starting to miss your own clothes. With one disapproving glance at yourself in Doma’s bathroom mirror, you went back out towards the kitchen.

“I see you found the outfit I lent you,” Doma commented.

“Thanks, I hate it,” you smirked.

“Careful, Jedi. Hate leads to the dark side,” she teased.

You waved her off and grabbed your cloak off the hook. “Ready when you are.”

She nodded, “Alright. But, the droid stays here.”

Casting a glance at Artoo, you responded, “Where he goes, I go.”

“It’ll be easier to just sneak you in,” Doma pointed out.

That was a reasonable explanation. You sighed. “Sorry, Artoo. Looks like you’ll have to stay here.”

Artoo nudged you towards the door. You started to head out with Doma, casting him a worried glance when the door closed behind the two of you.

“You’re really attached to that droid,” Doma murmured as the two of you started walking towards the main building.

“He’s my friend.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments.”

“We’re allowed to have friends. We just have to be able to let go when the time is right,” you replied.

“You’d be able to let go of one of the only ties to your old life that you have?” she asked.

“If I had to,” you replied.

“But you don’t want to.”

“Does anyone ever want to let go of someone?” you countered.

“We’re here,” she murmured, taking her badge out to get into the building. “Don’t draw unnecessary attention.”

You nodded, pulling your hood down as you followed her into the building. People barely spared you a glance as you made your way down the main hall towards her office.

“Where are we going?” you asked. “According to the schematics you sent me, the vault is in the other direction.”

“You can’t just waltz into the vault,” she hissed, closing the door to her office behind the two of you. Then, she gestured to a hatch in the ceiling. “You’re going to have to go through the vent.”

“Great. Crawling through meters of air ducts. Feels just like I’m back in the Order,” you frowned as you reached up to open the duct.

“Do you have the schematics on you?” she asked, settling into her chair.

You tapped your wrist band. “I’ve got the map if I need, but I’m sure if I just follow the sound of thievery and corruption I’ll find my way just fine.”

Doma rolled her eyes at you as you jumped up into the duct. “Be safe, Jedi. May the Force be with you.”

You gave her a wink before shimmying down the vent. Jedi didn’t have claustrophobia, but you did feel like the vents were getting smaller as you went along. Eventually, you were crawling along on your hands and knees instead of being slightly crouched.

Looking down through the grate in front of you, you could see the vault. Carefully, you opened it to peer down into the space. Consulting your schematics, you realized that the data you were looking for was stored a few rows over from where you would drop down. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and steeled yourself for what would happen next.

The drop to the floor was long, and it would put you in a maze of shelves holding data. Instead, you dropped onto a shelving unit to keep a good view of the ground around you as you crept along. The data you sought was a few columns over. The room wasn’t crowded, but there were the occasional workers and droids. You’d have to be fast if you wanted to get out undetected. When you found the column you needed, you rolled off the shelf and landed soundlessly on the floor.

Casting a furtive glance around you, you pulled out a datapad from under your skirt and plugged into the mainframe. The damage was so much worse than you thought as you scanned the information. They were bankrupting more than half the galaxy while the Empire was rolling in credits. It made your stomach sick as you thought of all those people dying from hunger and living in poverty. Poverty that the Empire could have prevented, but people can’t fight back if they’re too weak from hunger. It was despicable, and the banking clan was complacent in making it happen. Footsteps resounded in the room around you, but you kept yourself as cool as a dead star. You watched the screen with interest as it loaded the data you needed. It was almost done when the footsteps got closer. 

95 percent. The footsteps sounded like they were a few rows away. 

97 percent. They were two rows away. 

99 percent. They were around the corner. 

100 percent. You unplugged and jumped up onto the shelf, holding your breath. The Muun on the floor kept walking right past you. Looking up at the ceiling, you thanked the force before starting to head back to the air vent. Jumping up from the shelf wasn’t difficult, and you had the hatch closed and were crawling along the vent again in no time. 

Alone with your thoughts, you began to think of what you would have done if you were still a Jedi in the Order. Your Master would have taken down this entire operation in the name of justice and freedom, wouldn’t they? All you had on you was your saber and one charge, but with the right plan, that was all you’d need. Gravity would take care of the rest. A plan started to form the further from the vault you got. Soon enough, you were jumping back down into Doma’s office.

“Took you long enough,” she smirked.

“Yeah, well, it’s a maze,” you shot back.

“Did you have any trouble?” she asked with a raised brow.

“It was like taking clams from a Gungan,” you smirked, holding up the data pad. 

“Good, now you can go.”

“I can’t just leave,” you said adamantly. 

“You have the information. What else do you need?” she asked in confusion.

“I need to know where he is, and I need the Empire to know they’re being watched,” you replied seriously.

“Do you have a death wish?” she asked incredulously.

“No, but they need to know that people won’t turn a blind eye anymore,” you replied. 

“How are you going to achieve that?” Doma asked skeptically.

“I’m going to get my information. Then I’m going to set charges and destroy the building.”

“You can’t destroy the banking clan. Imagine what that would do to the intergalactic economy!”

“I wouldn’t be destroying the bank. We all know they keep the money elsewhere, if they have it at all. I’d just be destroying the symbol of it,” you said, pulling your cloak back on.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she sighed.

“Just get Artoo and go back to the ship. There won’t be anything left for you here when I’m done,” you replied.

Doma shook her head. “You’re going to get me a new job!”

“I’m sure the resistance can find something,” you shot back before heading back out into the hall. 

The vault was in the middle of the building. if you weakened along the support beams, it would all come crashing down with one charge. After all, you only had one emergency charge. Making your way towards Vice Chairman Anolo’s office, you used your saber to weaken the support beams. His office was on the top floor, overlooking the city below. You didn’t care if someone figured out what you were at this point. Your work was mostly done. Doma was going to be safe. You could take these risks, because you were only risking yourself. Using the force, you opened the door to a startled Anolo at his desk.

“Who are you?” he asked incredulously.

You ignited your saber. You had no intent to harm him, but he didn’t know that.

“Focus less on who I am, and more on telling me what I want to know,” you shot back. “Where’s Vader?”

“He’s not here!” Anolo replied as you walked closer to him.

You swung and cut off a corner of his desk. “That’s not a real answer!”

“H-he’s on Eadu! Left a few rotations ago!” 

You let your saber fall to your side. “Now, was that so hard?”

Anolo cowered behind his desk as you started to leave. You paused at the doorway. 

“Oh, and you may want to evacuate. Rumor has it the economy is about to crash,” you smirked, throwing your charge on the last support beam. 

You cut a hole in the wall before jumping onto a nearby cliff face. With a satisfied grin, you pressed the button on your commlink that detonated the charge. The explosion came first, followed by a lurch to the side. Then, the building started to cave in on itself. 

Pulling your hood over your face, you turned and made your way into the forest behind you. Your work here was done.

The snow crunched under your feet as you made your way back to the ship. You could see your breath in the air and you were quite glad when you saw the outline of your vessel through the trees. Doma was sitting on the ramp wrapped in a blanket. Artoo was next to her. They had been waiting for you. You felt slightly guilty.

“Did you get the answer you were looking for?” she asked.

You looked down. “Eadu.”

She nodded, getting up from the ramp to head back inside. “I assume you’re dropping me off, first.”

“That’s the plan,” you replied.

“Was this the plan?” she asked at the top of the ramp, back towards you.

You didn’t have an answer for her. Originally, you were just collecting information. It wasn’t until you saw how deep the corruption was that you had decided to do this, but your silence was all the answer she needed.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighed before disappearing inside.

Artoo let out an admonishing set of beeps.

“Hey, you’re one to talk! You’re an agent of chaos,” you shot back.

Artoo let out a whistle of outrage.

“You heard me,” you smirked.

He bumped you.

“But, you’re right,” you sighed. “Organa isn’t going to be pleased.”

The droid looked up at you and let out some softer sounds.

“Yeah, Mothma will probably give me a promotion,” you chuckled softly. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The two of you made your way up the ramp and settled in for the trip home. It was a decidedly quiet trip, with Doma questioning leaving all that she had known for the unknown life of the rebellion, and you questioning yourself.

You caught yourself drifting back to the dream you had. Domesticity with Vader. The idea was almost laughable, as if anyone could ever tame that beast. He was wild. Unhinged. Unpredictable. Your mind briefly thought about the events of today, and for the shortest moment thinking about how maybe the same could have been said of you.

But, you were nothing like Vader. You weren’t the beast. You were the hunter protecting the village from him. Yet, just like the hunter, you could see the beauty in your quarry. He was fearless. Powerful. His gaze held a certain hunger that kept you in your place for fear of being eaten. Those amber eyes lit a flame in you, but you didn’t want to admit it. After all, how could someone who lives in the dark ignite a flame? It didn’t make sense. You had the same need to possess him as you had to defeat him. He had taken everything away from you, and continued to rampage across the galaxy, which warranted his defeat, but the way he carried himself entranced you. He was a man with nothing left to lose. You figured it must be lonely, but a part of you envied him, to have that sense of freedom was something you would never have.

Taking a deep breath, you landed the craft back at base, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

No sooner had you disembarked, you were getting yelled at.

“Conference room. Now,” Organa barked.

You looked at Artoo and Doma before following him into the room. 

“You destroyed the banking clan?” Organa asked incredulously after the door closed.

“Free markets are supposed to be a good thing,” you shrugged.

“That is not even close to what this is about. You were supposed to gather intel!”

“And I did!” you said, chucking him the data. “It’s all there.”

“But the bank isn’t.”

“I had to send a message.”

“Do you know what the retaliation for that will be?” he asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Enlighten me, Senator,” you shot back.

“You just put yourself on the radar.”

“Good. He should know I’m coming for him,” you smirked.

“Well, what about the rest of us? You just put the rebellion in danger with that stunt.”

“They don’t know who I’m working for. I could just be a standalone vigilante,” you shrugged.

“You better hope that’s the case,” he said darkly. “Dismissed.”

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest and leaving.

“Well, that went well,” you said to Artoo who had been listening outside the door.

He tootled something akin to: ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll start listening to you.”

He beeped back, ‘Yeah, maybe you should.’

You playfully toed him. “Come on, little buddy. Let’s get Doma settled in.”

After showing Doma to her new quarters and introducing her to the people she’d be working with to take care of the rebellion’s expenses, you went back to your own room. Flopping on your bed, you pulled out a holomap of Eadu.

“What are you doing here, Ani?” you murmured to yourself as you tried to figure out what could possibly be of use to the Empire on Eadu. The planet was an insurance claim waiting to happen with the amount of storms they had there. Flying there wasn’t easy, but that would make it a decent base, you supposed. Chewing your lip, you thought about what Organa had said. Had you drawn attention to the rebellion? Then again, the Emperor had to know about the rebellion by now. It was always a shock to you that Organa and Mothma could continue to work in the Senate while still doing all this. They covered their tracks nicely, but they weren’t above suspicion. However, the Emperor probably assumed they were afraid of him, and fear was a good enough motivator to keep people in line.

With a sigh, you closed your map. You’d take a day to regroup and dig up more information. Then, you’d go to Eadu.

There was a tentative knock on your door.

“It’s unlocked,” you called out.

Jynna entered.

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured as she sat on the edge of your bed.

“It didn’t go according to plan,” you replied.

“So you didn’t intend to destroy a building when you set out yesterday?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Not particularly. Sometimes things just crop up.”

“Were there people in there?” she asked softly.

“Does it matter?” you replied. “I gave them a warning to leave. I assumed that most people would see a Jedi cutting the support beams and get out of the building.”

She shot you a look. “The day we stop thinking it matters is the day we become more like them.”

“Its a war, Jynna. There’s always a sacrifice to be made,” you sighed, thinking back on the many clones you had lost that way.

“When we sacrifice our values, that’s the day we lose,” she replied, getting up.

“Jynna, wait,” you said, sitting up. “I had to show the Empire that someone’s watching.”

“No, you had to show Vader that someone’s watching.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“One man is not a whole institution, Jedi.”

“Cut off the head of the dragon and the serpent dies.”

“Where there’s a void in power, another will seize it,” she countered. “Look at the Emperor. That’s how he came to power.”

You sighed and looked down. “I didn’t set out to kill anyone. I just wanted to destroy the building.”

“Our actions have consequences that we may not always see at the time,” she replied.

“You sound like Master Yoda.”

“Was Master Yoda a mother?” she asked in amusement.

“Not exactly,” you chuckled.

She caught sight of your map on the table. “You’re leaving again.”

“Anolo told me where Vader was heading.”

“So the hunt resumes,” she said hollowly as she went towards the door. “When will it end?”

“When one of us is gone.”

“That doesn’t sound very Jedi-like,” she paused with her back to you.

“He’s a Sith, and I am a Jedi. This is just how it is.”

“I thought only a Sith dealt in absolutes,” she said.

Your eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate that insinuation.”

“He was like you once. Are you sure there’s no hope for him?” she asked seriously, turning to face you.

“After all that he’s done, and the lack of remorse he has for it all, I think he’s too far gone,” you admitted.

She studied you for a moment. “I suppose you’ll do what you must. Wear a jacket. Eadu’s weather is unpredictable.”

You stared after her long after she had disappeared from view. 

She couldn’t have been right. If the Sith could be reasoned with, then the council wouldn’t have been hunting them down. Were they two sides of the same credit? No, that wasn’t right either. After all, the Sith were not the exact opposite of the Jedi. The force was a spectrum of light and dark. That much you knew.

Not even Vader was the exact opposite of Skywalker. You could see that in the way he carried himself. Anakin had always had confidence. Now, he just had arrogance as well. He always walked like he owned the galaxy, but now he almost did. His grin was still mischievous, and he still was trying to prove himself, never content that he was enough. Except, he had been enough. He just never realized it. That’s what made his fall hurt the most. 

Those months after the fall, you spent your time analyzing everything, wondering if you could have done anything different. Yet, as you thought back on what Organa had told you, perhaps this had happened for a reason. Perhaps this was the will of the force. You were meant for this confrontation. You were meant for this growth. He was your catalyst. In a way, you supposed you should be grateful. You never could have become strong like this without the exact set up that brought you to the rebellion. Yet, strength was nothing but a measure of endurance. Looking over at the map of Eadu, you smirked. You had endurance for the long haul.

Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you got up to train. In truth, part of it was because you wanted to stay sharp for the fight ahead, but part of it was also the fact that you didn’t want to sleep. You were worried that you’d dream of him again.

Your arms moved on their own accord, blocking with your lightsaber. You were on autopilot, letting the force guide you. All the while, you were thinking about Mygeeto. You’d killed those people. Not on purpose, but you’d done it. What did that say about you? It certainly told the Empire that someone was onto them, and it would spark fear in the next person to cheat the galaxy out of their own credits at the expense of the people. It had to be done. You’d given them fair warning. It wasn’t cruel. 

The training droid landed a blast that stung your shoulder. You reached out with the force and shoved it into a wall. Wiping your brow with the back of your hand, you thought back to Vader. He didn’t give warnings when he did things like that. He just did them, consequences be damned. You were nothing like him.

You kept training well into the night, watching as everyone upstairs started to wrap up for the night, leaving a sparse night shift. Eventually, you saw Organa looking down at you training. Mothma came up next to him before pressing a button on the panel. The training room shut down.

“Get some sleep,” Mothma said over the loudspeaker.

“I need to train,” you shot back.

“No, you need to not drive yourself into the ground,” Organa ground out. “That’s an order, Jedi.”

Your chest puffed up in annoyance before you exhaled. “Fine.”

The two of them nodded down at you before moving on. You deactivated your saber and showered before going to bed. Blinking, the map of Eadu burned itself into your brain as you slowly succumbed to sleep.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” a voice teased.

“You’re not real,” you replied, clenching your jaw.

A feather-light touch grazed up and down your arm. It was cold. Metallic. It sent a shiver down your spine. “But you wish I was.”

“I will destroy you,” you huffed.

“Oh? Will you destroy me, or will you destroy yourself?” Vader purred into your ear.

“You know nothing.”

“I am you. I know everything,” he countered.

You took several deep breaths, willing the dream away. Your mind was playing tricks on you. Eventually, you found yourself in the force and left the dream behind you.

When you woke the next morning, you decided to leave a day early. You told no one where you were going. You didn’t like the fact that Organa felt like he could order you about. With the Order gone, you answered to no man. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walked towards your small ship. A slight smile toyed at your lips as you heard the familiar sound of a motor following you.

“This isn’t an official mission,” you told the droid.

He tootled back a reply.

“It’s a wonder you’ve lasted as long as you have with your penchant for danger and utter disregard for the rules,” you teased.

He bumped you as if to say, ‘Look who’s talking.’

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, smile dripping from your face. You had become reckless, hadn’t you? The two of you made your way into the ship and started the take off sequence. Soon, you were coasting through hyperspace on your way to Eadu. Soon, you found yourself thinking about what could possibly happen when you got there.

Going to Mygeeto, you had known that Vader would probably not have been there. The intel was recent enough, but it had also reported that he had left. There was a very real possibility that you would see him on Eadu, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Have you seen him, Artoo?” you asked quietly as you stared out into space. “Since...” you trailed off, knowing the droid knew the rest.

He shook his head.

“He hasn’t changed much, physically,” you murmured. “Except his eyes... Before they were blue like an ocean threatening to drown you. Now, they’re golden, like an ember in a hearth. At first glance, it seems warm and inviting, but it still has the potential to burn down a home. His clothes are darker. Before he just looked like Obi-Wan’s shadow, but now it’s like he’s embraced the darkness, becoming one with it.”

Artoo let out a murmur.

“I’ll stop talking about him,” you assured the droid. “We have to figure out a safe place to land, anyway.”

The droid projected his own map up before zooming in on an area between a couple of crags.

“Are you sure we’ll be protected from the wind when we go to take off again? We can’t risk getting cut up on those cliffs,” you pointed out.

Artoo let out an indignant set of beeps.

“Okay, okay. I trust you. We’ll land there,” you said, holding up your hands placatingly.

Artoo tootled and closed out the map. If he had a face, you were sure he’d have a smug grin on it. 

“Coming out of hyperspace,” you chuckled as you reverted back to real space.

Eadu loomed in the space in front of you. You didn’t know if it was the landing, or the prospect of what you’d find on the planet, but you felt a rush of nerves flutter through your stomach. Stretching your hand before flourishing your fingers on the controls, you started to bring the ship into the atmosphere.

You clenched the controls in your hands as you struggled against the rough winds of the planet, threatening to careen your ship into the cliffs. This would not be a happy landing. Gritting your teeth, you followed Artoo’s instructions, listing slightly to the side to get to your landing zone. Wind howled on either side of the craft as you battled the wind to land, being pushed forward all the while. You took a centering breath before extending the landing gear, hoping the added drag would help slow you down enough to land. The gambit worked and you roughly touched down on the ground.

Artoo let our a series of beeps, ‘Well, I’ve seen worse.’

“They’re not good flying conditions. As much as I hate it, it makes sense for a secret base. No one’s going to want to come here if they don’t have to,” you muttered as you got out of your seat. You tugged on your jacket and started to head out when you heard your friend follow you.

“No, Artoo. I think you should stay here. The weather is nasty. I wouldn’t want you to get damaged,” you told him softly.

He let out a whine.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised with a soft smile on your face. You gave him a small salute before heading down the side of the cliff towards the secret Imperial base. 

Wind and rain whipped your hair around and stuck your clothes to your body. Halfway down the cliff, a chill set in, but you blocked it out as you saw yourself getting closer and closer to the base. Someday, you’d go some place warm, you promised yourself.

Gently landing on top of the base, you walked carefully so as not to slip on the slick, wet, durasteel. You found the access hatch and quietly opened it before slipping into the building to find yourself in another ventilation system.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling about how you always found yourself in ventilation ducts and how the Imperials are bad at security as you started to crawl along.

Eventually, you came to a deserted hall and decided to drop down. Now you understood.

You understood why the base was hidden so well.

It was because of what the base was.

It was a lab.

Looking around, you saw odd animals you’d never seen before. In cages there were hybrids that were so unnatural that their mere existence pained them, the feeling radiating off them in waves. With horror, the truth hit you like a ton of durasteel. These were experiments. Unethical experiments where the Imperials were so caught up on whether or not they could do it, that they didn’t ask whether or not they should. These were the workings of a being with no moral compass. 

You bit your lip as you continued on your way, sick to your stomach. That was when you heard a small noise.

It sounded like crying.

Following the noise, you found yourself looking into a dark cell. There was a balled shadow figure on the ground cradling something- no, someone- to its chest. The crouched figure looked up at you, a spark of recognition in their eyes.

“J-Jedi?” the figure whimpered.

You knew that voice.

It was a voice you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Gavyn?” you asked, quickly working at the door to free him. “Gavyn, what have they done to you?”

“O-oon’sara’s dead,” he sobbed, holding her limp body to his chest. “When we fled with the Wookies, they destroyed our hyperdrive so we couldn’t jump. The Empire assumed Chitca was an escaped prisoner and took her back to the base.”

“How did you get here?” you asked, gently extracting his fallen crew mate from his arms.

“Tarkin,” he whispered. “When we were brought aboard, he said that he might as well find a use for the ‘rebel scum.’”

“What use?” you asked, but you were afraid of the answer. “Gavyn, we’ve got to get out of here.

“No,” he said adamantly, pushing you out of the cell and into the light. “I’m too- I’m too damaged.”

“Gavyn, you’re not making sense!” you said as you held his arms.

He finally stepped into the light and you understood. Gavyn wasn’t the same. He had burns all over his body that looked like he had been marred with pocks. Hesitantly, you reached up to touch hardware that had been wired into his head.

“They did this to you?” you asked, eyes welling with tears.

“They wanted to know what we knew,” he replied like it made sense. “To take the information for their own use.”

Your eyes widened in horror, “Did they get it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “During implantation, they botched it and ended up destroying the memory. I think it was done on purpose. There are some sympathetic to our cause here.”

“Gavyn, anyone who would do this to another being is not sympathetic,” you said in disgust.

“This isn’t the real reason for the base,” he murmured. “They’re building a super weapon. The likes of which haven’t been seen before. They want to destroy whole planets.”

“That’s not possible,” you said, shaking your head in denial.

“That’s what the small scale experiments are for. They’re trying to perfect a smaller version of the ray gun before they start working on a larger one,” he explained. 

“What do they consider a successful test?” you asked in horror.

“One that disintegrates the target. Or at least part of it,” he said, holding up his hand. He was missing a finger.

You heard footsteps marching towards the corridor.

“I’m getting you out of here,” you said as you started towards the door.

“No. I’ll never make it out. I’ll only slow you down,” he said seriously.

“Then we’ll fight,” you said, taking your lightsaber from your side.

“Go and leave me,” he said adamantly.

“If I leave you here, they’ll torture you,” you said, feeling hot tears stream down your face. You knew what he would ask next, but force, did you wish you didn’t. A pit formed in your stomach.

“Kill me,” he said sadly.

“Jedi don’t kill needlessly,” you said adamantly.

“It’s not needless. It’s mercy. Please, Jedi. I’m begging you,” he said, grabbing your hand with your weapon and aiming it towards his chest.

The footsteps got closer. 

You closed your eyes tight, listening to the sound of your saber ignite. 

His body was heavy against yours as his head fell against your shoulder.

“Thank... you,” he murmured into you.

Gently, you lowered him to the ground, closing his eyes. You looked down at the weapon in your hand, and then at your fallen crew. The Empire had done this. They had caused this pain. The pit in your stomach started to boil. Your skin felt hot and started to flush as the footsteps got closer. The troopers rounded the corner and you unleashed a battle cry of hurt and rage before you began to slice your way through them and towards the room where the scientists worked. 

They raised their unarmed hands to the ceiling and begged for mercy, but you didn’t listen. You prepared to cut them down, not paying attention to the body count as you stepped over your fallen foes.

“Mercy? Like the kind of mercy you showed my friends?” you asked in your rage. “You don’t deserve mercy!”

You made quick work of the scientists before going onto the command deck.

Your chest heaved as you stood off against the last crew member alive, some captain or admiral. You didn’t care enough to bother with rank. Dropping your saber to your side, your other hand came up and reach out before clenching into a fist. The man clawed at his throat as his feet dangled inches above the floor.

“Tell me about this weapon,” you demanded. You released just enough for him to answer.

“I-it’s a planet destroyer. The Death Star. Moff Tarkin is in charge of the project.”

“And Vader?” you asked.

“Wants nothing to do with it! He’s only involved because the Emperor makes him be,” they gasped.

“Were you aware of the experiments on living beings?” you asked incredulously.

“It was in the name of progress!”

You tightened your grip.

“Where is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Moff Tarkin is on the Carrion Spike,” he gasped.

“Try again.”

“V-Vader?” he asked, wide eyed. “He’s on Mustafar. Y-you’re h-hunting the Sith Lord?”

You raised a brow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. You clenched your fist before turning on your heel. A thud could be heard behind you.

“I’m a Jedi. Sith Lords are our specialty,” you huffed as you put your saber back on its clip. You wouldn’t be needing it anymore right now.

Your footsteps echoed through the building as you made your way out to the landing deck.

“Artoo, can you pick me up?”

The droid beeped emphatically.

“No, it’s safe. Trust me. We won’t have any issues,” you said darkly as you walked out onto the landing platform.

Wind whipped your cloak behind you, exposing your face to the weather. The rain poured harder, chilling you to the bone. There was a wild fire in your eyes as you took in the storm around you. Closing your eyes and exhaling, a slight puff of air formed in front of your lips as the world melted away. The storm didn’t bother you anymore because you were the storm.

Artoo pulled the ship up and landed next to you. Your steps were measured as you made your way to the ship. 

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, you were silent as you pulled up into the updraft, surging towards the upper atmosphere. 

Your little droid cautiously rolled next to you as you started to set the navigational system.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“That’s where they said he is,” you replied with resolve as you punched the ship into hyperspace.

Artoo slowly rolled away from you, but you didn’t notice. You were too lost in your own thoughts.

After all these years, you’d finally have him. You’d have your chance to avenge the Order, to avenge the countless lives that died by his hand, to avenge Anakin. You’d be the one to tame the beast.

A flash of a smile broke through your thoughts. His smile. Anakin’s smile that Vader wore on his face, a mocking mask. The smile that had the power to restore the sun to the sky and warm your heart on the coldest night. Vader didn’t deserve that smile. But, a part of you had to wonder if the beast that was Vader was always inside of Anakin all along, if he had just released what was already his inner truth, or if it were like the old proverb about Loth wolves. There were two in every man, one good, one bad, and the one who is in control is the one you feed. Did that mean that Vader and Anakin were the same?

You were shivering, but you hadn’t noticed. Not until Artoo gave up on distancing himself to place a blanket in your lap. 

“I loved him,” you admitted. You chewed your cheek for a moment, tears unshed. “He was my hero, and now he’s my enemy.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. 

Artoo emitted soft beeps.

“I know,” you murmured. “You loved him, too. That’s why you understand. Letting Vader live would be a foolish decision based off hope. Hope that he could come back. Hope that Anakin is still in there.” You swiped your face. “We both know he’s not. If we really loved Anakin, then we’d set him free.”

Artoo turned his head away from you.

You were resigned to the fact that this was your fate. Yours and his were always intertwined. The Force had made it so. You knew about all he was, and yet, you still admired him. You still loved him. It was the beast on exhibit that you watched with admiration. It was the natural predator you watched with awe that escaped and was wreaking havoc. It was the inexplicable pull to want what you shouldn’t have. The need to test fate to see if he’d destroy you, too, but the knowledge to know that if you got the chance, you should destroy him first for the good of the galaxy. 

Mustafar came into view, and you let out a slight sigh. Finally, a warm planet. 

Artoo rattled beside you, photoreceptor locked in on the planet as it came further and further into view.

As you got closer, you noticed him staring at you.

“What is it?” you asked, not turning to look at him.

He beeped sadly, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

You took the ship in for a landing, finding a landing platform to a fortress left unguarded. “He’s in there. I can feel it.”

Getting up, you peeled off your rain gear and grabbed your saber before heading towards the door.

Reaching up his arm, Artoo grabbed ahold of your shirt.

“Artoo, let go,” you said in slight annoyance.

He started to roll back to pull you into the ship.

“Artoo!” you exclaimed. “Stop!”

The droid stopped and looked down. He let go.

You took a knee in front of him, a glint in your eye. Placing your hand on his dome, you looked at him seriously. “Artoo, I have to do this. It’s the will of the force. If...” you trailed off with a sigh. “If I don’t come back within a standard hour, leave without me.”

Artoo affectionately bumped you. 

“May the force be with you, too, little droid,” you said with a lopsided smile before heading down the ramp.

Artoo rolled out to the top of the ramp to watch you disappear into the fortress. He hated it here. Mustafar. He’d lost too many Masters here.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy doors into the fortress. It was dark, with obsidian walls and floors that echoed your steps down the long hall. The magma through the viewports cast the fortress in an eerie glow. Your hand clenched the hilt of your lightsaber as you made your way down the hall. It was unnerving, hearing only the sounds of yourself amongst the silence. 

Crossing through a threshold, you saw ornate sconces lining the walls of a throne room. There, seated on a throne of stone was Vader.

An amused smile settled onto his face as he took in your presence. His eyes trailed your body as his gaze turned from amusement to appreciation. You knew you had to look like a hot mess, yet he still regarded you as if you were the most attractive being in the galaxy. 

“I was wrong to underestimate you, Padawan,” he smirked, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “So you’ve come here to kill me?”

You ignited your saber, feeling your face heat up. It’s surely from the heat outside, though, you reassured yourself. It certainly wasn’t from the man who’s presence washed over you even from meters away, threatening to sweep you off your feet.

“Fight me,” you said with your teeth bared, “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

His grin widened as he got up from his throne, leaving his cloak behind on the seat. He didn’t need it. His broad shoulders casted a shadow longer than the fabric did, anyway. “Oh, won’t you? I’ve been following your trail of destruction with great interest, little lamb.”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat.

“Of course not. You’re not a lamb anymore, are you?” he purred as he reached forward to drag a gloved finger down your cheek to your chin, hooking it under to look in your eyes. His pupils dilated as he took in your gaze. “No, you’ve become the hunter now.”

Vader stepped back and held his arms open towards you. “Do it. Strike me down.”

“I told you,” you repeated. “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

“But, you already have,” he grinned. “Those platoons? Your missions in the outer rim for that band of rebels you call friends? Your little show of power on Mygeeto?” His voice dropped lower as his gaze turned serious. “Eadu.”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, but your voice was shaking. “That was for the rebellion. It was justice. I am working towards freedom! Towards peace for all those families that the Empire has destroyed!”

“Did those men not have families? Did some of them even want to be there? Or were they just pawns in the greater scheme of things?” he asked with a raised brow. “I’m sure you of all people know what that feels like.”

His words stung, but the truth cut deep, like shrapnel from a bomb that you weren’t aware you were standing next to. You let your saber fall to your side, aimed at the ground.

Vader walked towards a wall of mirrors across the room that reflected the light from the lava. With the bend of his fingers towards his palm, your feet slid across the smooth stone floor until you stood next to him. His figure towered over you.

“Look in the mirror, little beast. Tell me, what do you see? Is it still you, or is it me?” he purred.

You looked at the reflections of the two of you. He was devoid of color. Devoid of life. A shadow in the night. You looked like a smuggler. A criminal. That was still a far cry from the truth, but it wasn’t hard for you to answer his question. “I’m nothing like you,” you ground out.

“Oh?” he asked softly, pushing you closer to the mirror. His hands rested on your shoulders as he forced you to look into your face. His lips grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Look again. Do you see it?”

Your mouth fell open as you noticed it, finally. All those glints over the course of months. The specks of gold that flickered in and out of your reflections had come to stay. Your eyes were no longer your own. They were just like his. A prickle of fear started to turn your blood cold, but not at the knowledge that your actions had done this. No, you felt fear at the fact that you wouldn’t take any of it back even if you could, because they had made you stronger, and you liked being strong.

“You are magnificent,” Vader breathed. “Ruthless. Passionate. Powerful.”

His eyes met yours in the mirror and for once you didn’t see anger or hatred. You saw admiration. Want. And it shook you to your core.

“No,” you said softly, trying to hold onto the teachings of your Master, but you could no longer recall their words of wisdom.

“Embrace the darkness,” he said emphatically, hands tightening on your shoulders. His words grew frantic as his hands slid down your arms to your wrists. “I will help you see that you could be limitless, fearless, if you follow me.” His voice grew softer as his nose dragged up your neck. “You’ve already had a taste of what you could have. You felt it on Eadu, didn’t you? Wasn’t it worth it?”

You shook him off and stepped away, rubbing your wrists where his residual warmth was. Eadu was wrong, but it felt so right. Your blade had decimated, but never had you felt more powerful, more in tune with the force. The force was lightning, and you were its rod, directing its fury onto the deserving who would subvert morality for their own gain.

“Are you still going to kill me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you said dejectedly as you looked at the saber in your hand. It felt heavier than before. You couldn’t kill him. Not now. Not when you were the same.

“Don’t you see?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. “We are the lions in a world of lambs. We are the predators-the hunters. We don’t have to hide. You don’t have to hide. Not anymore. Join me.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment before you caught yourself and pushed his hand away. 

Slowly, he started to circle you, but you didn’t feel like his prey. You felt like his equal. You didn’t cower. When he noticed you weren’t afraid, he came to a stop in front of you.

“Do you feel the hunger for more? More than a Jedi should? You could feel everything. You wouldn’t need to restrain yourself to the rules of a fallen order that left you to die alone. With power like yours, we could be unstoppable. We could rule- together,” Vader pleaded as he held his hand out to you.

“I thought the Emperor was your Master. There can only be two,” you murmured.

“Your point?” he asked as his eyes softened. 

You took a step towards him.

His lip pulled up slightly at the corner.

As you locked eyes, you felt your heart slow to a steady rhythm. This was the most peace you’d felt in months. Here you were on equal footing- for now. Here you were no longer a Padawan. Here you were no longer a Jedi. You were just you, and that’s how he saw you. It was just like when you’d first met Anakin Skywalker. While others saw a lowly Padawan, he hadn’t seen rank. He’d seen you. And now... now you truly saw him. You saw a man who was willing to topple everything he knew for you. You saw a man who wasn’t afraid to feel. You saw a man that had taught you to not be ashamed to feel. Most of all, you saw a man you had never stopped loving.

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

Decision made.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. Your other hand came up to cup his face.

His smile turned genuine as he covered your hand with his.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his lips. He started to kiss back as your eyes fluttered closed.

And then you pushed him down to his knees.

Finally, you were free.

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe.                   Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

[buckleysjareau]

you feel like the sun on my face

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile.

or

Eddie's view on Buck's Wikipedia spirals and the beginning of the brilliant idea it inspires.

part 1/3 in my series ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place on ao3

cw; non-graphic description of anxiety, scary facts about tsunamis (they’re freaky so this is just to be safe)

-

One thing Eddie noticed about Buck in the time they’d become friends was that Buck loved to research. He was full of obscure knowledge and useless academic insight and he never let people forget that. 

The longer they were friends, the more Eddie realized it was used as a coping mechanism. After bad calls, he’d sit on his laptop and fall down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that, according to Buck, is extremely difficult to get out of. 

After the train derailment, and as Buck put it ever so dramatically, the derailment of his sanity, he’d taken Buck back to his house. After the exhausting night they had, he figured Buck would fall right to sleep as soon as he hit the couch. He offered his bed, they were two adults, they didn’t have to make sharing a bed weird; but no, Buck insisted he sleep on the couch. 

Which would have been fine with Eddie if Buck had actually slept. 

“How did you know my laptop password?” He snorts when he realizes Buck is using his laptop. 

When Buck turns to look at him with a smirk, Eddie’s eyes widen as he notices Buck’s bloodshot eyes and the bags under them. “Chris’ birthday, dude? Really?” 

“Have you slept a wink?” He leans up against the wall, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. 

“Probably not.” He shrugs. “Too busy reading about the evolution of cameras.”

“The what?” Eddie’s mouth drops. “Why would you need to know about the evolution of cameras? And why my laptop? Don’t you have a phone?”

“Why wouldn’t I need to know about the evolution of cameras? The history of the camera began even before the introduction of photography. It evolved from the camera obscura through so many generations of photographic technology like daguerreotypes, calotypes, dry plates, and film. Now we’ve got cameras on our phones, and not to mention cameras and phones didn’t used to exist, which is crazy.” Buck sounded exhausted but enthused at the same time and Eddie curses himself for finding his coping mechanism adorable. “Speaking of phones, to answer your question, it died somewhere around three.”

Eddie nods. “So that’s why Maddie’s called me six times.”

Buck looks at him sheepishly. “Sorry?”

The next time Eddie catches him during one of his Wikipedia binges, it happens a month after they get together. 

During family dinner at the station, Bobby mentioned that Harry begged to have a beach day and proceeded to invite the rest of the one-eighteen on their next day off. Eddie looked over to his boyfriend at the mention of it but Buck wasn’t showing any signs that he wasn’t okay with going. 

But he was always good at putting on a mask. Spectacularly good at it.

When he wakes up on the day they’re supposed to go, he sends Buck a quick text before he goes about his usual routine. He gets Chris up, brushes his teeth, attempts to make a nice breakfast for them, and gets Christopher ready for the day. 

When Buck doesn’t text him back by the time he checks his phone again, he starts to worry. He feels foolish for worrying about not getting a text back, especially when it’s possible that Buck could be going through his morning routine as well, but his reason for worrying is justified. 

He gives it another hour before he stops torturing himself waiting for Buck to call or text just to let him know he is on his way.

“Chris, buddy, change of plans! We’re gonna pick up Buck on the way.” 

“I thought he was picking us up?” 

Eddie smiles through his worry. “I think he overslept, bud. We’re gonna go wake him up.”

Christopher grins. “Surprise attack?”

Eddie snorts. “Surprise attack.” 

He lets himself in with his key after knocking fails to work. He automatically sees Buck slumped over the island in his kitchen, just barely sitting on the white stool. His laptop is open and next to it, Buck is dozed off. 

Eddie squints to see where Buck landed in his Wikipedia spiral and when he sees what it is, his heart squeezes in his chest.

The tsunami with the highest runup was the 1958 Lituya Bay megatsunami, which had a record height of 524 m (1,719 ft).

He skims through enough of the page to know he’s looking through Wikipedia’s page on tsunamis. He looks at the top to see the tabs he has open which only makes him feel worse.

How To Survive a Tsunami, According to Science

2019 Santa Monica Tsunami

Tsunamis In History

Dealing with Aquaphobia

There’s a lot of tabs open and all of them have to do with tsunamis. He knew this would be upsetting for him, he knew Buck was pushing his limits by even saying yes to going. He should have seen this coming.

“Hey, buddy, I’m gonna wake up Buck and we’re gonna have a little talk. Do you mind going to the couch? I’ll put the T.V. on once he’s awake, yeah?” 

“Is Bucky okay?”

 “Do you remember how nervous you were to go back to the beach after the tsunami? I think he’s going through the same thing right now, but he’ll be just fine. You know why?”

“Because he has us?” 

“Because he has us.” Eddie smiles softly. 

Once he gets Chris set up on the couch, he quietly walks over to where Buck is still drooling onto the island. He can’t stop the snort that escapes him. He reaches over to his shoulder and shakes gently, realizing how deep in sleep he is when that doesn’t wake up. He shakes his shoulder a little harder.

“Buck, hey, honey… wake up.” 

That does the trick. Buck bolts upright too fast, falling completely off of the island stool and just misses completely hitting the floor when Eddie catches him with two arms. 

Buck’s eyes widen at the sight of Eddie. “Eddie? Shit, what time is it?”

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just passed twelve.”

“Shit, Eds, we’re late! I’m so sorry, dude. Give me-”

Eddie stops him from frantically running to get ready by tightening his grip on Buck’s shoulders. “Slow your roll, babe.  I think we should talk first.” 

He feels Buck’s entire body tense at those words. “Talk about what?”

Eddie ducks down to get Buck to meet his eyes, smiling softly when he does to hopefully ease whatever spiraling thoughts going through his head. “Have you been anywhere near the beach since the tsunami?”

Buck looked unsettled, almost embarrassed as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Eddie sucks in a breath. “Buck, it’s been over a year…” 

“I know, I know, I’m pathetic. It’s just-”

“You’re not pathetic, babe. After what you went through out there, no one could ever blame you for not wanting to go. Clearly this whole day out has you on edge if your searches have anything to say, so why did you say yes?”

“I can’t avoid it forever, Eds.” Eddie’s heart cracks along with Buck’s voice.

“No, you can’t. But you have me, Buck, you didn’t have to deal with all of this anxiety alone…”

“I just… hate that I’m a grown man that cowers at even the thought of going near open water. This is something that I should just be able to do without someone holding my hand.” He swallows. “I said yes because I thought I would be ready. I guess there really is no ready, though, is there? I’m always just going to be like this.”

Eddie frowns. “Trauma knows no age, you know that. You went through a trauma and being scared does not make you less of an adult, doesn’t make you a coward. Let me tell you this. I wasn’t ready in any way, shape, or form to be a dad when Christopher was born, but the second I got over the initial terror that I’d fuck it all up, being that wonderful kid’s dad in end of that fear was pretty damn rewarding. So, what I’m trying to say is, we don’t have to go, we can just sit here the whole day and play video games and stuff our faces. But, really the only way to conquer a fear is to face it, right? I’ll be right by your side the entire time, we only have to go as far as you can make yourself.”

“And I’ll be there!” Christopher shouts from the couch and Buck’s face lights up as his eyes fill with new tears. 

“Superman!” 

Eddie can’t stop the enormous grin that comes from the sight of his son and his boyfriend meeting for a hug in the middle for a room. Buck is kneeling down to Christopher’s height and has his arms tightly wrapped around him. 

“I was scared the first time at the beach too, but I was okay because I had my dad. You’ll have both of us, Bucky. It’s going to be okay, kid.” Eddie watches through his own tears as Buck’s shoulders shake with sobs. 

“You’re such a good kid, buddy, you know that?” Buck is gleaming and though filled with tears, his eyes are full of love. 

“Please don’t leave my side,” Buck’s plea is desperate but Eddie wants to laugh.

“Never.”

Buck never stops shaking the entire drive to the beach. 

“A tsunami can travel at 500 miles an hour, a wall of water can travel at you full force until it hits.” He’s whispering so he can’t scare Christopher but it does nothing to help himself. 

“Buck…”

“If a large magnitude earthquake hit Alaska, it could trigger a tsunami in California. An earthquake can happen 2,000 miles away and cause 700 million dollars worth of property damage, not to mention the death toll that would cause.”

Eddie tries to stop him another time, but only gets cut off by another fact about tsunamis. 

“A smaller tsunami could be triggered by an offshore earthquake and we’d only have ten minutes to evacuate and that’s if we even knew we had to evacuate-”

“Evan, stop. You’re only freaking yourself out more, okay? It’s going to be okay whatever happens. I’m by your side, I have you, baby.” 

Eddie feels like he’s in Heaven just watching Buck blush and look down at the pet name, but then the tiny smile drops and he looks away.

He’s quiet after that but Eddie can feel the car vibrate even after it’s turned off with the force of Buck’s shaking. “You ready?”

Buck’s eyes squeeze shut the second his eyes see the ocean. “As I’ll ever be.”

The grip Buck has on Eddie’s hand is bordering too tight but he’s walking on the sand and towards where everyone was set up, closer to the water, and he finds himself emotional that Buck has gotten this far. 

“Just keep swimming, Bucky.” Christopher cheers on from next to Eddie. “Just like Dory.”

He’s almost certain he hears a whimper from Buck at the expression. 

“Just like Dory.” Buck repeats. 

The second they reach everyone, Buck spins to face Eddie and quickly pulls him into arms, seeking comfort. He wastes no time in returning the hug, cradles the back of Buck’s head in his hand and uses the other to rub his back. 

“You made it, babe. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.” 

He knows their family is watching, he hears Maddie distantly explain that this is the first time he’s stepped foot on a beach in a year and a half. His only focus is telling his boyfriend how damned proud he is. 

“I love you,” is muffled by Eddie’s shirt but he doesn’t need it to be comprehensible because he feels it loud and clear. 

“Forever.” 

The next time he really thinks of Buck’s obscure knowledge and his coping mechanism, it really comes in handy. 

Eddie felt as though he was vibrating out of his own skin the entire shift. His hands were shaking by the time he finally got home. He finds Christopher asleep in Buck’s arms on the couch. The sight of his favorite people lessens the tightness in his chest in the slightest. 

“Hey, how was work?” Buck whispers when he lays his eyes on him. 

“Nothing too crazy happened, so I guess good.” He shrugs. “Thanks for watching him today, seriously.”

“You okay?” Buck shoots him a look when Eddie goes to lie. “Eds, your hands are shaking. What’s wrong?” 

Eddie sighs. “I just feel… weird.”

“Let me get him to bed seeing as we both fell asleep here and then we can talk, okay? Sit down, take a breath.”

He tears up at the sight of Buck carrying Christopher to bed. He couldn’t believe he found someone that loved his son like their own and he couldn’t believe that person was Buck. His best friend. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

“You seem to be in a good mood,” He tries to get the attention away from himself, even though he knows it’s pointless. After the lawsuit, before they even got together, they both promised to communicate better. They both definitely failed at that far more than they should have, but no one should have expected any less. They were trying, that’s all that mattered.

If they brought a call home with them, they talked it out. 

“What can I say, your kid is a ray of sunshine.” He grins. “Nice try though, Eds. You didn’t let me get away with it last week and your shaking is kind of scaring me. Come sit.”

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile. Eddie lazily threw himself onto the couch next to Buck. 

“What do you want me to even say? It’s not like I brought a call home with me. Nothing bad happened. I’m just, uh, in a mood.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Buck is cupping his face in his hand. The soft concern behind his blue eyes makes more tears build behind his own. 

“Come here,” Buck whispers, guiding Eddie’s head down to where it’s laying just above his heart. “Anxiety?” 

He doesn’t know why that word draws a reaction as strong as sobbing but Buck pointing out it’s not just a weird mood has him breathless and emotional. 

Buck tightens his arms around him. “Hey, take a deep breath with me alright?” 

He nods and takes in a breath just after Buck and to know that he can breathe is enough to calm some of his bubbling anxiety. 

“You hear my heartbeat?” Buck is so unbelievably good at taking care of him when he feels this way. God, how did he get so lucky?

When Eddie nods he feels Buck’s chest rise just a little with quiet laughter. “Did you know you can hear a blue whale’s heartbeat from two miles away?” 

Eddie laughs wetly. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! And even though they’re the biggest animal that’s ever lived on Earth, blue whales feed on krill, they’re like tiny shrimp. They can eat up to 36,000 kilograms of krill a day. Lucky animals.”

This statement has a laugh erupting from him without time to muffle it, a smile spread from ear to ear as he looks up at his boyfriend. 

“There he is!” He smiles down at him before he pecks his lips. “Anyone ever told you how dazzling your smile is, Diaz?”

“Dazzling?” He snorts. 

“It’s one of the many words I would use to describe your smile. Dazzling, shiny, gleaming, beautiful, life ruining, you know.”

The anxiety is slowly leaving his body and it’s filling with love and warmth in its place. He snuggles closer in Buck’s arms and revels in the safety and comfort. 

“You know? I never get to be the little spoon. This is nice.” 

“Now you know how I feel in your arms.”

“Safe? Happy? Warm?”

Buck lips quiver with emotion. His eyes give away love, peace, light. “Yeah, exactly.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes before Eddie’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Hey, Buck?”

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask you something? It’s not a big deal, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.” He continues when Buck hums his response. “The Wikipedia spirals? The random knowledge about blue whales, the evolution of cameras, winning us trivia night at Frisco’s like it’s nothing every week with answers to questions Bobby didn’t even know. You just have a lot of knowledge in that smart brain of yours. Something I adore about you, don’t worry.”

He feels Buck let out a sigh before he snuggles Eddie closer to him, resting his head on top of Eddie’s. 

“It’s just a thing, I guess. Random facts always, uh ground me, when you know-”

“I know.” He assures him.

“Yeah. It’s always been something to cope with anxiety, but it’s also just something that I just do. I like to learn, I like to read about things I didn’t know about before. I like learning for the sake of learning, I guess?”

“You’re so smart, you know? Don’t let anyone make you think differently.”

“You’re so much better than I deserve, please let anyone make you think differently.” 

“Does anyone include you? Because babe? You’re so much better than I deserve but there’s no time for an argument right now.”

Buck yawns loudly. “Says who?”

“Says your sleep schedule. Close your eyes, use me as a pillow, I don’t care. Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Not like I have a choice here, seeing as you’re holding onto me for dear life, but I’ll always be here when you wake up. Now, and every day in the future, okay? Now sleep.”

Buck snorts and mumbles sleepily, “Love you, Eds.”

Jesus, Eddie really wants to marry him. 

“I love you, too, Evan.”

To Hen;

Help me propose to Buck? I need a bunch of Wikipedia knowledge on proposals, marriage, all that good and sappy stuff. I’d ask the Wikipedia king himself, but you know…

From Hen;

WHATYSHDDJKSKJAHDKJDSKFKLK:LDK:K:DKSLDKEIWDJJSKDSKDKSJKDJSJDS

[bow-woahh]

She-Ra Fics Masterlist

(It’s 100% Catradora but hey)

Started: 12/10/19 Last updated: 28/10/20

Multi-chapters:

Catradora —

What drove her insane... (Canon Divergent)(Completed) (4/4)(13k+)(Ao3 only)

There were a lot of things Adora would do that would get to Catra. A lot of things that would make Catra melt inside or combust. Or both. Things that would make her feel this intense feeling in her stomach, these flips, these... butterflies, is what she thought of them as.

Similarly, Adora didn't think she had many weaknesses, but most things Catra would do drove her up the wall. In a good way. In the best way. In a way that made her heart feel like it was about to hop out of her ribcage, that made her feel she was about to faint, from an unfamiliar, yet familiar, dazed dizziness.

Both of them drove each other insane.

Heal me after hurting (Modern AU)(Completed) (3/3)(29k+)(Ao3 only)

A million feelings she’s been fighting off for months threaten to overwhelm her: feelings of deep and utter care; of complete adoration; feelings of hot and harsh hatred; of absolute disdain; and abandonment, definitely abandonment; to confusion, anxiety, all bubbling as she tries to calm herself down; eyes closed, chanting the mantra:

you are in control, you are stronger now.   ___

Catra gets sick and someone unexpected turns up to help.

bloom (just for you) (High School AU)(Ongoing) (8/?)(68k+)(Ao3 only)

She was probably about to tell her to fuck off, though maybe—hopefully—she'd say it nicely. Catra closed her eyes and hoped when she opened them that this whole situation was just a figment of her imagination. Instead, she saw a one word reply. One single word. 

bet.

*

Adora Grayskull is the popular jock, the golden girl, the one that everyone loves. Catra D’riluth is the opposite. Yet despite this, they form an unlikely bond.

One shots:

Catradora —

What (Who) drives her to this? (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Both Catra and Adora are tired. Both Catra and Adora reach a breaking point. Both Catra and Adora need to stop thinking. And when they do what will it drive them to do?

Catra’s Last Day (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has been anticipating this for months now, and now it's finally come - her last day at the Horde.

As the Sun Sets (Canon Compliant - Post S1)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

Watching the sunset was one way to end your day back at the Horde...

damn you, unrequited love (High school AU)(7k+)(Ao3 only)

Unrequited love sucks. That's what both Adora and Catra think.

Don’t sneak into the kitchen (Unless your girlfriend tells you to) (Canon Divergent)(2k+)(Ao3 only)

Catra has a bad habit of getting into mischief and Adora has a bad habit of agreeing to get into mischief with her.

Or

They sneak into a kitchen and make a mess.

As the Petal Falls (Beauty and the Beast AU)(1.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Shadow Weaver comes to kill the beast and take back Adora, who to her knowledge is a hostage there, when she has actually chosen to stay there - with Catra.

If I was perfect (Modern Family AU)(2.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Call it a coincidence, but just as Adora said the word “baby” (for the second time actually), Catra had choked on her own saliva.

How had children not crossed her mind before?

Two Sides Of The Same Coin (Gang AU)(1k+)(Ao3 only)

"Come on, Catra! You know better than to trust the horde!"

"And you know better than to trust the Rebellion!"

"The Horde is manipulating you!"

"At least they don't hide it and do it behind your back!"  

OR AU where the Rebellion is manipulating Adora and she doesn't realise (but Catra does)

I could get used to the sound of her voice (Royalty AU)(3.5k+)(Ao3 only)

Princess Adora was lucky enough for her parents not to marry her to a man. But, Princess Adora didn’t feel lucky in the slightest when she learned her wife to be was a right pain in the backside – or so she thought.

Or

Who knew that all it would take for Princess Adora to fall was her voice?

Fiction will make you think (what if it was real?) (YouTuber AU)(8k+)(Ao3 only)

All of a sudden, a new thought hits her like a train. Why does it matter so much? Image? Catra doesn’t exactly have a good one anyway, and if anything, it would be worse for Adora. But she is already in most of her videos, so clearly Adora doesn’t care either. So what would actually change?

Wait, Catra’s train of thought stops. Why am I thinking about dating Adora anyway?

OR

A YouTuber AU

Perspective (Prison AU)(25.5k+)(Ao3 only)

"Like you caved in Adora, you took the dive, and was it worth it?"

Adora looked at Catra, biting the inside of her cheek.

"I guess not."

Although, Adora couldn't deny that she felt almost lucky to have met someone like Catra, even if it was in here.

OR

Twelve months. Adora had earned herself twelve months in Prison — it was virtually hell on earth. Or it least it should have been, if not for a certain someone.

Sink my teeth to save you (Vampire AU)(1.5k+) — Ao3 link —

“How did...what are you?”

The stranger stroked her chin, pondering something, then said, “Well, I’m the tall dark stranger your parents warned you about," flashing her abnormally sharp fang like teeth, almost in a grin, though it felt more like she was just showing off.

I'll be your crutch to cope (College/Modern AU)(1.5k+) —Ao3 link —

A late night (or early morning) text from Catra’s roommate leads to more than she bargains for.

Do you know any spells to get rid of this thing? (Modern with Magic AU)(2.5k+)—Ao3 link—

“You know, like, spells and stuff, right?” Adora asks, hold a little looser on her wrist.

“Uh...yeah?” Catra replies, baffled.

Or

Catra’s a mage in training and Adora comes to her with a ridiculous request.

Christmas wouldn't be so bad (with you) (Modern Christmas AU)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra wants to reject her responsibilities and problems for one night. Though, she can't avoid the one right in front of her for much longer.

As our differences divide us (Canon Divergent )(3.2k+)—Ao3 link—

Adora believes in the Horde. Catra doesn’t.

Or

An AU where Adora (with the sword) stays with the Horde and Catra leaves for the Rebellion.

Lost my heart (now you've taken it back) (Valentine's AU)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

Catra decides to make her first Valentine's with Adora a memorable experience.

Demons hiding underneath (Modern Gang AU)(3.3k+)—Ao3 link —

She kept plummeting deeper and deeper into the once beautiful blue abyss. And the further down she got, the more Adora realised it was closer to darkness than blue. It seemed she would continue falling, falling into the darkness until—

“Adora?”

—

They may be running away, escaping from their problems, but that doesn’t mean Adora can avoid her own too.

Distressing (over you) (Modern Superhero AU)(3.1k+)(Ao3 only)

Wearing her signature smug smirk, she stood, hands on her hips with a knowing look. Despite how many times she'd seen her in the familiar getup before, it somehow always managed to get her stomach lurching: those thigh highs which somehow weren't impractical; the crimson red suit which clung to her body in all the right places (arguably there were no wrong ones); the black sleeves which came up to cover her hands; and the red mask with pointed ears obscuring her face. However, the blue-gold glow of her eyes was still inexplicably Catra. It still captured her essence. At least to Adora.

things you said with clenched fists (Modern AU)(1.5k+)—Ao3 link—

Alone, at loss for words, but still – I've won and I've lost but I've fell and I've fucked it up

Or

An argument which stems from lies, deception and the past.

things you said when you were drunk (Modern AU)(1.6k+)(Ao3 only)

As Catra took her hand, with her mismatched eyes gleaming, and flashing her pearly white teeth in a grin, the smells, the noises of all the people around them dissolved into nothing more than white noise. 

The aftershock (of your touch) (Modern Soulmates AU)(28k+)(Ao3 only)

“When one finds their soulmate, they don’t immediately know that is the case. Some believe it is a way for the universe, for the great First Ones to test our ability to listen to its calling, to let us steer the wheel to our own fates. Others believe it is an act of cruelty—to try our patience, to punish us for being unable to love without any inhibitions. No matter what one believes, it doesn’t rid us of the fact that finding one's other half does not allow for instant gratification.”

—

Catra, jaded by her past, moves to Bright Moon to start a new life, and finds herself growing increasingly closer to her neighbour, Adora. Initially, she's apprehensive, but no matter what she does, something draws her to the girl, and a revelation causes it to make a lot of sense—and none at all.

all the time in the world (Post-Canon)(1k+)—Ao3 link—

In space, it feels like they have all the time in the world. All the time to relearn the new parts of each other, all the time to indulge the old parts of each other, all the time to simply just be.

You have their attention (and I want yours) (Modern AU - Actors)(1.9k+)—Ao3 link—

It’s all made worse when Catra does look in her direction, searching for none other than Adora’s eyes. She sees her sitting there, seething, and all she does is raise an eyebrow, then after a moment, grin. She can tell. And that only makes Adora more agitated as Catra turns back to the crowd and that girl is practically hanging off her arm. Now, Adora really is contemplating going up there, kissing the smirk of Catra’s face where everyone can see.

a regular customer of mine (Modern AU - Bakery)(3.9k)(Ao3 only)

Catra works at a bakery and Adora comes by every day trying to build up the courage to ask her out (unbeknownst to her).

Headcanons + Shorter Works: 

Catradora —

Fate Only Plays a Part (Canon divergent)(Ao3 only)

Adora finds a wounded and almost lifeless Catra in the woods and decides to bring her back to the castle.

I want to be with you when I grow up (Canon Divergent)(Ao3 only)

They are supposed to be fighting- they should be killing each other.

But they never can. And they never will.

Bad Dreams (Canon Divergent)

She tastes like coffee (Modern AU)

I like me better when I'm with you (Modern AU)

Adora's birthday (Canon Divergent)

The Start of Something Wonderful (Canon Divergent) 

Catradora Summer AU (Modern AU)(Snippet)

things you said when we forgave each other (Post-Canon)(Written before S5)

Reunion (S5 speculation)

[mk-wizard]

Are BW Optimus and Megatron related to their G1 Counterparts? (Part 2)

This is part 2 of this obscure Transformers fan theory. Hence the title, it is an analysis of the mystery on whether or not BW Optimus and Megatron are related to their G1 counterparts. We discussed BW Optimus Primal, now we are looking at BW Megatron compared to G1 Megatron.

Like the two Optimuses, the two Megatrons look similar, but not quite as much. Unlike G1 Megatron who had eyebrows, organic features and his helmet looked like it could come off, BW Megatron looked metallic all the way even when he got his organic alt mode. Moreover, Megatron Rex’s helmet does look like it is a part of his body as his nose is an extension of it, it is skin tight and the Predacon symbol is on it. With that said, other features deviate from each other. G1 Megatron had a muscular body and also seemed to fall into a twisted version of the data body type whereas BW Megatron has a rather “attractive” almost male model body type which is also muscular, but in a more eye pleasing way hinting his body type is that of the doll though he must have been the type to not have hair. More on Transformers body types here.

Also, as discussed in another one of obscure Transformers fan theories which explores the possibility that Megatron from G1 is a mutant, BW Megatron is nothing of the sort. He comes across as a guy who is incredibly confident and vain like a pretty boy and in his defence, by many people’s standards, he is handsome. He has perfectly straight and white teeth, a modelesque body, he’s very tall and he has a smooth voice. With that in mind, it could be that BW Megatron is not a mutant at all which means he is not related to his G1 counterpart. Then again, the mutation can be so watered down in his data that it doesn’t present itself. Moreover, have the mutant hidden somewhere deep into his data would also explain why his organic half began to clash with his technological half in Beast Machines. And like G1 Megatron, BW Megatron was ashamed of this and tried his best to hide it.

Of course, this could also be a case of his own unique data just not being a good mix as it has happened where people who underwent the same “surgery” have had different results from each other. Moreover, it was confirmed that BW Megatron was not even originally named “Megatron” at all and just renamed himself that way because he knew the name carried respect. Also, there was his meeting with Ravage. Initially, Ravage the Decepticon did not show Megatron respect and was even willing to bring him in. It wasn’t until BW Megatron showed him the footage on the golden disk (or what was left of it) that Ravage had a change of heart. Also, it was never stated in that conversation whether BW Megatron was related to the legendary Decepticon. Mind you, they never said he wasn’t either.

We also need to take the Decepticon culture and values into account. Despite their history, Decepticons are not concerned with you are related to. They judge you based on your own merit and respect must always be earned. While it has been confirmed that Predacons were Decepticons that went on to form their own faction, the Predacon faction is very chaotic and disorganised. There are those who follow the Decepticon way, but with democracy, those who follow a new order completely, those shrouded in complete mystery and in the case of BW Megatron, only joined as a means of forming a terrorist group. Note that I am not saying all Decepticons and Predacons are bad. I don’t believe in this status quo as Blackarachnia and Dinobot proved this. Going back to BW Megatron, if he was of G1 Megatron’s lineage, wouldn’t he have most likely fallen into the category of having Decepticons values, but with more modern practices? And wouldn’t they have respected the tradition that only THE Decepticon leader is allowed to pass on the name “Megatron” to the first heir or heiress only? Then again, who is to say that somewhere in the family line, respect for tradition and the Decepticon way didn’t die?

Also, BW Megatron’s motive is power all the way for his own benefit and he not only disregards honour, he is borderline disgusted by it which is a huge contrast to the G1 Megatron whose motive became corrupted, but the end goal was to still to change things for the better and he lived by honour. Yes, I am well aware that this point proves and disproves nothing as personalities are not genetic, but BW Megatron had an awful lot of personal knowledge about the first Megatron and knew how to get people on his side including Decepticons. It could be that he did his research and is just that good of a puppeteer or maybe he was raised with this knowledge and used it like to his own advantage. Also, having a family tie to THE Megatron would still gather some social status and power among both Predacons and Decepticons. It could be how he got Scorponok to be so fiercely loyal to him. Considering it was hinted that things were still bad for Decepticons and Predacons had it worse, it could be that BW Megatron (falsely) promised him and several other Predacons that he would fulfil his ancestor’s dream. If anything, it would also explain why Dinobot who outright HATED the big purple pretty boy went along with it. It is no secret that he wanted better for his people, but unlike Scorponok, he figured out that this Megatron was no Megatron. Note, I will explain more about Dinobot in another article in the future as he has his own obscure theory surrounding him which I confess, I believe to be very likely.

Anyway, back to the mech we’re concentrating on now, after reviewing all of the evidence wish backs up and dismisses the possibility of the Megatron being related... I have to stay that I can’t decide what to believe as both arguments hold equal amount of water. I guess this is a true Transformers mystery than never will be solved.

[artificialqueens]

I Want to Believe (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: A believer and a skeptic shouldn’t work. Everything about them clashes. But somehow Vanessa ‘Spooky’ Mateo and Brooke Lynn Hytes manage just fine. (an X-Files au one shot)

A/N: So this is…something. I honestly don’t know what to call it. It’s not inspired by any specific episode of the X-Files, and you don’t need to be familiar with the show to read this. Thank you Writ for betaing and supporting this, you’re the best. I’d really appreciate any feedback you have!

(Now)

Everything about them clashes, but the most obvious is their desks.

Vanessa’s is messy and haphazard. Week—and maybe even month, by the smell of one—old coffee cups are scattered along the surface and obscuring the lone photo on her desk, drops of coffee sticking to her computer keyboard and staining her stacks of newspaper articles, with quotes circled in frantic red pen. Not an inch is clean, even the drawers covered with taped-up newspaper articles and blurry photos, the insides crammed with handwritten accounts and old books of mythical creatures and her chip stash. Everything is urgent—Vanessa works with a breathless passion that moves into her desk, everything she cares about laid bare on the surface for all to see, with the sense that she was working as fast as she could, wanting to find things (find the truth) before it was too late.

Brooke’s is just like her: neat, sparse, and secretive. She wipes the top down each week with Lysol, getting rid of her own coffee remnants. She keeps all her notes in a fancy leather notebook in handwriting so neat it looks typewritten, all her files in alphabetical order in a folder. There’s nothing personal on the top, save one picture. The bottom drawer is where Brooke really is, hidden behind metal like the real Brooke. That’s where she keeps the Snickers bars she sneaks on the sly, where she keeps the plush kitten keychain she likes to smooth her hands over, even the trashy magazines she pretends not to read. Her dedication is there in the notes and files and endless searching, not stopping until she has answers—answers that usually contradict Vanessa’s. Brooke’s own form of truth, but one no less hard-fought for.

A believer and a skeptic. Everything about them clashes. They shouldn’t work. But considering the lone photo on both their desks is the same photo, of them locked in an embrace, they somehow do work.

—-

Two Years Ago (Then)

Spooky Mateo.

They’re transferring Brooke, and gone are her days of a private office with her own secretary, solving high-profile murder cases late into the night.

No, she’s being led down, down, down, deep into the bowels of the FBI building, through freezing halls and over floors that haven’t seen a mop since the Reagan administration, all to receive her new moldy basement office with a woman who’s the butt of nearly every FBI joke.

Vanessa ‘Spooky’ Mateo, so named because of her fascination with the paranormal, supernatural, and general what-the-fuckeries.

Kids missing with no explanation? Mateo was there, insisting some blurry photo contained a UFO. Weird murders with lots of blood loss? There’s Mateo reading vampire lore from an old book. People acting weird? Alien cult, Mateo would claim, citing some obscure news clipping.

“Here you are,” Ariel says, stopping at a door. “Have fun.” She’s gone with a smirk, and Brooke can just imagine the laughing she’ll do upstairs.

Brooke takes a breath and steps inside. It’s just a temporary reassignment. New policy says Mateo has to have a partner, and Brooke got the shaft. A few months down here, tops, and she’ll be back in her clean office with her personal coffee machine and real cases, not aliens, actually using her former doctor knowledge.

The office smells like wet dog and coffee. There’s an empty desk crammed against the wall that must be Brooke’s, and the other desk—at least Brooke thinks it’s a desk and not an abstract art piece of newspapers and coffee cups—is Mateo’s. She’s currently hovering over a newspaper, pen behind her ear, poking into her wavy brown hair, and another in her hand, scribbling notes in the margins. She’s so focused that Brooke has to clear her throat three times before she snaps up like she got shocked.

“You must be Brooke!” Vanessa jumps out of her chair and runs to Brooke, pumping her hand up and down and forcing Brooke to balance her box of desk stuff single-handedly. She’s kind of cute, now that Brooke sees her up close and not walking the opposite way. Her soft brown eyes are wide and passionate, her teeth dazzling in the dim lights, an oversized wool cardigan pulled over her button-down, no doubt to ward off the chill down here.

“That’s me. And you’re Vanessa.”

“Yep! Here’s your desk.” Vanessa nudges her into the corner. “It’s small down here, but not so bad. It does get cold, though. I have an extra jacket if you need it.”

Brooke nods, loosening her white-knuckle grip on her box and brushing layers of dust off the desk. With a little dusting and polishing, it might not be so bad. Oh, who is she kidding. The computer probably hasn’t been turned on in 20 years and her teeth are practically chattering and her chair is held together with duct tape.

She takes another breath and sits. The chair is actually comfortable, a small beacon of hope in this dungeon. Brooke has a better view of Vanessa’s side of the room, and the papers taped to the wall make her head explode, eyes pulled in fifty directions. Pictures of supposed UFO’s. Articles on disappearances, people sharing their alien abduction stories. Blown-up crop circle designs. Pins in a map signifying something Brooke doesn’t know. And right in the center, a poster proclaiming I Want to Believe.

“Look.” Vanessa’s in front of her desk, hands on her hips, looking like a little kid playing tough. “I know they sent you here to babysit me. I know no one believes me. And I know you can’t wait to get outta here. But give me one case before you judge anything. Just one, okay?”

Brooke thinks. She could refuse, march upstairs and demand her old office back. But something in Vanessa’s voice, or her eyes, fiery with determination, makes Brooke pause, something burning in her stomach. Snap judgments are unwise, she knows that. Working here, she has to think critically, look at all the pieces before she assembles them. And Vanessa did offer her a jacket, a kindness Brooke hasn’t seen from anyone else in this building. Brooke doesn’t want to run upstairs complaining like a little kid, either. Knowing her co-workers, they probably have an office pool going on how long she’ll last, and Brooke wants to prove them wrong, cost them some money.

“All right,” Brooke says. “What have you got?”

—-

(Now)

Their clothes are the same, standard uniform, yet still brimming with their differences.

Vanessa wears her suit exactly as she should, with slight modifications. The jacket comes off at her desk, replaced with a worn cardigan that’s soft and cozy like a blanket. Her top two shirt buttons are usually undone, because she didn’t like the collar squeezing her. You’d never doubt she’s FBI from the proud, brash voice she announces herself with, the way she appears much larger than she is, but Vanessa still keeps her badge in her right waist pocket, easy to whip out and proclaim FBI, like people do on TV. Brooke insists on ironing the suit for her, and Vanessa watches, mesmerized, and Brooke brings out sharp lines in the fabric. Vanessa will usually try it on after she’s done, relishing in the warmth, letting Brooke adjust her sleeves and collar and kiss her hands and neck. She’s happy every time that suit wrinkles because it means ironing day, means Brooke’s kisses.

Brooke wears her suit exactly as she should: perfectly pressed, shirt buttons done all the way up, her shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Her badge is kept in her left breast pocket for easy access, to show people even though her attitude makes it clear she is who she says she is. After years in loose scrubs, she likes the stiffness of the suit, the crisp lines and how it seals her up inside it, feeling safe and important with that suit on. It’s a point of pride for her when she puts it on in the morning. Vanessa’s hands often slip around her chest before she puts her shirt on, clothing Brooke’s bare skin with her warm hands. Vanessa will always say how she loves a woman in a suit, peppering kisses up Brooke’s chest and neck as she buttons the shirt for her. Vanessa’s kisses are another reason she loves the uniform.

—-

(Then)

Vanessa snickers as Brooke grips the door handle.

“Is the big bad agent afraid of my driving?” She teases.

“Not you. Just the road’s so bumpy,” Brooke explains.

It’s true the road is bumpy, flanked by dark woods and endless fields where they’d never find you. They’re past the point of radio signals, to where even Google maps can’t help you if you get lost. There’s a stillness and silence out here she likes, that reminds her of dry, dusty summers as a child, reading about aliens by flashlight.

“You’re not taking me out here to murder me, are you?” Brooke asks feebly.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I was, would I?” Vanessa smiles and to her surprise, Brooke returns it, her face looking like it’s about to crack from the gesture.

Brooke isn’t exactly what Vanessa suspected. Vanessa knows all about her, knows she has a medical degree and was top of her FBI class a year before Vanessa was top of hers. Brooke is good, a rule-follower, but very dedicated. She stays as late as Vanessa to finish a case, genuinely checking on people in the hospital after their case was solved. She’s annoyed with her reassignment, Vanessa can tell, but Brooke is giving her a chance, which is more than she can say of anyone else.

Brooke’s got her nose buried in Vanessa’s notes, biting her lip as she reads. There’s been strange disappearances and reappearances for weeks, with no pattern: a toddler one day, a senior citizen the next, college kids and preteens following. All were gone for a few hours and woke up in their rooms with no memory beyond flashing lights and strange faces—hallmarks of extraterrestrial abductions, things Vanessa’s studied for years. Vanessa hasn’t found any leads, but a woman contacted her, believing she knows where the next disappearance will happen.

Even Vanessa treads lightly with psychics—it’s an easy thing to fake, if you do research or have excellent deduction skills—but the woman’s phone call had been desperate, begging Vanessa to visit before another disappearance happened.

Brooke looks up from the notes. “So,” she begins skeptically, “this woman thinks she knows where the next event will happen?”

“Yes. Says she’s been having visions and realized they matched the disappearances on the news.”

Brooke scoffs.

“Guessing you never had your palm read or anything?” Vanessa asks.

“It’s all fake. They look through your bag or something, or pick something so generic it can’t be wrong.”

Vanessa sighs. Brooke’s not entirely wrong, but with a stubbornness Vanessa might struggle with. She’s not trying to turn Brooke into a full believer like her, but some acknowledgement that weird shit just happens, no explanation, would be nice.

“A lot of them are fake, yeah,” Vanessa admits. “But sometimes they’re not. One time a psychic told me something my mom always says, word for word. There’s no way she could have known. Another told me my notebook was in the fridge, and it was, I dropped it without knowing. And another time—“

“But those are the exceptions,” Brooke insists. “The majority are fake, or just lucky guessers. There’s always a scientific explanation.”

“I’m not saying science is fake and don’t vaccinate your kids, Mary!” Vanessa exclaims to a sheepish chuckle from Brooke. “All I’m saying is that some stuff can’t be explained. It can’t.”

“Yeah, but I can’t write ‘unexplained’ in someone’s report. There has to be something real to write.”

Brooke’s clinging to her orderly worldview, not that Vanessa can blame her for that. Who would question everything that’s so solid and real to them? Brooke’s a hard nut to crack, but Vanessa has a feeling that what’s inside will be worth the effort.

“But you have to admit that unexplained fits sometimes. Weird markings on people’s bodies with no other injuries. Disappearances with no other explanations. Photos of creatures—“

“Those can be faked.”

“But sometimes, Brooke, just sometimes, weird things happen and you can’t explain them.” If she can convince Brooke of this, she’ll consider it a win. Someone to at least try to understand her, to acknowledge that her years of research have merit. This has been her life for years, trying to find proof of what others wouldn’t consider.

“Maybe.”

Vanessa turns into the woman’s driveway so hard Brooke slams against the door.

“Sorry.”

“I’m good,” Brooke says.

Vanessa’s not one for stereotypes, but the cottage before them…well, it could definitely be used as a set for a witch house in some horror movie. Rows of plants curl toward them along the path, ready to pull them into the soil. The circular windows watch them like eyes, following every move. Jagged wooden steps like broken teeth lead up to a crooked, scratched purple door that Vanessa knocks, vowing to show no fear in front of Brooke.

The woman who answers is younger and prettier than Vanessa expected, not a wart or frog or crooked finger in sight.

“Vanessa Mateo, FBI—“

“—Brooke Lynn Hytes, FBI.”

She and Brooke turn to each other, wondering why they didn’t sort out who would speak first.

“First day working together, I see,” the woman says. “I’m Scarlet. Come on in.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke and they step inside.

“Tea?” Scarlet offers. “The water should be ready. I’ve got green tea and berry tea aside, I knew you were coming.”

Brooke stiffens beside her. Vanessa’s favorite is berry tea, and she’s guessing from Brooke’s pale yet composed face that green tea is hers.

She elbows Brooke playfully as they sit.

“Lucky guess,” Brooke whispers.

Scarlet puts the mugs in front of them and fidgets in her seat.

“Is this gonna be like an interrogation?” she asks fearfully.

“No,” Vanessa soothes. “Don’t you worry, you’re not in trouble at all. We just wanna hear about your visions, okay?”

Scarlet nods, and Brooke pulls out her notes.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Brooke says. Her tone is calm and even, not stressing Scarlet, and it’s a point of approval for Brooke in Vanessa’s book. So many people would have demanded answers or spooked Scarlet, but Brooke is surprisingly gentle even if skeptical.

“I’ve always seen stuff,” Scarlet begins. “Knew when my grandma was coming over, knew my birthday present before I opened it. But the last few months I’ve been having these dreams. There’s flashing lights and numbers and these big dark smudges in the sky. I didn’t think anything of it till Yvie–she’s my girlfriend–had the news on, and the house number where one of the disappearances happened matched a number in my dream. And they’ve all matched since then. Except one. The most recent one. I think it’s where the next disappearance is gonna be, and it’s tonight. I can feel it.”

The only sound is the scratching of Brooke’s pen. Vanessa is riveted in her seat. Flashing lights and dark smudges are very promising signs, a hint that this is beyond the natural world, like she thought.

“What’s the number?” Vanessa asks.

“256. It’s a green house with white shutters. Morning-something Lane is the street name. That’s all I saw.” She pauses, looks at them in concern. “Will that help?”

“It helps a lot,” Vanessa assures her, and it does. They have the day to find this house, and with Scarlet’s tip, it shouldn’t be so hard. They can stop another person from disappearing, and there’s a new spring in Vanessa’s step as they thank Scarlet and head outside.

“So,” Brooke prompts.

“So.” Vanessa’s not going to gloat about Scarlet, but she’s not giving an inch either.

Brooke sighs. “Well, we need to find the house and get the people out. Tell them there’s a gas leak or something so they’ll listen. Problem solved.”

Vanessa nods, because that was her plan too. Except for one thing. “Well…”

“Well what?” Brooke demands, and the tiny crease in her forehead is almost cute, proves that her perfect face is very human.

“Get the people out, yes. But I want to watch the house tonight. I want to see if anything happens. And I want you to come with me.”

—-

(Now)

Bedtime is Vanessa’s favorite thing with Brooke. It was something they used to do differently, something Brooke changed to help Vanessa sleep better. Vanessa used to hate sleeping, would bury herself in work until she passed out at the kitchen table. She’s always afraid of the dreams. Dreams of all the things that happened when she was little, crying into her blankets because no one believed her. She burrows into the mattress when she sleeps, blankets snug around her like it will keep the dreams from exploding out. With Brooke, she doesn’t have to be scared. She snuggles against Brooke, Brooke’s arm secure around her, holding her down. When she does have the dreams, when she mumbles into her pillow and cries out in her sleep, Brooke is there, gently kissing the back of her neck and telling her it’s all okay, she’s there and won’t let anything hurt her. She’s never slept as well as she does with Brooke.

Brooke was never one for sharing a bed. She liked to sprawl out on her mattress, tug all the blankets over her, roll over and not have to worry about hitting anyone. She could sleep with files and notes littering the sheets and no one would care. But with Vanessa, bedtime has become something special. Brooke sprays their pillows with a calming lavender spray she thought might help Vanessa sleep. She usually tucks Vanessa in and then slips behind her, holding her close. Brooke never craved another person against her chest while she sleeps, but she can’t imagine sleeping without Vanessa there now. And when Vanessa thrashes against her, whimpering in her sleep, Brooke does all she can to keep Vanessa together and calm her down. She’s never slept as well as she does with Vanessa.

—

(Then)

256 Morning Bird Lane is in the middle of nowhere, because of course it is.

“Can’t these aliens ever land in a city?” Brooke complains. “At least near a freaking grocery store or some sign of civilization.”

The emptiness is making her uneasy. She and Vanessa are parked in some lot across the street from the house, and there is literally nothing for miles. Brooke’s a city girl. She likes trying new restaurants every week and having hundreds of grocery stores to choose from and never being far from a hospital should disaster strike. She likes knowing there are people around, even if she appreciates the anonymity from those people that a large city grants her. Sure, people suck when they smash into her on the subway during her commute or hold up the line arguing over coupons, but at least they were there. There’s nothing like that here, no glow of city lights or hum of cars, no knowledge that people are nearby, living lives as complicated as yours. There’s nothing but trees and darkness and silence, and the hair on Brooke’s neck is standing up at the thought. She’s grateful Vanessa is here with her, to save her from the abyss of silent solitude.

“So you do think it’s aliens,” Vanessa challenges.

“Absolutely not. I don’t care if Jabba the fucking Hutt himself drops out of the sky. I just can’t wait to get out of here.”

Vanessa shrugs. “We lived out in the country when I was little before we moved. It’s not so bad. And I brought snacks if you’re hungry, y’know.”

“I’m fin–are those Snickers?”

“Yeah.”

Brooke reaches in Vanessa’s bag and pulls one out, letting chocolate and peanuts fill her mouth. At least she has candy, a reminder of the city vending machines and check-out counters that await her.

“Scarlet told me they’re your favorite.”

Brooke’s heart stops. “You’re shitting me.”

Vanessa tries to keep a straight face, but she caves with a mighty laugh. “Yeah, I’m kidding. I just grabbed ‘em because they’re my favorite too.”

“Oh.” Snickers are Vanessa’s favorite candy. It’s a pointless fact, no value in knowing it. But it feels important to Brooke somehow, like it’s a part of Vanessa uncovered. What is a person, really, other than a collection of things they love? Christ, this middle-of-nowhere shit is making her philosophical. Soon she’ll notice how gorgeous Vanessa looks in the moonlight.

They eat their candy and lapse into silence.

“What made you join the bureau?” Vanessa asks.

“I started doing medical consulting with them a few years ago. Then the bureau offered me a full position, working cases and helping with the medical stuff. Said they’d pay off my med school loans and my bureau training fees, and I was in so much debt after med school it seemed like a good idea.”

She’s always wanted to help people. Brooke had gone into medicine for that reason, to help people and give them better lives. An old mentor of hers from med school recommended Brooke as an FBI consultant, and she answered questions about murders and injuries for stony-faced, black-suited agents. She couldn’t help but hope they’d show up every day, bring her a big case to help with, bring a killer to justice and prevent more people from being hurt. Bring her excitement she didn’t know she was missing. Her life as a doctor wasn’t boring, but when she heard the FBI was coming it gave her a thrill like nothing else. When they offered her the job, she realized all she wanted was to be part of that world, to be one of them instead of their consultant.

She doesn’t tell any of this to Vanessa, though. What’s the point? This should just be a few months of partnership. No need to bare her soul to Spooky Mateo.

She’s not quite as spooky as Brooke thought, though. She’s almost sweet, soothing Scarlet and packing stakeout snacks. There’s a bravery in her, the way she marched up to Scarlet’s house without an ounce of fear. Vanessa’s a fighter, Brooke can see all the traits she herself carries present in Vanessa, in her determination to keep going and boldness to just go after what she wants because there’s no other way she’ll get it.

“Well, I’m glad you joined,” Vanessa says. “It’s kinda nice to have you here.”

“Just kinda nice?” Brooke teases.

“Yeah.”

Brooke snorts against her will. “How did you join the FBI?”

Vanessa smirks. “You wondering how Spooky Mateo ended up here, aren’t ya?”

“Maybe a little.” Brooke’s grateful the darkness hides her burning cheeks.

“I don’t blame you.” Vanessa shrugs. “I just wanted to help people, really. People who don’t get listened to.” She takes a breath. “When I was little, weird shit always happened. Flashing lights and dark things in the sky. Weird shadows in my room. Sometimes my toys would move around on the shelves. One night I swear I saw some sort of creature. Something not natural. Everyone said it was my imagination, but it was real. My parents dragged me to all these doctors, and eventually they decided moving to the city might help. The things stopped happening after that, but I never forgot them. And that’s what I wanted to investigate. Stuff you couldn’t explain.”

She really does believe what she’s saying. Brooke’s interviewed enough people to recognize honesty. But can Brooke believe her? Her rational side kicks in. Boredom in the country could have caused Vanessa’s overactive imagination, which calmed down with the city’s stimulation. It makes sense. But Vanessa shaped her entire life and career around those events. She wants to find the truth, and Brooke respects her for it, even if that truth isn’t hers.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Vanessa says. “But that’s why.”

“I–” Brooke freezes when the time on the car dash crosses her vision. It can’t be right, it can’t be. She checks her watch. No no no. “Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

“The last time I checked the clock, it was 10:51. I know it.” Brooke swallows hard and points to the time now.

10:43.

“Shit,” Vanessa breathes.

Brooke blinks, and the time flickers to 10:51. Maybe it was her imagination–there’s a sudden gust of wind, enough to make the car shake. The dashboard lights blink on and off, the car headlights throwing light all over then fading into darkness.

“Vanessa!” Brooke yells over the howling wind, but no answer. Brooke closes her eyes against the blinding lights, can’t see Vanessa beside her.

The radio switches on despite having no signal, classic rock and then pop and then something unintelligible blasting through the speakers and rattling the windows. The bottles in the cupholder shake in place, liquids bouncing all over the plastic. There’s a loud whirring sound above them, a black shape blocking out the moon and throwing beams of light that bounce off the house across the street before vanishing all at once.

The clock changes to 10:52.

Brooke’s chest burns as she takes her first breath in she doesn’t know how long. Her knees are up against her chest to protect her, and her sweaty, tense hand is currently being squeezed by Vanessa, who is in the middle console of the car, half-in Brooke’s lap. Vanessa’s hand is soft and warm, her body solid and soothing against her, and Brooke is almost sad when she lets go and shifts into the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck was that?” Brooke demands, still trying to get her breathing under control.

“I don’t–” Vanessa’s chest heaves as she draws in air “–I don’t know. But it had to be the cause of the disappearances. Just like Scarlet said. Some kind of space–”

“Don’t say spaceship.” Brooke’s rational brain churns to life, trying to turn what she’s seen into something real, something concrete and logical. Something that makes sense. “It was–it was probably a helicopter.”

“That was no fucking helicopter and you know it! Electrical disturbances, time malfunctioning, they’re all signs of extraterrestrial activity.”

“No, okay? No! There’s some logical explanation, and that was not some alien ship here to abduct someone.”

“I was right! You know I am!”

Vanessa takes a breath, and the silence fills the car to bursting. Brooke can’t do this anymore. Her mind is reeling and the argument is taking more energy than she has.

“Look, can we just go? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Brooke’s voice comes out smaller than she intends, and it softens the anger on Vanessa’s face.

“Yeah,” Vanessa agrees. “Let’s go.”

Vanessa reaches into the cupholder for her drink at the same time as Brooke and their heads smack into each other.

“Ow, shit!”

“What the hell kind of blockhead you got?”

The next thing Brooke knows, they’re laughing. Laughing to stay sane after what happened, to cling to each other, to go back to normal, even if that normal may not fit Brooke’s definition anymore. It’s the perfect thing to break the tension, and when Brooke locks eyes with Vanessa, the brown wide and soft before her, she wonders if this was meant to happen. If there is something beyond this universe, something bringing them together.

“What did you say before? About unexplained stuff?”

“Sometimes things just happen and you can’t explain them.”

“Yeah,” Brooke says.

And then they’re both leaning in, and the kiss defies explanation. Brooke’s lips melt against Vanessa’s, their hearts still racing and speeding up even more at their touches. Brooke rests one hand on Vanessa’s shoulder and the other on her thigh, two points of contact to ground her, prove that they’re both here, doing this. Vanessa is intoxicating, burying her hands in Brooke’s hair and pulling her closer, until their chests are touching and Brooke’s knee is against the gear shift but she doesn’t even feel it. It’s just them here, just them kissing, and when she pulls back Brooke thinks of Vanessa’s poster and knows that if she believes in anything, it’s Vanessa.

—-

(Now)

“Wanna get pizza tonight?” Vanessa asks.

“I kinda want burritos,” Brooke says sheepishly, and Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“Pizza tonight and burritos this weekend?” Brooke suggests.

Vanessa nods. The compromising is something she’s gotten used to, working together on things while accepting they still have their differences.

It’s been two years since Brooke was transferred down here, two years of taking cases no one thinks twice about and helping people the best they can. Two years of being partners at work and almost two years of being partners at home, of trying to cook and cuddling on the couch and sleeping together, making even things like grocery shopping and cleaning fun as long as they’re together.

Even if Brooke fights tooth and nail to scientifically explain everything, and Vanessa pushes for unconventional ideas, to consider paranormal events, they’ve still managed all these years. They work together perfectly, their ideas and methods often meeting in the middle. Vanessa’s odd sources getting them a real lead that Brooke’s formalities couldn’t. Brooke’s medical knowledge saving someone Vanessa would have thought gone. She knows Brooke doesn’t always believe, and that’s okay.

Because Vanessa believes in her, believes in them, and as Brooke takes her hand as they head out of the office, she knows Brooke believes too.

[brokenforecast]

The Hierophant

The Hierophant: a muggle guide to tarot

A Hierophant, now there is something you don't see every day. Never actually. A Hierophant is a high priest or the pope as this card is sometimes called. Not exactly something that is part of our everyday life. It reminds me of a photograph on the mantelpiece of the house I grew up in, showing my grandmother and pope John-Paul II (pope from 1978 to 2005) from when he visited my home town in 1985. My grandmother told me it was the best day of her life. So we are obviously dealing with a religious figure here, with some authority but the meaning of the card goes way beyond that. This card is fairly simple though, so don't panic.

> ltr: Renaissance Tarot; Rider-Waite; Wild Unknown Hierophant

Symbolism

The Hierophant is almost always an elderly man adorned with the symbols of one or other religion, most often Christianity. You will see headdresses, robes, staffs representing guidance and power. He is mostly seated (thus stable) and accompanied by two pupils who seek knowledge and advice from him. He is flanked by two columns representing the gateway that this card challenges you to pass. In the Renaissance tarot the pillars are topped by acorns, making them obviously penis-shaped and indeed representing fertility as the acorn carries in itself the potential of the mighty oak tree. In the Dutch language they go even further: the Dutch word for acorn also means glans of the penis or head of the penis. A deep manliness exudes from this card. We also notice the all-seeing eye representing arcane and other knowledge.

Upright meaning

The Hierophant has several layers. The first one is the most obvious: the authority of institutionalized religion or believing what is in a certain old book or what old men tell you. The second is institutionalized knowledge as in formal education, taking lessons at a university for example. It's less about learning and more about the transfer of knowledge from a smart or wise person to another person. Thirdly it concerns rituals, ancient rituals to be exact: baptism, marriage (the ceremony, not the feelings), funerals but in a smaller sense also your everyday rituals and habits. On the deepest level this card is about conservatism in its purest sense.

> The beautiful and abstract Soul Cards Hierophant with both a key and some religious references if you can spot them.

Now I know a lot of you people out there have a deep dislike for conservatism because of the association with right or far-right politics or fundamentalist religion. Try to wipe that of the board for a second, we'll talk about that later. In it's purest sense conservatism cares about keeping what is valuable intact. I believe that to be equally valuable to changing things for the better. Everyone wants to change certain things in their life or in the world and everyone wants to keep certain things exactly as they are. Probably more than you imagine, because we tend to take a lot that is for granted and only notice it when it's gone.

> Hierophant from the True Black Tarot, my newest set. 

So far in our tarot journey we have encountered a rather progressive bunch: the fool asks us to be ourselves without any compromises, the magician asks us to use our abilities to shape the world as we like and the high priestess grants us all the new and exciting knowledge our curious heart desires. With the emperor we encountered a figure that is a little more conservative, asking us to make a structure or habit out of some of the good things we do. The hierophant asks us to make rituals out of those habits. The difference between a ritual and a habit is that you know why you made a habit about of a certain action (let's say to brush your teeth every day). A ritual is a repetitive action where the meaning of the action has become obscured and unquestioned or has transcended For instance forcing your children to brush their teeth even when they don't give a rats ass about mouth hygiene, it becomes a ritual they blindly follow. And they better do, especially since the cakes made out of poo incident. Or to put it another way: where a habit reflects a practical value you adhere to, a ritual is based on your deeper beliefs about right and wrong and the meaning of life.

Often, the key in life – and the key is a symbol often shown in this card – is to follow your deeply anchored and relatively unchanging core values. Look at it as you own personal bible, your own never changing truth. When confronted with a dilemma I find it often extremely helpful to consult my core beliefs. Of course this does not solve all dilemma's because once you think you have figured something out, life will kick you in the face and laugh at you. And obviously core values change over time, but that is not what this card is about. This is about clinging to them, believing them and applying them.

As an advisory card this one asks us not to rush into things, to think of what we could loose. To wonder if this is really something that aligns with what you stand for. It asks us to look at the present and truly see what has led to this and if that is really a bad thing. To the hierophant change is bad, unless embedded in tradition, ritual and a clear, uncut continuity with what has gone before.

> the Hierophant by the talented Kaylee Pinecone from her webcomic Tales of the Tarot, see the Hierophant here and the full series here

If this card represents a person it is mostly someone older and wiser, a teacher or professor perhaps. He dislikes change and likes tradition, old knowledge, he likes talking but considers listening to you a waste of time. Listen to him and take his advise seriously.

> the enigmatic Keymaster Tarot Hierophant: an imposing figure in formal robes and staff

Reverse meaning

When the Hierophant appears upside down things tend to get tricky. It can mean a number of things that are drastically contradictory so be careful and consider all possible meanings. Pick the one that feels most uncomfortable contemplating.

Opposite: craving change for the sake of change, being an iconoclast, a naive rebel, being against things without having a sound or realistic positive alternative. This all sounds bad but sometimes we need to get rid of things before we can see clearly where we want to go. A typical meaning is rebelling against your parents' religion or core value system. It can be very hard to shake beliefs you have grown up with but no longer serve you. But there is a warning though. As the iconoclasts in the 16th century destroyed valuable pieces of art in churches across Europe, so you are capable of inflicting irreparable damage to valuable elements in your life. If this card means you need to destroy tradition or if it warns against the possible disastrous effects of it, is up to you. Choose wisely.

Blocked: Authority and tradition are blocking you somehow. You revel in submissiveness to people in authority or to beliefs you might not even be aware you have. You might be redirecting responsibility in your life to things you see as uncontrollable or beyond your grasp. Ask yourself if they are indeed unchangeable. Drastic solutions are also solutions. What can you do yourself? Are these structures really what you believe in? Or is it simply wishful thinking.

Taken too far: now we enter the realm of reactionary reflexes, authoritarian power, a deep urge to reject everything new, challenging or uncomfortable. This is the realm of craving a past that never existed: when things were simple, truth was singular, change slow, identity reassuring and accepted. It is the realm of ultra-conservatism, homophobia, transphobia, racism, ableism, Romantic beliefs in a forgotten past when nature was pure, society a cohesive community and social relations fixed and comfortable. This past has never existed and never will again. It only leads to exclusion of anything and everyone that does not fit this ideal, which is ultimately everyone.  

> a rare female Hierophant by Casimir Lee, though it still has most of the traditional symbolic elements.

One cars spread – meditation on the hierophant

The hierophant asks us to awaken our inner conservative. To look beyond the modern idea of the individual capable of doing everything himself, free of all bonds of power or authority. It asks us to be passive, receiving in stead of transmitting or communicating. It asks us to be quiet, silent even and think of the past, tradition, rituals and if there is something meaningful in there for you. As homework the Hierophant asks you one thing: what do you want to conserve in your current position? How can you protect that?  What ritual (daily, weekly, monthly or yearly) can you put in place, or keep doing, that highlights that element? How can you truly embed that in your life so it never leaves?

No pop culture references this time, The Hierophant doesn’t go for that kind of things. Next episode: The Lovers

TLDR:

upright meaning: conservatism, formal education, core values reverse meaning: iconoclasm, submissiveness, ultra-conservatism

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #268

“i got a switchblade wit that cuts like a bitch, and i think you two should meet.”

What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? If you’ve never been in a relationship before, do you watch Scrubs? Jason and I knew each other like... I think two or three weeks? We clicked so fast. Are you a fan of inside jokes or do you tend to stay away from them? I... don't feel a particular way? Do you have any theatrical experience? If so, what have you done? No, I'm not into theater. Which movies currently out in theaters do you want to see? I don't know what's in theaters right now, but I don't think anyone does rn lol. Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? If it's seriously incessantly, yes. There's not a lot you can say to have a conversation when they just ramble about the person, especially when you don't even know the partner. How close would you say you are to your relatives? Not very. What’s your favorite Pokemon? Ninetales. If you could have anyone to do your eulogy, who would it be and why? Well, I'd assume my parents will be dead by that point, so. Probably my best friend. If you play the Sims games, which one is your favorite? I've only ever played Sims Animals, which I looooved back in the past. I haven't played it in years, though. If your parents searched your room, would they be mad at what they’d find? No. Ever taken a picture kissing somebody? Yes. Sex in the morning, afternoon or night? Morning is a great start to the day, but only after your teeth are brushed. I cannooooot do morning breath. Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed? Aggressive. I am such a sub lmao. How serious are your feelings for the person you like? I DON'T KNOWWWWWWWWWW Ever had your driver's license suspended? Don't have mine to begin with. Does the person you like know that you like them? Yes. How frequently are you inclined to read, and how much? Somewhat rarely lately, less than I did some months back. I would read some pretty big chunks. When was the last time you questioned the direction your life was taking? LMAOOOOOOOOO I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that's like, a daily occurrence. What small things have the ability to get under your skin? I'm trying to think of something I haven't said before, but I'm not sure. OH, it may seem like a small thing, but letting balloons go outside. It's littering. Many end up in the ocean. What is something small that has the ability to cure a bad mood? A car ride riding shotgun with music blaring. I fucking love it. What was the last big change through which you went? Some moral beliefs altered. ^ Do you deal well with change, typically? Have you always? Fuck no. It blows up my anxiety. How do you feel after spending a great quantity of time online? I used to feel kinda guilty, and I actually still do, but it's more subdued. It's just too normal by now, to the point when I'm bored, I sometimes briefly forget there are other things to do that aren't on the computer. God it's sad. What do you consider to be the biggest drawback to being you? I'M BIG SCARED OF EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!! What do you consider the best part of being who you are? I'm really understanding and can relate to people's pain well. What kinds of things do you have on display in your room? Christ, a lot. My room is STUFFED with decorations that make me happy.  There's posters, some artwork, all my Silent Hill game cases or manuals + more SH stuff, meerkats galore, Venus is in here, I have this "shrine" for Teddy... I've got a load of stuff. What do you think your room and its contents say about you, if anything? I love a lotta stuff, ig. Animals, music, dark stuff, games. When was the last time you felt insecure about something/some situation? UMMMMM I should have a question for this fucking immediately. I'm sure it was something when I was at Ashley's inlaws for Mother's Day. What is something about which you are very confident or self-assured? My knowledge of meerkats lmaooo. Which emotional sensation inconveniences or bothers you the most? FUCKIN ANXIETY. Do you ever find it awkward to compliment another being? No, I love love love giving compliments!! When was the last time you had a new experience? What was it? Hm. I guess nightmares where I literally flail and attack shit while shrieking. Do you dress more for yourself, or to the expectations of others? I dress entirely for myself. What is one way you cope when you feel like crap? Binge music I can relate to. Which can make it worse, but sometimes helps. I'll usually get to the point of being teary and cry a bit, but then I start feeling better. Name an insult you regularly receive, if there is one? I guess it's not really an... insult, per se, but I hear "you're too quiet!" all the time. What is something you used to believe about life that you no longer do? Everything happens for a reason. Nope. What is something you hope you never have to do again? Deal with another Jason-level heartbreak. Of the many different American accents, which one is your favorite? I'm actually not sure. Not a fan of any that I can think of. Do you know anyone who had a kid before they were financially stable? Oh yeah, plenty normal nowadays. Is there anything hanging from the doorknob in your room? Yes, the pink bead necklace from my sister's baby shower for Emerson. Sometimes I hang my purse there too. Why did you move to where you're living now? We got evicted for not being able to keep up with rent and needed a cheap but semi-decent place to live. What was the most severe punishment your parents gave you when you were growing up? I remember I was grounded from the computer for at least a week, maybe more. My punishment was always taking technology away and/or spanked or popped on the arm. I remember she once hit my arm so damn hard that I had her handprint there for a while. My mom was horrible at *keeping* me and my sisters grounded, though; she'd normally calm down within a few days and things would return to normal. What was the topic of conversation the last time you spoke to a sibling? Ummm I don't remember. I should, I saw one just a couple days ago. Are you currently looking for a new job? I don't have a job currently, but while Mom has cancer and surgery coming up, I'm not really looking, but pondering opportunities. She'd have to drive me, which just can't be done right now, and I'm also not comfortable leaving her home alone right now. Who is the person you are the closest to? (emotionally, not physically) Mom. What was the last caffeinated drink you had? Do you drink this often? Strawberry Sunkist, and ugh, too much lately. Whose photo did you last look at? I was on Facebook a bit ago, so someone's on there. Who was the last person to pick you up? You mean like, physically? I don't know, probably Girt because he got a kick out of our height difference and he would do that when we hugged. What are you wearing around your neck? Nothing right now. Have you accidentally mistaken a stranger for someone you know? Oh my god, yes. I did that at the tattoo parlor once at a guy that looked like my sister's ex, who I got along with well. He looked at me like "uhhhhh" and it will haunt me forever. Who did you last blow a kiss at? Venus. I do that and wave a lot when she comes out of her hide and looks my way. Have you ever seen lava in real life? No. Who did you last bite? Um I don't just casually go around biting people lmao. Probably Jason. Do you remember the date of your prom? Ha, it's honestly surprising to me that I don't recall the date of either, considering how I remember, y'know, a weird amount of obscure details through our entire time knowing each other. Was your last kiss long and sensual or short and sweet? Why’s that? Short and sweet, because it was just a goodbye kiss. When kissing, do you like to be on top or bottom? Good Lord, am I a bottom. I hated being on top because I felt he had a better view of me and my body, and I was self-conscious as shit even when I was fit. Does your boyfriend/husband know what size your boobs are? UHHHHHHHHHHHHH I don't have a boyfriend but I've sure never actually talked about it with any. Do you have hair extensions or do you think those are strictly for the scene kids? ..... No? I don't wear extensions, never have, but wearing them doesn't tie you to a label??? List all the things you have from your boyfriend at your house right now? Not everyone has a boyfriend, friend. Last time you exercised and for how long? I DON'T WANT TO THINK OF THIS lkja;dslkfjwe Last girl who called you hot/sexy/something else of the sort? I shared a picture of myself on Facebook for once just the other day, so let's so. *checks* HAHA MY MOM. #1 cheerleader, friends. OH I should probably clarify she said "gorgeous," but I guess that counts? Was she hitting on you? Jfc no. Last guy who called you hot/sexy/something else of the sort? Does getting a comment from Ian of a Spongebob screenshot of Squidward with heart eyes count? lol Was HE hitting on you? *shrugs* He's very open with sharing love for his friends though, so it very well could've been just friendly support. Have you ever taken the 5,000 question survey? Parts of it, and God did it get stupid. What would you do if your boyfriend/husband got drafted into war tomorrow? I. Am single. And not everyone. Is interested in guys. But hypothetically, I would fucking panic. I physically wouldn't be able to handle an s/o in the army; I would constantly, absolutely constantly, be actively fearful. We'd have to find a way to get him out of it. Has a guy ever touched your butt without permission? If so, how did this make you feel? I don't believe so, thank God. How many formal dresses do you own? Sun-dresses? I have two prom dresses (which I'm finally comfortable enough to get rid of at some point) and I think like... one or two other black knee-length dresses that I could now never fit into? What do you hope you grow out of? Social anxiety. It ruins many parts of my life. What is the healthiest and unhealthiest thing you do on a regular basis? Healthy? Oh fuck. I, uh, usually have one bottle of water, I guess? Unhealthy, definitely drink soda. I need to stop. When looking for a SO, what three things are most important (besides looks)? Kindness, patience, and compassion or understanding. How much do you judge a person by their appearance? Define "judge" here. Like, I can conclude someone is impoverished or well off in many cases, but I don't judge them as people. What is the most embarrassing thing you own? Hm. I'm unsure. What is the strangest habit you have? I don't think I have odd habits. What movie made you cry the most? The Notebook or Old Yeller, I think. What was one of the happiest moments of your childhood? Realizing I was getting a dog for Christmas. Fuck, I miss Teddy. What belief do you have that most people disagree with? I'd rather not get political right now. Who or what inspires you to be a better person? I fucking hate admitting it, but Jason. The last thing he told me was to stop saying "I'll try" but rather "I will," and I actually recently almost had a breakdown about it because I shouldn't put SO much value into what he says, make it holy "rules." I treat him like a god in so many ways. Still, in my stupid head, his word is law. I still want to make him so proud. What’s the TLDR description of your last relationship? Long-distance was getting extremely hard, but I think the bigger factor was that we both have problems we need to work on before we can properly support one another. If you found out your current life has been just a dream, would you choose to wake up? (You don’t know if your real life would be better or worse.) I guess... no. I'd be too afraid of it being any worse than it already feels. What dumb thing did you believe for a really long time? Political and religious beliefs I don't at all like admitting I had. Where would you like to retire? Hell if I know, that's a long whiles away. What brings you the most joy in life? Oh yikes. Family and close friends, probs. What was the last song that got stuck in your head? "Blush" by Jeffree Star is on repeat ahhhh What is something you enjoy doing, but aren’t good at? Drawing people. I don't really do it BECAUSE I'm not very good. In art in general, I have a hard time with proportions. Name some healthy foods that you enjoy eating. Strawberries, apples, a lotta other fruits, broccoli, there are these granola and cashew bars I LOVE, salad can be good, scrambled eggs... now I'm blanking. Like there are a lot of foods that can be on either end of the spectrum, depending on how they're prepared. Do you ever eat dry cereal as a snack to munch on? Any particular kind? No, generally too crunchy and dry. When you run out of something to drink & are thirsty, are you quick to retrieve a new beverage or are you lazy about it? It depends on how thirsty I am and what I'm doing at that moment. What is your favorite part of a slice of pizza? BITCH all of that motherfucker. What was the longest power outage you ever experienced? Two or so days. I was so, so scared for Venus because it was in the winter. Poor girl was scared. I had to let her inside my hoodie and shirt to use my warmth for a lengthy period at a time, there were blankets draped over her terrarium... I was genuinely afraid she was going to die. But nope, my baby is good and thriving. :'D Do you believe that children should do all of the chores around the house, or do you think the parents should do them? Or do you have an entirely different opinion? As someone who was raised with chores poorly enforced and now I suck at doing them, they should ABSOLUTELY be a required thing. Children shouldn't do *all* the chores though, of course, especially those involving serious chemicals. Have you ever painted a pet’s nails, or known someone that has done such? Do you think that is cruel? I haven't, but I suppose it depends on whether it's toxic or not and if the animal doesn't mind? I do know people who have. What is something you did as a child that you didn’t realize back then was “wrong”, if anything? I didn't know interracial relationships were perfectly fine. It's funny, I don't recall me seeing black as any less than whites, I just thought it wasn't supposed to happen. Being raised in the South does that, ig. Do you get an excessive amount of bug bites during spring/summertime? Are you one to itch constantly or can you control yourself? No, I've heard because I have A-type blood. Whenever my sister (O-type) and I used to play outside, she would always come in COVERED in mosquito bites, and she's still a magnet for them today. Supposedly bugs don't prefer A, but O the most. I do itch, though. Holy shit, do I itch. Do you own any sports equipment [balls, basketball goals, mitts, etc] that you rarely use? No. Could you ever willingly hunt down & shoot an innocent animal for sport? Over my dead fucking body. Would you be uncomfortable changing someone else’s baby’s diaper? Ugh, I have twice I believe, and I hated it. Have/would you ever want to own a pet frog, or do you think they would be too boring? I don't think I've ever caught and kept one? I don't mind "boring" pets, I just don't desire one. What internet/television provider do you use? Fucking CenturyLink. Stay away from it. Are you uncomfortable going out in public with leg stubble? Even if it’s so light that no one would notice it unless they were looking for it? That much, no. Now I literally haven't shaved my legs in over a whole year because it's not like anyone sees them, but holy fuck would I be mortified if someone did lol. Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. I'm terrified to because of tornados. Have you ever had your bedroom in a basement? No. What’s your favorite piece of furniture in your house? ...? If someone gave you a kitten, would you keep it? I'd want to, but it'd be Mom's decision. Favorite type of cracker: Cheez-Its. Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out: Spiders, especially when they're making their webs.

[sf-akahana]

B Support (snzfic)

Fi//re Em//blem 3 Houses fic based of Dorothea's B support with Byleth.  This is written from Dorothea's perspective and I copied the lines straight from how it's written in game, so you might want to watch both the female and male version of that conversation if the dialog reads a little stiff sorry.  The voice acting in both English and Japanese is good anyway so I suggest it.  I purposefully used gender neutral pronouns so you can pick which ever version on Byleth you prefer.  Hope you enjoy my frantic 5am thirst ramblings

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I can’t help but grumble a bit to myself as I reread the notes from today’s lecture; even though I wrote everything down it feels like I didn’t retain any of it.  It’s not my fault though, Professor Byleth’s just so distracting!  How am I supposed to focus on what they’re saying when they’re looking at me like that?!  I heave a heavy sigh and try to focus my attention back on the lesson, when I’m interrupted by a familiar monotone voice.

“What’s wrong?”

I whip around in surprise - speak of the devil.  There they are with their blank expression and piercing gaze, and as our eyes meet I already start to feel my ears heat up.  Dammit.

“Professor?!  I – Oh… don’t worry.  It’s nothing.”

They quietly accept my answer and seemingly wait for me to go back to my work.  Under normal circumstances I would have appreciated it, but honestly this is getting ridiculous.  I can’t be constantly distracted by my own teacher; I have to find a way around this or else there’s no reason for me to be here!!  I take a second to gather my thoughts before I meet their eyes again.

“Actually, could we talk for a bit?  Somewhere a little more...private?”

I work hard to come across as sincere as possible; it’s too easy to let flirtation slip into a question like that and get brushed off.  Their expression barely changes, little more than raising their eyebrows, but it’s enough that I know they understood.  I don’t bother to wait for an answer as I turn around and walk out the dinning hall towards the first floor dorm rooms.  Not long after a set of footsteps click on the stone pathway just behind me.  I use the silence of our walk to come up with a good way to start this conversation, but by the time we close my bedroom door behind us I still don’t have the right words.  We stand facing each other saying nothing for a few moments before I decide to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m just gonna come right out and say it.  I find you a little difficult to be around.  I know, I know.  I’m your student and you’re just trying to watch out for me.  But the way you look at me sometimes… it’s like you’re seeing right through me.”

The change in their expression is again subtle, but I’ve always been pretty good at reading others.  They’re a person of few words, and I can see the gears turning in their head as they carefully choose the right ones.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.  I know you don’t mean anything bad by it.  I’m just self-conscious, I guess.  The thing is, I don’t have anything to call my own.  No land, no birthright, no fortune.  Little knowledge or battle skill.  I think that’s why I always clung to my popularity as a diva.  Even after leaving the stage behind, I sort of kept up the act.  When I look at you, it’s like your eyes are accusing me… Telling me that you see right through it.  That’s what I mean when I say it’s difficult to be around you.”

I didn’t mean to get so personal with the professor and to dump all my baggage on them, but now that I’ve started I just can’t stop.  And of course, they just stand their quietly and let me ramble uninterrupted.  I take a deep breath and meet their piercing eyes again, the heat moving from my ears to my cheeks as an idea forms in my head.

“Hey, uh, this might be nuts, but maybe you could show me some kind of weakness of yours?”

“Excuse me?” Their eyes immediately widen in shock, and though not as much as other people this is the most expression I’ve gotten this whole conversation.  The reaction gives me a little confidence as I continue on with my silly request.

“You know my biggest fear.  If I know one of yours, maybe I’ll feel less, I don’t know… vulnerable.”

They look pensive for a moment, hesitation clear to see as they seemingly way the pros and cons.  I’m not oblivious as to how showing a student your weakness could be uncomfortable or embarrassing, but honestly that’s what I’m going for.  Anything to humanize them.

“Well, if it would really help...”

“Excellent.  Well then, don’t mind me.”  Just as they promised they wait patiently as I quickly try to think of something to get a reaction out of them. Something ridiculously human, something involuntary.  Tickling maybe?  Though they are wearing a lot of clothing, they might be able to endure it.  The only thing exposed is their...face - that’s perfect!!  I couldn’t quite help my grin as I fiddled through my gift drawer.  Right on top was a pretty white owl feather, the very same one Professor Byleth gave me for my birthday over tea not but a few weeks ago.  I’ve been meaning to sew into into my cap, but now I’m glad I haven’t gotten around to it yet.  I have to keep myself from skipping back across the room as I hold up the feather just above their beautifully pointed nose.

“Is this still ok, Professor?”  With a small look of reluctance, they take a deep breath and nod their head.  Though there’s no color across their cheeks, their eyes drift away from mine as I tip their chin back slightly, and I will happily take that as a show of embarrassment at this oddly intimate act.  From this angle it was hard not to notice Byleth’s beautiful skin and perfect jaw, but then no ever one said the professor isn’t attractive.  I take a deep breath of my own before stealing my nerves and starting on my work.

The first touch of the feather to their upturned nose gets little reaction, but I’m in no hurry right now.  I take my time tickling around the nostrils and up the septum.  It’s almost mesmerizing watching the muscles around the nose tick slightly at the sensation, a little scrunch of the nose here and a shallow sniff there.  Soon their nostrils are flushed pink under the attention of the feather, Byleth’s eyes squinting up at the ceiling and their arms crossed tightly across their chest to deal with the itch.  It’s only then that I decide it’s time to get the real reaction I’m looking for.

As I ease the feather slowly into their left nostril their nose immediately scrunches up, a gasp muffled through their teeth and a visible shudder tensing their shoulders.  I can feel my grin stretch across my face; this is exactly what I’m looking for.  It makes me feel in control, a little sadistic even.  I keep my fingers underneath their chin as I twirl the tickly tool deeper into their nostril, the tip of the feather brushing lightly against their sinuses, and soon I’m treated by their first desperate sound; a little whine as their nostrils flare out trying to escape the tickling.  I’m treated to more gasps and soft noises as I continue to tease the sensitive spot I found, and it isn’t long until Byleth is hitching in earnest.

“ah! hihh...hhIh-hIHh!! ehh-hIH!”

They’re shoulders are tensed up so they don’t jerk away from me and their hands have moved from their chest to hovering just below mine, ready to catch the sneezes when I finally bring it out of them.  Though it seems they were too impatient to wait for me to finish it, as a sharp sniff triggeres a desperate breath in preparation for the fit.  They quickly pushed my hands away and back up a few steps, though to my delight they don’t obscure their face as they finally tip over the edge.

“hhHIHHHhh- AT’chuhh!! A’tchh! ‘tchuh!  hehh’eTCHhu!!  hiih...hEH!  ATCHhhu!! snff snf...”

Byleth pulls a nice handkerchief out of their coat as the fit comes to an end, and I stand pink cheeked and a little speechless as they clean themselves up.  Weirdly enough I’ll say I’m even a bit starstruck.  Usually a display so dramatic and impolite would take away from one’s attractiveness, but under these circumstances I can honestly say that it kind of has the opposite effect.  I quickly shake out of my thoughts as they clear their nose a final time, and my grin quickly spreads over my face once more.

“Goddess’ blessings, wow Professor that was dramatic.  I don’t mind though, you have pretty cute sneezes.  Next time you gaze into my soul, I know just how I’ll retaliate!”  I can’t help but giggle as I tease them a little, hoping to get just one more reaction out of them.  Byleth just smiles slightly though and doesn’t rise to my bait, no pink cheeks or nothing.  I let myself pout.

“Come on!  I thought that was funny.  I swear it’s like your heart isn’t even beating.”  Without missing a beat and with a completely black expression, they come back with-

“Actually, my heart isn’t beating.”

“Ha, don’t be so silly… Huh?  It really isn’t beating?! - Is what I’d say if I were more gullible.  You’re just fooling around, Professor.  I’m not sure how you did it, but that was a good one.”

___________________________________

|                                                                     |

| Byleth and Dorothea’s                                 |

| support level is now B!                                |

| Their motivation has also increased.           |

|___________________________________|

[rainsonata]

Is it a date if it's over lunch?

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; eventual LPMM Rating: T Word Count: 2,615

Summary: Lunatic Psyker has been acting strange lately. Mastermind has his theories on why, but soon learns that making assumptions about the brawler is often faulty and that he needs to reevaluate his personal bias.

LP is tsundere and MM is clueless

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

Papers crinkled under Psyker’s weight, elbows pressed against his workstation and maintained a tight grip over his pen. Black smudges smeared over the paper, thin streaks drawn down to his elbow. He kept his lips pressed, hand placed over his chin in deep thought.

If he collected spare parts from the ruins and… No, that won’t work because he already did that last week. But what if Psyker attempted after doing reparations for… Psyker crossed his sentence midway in frustration and scowled.

Hours have passed since the brawler rose with the sun, his joints were stiff from sitting longer than what he was used to. Legs sprawled out and Psyker’s face leaned forward in discretion to covering his writing with one hand. He tapped his hand in time to sound of Dynamo processing data in the background. Pages torn out from ancient books covered the bulletin on Psyker’s side of the lab with their yellow pages glowing under the blinding light.  

“You’re hard at work.”     

Psyker looked up from his workstation, shoving papers into his back pocket and blinked. Initial confusion was quickly replaced with a mix of bemusement and concern. Hearing his own voice coming out of someone else’s mouth shouldn’t make him feel relief at the familiarity.   Mastermind sounded like him, yet he didn’t. There was a serene calmness in the scientist’s voice, a ripple in a pond tugging Psyker’s attention at every word. A shy smile peered from Mastermind’s lips with the ponytailed man resting his chin over his knuckles.      

Stunned by his counterpart’s sudden appearance, Psyker gawked at the man in white. How long did Mastermind watch him mumble to himself? Glancing at his finished glass of a protein shake he had downed an hour ago, Psyker shook his head in silence. Come on Lusa, say something!

Looking at his counterpart did little to offer Psyker words in explaining himself. In a freshly pressed vest, Mastermind’s hair was thrown into a messy ponytail, bunched up with white strands spayed out from the top of his head not unlike a potted plant.

“So are you,” was Psyker’s intelligent response. The brawler choked at his answer, palpable pauses thickened between his words. This was not the conversation he had planned.  

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” Mastermind had his hands hovered over his keyboard in the middle of typing a sentence. His eyes left the screen to look at Psyker’s, a gaze holding much judgment. “And talking to yourself…”

Now it was Psyker’s turn to look at the scientist with surprise, before flashing a toothy grin and beaming, “I’m always talking to myself!”

“Spare me the terrible jokes,” Mastermind hid his face behind his hands. “This is a serious question.”

“But I am serious,” the brawler laughed.

Maybe it was sleep deprivation or because the nerd was puffing his cheeks over Psyker’s cheekiness, but the wide eyed expression made the scientist look younger in those brief moments. The scientist forced himself into feigned annoyance, albeit a shy but visible smile peering at the corner of his pale lips.

In contrast to his bedroom, Mastermind’s workspace was in disarray - a collection of coffee mugs occupied a corner of his desk and a charger station for the scientist’s electronic devices. A jumble of holographic screens and rows of tabs opened to the point that Dynamo’s clock was out of view. Code: APOCALYPSE spelled out on one of Mastermind’s many screens, an unfamiliar name.

“A new install?” Psyker leaned his chair back to see.

“Still a work in progress,” Mastermind admitted. “Need to work out the details before making the prototype.”

Psyker’s hand phased through the holographic screens, awed at the other’s ambition, apparent by the numerous equations and designs covering all the screens. Mastermind did all of this, he thought with a mixture of wonder and envy, but where would that put him? With Nasod Armor complete, what was there left for him to achieve except to continue pushing his body to its limit? There was only so much the human body could do.   

“You’re not training today?” Mastermind noticed the brawler unmoving from his spot.

“I have research too,” Psyker said, pausing to wipe the dust from his glasses with one corner of his shirt before gently pushing them up his nose bridge in irritation. Light reflected off his classes and obscured his eyes from view.

“Tell me more.”    

Huh? Magenta eyes fell over the brawler with newfound interest. Attention diverted away from his own set of Dynamo for Psyker to look at his counterpart. Psyker shifted in his seat with sudden uneasiness. The paper in front of him might as well have nothing because he lost his voice and train of thought, gasping for more time to gather his feelings.  

“What could possibly be stealing your attention away from me?” Mastermind drawled, “unless it’s the Queen’s codes~”

“That’s not it,” Psyker interrupted the scientist with a scowl. Mentions of the Queen reminded Psyker of the old lab he had before he met Mastermind, a tattered building unoccupied after the demon invasion in Velder. Unpleasant memories clouded his conscious mind on the sleepless nights he spent in the lab Vanessa gave him until it was destroyed by Elbrat and company.  

“Then what is it?”

Searching for answers, all he could read were concern and curiosity in Mastermind’s features in that reminded Psyker of a cat. Chuckling at the comparison, Psyker relaxed when Mastermind bobbed his head into a nod of encouragement. Mastermind was listening.   

Ask, Rena encouraged when Psyker asked her the other day. The Grand Archer giggled in his memories, it sounds like you’ve been putting a lot of thought into it.

But for how long? Would it be too late to backpedal on the idea of asking yourself to lunch? What did people do on dates? The books the brat named Aisha read made no sense on romantic etiquette. Why were evil mother in laws involved and why did one of them keep getting ran over by cars? Mother in laws were out of the question for both of them and why was it always expensive restaurants with food no one liked? Was that something Mastermind would expect?  

Psyker pretended none of this went through his head and nodded, feeling his face heat up.

“Lunch. Want to have lunch with me?” Subtle, Psyker forced a weak smile, “There’s this code I’m having trouble with. I thought you would know something about it.”

“You want me to help you?” Brows rose and Mastermind frowned. Bad sign? Was the scientist looking at him in disapproval, or the idea that there were unsolved codes lying around without his knowledge?   

“Yes?” Psyker’s voice cracked. “At the cafe across the armor shop?” They had Mastermind’s favorite pastries.   

“Sure...” Mastermind rubbed his forehead, perplexed by his invitation. Psyker could already see the wires whirring with the ponytailed man running through unlimited possibilities as he spoke. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Psyker was quick to answer with more eagerness than his pride would allow him to admit.  

“Then it’s a date,” Mastermind chuckled.

Psyker’s heart fluttered erratically to Mastermind’s laughter. Not maniacal, but a soft one the scientist made with his eyes shut and an all knowing smirk like he held a secret no one else knew. Psyker let out a happy sigh of relief. That was easier than he thought.

“A date, huh?” Psyker brushed his cheeks to discover they were still warm and looked away, failing to hide his smile.     

Mastermind liked making notes on what he saw, things he had planned for the day, notes to himself on what to change for the next project with the codes he found in ancient ruins. Even as he passed by a few stalls selling herbal medicine, his eyes fixed on screens projected by Dynamo of his to-do list. Clean the lab before leaving the house, check. Restock medicine because Psyker was a musclehead and used them all against mermen, done.

Rubbing his forehead with the side of his hand, Mastermind brushed off the last train of thought, running his fingers through strands of hair. How many more times was he going to have to rush to the stalls before Psyker learned? The shopping plaza was a twenty minute walk from their home in the outskirts of town, twenty minutes too far for the scientist’s liking.  

Despite his complaints - and Psyker teasing him about it (“Come on, nerd.” He showed his teeth, “you need to see the sun more.” What was Mastermind supposed to do? Photosynthesize?), leaving the lab wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Velder had a mix of stalls for traveling merchants and permanent shops for residents. Stalls filled with goods and merchandise on display; some of them offered blacksmithing and alchemy services. The sharp herbal smell clashed with the sweetening aroma coming from the food vendors selling hot cakes on the streets. Mastermind sometimes stopped to buy one for himself, but he was meeting with Psyker today.  

Mastermind narrowed his eyes on mentions of his counterpart. The brawler was in bright spirits today, waking up before the sun was up and his stupid singing in the showers woke him up to tell the other to shut up. No snide comments on that one, only Psyker giving him a cheery good morning and continued humming to himself. It was a familiar tune Psyker once sang to him.

Those codes must be archaic or frustrating for Psyker to that kind of enthusiasm when Mastermind offered to help. Books bared their weight inside Mastermind’s bookbag. He brought out books he thought would help them on their quest to decipher whatever Psyker had in mind. When he asked to take a look, Psyker stuck out his tongue, “Nuh, uh. Tomorrow.”

How childish, Mastermind snorted, but that was what made Psyker an interesting conversation partner. The brawler exceeded his expectations and more often surprised him with theories and concepts he hasn’t thought of.  

Psyker said to meet in front of the cafe, Mastermind scanned in search for the familiar spiky white fluff. He once touched Psyker by the shoulder to get attention, but the hairs stood up like porcupine quails with his counterpart cackling and pointing at him. Asshole, Mastermind thought with fondness. It was hard to stay mad at him when the brawler offered to make him coffee with that dumb impish smile of his. Where was Psy-?

Mastermind stopped walking.

In a black blazer with folded in collared sleeves underneath, Psyker was wore matching pants and a tie loosely around his neck. Polished shoes and black gloves, his hair spiked to one side from excessive static electricity. Even Dynamo sparkled and shined with their beaming master.  

Looking down at his own clothes, Mastermind had a white jacket over matching pants and a vest. He was no slob, but it was an exceptional moment where he felt being underdressed for something he was unaware of. Nice clothes, sitting at a table outside a quaint cafe Mastermind once praised, and the hopeful looks Psyker was giving him. T-that couldn’t be it, could it?

“Sorry I’m late,” Mastermind stammered. “Did I keep you waiting?’

“Not at all,” Psyker chuckled. How could he laugh it off like it didn’t bother him? He should be calling him out and teasing him for losing track of time as usual. Small talk wasn’t something Psyker had patience for, what happened to him?

“I, uh…” Mastermind held his book bag closer to his body, embarrassed at the revelation. “This isn’t about the codes, is it? This is a date?”

No, that was ridiculous. Mastermind fought the temptation to turn the other way and storm off, his legs going stiff and staring into space to where Psyker was. A date? That was something Elbrat and friends sometimes talked about, a silly topic he couldn’t understand and didn’t want to understand, but Psyker…

“You didn’t know,” Psyker dropped his smile.

Mastermind felt his face heat up and shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

He wanted to hide his face from his counterpart, overwhelmed and filled with embarrassment at the misunderstanding. Mastermind rewinded yesterday’s conversation and searching for a specific moment when Psyker asked him. Were the codes an excuse to get him to agree on meeting up? How and why? Psyker wasn’t one to show interest in dating up until the time he commented on the books the Elemental Master read, but who wouldn’t be? The mage always had her nose buried in books she claimed were ‘literature novelties’. Right…

“Hey, I’m not mad at you.” Psyker stood up and reached for Mastermind, hesitance in his movement before awkwardly putting his hand down. Gods, why was Psyker apologizing when Mastermind misunderstood? He wanted to smack the brawler for holding blame on something that wasn’t his fault.

“Is that how you see me?” Mastermind gaped at him.

He nodded.

Mastermind once thought Psyker was an idiot who sacrificed his brains for muscles, but like many of his assumptions, he was very wrong. Psyker was observant and had a keen eye for details Mastermind sometimes overlooked, but that wasn’t what surprised the scientist. There was a softer side of him, fondness for teasing Mastermind many times and eyes crinkling when Psyker caught him sneaking snacks into the lab before dinner. Was he that clueless to ignore the obvious?

When did Psyker start seeing him in a different light? Was it when they stopped seeing each other as rivals, but more as friends as they relied on each other’s research and experiments? Or was it when Mastermind woke up to be wrapped in a blanket in bed instead having his head on his desk in the lab?

“I should have been clearer and asked you again,” Psyker said. “Sorry about that.”

He grabbed Psyker by the arm, bringing his arms around the brawler’s waist and cupping the other’s face. Identical eyes met with equally redden cheeks, Mastermind afraid to blink. Was Psyker’s skin always this warm?  

“Stop apologizing,” Mastermind brushed his hand over Psyker’s hair. It was softer than it looked, like a paintbrush if it absorbed static electricity on a daily basis. “I’m the lousy date.”

“You?” Psyker mumbled, “not much of a date when we haven’t started.”

A date! No matter how many times Mastermind repeated the four letter word, it didn’t make it any less surreal. A foreign concept, but a curious one he had read about in books. Were their experiences what Psyker had in mind? He turned red thinking about something he once caught Void Princess reading. Chocolate and yarn?    

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Masi?”

“What I mean is,” Mastermind blushed and pulled away. “We can try an actual date, unless you don’t want to.”

He watched Psyker’s scowl transform into an awkward expression, uncertain on how to react, but he caught the brawler’s lips twitching upward. There was something endearing in seeing an uncommon part of Psyker, a vulnerable side of him that reminded Mastermind of a puppy. A lost puppy he had just kicked unintentionally under a metaphoric bus. Mastermind hated seeing his smile drop because of a dumb misunderstanding. Maybe he was the idiot of the two.  

“Really?” Psyker asked. If Mastermind knew any better, his tail would be wagging if he had one. He coughed and crossed his arms, “I mean, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m not sure what people do on dates.” Mastermind confessed, “Are you sure it’s me you want to date?”

This time, Psyker was the one surprised. He rounded his lips into an o-shape and beamed, baring his canine teeth, “Me neither! Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” Mastermind echoed and chuckled quietly. “I guess we will.”  

He liked the sound of that.   

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Take Two (part 2)

(Another time travel fic)

Summary: Ghost Arthur travels back in time and saves Lewis. A fix-it if you squint.

Part 1, Part 3: here

“Arthur!” 

The Lewis he’s holding calls in distress, twisting around to try and get a look up at the cliff he’s just fallen from. He’s not calling for him, ghost Arthur. No, he’s calling from the friend who just pushed him to his death. 

Younger Arthur’s cries are faint now, growing weaker. There is a lot of loud growling and snarling echoing from the direction of the rock shelf and upper tunnel. Form this angle it’s far too high, half obscured by the stone ledge, to see what’s happening. That does not stop Lewis from frantically spasming around, trying to reach the younger him, in complete disregard for his current precarious position.

Current Arthur, still wreathed in circlets of static, is too preoccupied with having a bunch of puzzle pieces shoved suddenly in front of him to notice Lewis’s distress. A lot of uncomfortable realisations are clicking into place awfully fast, filling in all those black spaces and memory gaps with horrifying implications.

The other, younger, Arthur had just pushed Lewis of the cliff, meaning he had also pushed his Lewis of the cliff. Except, when he had done it, there had been no second, ghost, Arthur to break his fall. Lewis had dropped straight down unimpeded.

Below him, the pointed stalagmites glint dangerously. When lit by the bright yellow flashes given off by his hair and ghost form, they are almost mockingly sharp.

That made him a murderer. Lewis’s murder. Which meant that his own murder by Lewis’s hands hadn't been some misunderstanding it had been revenge. 

Sudden ice sweeps through his limbs and chest like he’s been dunked into ice water and is drowning slowly. He didn’t think it possible to feel more numb then he already was, but he’s wrong. The dancing lightning covering his form, which until then had been a bright orange-yellow, turns a biting, frosted white. Is it possible for a ghost to die again? That’s what this feels like. Like he’s been dropped from a great height all over. Another silent death, alone at the bottom of the cliff, with only questions and regrets.

A sudden jolt from a still flailing Lewis forces him to bench his distress, leaving it for a later date. He doesn’t have time to dwell upon his new horrifying reality because he’s still holding the currently living Lewis up a good ten feet in the air, and it is becoming increasingly difficult when the other man is squirming about, trying desperately to save his own Arthur.

The screams of his younger self are abruptly silenced. Now all that’s audible are the softer grows of Mystery, continuing to echo about the cavern.  

“Please, you have to take me up there or put me down,” Lewis has given up struggling and is waving to catch his attention, “My friend needs help.”

He is about to respond but is distracted by Vivi who comes skidding out of a side tunnel, putting her on the cavern floor.

“Arthur! Where are you!?” She yells frantically, and stops, expression of acute alarm creasing her face, while she quickly glances around. Another terrible puzzle piece clicks into place. Vivi had probably found Lewis’s dying, impaled body. For the first time, he thinks that maybe it was better that she didn’t remember anything. Around him the static lightning has taken on a distressed, spiky appearance, jutting out in angry points.

Vivi gasps in audible surprise, having spotted himself and Lewis hovering mid-air. Momentary wonder briefly overtakes her expression of worry.

“Vivi!” Lewis calls to her, ignoring him now, “He’s on the cliff. Arthur’s on the cliff! You have to get to him”

“Wha…” Vivi starts to respond, but he has finally found the motivation needed to move. Quickly he swoops down to the cave floor, weaving through the stalagmites so he can awkwardly dump Lewis into Vivi’s unprepared arms. Arthur makes sure to keep hold of Lewis’s purple vest, even as he drops the other to the ground. He’s going to need it shortly.

“oomph…ouch”  Vivi is crushed under the larger man’s form. Whoops. He winces, pausing just long enough to ensure Vivi and Lewis are okay and he hasn’t inadvertently caused grievous harm. Again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles even as he’s flying up into the air again.  Is that his voice? It’s all metallic, reminding him a bit of the scratchy records his uncle played while working in the shop.

Once again, he turns to lightning, crossing the space in an instantaneous snap.  

Up on the cliff, the gruesome scene he's met with isn’t any better being viewed from a third-person perspective than it had been when living it. Young Arthur is clocked out, lying in a slowly spreading pool of his own blood. His shoulder and arm are shredded unevenly, and he winces, clutching at his own metallic arm instinctively. After losing his arm, Arthur had accumulated a vast array of knowledge on prosthetics, the nervous system and amputation. He knows that this is about as far from a clean limb removal as you can get and that Arthur needs medical attention and a hospital or he’s going to be dead very soon from either blood loss or shock. When he moves to help his way is blocked. 

Suddenly, Mystery is there, tails fanned out behind him, glowing a dangerous red. He flinches away, and the Kitsune stalks forward, growing, head lowered. A subtle pressure begins to build, causing the air around them to gain an unnatural weight. All his ghost instincts- which he apparently has now – are telling him that Mystery is BAD NEWS and he should most definitely run away.

“I’m helping,” he bites, backing up to circle Mystery wearily. The static jumping around his shoulders crackles, betraying his nervousness and he tries to reel it in and make himself seem pathetic and unthreatening.

/Begone spirit. You are not welcome here/

“If you don’t let me help your…friend…is going to bleed out,” he tries. 

Mystery is now poised, almost motionless, eyes tracking him. His tails remind him of a scorpion preparing to strike.  

“Look, Lewis is fine; he gave me his jacket. See. Because I need to stop that bleeding,”

Mystery’s eyes narrow in suspicion when he draws attention to the vest.

/Your words do not fool me, spirit/

“For god’s sake,” Arthur mutters.

He clutches at the vest then glances down at the weakly beating heart affixed to his chest. It appears to be a bit worse for wear, the jagged crack down its centre has almost doubled in size, branching into a web of smaller fractures. Even now his instincts are telling him to cover the fragile thing up and protect it from Mystery.

When had he ever followed his sense of self-preservation?

He curls his hand into a fist, clutching it around the heart, which sparks with electricity. Then he rips it away, ignoring the small pang on unease the action inspires.

“Here,” he thrusts the heart out towards Mystery, “You can hold this if it makes you feel better,”

Mystery pauses and the pressure in the air dissipates. Angrily swaying tails become still and lower ever so slightly. If there was ever a time he had seen Mystery confused this would be it. Slowly, very slowly, Mystery stalks forward, eyes locked onto his.

Carefully, Mystery gingerly accepts the faintly beating heart between his teeth. It is an odd sensation which Arthur has no time to dwell upon because he’s already hovering next to younger Arthur. He rips the purple vest in half-sorry Lewis-applying one side of it to the wound as best he could, pressing down. The blood quickly soaks the makeshift bandage.

“Well, are you going to help?” he says to Mystery, who is holding his heart, standing off to the side, still unsure. Well, as uncertain as a tailed fox of legend can look anyway.

“I need you to apply pressure on this while I tie this off,” he instructs. Mystery inches forward a paw creeping out to cover a section of Young Arthur’s bleeding shoulder. Tourniquets are usually only used in severe situations, which this definitely was. It would also have the bonus effect of keeping the wrappings in place. While he is tying off the shoulder, a new, metaphysical pressure descends upon the wound, forcing the pieces of the ripped vest to affix in place. The bleeding doesn’t seem to be soaking through quite as fast now. Arthur wracks his memory, trying to remember how far away the van is. Mystery, tails now cured into a shield-like structure, heart beating in his jaws, is eyeing him thoughtfully. There are sounds from behind, and Mystery’s ears swivel in the direction.

Lewis and Vivi finally come busting through the tunnel.

Note: I have no self-control with this sort of stuff. Anyway, here is the part two that I never planned to write. Hope people enjoy it. Guess I can graduate this fic out of the ‘dabble’ classification. They grow up so fast. (edit: also there is a part 3 now)

[jackalopegirlteeth]

Let Go Your Earthly Tether

Months later and little had come to her about the revelations of that fateful night, a meeting with something beyond the scope of mortal comprehension. Something that shook the very foundations of her understanding about reality and even her own place among the cosmos. Why had it chosen now of all times to speak to her and Escher. And furthermore, how did she both understand its meaning and be left so hopelessly lost that the world seemed a completely different place. It had long been a fear of her’s, losing grip on reality and slipping into the unknown never to return and now it felt closer than ever before.

Escher of course could sense this internal conflict, it was as much part of her as it was Elana. The connection between the two of them to such a point where oftentimes finding a line to seperate the two was a tall order. New things didn’t come easy to Escher, and this was no exception to that rule, in spite of the eldritch nature of both this revelation and her own being.

Life among other people felt, strange, wrong in a way that was hard to pin down exactly. She felt like something that didn’t truly belong here, a feeling that wasn’t new to her but amplified with what had happened. With headphones in, wandering through the streets of her hometown in her own homeworld, it felt like navigating an alien landscape. Not quite people passing her on either side. There was no destination in mind. Just walking and trying to get things off her mind. Not that it was really working all that well.

The world feels different doesn’t it. Nothing has changed about them, but us…

We haven’t changed either. We just…

Perspective I know. It’s a hell of a thing to realise. I wonder if this is why people used to believe eldritch knowledge drove you insane. Everything is just so small, so fragile. But what can we do about that?

Nothing I guess.

It’s not fair. We have sight to understand but no strength to do anything with it. Caught between two but never quite at home with-

Can you feel that?

What?

It’s familiar, but not. Smaller. Moving. Moving fast.

The headphones are removed as Elana refocuses. The world around her suddenly a very real and immediate thing as her reflective demeanour is suddenly pulled back. Escher was right, something was going on somewhere close and it wasn’t good either. She could hear shouting and a lot of it. The press of people turning from mere foot traffic to what was near a wall as the world around her ground to a halt. All the while at the edge of her senses, something was wrong. Not like before, smaller like Escher had mentioned. But it had stopped. There was no way she’d reach it in this sort of crowd.

“Ladies and gentlefolk, I’d kindly ask to move your asses.” There’s little warning to the tentacles making their appearance. Pouring from the bottom of her shirt and practically throwing Elana above the crowd, it wasn’t subtle but it was going to get her through the press. Those immediately around her scattering at the sudden manifestation of Escher’s physical form. Keeping a low profile was no longer a priority in Elana's world now.

Elana let's be reasonable we really don’t need to-

Weird Void shit is going down Esch, who else could take care of something like this?

The police?

Oh yeah, because they totally have a division dedicated to squiggly Void things.

If Escher had any further complains about the situation she certainly didn’t make them heard in their shared mind. An extended arm sees yet more of their additional eldritch appendages loose into the world. Pulling them onto the side of a nearby building, a vantage point from which she could look out above the sea of people, trying to get a better idea of what was going on.

About a block away, an intersection to be specific. Traffic had stopped and she could see why, it looked like quite a wreck. Smoke rising over the sea of people, obscuring details. From this distance it was hard to tell exactly what had gone down but it was clearly nothing good, and it was this that moved something inside her to act. Coming to the aid of others, showing compassion. Things moments ago that seemed pointless now flared in her mind. Deep ingrained instincts driving her to good that needed doing, and needed doing now. Was it a coincidence then, that falling deep into the Void had resurfaced that memory. Her mind felt a confusing stew of emotions, body on more or less autopilot.

Like some bizarre giant octopus, those tendrils that held the pair of them aloft walked them across the walls of these stores and businesses. Elana could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, but pushed that our of her mind. How bizarre she looked wasn't lost on her, to them she may have well been some knockoff cephalopod based super villain swinging above them. But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by things like that. As far as she know time could be of the essence. People could be very seriously injured.

Smoke from the wreckage. It send a chill down her spine now that she was up close. Close enough to catch the smothering acrid scent of it. Memories threatened to flood forth, but they're banished quickly. The present was more important. She could focus on that, there were things she could still control.

Even up closer there wasn’t much she could actually make out. There was a large shape in there somewhere and what could have possibly been two smaller ones too. Being the impulsive one, she’s already made her mind up on what to do within seconds of reaching the corner.

Elana no…

But it was already too late, the verdict had come in and the majority vote had come in. Elana yes. Tentacles coiling and pulling her closer to the wall before launching both her and Escher like a spring into the middle of whatever mess this was. Those black limbs serving only as cushioning as she touches down on the asphalt. Her eyes stinging from the smoke that she had been forced to rocket through in order to get here.

And where was here exactly? Right in the middle of what looked like the biggest of kerfuffles she had personally witnessed to date. Two people were kneeling to her right. A one armed man in his mid to late forties shielding a younger woman from. Well a kind of beast that Elana had never encountered before, and yet instinctively knew what it was.

Void Spawn.

Standing clear head and shoulders above your average man, it was an intimidating sight to behold. It’s frame clearly resembled a werewolf, on the very surface at least. But up close she could see things that were off. Wrong in some way. Limbs that seemed too long, even for a werewolf, it’s torso misshapen. And the way it seemed to flicker hurt the eyes to even look at, as it were straining, barely contained by the reality it had found itself in now.

Eyes like gates into the Void itself, that had once been locked on the cowering man before it now settled on Elana. Its posture hunched, teeth bared. All suggesting violence was all but inevitable, this was a cornered beast and it had few options left but to snarl and bite should it’s warnings be ignored. And yet, had it's demeanour changed since she arrived? It was a subtle change but she could feel the information flowing to her from her eldritch other half.

If was times like these that she wished the world was a simpler place. As if her options would be presented to her, consequences and all, for her to choose from and know what she was getting. Because now, without that, she was left with only her instincts. And those. Well those had a tendency to come packaged with complimentary shenanigans and more of those than anyone realistically could deal with.

While she was considering her options. The Spawn acts. Having lost interest in Elana, she apparently wasn't enough to hold its attention for long. What it had decided was the cowering man was a much more interesting target of its ire. Crouching in preparation. It pounced in what seemed like a heartbeat. Hurtling towards the innocent bystanders like a missile set to deliver an eldritch payload of claws, muscle and fur.

She had mere moments to react, barely enough to form a plan. But tentacles had worked well up until now and she didn't have many more apparent options. Black tendrils billowing forth from her sleeves. Wrapping around the Spawn's limbs and snatching it out of the air but a foot away from its intended target. “Bad dog, stay.” Her voice echoing with eldritch hollowness. Eyes shrinking to become star filled pools of darkness.

With a flick of her arm she dumps the snarling beast well out of range of the pair it had attempted to attack.

It was then that seeming inexplicable happened. Elana was ready to dive out of the way. Anticipating a charge that she knew was coming and yet… she's left waiting. The beast just standing there hunched over after picking itself up again. A low but steady growl being its only indicator of mood. Clearly still angry and a little scared, but also confused. As if it itself didn't know why it was listening to Elana's commands.

What the hell is going on? Is it obeying us? Of all the people it could choose to listen to. Maybe because we're also void creatures?

She didn't answer for she didn't have one. A mad plan already formulating in her mind, one that Escher was sure to be sensing already. The fear of such a creature bringing a natural hesitation to her actions. It seeming like an age before she takes her first step towards the wolf beast.

Elana… Can we be reasonable about this?

It's dangerous you know, it would have killed these two without us.

Think what it could do to us.

Again there's no answer from Elana. Trepidation turning to a shaky confidence in her intentions in walking forth. A hand outstretched but held low, fingers loosely curled inwards. The way one might approach an unfamiliar animal, attempting to appear as non-threatening as possible. Giving it a chance to realise she means it no harm.

Elana…

A pause in her advance is brought upon by a low growl from the wolf. At least until she is fairly confident that it's not a precursor to an attack. In her heart she could feel this being meant her or anyone else no harm, that it was simply frightened and confused. Empathy, it  was so much like her, but robbed of any means to communicate with this strange unfamiliar world.

The anxiety radiating out from Escher wasn't helping, but at least it wasn't hindering either.

A mere handful of feet away from it and she could now make out details a lot clearer than she could from afar. The skin beneath fur was an unnatural pale, not a million miles away from her own otherworldly tones. Coupled with dark fur, the similarities were hard to miss. The fear she felt before, a coldness that held her heart, was now thawing. She could feel the eyes, the cell phones, the cameras upon her. It wasn't just those three immediately nearby but the crowd standing well back.

It was like trying to move through tar. Adrenaline forcing its through her system, time seeming to slow to a crawl as her instincts told her to flee. But there was more than that. She could feel it on a deep level that defied any attempt in explain it in her mind. Space was being twisted here, distances compressed and stretched in ways the average eye could not see but yet tugged at her body and slowed her movements.

Coming face to face with such a creature. Gazing into those strange and eldritch eyes brought forth memories of the Titan. The growling had stopped, she wasn't sure sure when but it had. A tiny sliver of easy in a turmoil stricken sea.

Reaching up, she places a hand upon its muzzle. A tiny elf standing before a crouching giant. There was no doubt her picture would be across local papers, but that was inconsequential. As soon as her hand touched the beast the world seemed to fall away. A single word echoing in her mind.

“Titan.”

Startled her hand is retracted, a few stumbling steps backward are taken as shaken gasp is forced from her. She has no time to take stock of the world around as a harsh sound invades the scene around her. The bass thrum of helicopter blades as dark shadows cast down upon the wreckage from above. Elana's eyes are cast skyward, seeing the black helicopters hovering above, an unfamiliar insignia emblazoned on doors that are now open, from which ladders spill out followed closely by people in tactical gear.

Just as she was beginning to think the situation was under her control again, things seemed to be slipping from her grip once more. Weapons were being raised at her, at the spawn she stood by. There were words being barked at her. But she couldn't hear them. Breathing grew harder as the panic began to settle in. It was as if an icy shard had pierced her heart.

Elana, what's happening?

She couldn't answer. To calm the spawn had required a toe dipped into the dark sea of the Void. But one wrong move and… She was falling. Light, sound, touch, time. All shed as her being descended deep beyond what she could have ever imagined falling. An eye that dominates the skyline opens, beholding the infinitesimally smaller being that now hurtled through its domain.

Focus.

A mere split second had passed for the world around her. Frantic shouting, rising tempers. And yet Elana knew exactly what she should do.

“N̷̛͜o͡!̢͏”

Like a tidal wave, the Void spills forth. A freezing ripple that surges out and touches all within reach. Lights within the affected zone seeming dimmer. The world peaceful for a brief moment, before the panic sets in.

Attempts to move, to flee or advance all end in the same way. As if pushing off, untethering people from the world. Gravity a fleeting memory within this bubble of Elana's making. Shouts and cries muffled by the Void that infused the air and in the centre of all the chaos sat Elana and the wolf spawn.

The power flowing through her veins yearns to be used. Kept locked away since her creation and only now allowed to flow freely. But there is only one thing she wishes to do. Escape.

Seemingly unaffected by the current lack of gravity, she reaches out towards the centre of the intersection. And like the hundreds of times before, calls upon her Void Gate ability. Overcharged with unimaginable energy, the tear is much larger than anticipated. Several of the armed people floating over its edge, no doubt only saved from falling in by their weightlessness.

She doesn't seem to have to indicate to her new friend to jump through it at all. The beast leaping into the Void of its own free will. Shortly followed by herself. Leaving reality to reassert itself in her absence.

Normality achieved, the crowds are beginning to disperse. “Control, we have a situation. Subject has been driven off. Additional subject was spotted but it got away. We're on route with a plus one. We have Dr Richardson in custody.” One of the armed men barks into his radio.

As he's speaking, the one armed man is being loaded into the transport. The helicopter rising into the sky by the time emergency sirens can be heard homing in on the site of the accident. The world steadily ticking on, the significance of today's events lost on those lucky enough to witness it. The first step in a long chain.

________________________________

A silence thick enough to cut. Up close and without the smoke and chaos, Dr Richardson looked to be in his late forties to early fifties. Once blonde hair now sprinkled with grey and kept a little on the longer end of what one might consider formal. His features refined, handsome in a way. Where there had once been an absence of arm, now a series of tentacles had formed into the shape of one. A kind of eldritch prosthetic, not too dissimilar to Escher's attempts at a false limb though somewhat cruder and lacking the same finesse of Escher. Steel grey eyes locked upon the man opposite him.

That man was dressed all business, an expertly tailored suit. His features softer than the man across the table. Hair neatly shaved. He seemed quite the contrast to the man opposite to him, his darker skin a seeming mirror of Dr Richardson's odd paleness. “Malcolm.” His voice calm measured, in control.

A nasty smile soon reveals itself, the kind as if to feign innocence of an act he was caught doing. “Josh my old friend. How long has it been? Sixty, seventy, eighty years now?” A shake of the head and a subtle little laugh follow. “And in all that time, not even a single Christmas card. Im hurt, really.”

His brow furrows. Setting his elbows upon the table between them and steepling his hands. “Malcolm. What were you doing that drew you towards such an unfortunate accident?”

“Well you see I'm just a concerned citizen who saw a terrible tragedy un-”

“Bullshit. That. Is. Bull. Shit.” The interruption sudden but sharp and hard. “We have evidence that you, Malcom, were responsible for both the creation of and the luring of that Void Spawn.” Pointing at the man opposite him. He pulls a folder out from the briefcase by his side. Setting it down. On the table and opening it for all to see. “Now I will ask you again. What were you up to. And who is the girl.” One particular picture is singled out. An image captured by one of the onlookers. A picture of Elana reaching up to comfort the Void Spawn.

A flicker of disgust crosses the other man's face. He scans the the pictures arranged before him, though avoids looking again once he's sure his bluff has been called. “She's a Symwright.”

Cold, the blood in his veins like ice now. He may as well have been punched in the gut right now with how he felt. Part of him would have preferred that. “N-no… that's not possi-”

Snapping back into the back of his chair, Malcolm laughs as if it were all some joke to him. “Joran, your ex-boyfriend. Well he's been a busy bee. Finally did what we couldn't all those years ago. A true, proper child of The Void. And he did it right under our noses too. The sly old fox. Shame what happened to him really. Car accident, hell of a way to go. Leaving behind a widow and kid.” The arm and tentacle prosthetic cross before him, the grin only intensifying.

“There's no way… that could… how… why now?”

“All those years ago, when we ventured out beyond where men were meant to tread. We saw a being of true beauty. And today, I saw a child taking her first beautiful steps. Impossible, I think that's a word we can safely resign to the history books. Because a Titan walks among us, and she has let go her earthly tether.”

[twitchesandstitches]

The Destroyer had been fighting in the arena for a long, long time. She didn’t know how long, and she didn’t care.

She cared about the applause, the glory and the fame. She cared about the joy of proving her worth, time and time again; the sweet thrill of her blows landing home, the perfect control of her finishing moves never killing another contender. And she cared, so very much, for the roar of the audience as she delighted them, the thrill pulsing from them as dear to her as her own heartbeat, and just as vital to herself, and there and then she always felt alive.

Somewhere, perhaps, her ancestors on planet Terradino, at some unspecified point prior to the destructive events that put the multiverse into such a complicated state, had fought in such a way. The Destroyer had grown up not knowing a whole lot about where her family had come from. She knew that she was a vaxasaurian, the dinosaur-like people renowned for their size and strength. She knew that her family had served a minor lord of this feudal world she called home for at least five generations. And she knew that she had won a lot of freedom and fame fighting in the gladiator arenas, a true show-woman to her core. She liked to think that, perhaps, she was doing her ancestors proud in some obscure way.

She did not much care for the strangely penetrating look the small human woman was giving her.

‘Title, not name.’ She stopped, halting a charge that would surely have seen them crushed beneath her tread.

Ahsoka readied the gladiator spear she’d been given, since you don’t get to take your own weapons into the fighting pit. She was a tall and imposingly powerful woman of the twi’lek people; broadly humanoid, two long and thick tendrils extending from the back of her head over her shoulders, and it was difficult to say, from her coloration, if she was red with orange paint, or orange with red paint. It was certainly a complex design, shifting subtly with the immensely powerful energies emanating from her clear mastery over the mystical arts.

Ahsoka looked up at the vaxasaurian gladiator; the Destroyer. She and her group were not small; they were enormously powerful, their abilities enhanced by the strange practices of the Task Force and vastly empowered by all kinds of esoteric things: unique technologies, forgotten mystical mantras, divine techniques, and so forth. They were also a subtle group, so they were not quite as big or buxom as their power normally would have made them, though they were still incredibly large; the average audience member could have fit into their hands.

The shadow of the Destroyer fell over them all; the statuesque and extremely curvaceous form of the reptilian juggernaut could not entirely be downplayed by the showy armor she wore, not at her levels of busty. It was a bit of a surprise she didn’t topple over with every step, really. Breasts bigger than her upper body, the visible scales painted in attractive designs, hips that shook like buildings moving in an earthquake; she seemed calculatedly appealing, fearsome.

Arri picked up on Ahsoka’s mood. She coughed; a turian like her, with their distinctively rumbling voices, could really make a cough sound dramatic. Tall, her curves extreme on an hourglass-shaped body, her lightweight robes (perfect for someone with an evasion-heavy style) revealed a lot of serrated and metallic carapace, like someone had tried to build a bipedal velociraptor and make it armored. That look, her mandibled snout, and the long talons were typical of her people. The scorpion tail was not; neither was the way one arm twisted into a huge pincer, blazing with magical flame and generating all the fire magic she required. “Perhaps we shouldn’t antagonize the terrifying gladiator, Quinn…?”

She said this without much hope. Harley had an Idea. This rarely worked out for them.

Harley placed down her hammer, a great and oversized thing seemingly too unwieldy for someone to even pick up, let alone swing with one hand as she did. She sat down on a hammer-head larger than she was, her enormous backside making it sink into the ground. The haft made an acceptable rest for her back as she plopped against it, seemingly unconcerned, and she clapped her hands together.

Normally, she looked like an unstable mass of dynamic energy too intense to be constrained within the form of a giantess, even one so powerful that her power levels had produced a body type not dissimilar to the average violin; big up top, big below, and with very little in between. Even sitting down, her visible body appeared to be a mass of boob on crossed legs, monstrously wide thighs, inexplicably pale skin, and all of that wrapped up in a battlesuit of alternated red and black patterns.

That energy cooled, and she instead radiated competence, reassurance, and a soothing attitude.

The Destroyer raised a weapon irritably at her. “Get up, little thing. Fight me! Stop wasting my time, I..” She faltered, eyes blinking furiously inside her glamorous helmet. “I…”

She shook her head. She banged her weapon against a showman shield. “I have no time for this!”

“Okay,” Harley said, blinking slowly. “It’s your show, lady. This whole place is your performance, ain’t it?”

The Destroyer found herself nodding before she forced herself to stop, narrowing her eyes down at the (relatively) little fighter. Her elephantine foot landed a dangerously short distance from Harley, trying to get her to move… to run, do SOMETHING. “What trickery is this?” the Destroyer asked.

“No tricks, hun.” Harley held her hands up. “My girls back there, they won’t attack until I give up on our little talk here, okay? No ambushes or sneak attacks to take your title.”

The Destroyer blinked at them. Ahsoka and Arri nodded nervously, taking many steps back. Ahsoka fought back the urge to summon her powers anyway, just as a precaution… just in case Harley’s plan, whatever it was, didn’t pan out.

The enormous vaxasaurian stared at them a while longer, doubt coloring her every movement, Eventually she sat down, her armor still wobbling in various places. Her armor had probably been jointed specifically for that; a good amount of wobble drew a certain sort of audience.

She glowered down at Harley, who met her gaze politely with a vague smile. It was amazing Harley didn’t cower, with those massive talons before here; the tyrant lizard jawline, the spiky plates jutting through armor, and the mighty tail spikes lashing around in what, a layman probably, might mistake as impatience to finish the fight.

Harley knew anxiety and someone who needed to get something out when she saw it.

“If you want me to go first,” Harley said in a drawl. “My real name is actually-”

She said ‘Harleen Quinzel’. What actually came out of her mouth was an entirely different set of syllables, modified to make sense in this part of space, in this universe, in that culture, for her current operational persona. It was carved into the universe around here; whatever she said or did, it would be perceived as something fitting her role. They didn’t hear the name Harley Quinn when she fought, they heard what they needed to. Just as surely as, if by some means they did learn the truth, they would eventually just… forget. The knowledge dripping out of their heads.

And if that didn’t work, Gabriel Reyes would visit them. Or rather, the Ghost Rider would. Holy fire would burn away everything they didn’t need to know, and leave behind calm ashes, bothering them never again.

Nevertheless, though the Destroyer didn’t hear what Harley truly said, she did hear the sincerity.

“I don’t know my own name,” she admitted. “That’s strange, isn’t it? I don’t know why. Huh. That’s, that’s odd.” She frowned. “Isn’t it?”

Around the arena, there was a chorus of voices, a vast crowd complaining and bickering and wondering just what was going on here. Referees tried to angle for silence, and a few shadowy visitors were looking very anxious indeed.

“Look into your memories,” Harley suggested.

The Destroyer tried to remember something; anything, really, and found, now that she had brought it up, that her recollections felt… odd.

Further than a few years, and they were hollow. Not empty, just… insufficient. Off, flavorless, shapes of memory.

“Huh,” she said, and it felt inadequate. “That doesn’t seem right…”

And as the conversation continued, Eddie Brock, in his persona as a wannabe gladiator (with his married partner/symbiote lover as a subtle edge in his favor, with going full Venom as a back up plan if things went bad) held up a small oblong thing that looked like a religious relic. “Hrm,” he said, voice tinged with the harmonics of the symbiote bound to him as well as his own voice.

Ranamon, presently wearing the robotic shell of a walking tank, scuttled over. “Something up?” she asked, risking that she might be breaking character.

Eddie nodded at her. “We’re done here.” It wasn’t Eddie that spoke, but the symbiote; they seemed glad of it, and Eddie’s teeth grew longer when they spoke, tendrils of black shimmering just a bit over his eyes.

Ranamon blinked. “I thought our job was to beat up the head gladiator, get close enough to the big ruler-type guy and…”  she made a sharp gesture with half-a-dozen arms that indicated a very violent and final sort of political shift. “Y’know.”

“Yep,” Eddie, this time, said. “That was one of the options, anyway, and I got word from high up. Seems the direct option isn’t needed. It’ll happen without us. We’re done here.”

“Oh. Uh.” Ranamon shrugged, which was an interesting thing to see in a machine body that was what you got if you tried to make a tank out of an arachnid shape. “Yay, I guess!”

They left, to join up with the rest of the Task Force, and leave things to sort themselves out.

They often operated, in a way, through ripples. The tasks they were assigned, as random and minor as they seemed at the time, sent out ripples. Echoes and consequences, moving onward and growing larger… much larger, over time.

Today, a gladiator would go home, unfulfilled and perplexed, and have to ask herself why she couldn’t remember her name, and why her memories didn’t feel real.

In a week, she would gather up the other fighters she was friendly with, the ones that always stuck by her because she was a professional that never went for a killing blow, and ask them a few awkward questions. Everyone would leave feeling baffled that their own memories felt wrong, too.

And there… well, who knew? Maybe in a few months time, a local cloning factory would answer some very pointed questions from gladiators that had secretly been born there only a few years previous despite their memories saying otherwise.

But from there, a hint of a whole rotten, sorry system of casually churning out people for entertainment would lead all the way to the top, and it would be the Destroyer aiming herself squarely at the king of the world, making her name very literal indeed.

One way or another, a corrupt empire would fall.

The Task Force would have helped make this part of the multiverse a little brighter.