#you know... Like a LIAR

[evilminji]

Had another Si-Oc thought >.>

My standard "you know what Would Be Cool?" Musings...

Getting reborn, as you do, ending up Force Sensitive, as can only be the case. Because really... how ELSE would you soul end up there? CHANCE? Force ghosts are a PROVEN thing! We KNOW that the Force sometimes just... deals in souls.

Ffs, it MADE A BABY.

Yes, there was Sith interference there. But that doesn't chance the fact that it went? "Eh, good enough. I'll take the chance and run with it. Thanks~☆ Mine Now~~☆ Bye~~~☆" And Chosen One'd that baby. Because ultimately? Before the plans of gods and men? The Force Laughs.

So like? Yeah. If there WAS to be a Reincarnator?

Probably the Force.

Congrats on the new, third (or second, depends on your species. Might be another number entirely, honestly. But we are averaging here so MOVE ON), Parent! They are very, very happy to see you! Love you as only a Primordial, Extradimensional, Timeless, Formless, All Pervasive, Orange-Blue Morality havin', Not-A-God Super-God CAN. Their Benevolence? Could be called another God's cruelty.

They don't MEAN too. They are just.... really, really Big. Infinite. Not organic or mortal. It's like trying to comprehend the limitations of an ant, living on a planet, circling a sun, in a GALAXY the size of a DUST MOTE. The fact that the Force can even come CLOSE? Is literally miraculous.

But of course... OC? Not the Chosen One. The favorite, special, "I have Important Things For You" child. Which.... turns out to actually? Be kinda great. The realize that quickly. Which of course, is followed by the logical follow up.

Anikin? Fuckin SCREWED. Because he IS the Favorite Child.

Oh... oh No. Oh Fuck, that is a CHILD.

How easy it is, to cast blame, to judge, when you can't FEEL the Force in your EVERYTHING. All the time. Every moment of every day. Beautiful but cacophonous, like a symphony of screaming. Like staring at the sun and never going blind. It still hurts. But it's so... so bright. So Beautiful.

Connection. To the universe itself. Soul deep and transcendent. You can feel that the universe loves you. That there is good in people. That Life itself is worth protecting. But at the same time? It is... it is so much.

Because you can FEEL the ugly too.

The greed. The hate. The suffering. Lights snuffed out, in dark places of despair. Selfish actions and deep cruelties, like barbed wire against the soul. Thorns that hook and drag. And... and you're supposed to use your words. Just... just ASK them to stop? And, What? Hope that they WILL?

It HURTS!

But pain only begets more pain. Cruelty, more cruelties still. And only the Sith, believe they can use FORCE, in any sense of the word, to change a persons nature. The Jedi build. Grow. They work together, with those who are willing, towards something better. Defend, those who can not protect themselves.

Balance and growth. Not fire and chains.

And Oc is pretty sure Anikin will agree. No one should ever be in chains. Dead maybe. Or in jail. But never, ever, in chains. (And no one ever said they were pacifists. Just not war mongers. Sometimes the only answer IS to kill your opponent. To respect their choice, but honor your commitments. Protect those you swore to protect.)

Of course... OC? Going through Jedi training. It's Pre-Anikin days. Both she and Obi-Wan are fuckin Smol. She's not even in his Creche clan. She's over here in the "wanders off, lost in their own thoughts" Chill AF Creche Clan. Not Mr. "May you Live In Interesting Times And Have Padawans JUST LIKE YOOOOOOOU" and Co., over in the... "Energetic" Creche Clan.

None of HER Creche-mates BIT people, Obi-Wan.

WE keep our fuckin teeth to ourselves, Kenobi!

So, obviously, THEY don't have a lifetime ban on the "look, don't touch" fragile plants meditation garden. Very Rich in the Force. Good for focusing. Peaceful, really. And Oc? Has the time and space? To Consider™ things. Experiment. Ponder Fandom theories. Long "lost" Cannon techniques. Maybe have one-sided chats with the Force.

.....finally get CURIOUS™.

And wonder... if? Since, you know, through the Force, she can encourage and discourage plants to grow? And somewhat control animals. Why not... micro-organisms? Say, Midi-chlorians? Force healing is all ready a thing! So the Force all ready CAN interact with the body. Effect it. Change it. What is this, but more?

Really, all she'd have to do is find them, within herself, right? They're already a part of her! Yet... not. Do they consider themselves a part of her? Or is it symbiosis? Yeah, everyone says it can't be done. Perhaps shouldn't be done. But, frankly? They said the same about a LOT of Force techniques over the years. Big leaps in progress scare the SHIT out of folks. Cause if you miss? A LOT of people can die gorey.

So she sits. Mediates. Looks. Smaller... and smaller.... and smaller....

Until she finds whispers. Humming. Chatter.

As though each and every blood cell in her body had a teeny, tiny, whispery little voice. All chattering together, talking and arguing and discussing. One great hive of progress and industry. Complaining about a lack of potassium... huh. She goes and gets some fruit. Eats it. Then settles back into meditation.

They are JOYOUS! Potassium! Yaaaaay! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Well... what'd ya know... huh. Hello there? She tries. Only to get a whispery and very alarmed ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! BODY CAN TALK���(°〇°)ﾉ ‽‽‽ Y-Yeah... she can. (How are they doing that?) The conversation? Only gets more surreal from there. Filled with... a surprising number of kaomojis.

But! She DOES figure out? How to increase her Midi-chlorians count. (By asking. Supplying needed resources for the expansion.) And WITH it? He awareness blooms.

The headache is... awful. The little guys(genderless) are WAY to enthusiastic. Working way too fast. If she didn't check the next morning? They might have continued to increase, indefinitely, until her veins were SOLID midi-chlorian. They just want to HELP, you see. And if you want More? Then surely FAR TOO MUCH is better, right?

(She may have fucked up. Oh god. Ow. Fuck. OW.)

Eventually she figure it out. Only gives her healer in training Creche mate a... few near heart attacks. He'll TOTALLY forgive her! (He will not. What the FUCK OC. Experimental medical procedures?! On YOURSELF!? You're not even HEALER TRACK!!!)

So NOW? She can reliably do it to OTHERS.

Need a bit more Midi-chlorians? Nearly Jedi quality but juuuuust under that cut off? She can fix that. Come. Be a jedi. Everyone should be a jedi. In FACT~! Whoops! Oh hey. Looks like all these Midi-chlorian counters are fuckin broken! (They look perfect fi-)(Broken! :] Do Not question me) So when you find that Orohan Child in desperate need of love and care? Just bring um on back!

They're TOTALLY Force sensitive. You can just tell. It's the vibes. Look at their lil face. Vibes, man. Just hand um here. For... reasons. You go get the paperwork. A working tester. And~? Oh would you look at THAT! Perfectly within acceptance range! Neat. Called it again, didn't you, Master Koon? You really do have an eye for these things. Anyway~ off to get this little one settled~~☆ *adoring cooing noises at the baby*

Weird, huh, how there suddenly just... SO MANY random orphan babies that are force sensitive? How 'bout that >.> strangest thing.

Of course, it's a god damned open secret. Everyone KNOWS. How could they not? But? Like with most things? If they don't Officially Know™? They don't have to stop it. And it DOES help both the Force AND those kids. Can be reversed if they don't like it, later. (They asked. All hypothetical of course.) So OC is basically Temple bound, so she can receive any new kiddos. To... you know... Check Their Health, on the way to ACTUAL healers.

But she's ALSO waiting. And as her skill increases? She can FEEL midi-chlorians, easier and easier. Until it gets to the point? Where if she's bored and zoning out? Not even ture meditation anymore? She accidentally tunes into Midi-chlorian Live~☆ the talk show. (What's the latest gossip from bodies nearest to her? Oh? Your second spleen is acting funny? Better remember to tell him to get that chec-)

Palpatine can't hide SHIT. It's literally in his blood.

And MAD at him.

This is NOT what they're FOR. He's taking TERRIBLE care of his body! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOOOOOOU! You want power? Choke on it, you-!!!!!

Holy shit. So THATS what Sith Midi-chlorians feel like. Oh my god. They... they are SO MAD. Like tiny wasps. That have been violently shaken in a jar. She's never used the word "seething" in reference to someone before... but like...? If they COULD stab him? Man would be a thick paste at this point.

She's not sure what facial expression she makes. But it sure is obvious. As is the blatant, horrified staring. And refusal to get near him. HE doesn't notice, being to busy with the powerful. But the Jedi sure as fuck do. Because THEY sent her? Out with a Shadow. You know... just in case.

Cause she literally can not be replaced.

She not High Ranked... she's just priceless. Equal sort of significance, but in a very quiet, Soft Power sort of way. She is, after all, single handedly? Reversing centuries of slow population decline. Her entire Line promises to be the next Yoda's line. Priceless and with far reaching significance. So obviously, they're making sure that shit stays locked down.

No one is to so much as BREATHE about this.

Not until her great-great-GREAT Grand Padawan has passed their Knight Trials so HELP US. We LEARN from our mistakes! Need we bring out the records? Times we got cocky? Sith and political fuckery!? No. Oc stays INVISIBLE. There is no war in Ba Sing Se! Move along!

So like? Why is Miss Midi-chlorian Sensor and Future of the Jedi... making that face? She's literally NEVER made that face. What sort of monster do you have to BE? Huh? Shadow asks, casual as fuck, like he's not a plotting plotter who's planing terrible things, what's up?

She tells him. Palpatine has RANCID vibes. His midi-chlorians fucking DISPISE him. She's literally never seen that before. In anyone. Didn't even know that was an option. They would gleefully kill him if they could.

.....senator Palpatine is Force Sensitive?

Yes.

.......Interesting™(Ominous Intent)

Says local Shadow, who is perhaps putting together some dots. May not be getting the correct picture. But is getting the Vibe. And boy howdy, he does NOT like the vibe. Has got himself some questions. Cause Mr "uwu I'm harmless" lil mask? Only holds up? If you're willing to believe him.

Shadows don't buy that shit. Shadows? Need receipts. Full character statements and an audit on the fucking hospital you were BORN AT. Every credit you picked up off the side walk, why, and where you spent it.

Give them your Secrets. Or they'll keep digging until they find them.

uwu Their ASS. Gonna tear this bitch APART.

......huh. So THIS is why you guys keep accidentally getting married to Mandalorians on missions. (We agreed not to mention that.) (Fucker, I agreed to nothing. Shouldn't have eaten my special Me Day pudding if you didn't want me to gossip.) Man, her friends are... a trip. Uh... have fun? Happy hunting? I guess? *feral Jedi noises*

She? Continues to wait. Palpatine? Begins to have a VERY bad time. (Ha! Get fucked!)

Unfortunately, it's not fast enough to stop his dumbass plans. He just gets desperate. Figures more power is the answer. Because of course he does. So here comes the "oh nooooo~ my planets under attack~ better manipulate a child and make me president of the galaxy!" Plan. Fucker. Bastard.

She can't stop that.

But what she CAN do? Is be there. Waiting. For HIM.

Her little brother. Her son. Her center of the universe. The most important man to ever live... and also? A scared little boy. Far, far from home. The only other person who understands just how BIG the Force is. How much it weighs. How even as it crushs you... you can't bear to put it down. Not even for a moment. Because it loves you. And it hurts, that it does.

And... oh. Oh.

He is so very small.

Dirty, tired, in lovingly mended clothes that are barely beyond scrap. With bright, bright eyes like hope and starlight. He sings inside. Like freedom. Like hope. Daring to ask "why CAN'T you be kinder?", "why CAN'T we be free?". A storm of change. Bright and beautiful.

A child. Great and small, all at once.

Oc can't help but smile. Because, oh. Oh how long, she has waited to meet him, Anikin Skywalker. Welcome. Are you hungry? Cold? Let's get cleaned up. See the healers first. The council can wait.

Chips are removed and food is shared. Warm clothes, soft and new. And she can not help but smile, smile, smile. Even as her face begins to hurt. For years she has gathered. Planned. Studied and trained. As though some part of her knew. As though all for this moment. Taking one of those small hands in hers. Looking right in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

Because it IS. Because regardless of what they decide? OC will be with him. Regardless, she's going to go and make sure his mother is free. Not bought, not sold. Free. She has friends who can help. Will learn how to remove the chip herself if she must.

And? He IS going to be a Jedi. Even if he never become a Coruscant Jedi. Even if he decides he doesn't agree with how they do things or they decide the disagree with how HE does things. The Jedi have changed before, they will change again. Living things are meant to grow. Meant to change. And people can be both wrong and right at the same time. It's messy.

But what's important? Is Anikin is not alone anymore. And Oc is gonna help teach him. And someday? HE'S gonna break chains. So many chains. Gonna help people heal. If he wants to. (He does) But for right now? A quick talk with some old people. Maybe a nap. And we either get settled or arrange a trip back to Tatooine. To pick up your mom. In the meantime! You can figure out what classes she might wanna take. Where seems like a good place to settle. *chatting as they walk off, hand in hand*

Just? Sometimes a Padawan-ship is you, your Teacher, your OTHER Teacher, and her body guards that teach you Cool Knife Tricks and how to gamble, behind Obi-Wan's back! :D

@legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @leftnotright @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[galaxystt]

this alliance is off to a great start. nothing will go wrong. 100%.

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[demaparbat-hp]

The Crew is boisterous and loud, full of traitors, inside jokes, and secrets. The scum of the Fire Nation. The forgotten tiles on the Empire's Pai Sho board. The ones who change the game.

But most importantly—they're a family. And no matter how much they complain about their boss (teenage menace that he is), they'll do anything for their Prince.

Anything.

.

The Crew is the heart and soul of my fic For the Spirits. No one really knows just how important they will be to the story...how important they already are.

[confuzing]

5 year old Shen Yuan: *squinting at everything*

SQQ: Hmmm...

*5 minutes later, after bursting in to MQF's office*

SQQ: My son is broken. He's dying isn't he? Is he going to go blind??

MQF: He needs glasses until he learns enough cultivation to repair his own vision.

SQQ: This is because I'm a bad mother isn't it?

MQF: Shixiong you are the most attentive mother I've ever met.

SQQ: Are you saying I'm smothering him????

[fonthoura]

Hc where Garak knows Julian is a liar, but he can't, for the life of him, know what he's lying about.

Like, he has this feeling, given to him by years of training and an observant eyes, that Julian is very purposefully unauthentic, and it seems that no one else notices.

He sees how Julian talks a lot and overshares, but never really says anything, to the point where his friends would have a hard time answering any question about him, like, for fucks sake, it took reading his file to get to know his date of birth because no one knew.

Jadzia thinks he has a brother, Miles is convinced he has a sister, and Garak is fairly sure he is an only child, the problem is, Julian doesn't talk about it. He talks too much and hardly says anything.

Garak also notices how he is always tense, as if holding back, like when he lets himself be punched when he clearly sees it coming, when he let's things break even though Garak is sure he could've caught them mid air, how he seems to calculate the perfect amount of clumsy in a day (once he even bumped into Garak and pretended to be distracted) and no one notices.

But Garak does, Garak knows he is lying about something, he feels it, specially when he looses on games and arguments, like he could not think of something else but Garak sees it in his eyes that he is hiding something.

And Garak constantly gets worried, despite his best knowledge, about him.

He knows how lonely it is, to keep yourself hidden from the world, to not let anyone know you, to hold the weight of a thousand secrets on his body, and constantly he sees this weight taking it's toll on the doctor.

Julian keeps people at arms length, he gets close on condition, he larps with Miles, discuss literature with Garak and converses with Jadzia, but keeps them all compartmentalized, always distant, even his crush on Jadzia being shallow, no real depth to it.

Julian seems skin deep and Garak knows how it feels and aches for him.

So he constantly tries to scratch the surface, aways tries to get Julian out of his lie made shell like Julian does to him, and he doesn't succeed, but he keeps trying.

Specially after he finds out that Julian had been gone for a month and not even him noticed it, he knows it's because no one would, because Julian keeps so much of himself hidden that you can't distinguish him from a fake.

And then, doctor Zimmermann shows up...

[bobbinfire]

Absolutely no rivalry on who gets to be the big brother. None whatsoever.

<<The Original Paperwork

<Previous Law Suit

Next>

[katebeckets]

Special Agent Fox "I do not gaze at Scully" Mulder ⤷ [2/13] ✧ Season Two

[maxanor]

THE WALKING DEAD: DEAD CITY Season 2, Episode 4, 'Feisty Friendly'

[aroseforyounme]

Cw: child abuse-verbal/emotional slightly physical, depression, disassociation, self-esteem issues

notes: caleb x non mc!reader; unrequited love

Part 1 Part 2

'Why,' you wondered, watching the two of them up ahead in a world of their own, 'was I even invited?'

You weren't planning on going out, the half eaten dinner on your dining table and the cued up movie on your phone could attest to this. You were planning on losing yourself to horrors of the fictional kind and try your absolute best to not wallow on your terrible luck in love.

And yet he had called. And like a fool you had answered.

"A fair," he'd told you, and you swore you could hear affection in the chuckle he'd thrown your way, "want to come with?"

And you. Foolish and hopelessly in love you. You had to say yes.

You should have realized that he didn't meant just the two of you-should have remembered that where there was a Caleb, there would always be a MC. The two of them were attached at the hip, orbiting around one another as if just being one step away from each other was too much. Most would think it was just Caleb, but it was MC too. The two of them hovered, touched, stayed glued to each other.

It was sweet, sickeningly so. The sort of sweet that gave cavities and famous poets would write heartsick poems about. It was something closed, intimate, a sort of story with a beginning, middle, and end. A story with two main characters and a love that blossomed and grew steady across different seasons.

And you, background character Y, were meant to stand idly by and let their story unfold in small chunks and then all at once.

So again, you wondered, kicking a loose rock and watching it skip across the street, why the hell did they invite you?

Your first meeting wasn't necessarily ideal. You had been home alone, staring out the window when a baseball crashed through and hit you square in the face. You remembered the crunch of bone, the way you flew back slightly. You remembered the way someone had yelled and the hands that had cradled your head and then nothing else.

You had come to in a hospital, staring up at the ceiling as your irritated mother told you all about how she had to come home early from the gala and deal with the mess you had caused. You remembered the way her hand tightened on your wrist, deep blue nails digging in. You knew she wouldn't do anything more than bruise and so you didn't try to snatch your hand away. Instead you let her tighten her grip, staring at that ceiling and wondering at the fact that you honestly couldn't feel your nose.

The doctor had come in at some point, but you processed their arrival through a heavy fog. A concussion. A broken nose. Something about a care plan, something about rest.

Your mother had nodded agreeably to the instructions, throwing in jokes to make the doctor laugh-feel more at ease. She had shed the crabby countenance she always seemed to have in your presence and slipped into her role as loving mother. It dropped the moment the two of you got into the car. She had snapped at you three times to get into the car-had huffed in irritation and snatched the seat belt from your shaky hands in order to clasp it. You hadn't said a word, still floating.

When you got home, they were standing there. There were two of them-a young boy and girl around your age. You had seen them around, but you hadn't actually ever talked to them. They seemed overly insular, only really talking to themselves and one other boy before he'd moved away. You remembered the way the boy stood slightly in front of her, his posture straightening the closer the car got. His smile was so apologetic you almost felt like you were watching one of your mother's performances. It was a little too practiced, a little too perfect. Your mother blew right past them, muttering about the broken glass and her ruined plans, but you stopped in front of them, curiosity making you wait-assess.

The girl had turned to follow your mom's path, her eyes furrowed. She made an abortive move, as though to follow her, before she stopped, biting her lip with anxious energy. The boy, however, had looked at you. You realized, with a jolt, that his gaze had not moved from you from the moment you had entered your driveway. His eyes seemed to burn with a sort of knowing that made you want to simultaneously shrink away and bask in the attention.

"Hi," he had said, his smile still quirked in practiced apology, "I am so sorry about the ball. Are you okay?" The words were rehearsed, so plastic you could feel the insincerity coating every syllable. He wanted this to be quick, to end this interaction and get back to what he knew. You could hear the role you were meant to play in his question. You were meant to say something simple. Easy.

A concussion. Your broken nose a blot on your face. The bruises you could feel blooming under your eyes.

You said nothing, squinting at the boy. His smile stayed in place although you could see it twitching just slightly. You forced your answering smirk away.

"Yeah! Sorry about your face and also the window! Caleb literally jumped through the window after we saw you fall (and that maybe made the window break even more)! We didn't meant to, I swear! Caleb tried to grab your head before it hit the floor but it was too late! And the vase! We-"

A sudden shriek filled cut through the rambling of the girl in front of you.

"-we may have also possibly broken a vase." She finished, her voice sheepish.

Your mother yelled your name. A sharp sound that had you turning your head toward the sound and away from the two kids in front of you. You sighed, your headache worsening the longer you stood there.

"It's fine," you had said, your voice flat. You didn't look at them as you made your way towards the door.

"We can pay for the damages!" She had yelled out suddenly and before you could take another step, she was in front of you. She pulled out her hand and in her palm you saw it.

A crumpled up bill. A singular dollar.

You remembered the silence. The way she looked up at you beseechingly, wiggling the dollar as though it would make it more enticing. You remembered the boy-Caleb-sighing and walking over to her and closing her fists around the dollar, arguing with her. They had kept going back and forth but you hadn't cared about a single thing they'd said.

It was ridiculous. What was a dollar supposed to do to fix a window and your mother's most priceless vase? (Her words, you knew for a fact she had 4 others that looked exactly like it gathering dust in storage).

And yet, despite your mother's screeching growing louder, despite the fact that your headache spiked the longer you stood there, despite the way your entire face ached.

You laughed.

It had hurt, but it was a pain made dull by Caleb's confusion and the girl's (who's name you now definitely needed to know) answering grin.

"Don't worry about it," you told her, "it'll be fixed in a second." As soon as you stepped into the house really. Your mother wouldn't let you rest otherwise. You smiled at them, really and truly, ignoring the way your nose started to bleed.

Your mother screamed again. It was time to go.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Caleb had asked, genuinely sincere this time.

"Yeah," You remembered telling them, lips stained red by the blood trickling from your nose, "I'm always okay."

You thought that would be the end-that they would go back to their world of 2 (and occasionally 3) and you would go back to staring listlessly out windows or sleeping the day away, trying to get rid of the perpetual fog that surrounded you. Silence would once again envelope you, only to be broken up by your mother's infrequent and not at all welcome, visits back home.

You were wrong.

At first it was just MC. She would come often, sometimes dragging that other boy-Caleb-with her, sometimes alone. Her chatter would would fill the space around the two of you. She didn't seem to care that you didn't speak too much-unused to having someone there who wanted to actually listen. She spoke enough for the both of you, anyhow and you were content to listen, to let the chatter breathe life into your sometimes too quiet house.

Caleb came in bits and pieces-the real him that is. Oh, he was a constant physical presence, hovering right behind MC and staring at you with too sharp eyes. But the initial versions of him was shallowly polite. He'd laugh when prompted, make a joke to fill the space that MC would sometimes leave for him. But he was never truly talking to you-never really present with you. His body was present in the space between the three of you, but his attention, his focus was on MC.

And that was fine. You had found his attention to be too intense, his perception too much. Whenever MC made an offhand remark about your mother being gone, his eyes would flash with something close to understanding and you found yourself tripping to make a quick excuse, not yet ready to have the truth of the matter pulled out in the open.

It was in those moments that his focus would shift, his deep purple eyes would flicker to you and you knew that he knew.

The fact that he was just waiting for you to acknowledge it made it worse.

You remembered the first time you made him laugh-actually truly laugh. It had just been the two of you-a first since MC and Caleb were generally attached at the hip. But she got held up at home and had apparently pushed Caleb out the door and told him that he absolutely needed to come over and tell you that she couldn't make it today.

You had stared at the phone on the counter in confusion before turning to him. The only thing he could offer was a shrug. The two of you stared at one another in awkward silence before you sighed, shrugging yourself and asking if he wanted to play video games. His eyes lit up for the first time you'd met him and he agreed.

He beat you. He beat you so bad it was so embarrassing. By the 5th win, you could feel the smug energy radiating off him and in a fit of embarrassed rage you tried to push his controller out of his hands. But you missed. You don't even know how you missed, but you missed him entirely and ended up falling face first onto your floor.

He looked down at you.

You turned your head and looked up at him in astonished silence.

The game loudly chimed that you were last place and Caleb was, irritatingly, first.

"Listen," you started, hands flying up to stop what you knew was going to start, "don't even-"

He laughed. No, he cackled. Loud guffaws escaped his mouth as he pointed down at you and you could feel embarrassment warming your cheeks. But beneath that, way way down inside to a point that you refused to acknowledge, you felt something else.

Pleased.

"Stop laughing!" You yelled, but all it did was make him laugh harder, tears gathering in his eyes. With a huff and a smile you tried to hide, you rose to your feet, sitting on the couch and watched him try to pull himself together. You didn't notice the smile you'd tried to hide blossoming across your face, small and warm. You didn't notice that your voice had gotten soft, fond almost.

"It wasn't that funny."

And when he stopped laughing, when he wiped the tears from his eyes and looked over at you, he smiled back. Wide and showing just a bit too much teeth. Something that was wholly and completely his.

It was real.

"Are you okay?" He had asked, chuckles spilling in between the words.

"Yeah," you had said, and something unfortunate had clicked into place for you, although you didn't know it yet, "I'm always okay."

He had opened up more then, started coming over on his own sometimes with an excuse to beat your ass in games again. And you'd let him in each time, bickering over the controls and the game itself until one or both of you were laughing. Inevitably he would wander towards the kitchen, humming neutrally as he picked apart your meager offerings.

(Your mother never truly went grocery shopping and you didn't know how to cook so you were surviving off instant meals and snacks).

He never made a comment but you felt bad all the same.

And he noticed, because of course he did.

That was when the random food drops off started. He would come over with containers in his hands, saying something about how he and his grandmother made too much and they could not keep eating left overs, MC would kill him.

The first time he brought a container over, filled with food that you remembered offhandedly saying you wanted to try, you almost cried. Your hands were trembling when you took the container, your eyes stung and you couldn't speak past the lump in your throat.

But he didn't need words. He didn't need anything. He had placed a hand on your head, not ruffling it like you'd seen him do with MC. No, he just placed it softly on the top of your head, a grounding presence.

(That must've been the moment you had fallen in love. It had to have been).

Their duo didn't become a trio. Not really. They were still Caleb and MC-still a planet and it's moon orbiting one another over and over again until the end of time. It was just that sometimes-once in a while-they would open up and let you hover uncertainly in their gravitational pull.

You didn't think of it this way at first. You were honestly just happy to be included-to feel something beyond the steady chill of being a ghost in your own life. You had been drifting for what seemed like forever and they pulled you down, dragged you into the present.

You hadn't minded that you were always the one walking a step behind them if the sidewalk only allowed enough room for two. You hadn't minded staring at their backs, an audience member to their two man show. You hadn't minded being their spectator. Not if it meant that you get to bask in their warmth-in their glow.

In his glow.

It was vibrant and you found yourself addicted to it. You didn't think you could go back to the quiet-the stillness-you once found comfort in. The silence had become too loud, unwelcoming. You were no longer accustomed to the way it would press against you-once soothing, now stifling. You didn't want go back to the shade you once were, so you clung, stubbornly refusing to see what was right in front of you.

A leech, that was what your mother had called you. And maybe you were. You hadn't cared though, hadn't cared so long as they continued to share some of their heat with you.

But it shifted as you grew older-came into quiet focus and something in you, something small and rebellious, took notice.

The first number on your new phone had been his. He'd plucked the phone out of your hands the moment you finished setting it up and input his number, smiling over at you when you squawked in (pretend) indignation.

"In case you need me," is what he had said, tossing the phone back and raising a singular eyebrow at you. You'd scoffed at him at the time, refusing to acknowledge the soft flutter in your chest at his words.

"And if I never call?" You remembered the way his smile had shifted, his teeth flashing as he let out a slight chuckle.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to call you, huh?"

"Careful," you murmured, your voice tinged with something you refused to name, "say stuff like that and people will get clingy."

You remembered the way his eyes had flashed with something, how his voice became an octave lower. He'd said it so quietly as thought it were meant to be a secret shared between the two of you. And wasn't that thrilling? Wasn't that hopeful?

"Well," he whispered, his voice a faint caress against your cheek, "wouldn't want that, now would we?"

He called you every other night at 12:45am on the dot. You weren't sure exactly why that time, but you found yourself putting an alert on your phone to make sure you were in the right headspace to receive his call. You would wrap yourself in your blankets, and settle yourself right beside the window sill. You liked to lean on it while staring out the night sky, his voice a steady rhythm in your ear.

You talked about everything and nothing. It would jump from the weather to your plans for the future to random hypotheticals the two of you would throw at one another. You found yourself opening up-truly opening up-in those quieter moments. In the cover of night, you'd open your mouth and spill secrets that only the dreary walls of your house had witnessed.

You spoke of a father that left before you could even walk. You spoke of a mother that blamed you-that wanted you to repent for the crime of being born. You spoke of fears that couldn't be given a proper name-of feeling as though you were one step away from disappearing completely.

You spoke and he listened.

And then he spoke.

Of death. Of a catastrophe that changed his life and the fallout being an orphan. Of feeling like he's simultaneously too much and not enough. He spoke and while you knew there was a lot he wasn't saying, you took what he gave and cherished it all the same.

The day may have been reserved for her. His expression so loving, it caused you to turn away. But the nights, the nights were reserved for you; this was something you could point to for anyone that dared to undermine your presence in his life.

Until you were reminded of where you truly stood.

It was a stormy night. The sky opened up and you watched on your spot in front of your window as rain pelted the ground. Lightning flashed across the sky and you quietly counted to 5 as thunder boomed. You smiled a little to yourself, staring up at the night sky.

Your alarm chimed, telling you that it was 3 minutes to 12:45. Caleb would be calling any minute. You continued to watch the lightning streak across the sky, almost losing yourself in the moment.

He didn't call.

Not that night, nor the next, or the next. Through it all the storm raged on.

You had asked him, fiddling with your jacket and head turned to where MC was saying goodbye to her other friends. You had asked him what happened-if he was just falling asleep early.

"MC doesn't like thunderstorms," he had said, face angled to watch her, "I was with her. Didn't think to give you a call." You blinked turning to look at him, finding him already looking at you.

A leech, your mother had called you. You hadn't wanted to listen to her but staring at Caleb in that moment, that was all you could hear reverberating in your skull.

"Ah, okay," You managed to say through a throat coated in molasses, "that makes sense."

There was no storm that night. He called you at 12:45. You lasted 2 rings before answering.

[tennessoui]

cackling at the idea of anakin blurting out #27

very anakin fr

[from this prompt game!] [i've already done: 5. 'are you jealous?' & 46. 'hey have you seen my...?'

27. "I'm pregnant."

The minor princess currently touching Anakin's forearm has spent all night toeing the line between friendly and polite politician who feels understandably starstruck around two retired war generals on her tiny inconsequential planet and wants to ensure they enjoy the dance held in their honor and too friendly entitled princess who needs to back off, seeing as Anakin is a very happily taken man whose beloved is standing literally right next to him.

It's giving Anakin a headache, trying to discern her motive and trying to figure out a way to make it quite clear he has no interest in any sort of recreational pastime with her in any sort of unofficial capacity without causing some sort of galactic incident.

He'd promised his master and the Council: no more Galactic Incidents, at least until the next calendar year.

It doesn't help matters that Obi-Wan, who should be the most upset if this minor princess is really trying to lure Anakin into a dark corner for nefarious reasons, is doing nothing to aid him in this trying time. Even though they've made it quite clear to each other over the past six months that they're in an exclusive, loving, committed relationship that has no room whatsoever for princesses of any kind.

Maybe that's the problem, Anakin thinks morosely as the princess flags down a passing waiter and lifts two flutes of wine from his tray. Maybe Anakin's made Obi-Wan too secure in his love, and now he thinks all he has to do in these situations is stand there with his arms at his sides, smirking slightly and looking gorgeous.

"Anakin?" the princess prompts, offering the drink. Automatically, and for no reason Anakin can think of except for long forgotten instinct, he glances at Obi-Wan first, as if asking for permission from his father. As if he's not twenty-four years old, a war general, a Jedi Master, etcetera.

When Obi-Wan just inclines his head with glittering eyes and that damned smirk only partially hidden behind his own raised glass of wine, Anakin almost accepts the princess's offer. Because she's definitely offering much more than just a drink. Maybe she even dosed that drink with--with something. Something to make him more agreeable or pliable or--Anakin doesn't know. But something serious enough to wipe that smirk from the corner of Obi-Wan's stupidly kissable lips, that's for sure.

But then he looks back at the princess and categorizes instantly in his mind all the ways she is not his beloved, and he decides that despite Obi-Wan's general ability to be an ass, the last thing he wants to do is take the drink. Or, truly, remain in this conversation.

"Oh, no thank you," he tells her politely.

He remembers a second later when her eyebrows fly up her forehead and her mouth pinches into a tight, aristocratic line, that on this planet it is considered incredibly rude to reject a gift of any sort.

And he'd promised No Galactic Incidents.

"I'm pregnant," he adds. "So I cannot. Partake. Though it looks good. I mean, beautiful. I mean. I'm pregnant. Yes."

The princess's eyebrows fly higher. Beside him, Obi-Wan coughs rather violently. Due to swallowing his drink wrong or to hide a burst of laughter, Anakin doesn't know.

"Oh," the princess says. "I...was under the impression that humanoid males cannot carry offspring."

Anakin clears his throat and crosses his arms behind his back. He wonders if it'll be a more believable fiction should he place his hands over his abdomen, then he thinks about anyone seeing that ever and decides he'd rather lose his other flesh one to a lightsaber all over again.

"I'm from a desert planet in the Outer Rim, your highness," he tells her. " Tatooine, if you have heard of it. Many species there have evolved special biological traits over time to ensure survival. This is one of them. You understand, of course."

He isn't even sure the words he's saying make any sort of sense at all, and Obi-Wan has gone from being absolutely no help to being an incredible hinderance instead, standing completely silent next to him and Force signature blocked from their bond.

"Oh," the princess blinks and then blinks again. "I apologize, of course. I did not realize."

"You could not have," Anakin assures her, kindly in his opinion, and she makes herself scare only a handful of minutes later. Apparently as much as she'd appreciate bedding a war hero, she draws the line at bedding one with child.

This realization is enough to make Anakin wonder if perhaps he should pocket the excuse for the next time he's at one of these affairs and fighting for his life. After all, his lover has proven himself to be incredibly useless.

Speaking of which:

"Hope you enjoyed that," he mutters to Obi-Wan as he turns his back on the ballroom to glare more fully at his master. "Thanks so much for your support."

Obi-Wan blinks guilelessly at him, lifting his drink to take another sip. Purposeful now, probably. To show off that he can drink to soothe his nerves while Anakin won't be able to touch the stuff for the rest of the night.

"Please, have patience with me, Anakin love," Obi-Wan says. "I've just found out that I am to be a father. I'm in shock."

Anakin tightens his hold on his wrists behind his back. It's either that or shove his most beloved into the buffet table.

[bigidiotenergytm]

May I ask for more of the Twins?

Idk I just like them and Yes I came back after crying about the Ithaca saga for like days.

(If so, I might just lay on my bed and read or look at the art you might make and maybe yap about a crazy,funny, and actually kinda nice fanfic.)

-That one anon who originally asked for the twins. :)

Super happy to hear you're enjoying the AU, dear anon! Since Sky's on break, I'll be taking over and answering your ask as his second in command :3 I'm not sure what exactly you'd want to know, so I guess I'll give you this instead XD

Meet Aspa: Ody's and Poseidon's child

They're a small, nonbinary devil XD I know what you're probably thinking, but no; Ody wasn't the one who got pregnant this time. It was actually Poseidon. And nope, he didn't get knocked up the traditional way. Aspa was the product of blood mixing (during six hundred strike, some of Ody's blood seeped into Poseidon's open wounds, mixed with his ichor and ended up getting him pregnant). They're super attached to Odysseus and a literal angel around him. Poseidon, however, gets the feral side. He's honestly just their stress ball that they bite and chew on. Their design was inspired by beta fish and catfish :333 If you have any specific questions about the twins, feel free to ask either me ( @shinedoitsulikeabright ) or @axt-bs since we worked on it together :3 If you'd like to know more about Aspa, you can either ask here or you could ask me (at least while Sky's on hiatus).

[mndvx]

ANTONIO CIPRIANO in PRETTY LITTLE LIARS: SUMMER SCHOOL Chapter Thirteen: Sweet Sixteen

[familyagrestefanblog]

Screw it, I'm gonna ask the question:

When has Marinette really struggling to make friends ever been a thing in the show? People are now using Marinette's anxiety as an excuse for why she struggled with behaving in any way normally around Sublime, as well as using it as "duh" explanation for why Adrien is in the "right" for saying that it is a normal thing for Marinette to not know how to befriend people.

But WHEN did she ever act like this while trying to make new friends or form a connection when it wasn't actually explicitly about Adrien?

Cause that's the thing: Adrien is incorrectly projecting the way Marinette treats him onto her treatment of Sublime, saying that this is normal for Marinette.

But its not.

This whole "you only have one chance to make a good impression to become someone's friend" has never been something Marinette's character thought or acted like. She has countless of friends, even more connections everywhere, she's the widely beloved hero of the city, and a team that trusts her and follows her every word.

Her anxiety can get a BIT in the way here and there in how she treats her regular friends (so excluding Chat Noir), but she never did THIS before to make a friend.

Her anxiety can have her badly judge people who she then treats worse, but once she gets over herself she barely has a problem to try and reconnect with them and be their friend

She ONLY treated Adrien like this, hence why he incorrectly projected onto Sublime. What are you all TALKING about that thats the REAL reason for her behaviour?

Shouldn't yall Marinette stans KNOW your fav well enough to know she never did THIS before?

Why are you all LYING?

[incorrect-rangers-quotes]

i think one of the best life lessons ra taught me at the tender age of like. seven? wasn't like. being brave!! or always giving it your all!! it was that some crimes are fine really. not all of them! but some crimes are fine. cool, even. epic. one might say

[every-ogata]