#//weLp this is the worst thing i've ever written

[genericpuff]

Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.

I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.

(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)

Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!

Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.

But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.

Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.

Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.

They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.

First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.

Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?

That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.

And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.

Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.

Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.

We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??

Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-

Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-

-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.

I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-

-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?

This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.

HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.

Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?

Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?

"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?

Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-

So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."

It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.

Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.

But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-

Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.

I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.

This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"

This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?

Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.

And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?

I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.

Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.

sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-

MMMMMM

FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE

For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.

There is... so much wrong in these three panels.

First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.

It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.

And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?

This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.

And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.

There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.

So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?

Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?

How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?

Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?

You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?

"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!

Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?

"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?

TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?

Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-

"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???

And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-

Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.

There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.

Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.

And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.

We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-

-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.

Yep, and that's it. That's the end.

Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.

To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.

This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.

There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.

With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.

Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.

Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.

But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?

So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.

What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?

Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.

And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj

Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.

So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.

As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.

I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.

Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.

[mylovelies-docx]

Social Cues

A/N: Wow. Okay. So it's been a couple of years since I've written anything and since I promised everyone that I was working on a Cassian fic.

Welp. Here's that fic now - only two years later than I was expecting.

My bad.

Take this 20k fic as an apology/your due/something that I wanted to give you years ago.

Plot: You and Cassian go undercover as a married couple, but things take a turn for the worst when your past finds you.

C/W: Angst, slow burn, hurt/comfort, reader has an abusive mother (featured heavily), gendered reader (daughter), no use of Y/N, *SMUT* (18+, Minors DNI), Not beta'd, also not proofread (if I spent any more time on this, I would never get it out here). Probably more, let me know if I need to include something.

I started writing this before the show came out (which I have not watched... I know, I know.) Anyway, as is always the case with any Cassian fic that *I* prefer, there is no such thing as canon.

“Married,” you echo quietly in disbelief. You have never been more shocked in your life; and when you quickly glance over, Cassian apparently hasn’t been, either. His jaw is tense and his eyebrows have raised slightly.

General Draven had just dropped the specifics of your mission, and it was not one that you could have anticipated. You and Cassian were to pose as a married couple that had just moved into an affluent neighborhood full of Imperial officers, weapons dealers, and senators.

In other words, right into a Sarlacc pit. Only this situation was thrice as deadly.

“With all due respect, General, this isn’t something either of us have experience with. Would it not be better to send Rishi and O’tal?” Cassian suggests diplomatically. 

You nod your head at Cassian’s idea, showing your support. Rishi and O’tal are a real married couple in intelligence for the Alliance, so they are uniquely fit for this specific placement. 

“They’re currently on assignment right now. And besides: you two are the best intelligence officers we have. Mothma and I don’t want this handled by anyone else.” Draven’s compliment of your abilities would have been more than enough to placate you if you weren’t still reeling from the previous revelation.

“Yes General, I know what you’re saying and I thank you sincerely for the commendation, but I’m still unsure if this is a wise decision,” you rebut. You have never once doubted a mission assignment, and you know Cassian hasn’t either, but this was territory neither of you have ever found yourselves in. “This will be the first joint mission for either of us. Would it not be possible for a different relationship? Perhaps a hired guard would suffice for one of us?”

Sure, you’ve seduced and courted marks before, but bringing along a partner that you needed to present a sense of physical and emotional intimacy with? That is something entirely out of your realm of expertise.

Draven is stationed at the head of the table, using the projection screen in front of him to present information, schematics, and diagrams. From his vantage point, Draven watches a slight frown mar Cassian’s face at your suggestion, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears.

“I understand your hesitancy, Captains, but rest assured that we have exhausted all other avenues,” Draven consoles. “But you both will be in control of the gritty details, so you can make it work. We’re only providing the accommodations and whatever alibis you require.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Cassian acquiesce with no further argument. You look at Cassian out of the corner of your eye, hoping he can’t see the real reason for the hesitation.

This is going to be an adventure neither of you can prepare for.

***

“This is going to be a difficult enough mission, so I think sticking as close to the facts as possible is our best option,” you explain to Cassian, jotting down bullet points and ideas on your datapad to relay back to Mon Mothma and Draven so that they can fabricate your history once it’s been decided.

“I estimate a 33% chance of your entire plan falling apart, Captain (Y/L/N),” K2 chimes in.

“Agreed.” Cassian ignores K2’s comment and speaks directly to you. “We can use our first names for simplicity, but we need a surname,” Cassian recommends from the co-pilot's chair. 

“Would you like to know why?” K cuts in.

You appreciate the fact that you and Cassian are on the same wavelength about using your own names. You haven’t discussed it with him yet, so your similar logic on this bodes well for the rest of the discussion and the mission as a whole.

“Why don’t we just stick with Andor, for simplicity’s sake? It’s a common enough name and you’ll respond right away if someone calls for us. Plus, we both go by so many codenames that no one will ever think to search for us by this one.” 

You’re swiping away on your datapad to avoid either of them seeing your reddened cheeks, so you don’t see Cassian’s ears flush subtly at your suggestion as well. Your heart flutters madly, causing a pang in your chest to the beat of your ‘new’ name.

Cassian clears his throat and readjusts in his seat. “That could work,” he remarks coolly while rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

K2 turns his head quickly to observe Cassian, the metal joints whirring with the motion. The droid begins to speak and Cassian glares at him, but there is no reigning in K2.

“Because two can keep a secret only if one of them is dead,” K elaborates on his one-sided talkingpoint, still observing Cassian’s reaction to your recommendation on becoming Mrs.Captain Andor, however temporarily.

You hurry on to get your mind off the impossible fantasy the name has conjured up for you. “Great. I’m just trying to think of the likely scenarios that will be brought up at dinner parties or Imperial galas. Obviously how we met, connections to the Empire…”

K is just being a bugslut with his next comment.

“And I’d prefer if it was Cassian who remained living.”

The aforementioned man shoots K2 another glare, wordlessly saying “behave”. The droid shrugs his large mechanical shoulders and mimes a zipping motion with his fingers over his audio port.

You roll your eyes at K2’s insistence that your plan will be a failure and at his obvious distaste for you. You’re unsure what it is about you that he finds so distasteful, but you find yourself wishing he tolerated you a little more. Perhaps then, Cassian would join Rogue One more often on small adventures and get-togethers.

Being around Cassian is easier than being with anyone else; you don’t seem to exhaust yourself as quickly or as often with him. He is a source of calm, controlled energy that speaks to the weary parts of your soul.

Focus. 

“So. Instead of saying we met during a Rebel council meeting, how about we meet in the middle of truth and lie? Keep the time frame the same, just change the location. So for instance: we met five standard years ago at the launch of an Imperial class-II Star Destroyer. There were so many of those around that time that no one should question it – and even if they do, we could pretend we were too drunk on Merenzane Gold or love or whatever to notice anything but each other.” 

You are proud of yourself for keeping this discussion so professional despite your intrusive thoughts. Your heart is racing and your hands are slightly trembling with anxiety, but your voice is steady and you still sound confident. Maker! Why can’t you find the same focus and steadfastness that you have on missions? You can only hope that your professionalism will kick in once you land and begin the assignment in earnest.

“You were wearing a pink dress,” Cassian murmurs, staring distantly at the stars passing over the cockpit’s transparisteel. He mutters it to himself mostly, but you still hear.

You snap your head up, eyes large and mouth slightly parted, finding that he has his hand spread across the lower half of his face with his head turned away from you. You had been operating remotely for the Alliance for a while in various social circles and planets prior to settling down on base. You had just finished with a mission and were wearing a pink dress when you met Cassian for the first time during a debrief of your findings.

You shouldn’t be surprised that a man who had grown up as a spy can recall details as small as what you had been wearing, since you can also do the same. But you had been absolutely nothing to him then, so why would he bother to pay you any attention?

“And you had your A280-CFE heavy blaster strapped to your thigh,” you divulge. 

Your mind is still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Cassian had been watching you for far longer than you realized. He turns his head to look at you in surprise and catches your eye. Your puzzled expression is revealing too much of your thought process, so you drop your gaze from his and return to your holopad.

K2 breaks the tension with his usual tact.

“There’s a 93% chance you’re both lying to yourselves.”

“That’s enough, K,” Cassian reprimands, not for the first time.

“I’m only stating facts and highly calculated odds,” K defends himself.

“Facts as you see them,” you point out distractedly.

“Oh, I see a lot more than you do. A lot more.”

You’re still too self-involved to reply further and Cassian steers the conversation back to a safer topic: your mission. 

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “Let’s say we were dating for...six months? Eight months? Enough time to get to know each other, but short enough to accommodate our ‘love at first sight’.” Cassian lets out one compact ‘ha!’ at the notion of falling in love with a total stranger without knowing who they were.

“Eight months seems reasonable. That would give me a few opportunities to let you meet family and friends, and vice versa. Speaking of: do we have any?” you question, back to yourself after banishing any and all thoughts of Cassian’s motivation to study you so intently. You can only hope to gather more data as the mission progresses.

“Hmm,” Cassian ponders, unsure what option would be best. He scrubs a hand across his stubbled chin and cheeks in thought. “No family seems suspicious, but we don’t want to create too many to keep track of.” He reasons out. “These people are well-connected and will be looking into our history, so we need to think of how our team back at base can create the strongest alibi.”

“True. And there’s no doubt they would recognize our infamous friends by name. That really narrows down our options.” Your lips are pursed to the side in thought and your chin is resting on your closed first. 

Your thinking pose works because you have an idea come to mind. Cassian stops his musings on ‘our friends’ to find your delighted expression when he turns at your little ‘a-ha!’ and finger snap.

“Do you remember anything about my mission on Aria Prime? My alias had a few family members we can repurpose.” You’re relieved that you’ve figured out a way to use established plants and make the intelligence officer’s work back at base easier.

“Antolin and Mauria, yes?” He confirms.

“Yes,” you verify, flustered yet again by Cassian’s attention to detail. “I’m glad you read my report – makes this easier for us.” 

“I read all your reports,” Cassian remarks before realizing his error. “I mean. I-I read all the reports. Everyone’s. It’s best to have a clear understanding of the bigger picture,” he corrects hastily.

You’re struggling to understand why, why, why, but your heart flutters nonetheless at the small thrill you receive. 

“Like I said,” K-2SO’s modulator is pitched to where only Cassian can hear, “lying to yourselves.”

***

This discussion had started a parsec ago, but is still going with no end in sight. Neither of you can agree on this, but neither are willing to yield.

“The more we use pet names, the less people will remember our real ones. First introductions we only give our names once and then use only nicknames after. People like them will be too embarrassed to have forgotten a name and won’t ask for them again.” 

Cassian is making excellent points, but your insides squidge in a nice uncomfortable way whenever he offers up an example. You can’t help but remember all the times your marks had forgotten your name, so they used demeaning pet names to refer to you. Maybe that’s why you were so easily onboard for using your names on this mission when you’ve never done it before. One: because it’s easier, and two: because you don’t feel as if you hear it spoken often enough.

Three: because you don’t want Cassian to forget your name when this war eventually claims your life.

You’re making yourself unduly anxious with the thought of that eventuality, and your response comes off melancholic. “They won’t remember me anyway.”

Cassian is thrown off by this. How could anyone forget you? He had a hard time not thinking about you some days. 

“Why do you say that?”

You give him a sad sort of expression, a wry smile turning your lips. “Isn’t that our job?” you question him. “Making yourself completely unrecognizable to the point that if your target ever saw you again, they wouldn’t even notice?”

Cassian can see where you’re coming from, but the look on your face and the tone of your voice makes him wonder at how lonely you feel during missions.

“As long as you are yourself around those you care about, it makes it worth it. Yes?” Cassian counters.

A small, wondering smile graces your lips as you lean back against the hold and look up. “Yeah, I guess so…”

You’re thinking of all the fun you have with Jyn and Bodhi when she drags you both away from base to explore, or when you’re all laughing at the exasperated look on Baze’s face when Chirrut walks into blaster fire with only his prayers to guide him. 

Or when you catch the relieved look Cassian throws you after a near-miss, like he’s impossibly glad that you’re okay. You always point finger-blasters at him with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation, but he usually just shakes his head and tells you to focus.

Ahh. There you are, a voice in your mind whispers suddenly. It’s a cool and sinister voice, one you had not heard in some time.

You startle, knowing that the disembodied voice cannot see you physically does nothing to prevent a sense of overwhelming fear from taking over. You try to take a series of deep breaths to calm your racing heart and slow the pounding of blood in your ears. Hoping repetitive and familiar motions will calm you down and refocus your mind, you begin to rub up and down one arm with your knuckles. With the amount of pressure you’re using, you’ll end up with bruises but the dull pain helps.

Cassian sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns toward you, you’re already up and walking to a more private area.

“E-excuse me,” you stutter out. Your legs feel weak and you run one hand along the wall to keep you steady.

“Are you okay?” Cassian asks, preparing to stand up and follow you.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m fine. Just give me a moment.” Your voice is quiet, but you throw a shaky smile over your shoulder to try and stop Cassian from following you. You make it to one of the rooms and slide in, the door hissing closed behind you.

“That,” K2 says.

“What?” Cassian asks his companion, confused by the non sequitur.

“That is precisely why I don’t trust her. She hides too much,” the droid explains.

“She’s one of us, K,” Cassian defends. “We all have secrets.”

“Yes, but our secrets don’t make us run away. She’s hiding something big: I know it.” The droid asserts, giving his head one sharp nod to drive the point.

***

You survey the progress of your “home” being put together from the lofty heights of the balcony overlooking the foyer. Everything is white and gray and black, mimicking the Empire’s color scheme.

You hate it.

The only pop of color is your elaborate dress. The emerald gown is the height of Coruscant fashion, and you needed everyone who saw you and Cassian dock to know that you are important people.

Your quarters span the top two levels of one of the tallest towers in a swanky residential sector. The prestigious location alone should influence everyone’s opinions, but you also need to look the part of a spoiled and arrogant wife. So you have to dress and act accordingly.

You sense Cassian walking up behind you; his presence is unmistakable and you recognize his gait as his shoes tap against the expensive flooring. 

Your fingers grip the balustrade imperceptibly tighter, the only reaction you will allow yourself. Since shutting down on the U-wing to try and prevent the voice’s return, you’ve been able to keep your thoughts and emotions in check: no racing heart, blushed cheeks, or errant feelings. This is the only way you know how to keep your mind your own.

Cassian places his hands on either side of yours, trapping you between his warm body and the railings. His chest is pressing into your back and his sharp chin is resting on your shoulders. You weren’t prepared for this level of fake intimacy so soon, so your breath hitches in your throat and escapes as a soft gasp. You feel his warm breath fan across your ear as he pretends to nuzzle into your neck.

“Kay and I placed the data collectors throughout the public rooms.” Cassian mumbles, moving from one side of your neck to the other. You tilt your head in the semblance of allowing him room to kiss along your skin, growing hot where his breath fans now and goosebumps where it had once been. “We’re ready for the company to arrive.”

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. You’re developing a pit in your stomach at the proximity, but you grasp Cassian’s hands under yours for the illusion. Your palms are sweating and you’re sure that Cassian can feel it, but he continues resting his lips near your ear.

You glance down at the individuals moving your furnishings throughout the rooms, catching one gray-skinned and multi-eyed lifeform watching the two of you surreptitiously. You scowl down at them, feeling Cassian’s head turn enough to give them a side-eye as well. They turn back to arranging the many fire-waters and spirits you bought in preparation for your first gathering as new residents.

Some aliens begin making their way from where they were setting up the sleeping quarters behind you and Cassian. As they’re passing, Cassian pulls away from you. You take a deep breath to recenter yourself and cool your skin.

“Come, Love. Let’s break in the new bed,” Cassian says, loud enough for the passing workers to overhear.

You feign a saccharine smile and allow him to place his hand on the small of your back. Cassian leads you to your shared bedroom, dropping contact as soon as the door closes behind the two of you. You both sweep the room for any foreign devices and find none. You remain standing on opposite sides of the room, aware of the awkward atmosphere.

“I am sorry for that. A few of the workers were watching us,” Cassian apologized. One hand is scratching the scruff along his chin to hide his discomfort.

“I saw. It was an effective way to give them observations to take back to their superiors if some are spies like we suspect.” You carefully place yourself on the edge of the luxurious bed, taking this time to rest your feet before you need to get ready for the evening’s plans.

“Yeah…” Cassian draws, giving you a quizzical look. 

He knows that you’re on a mission now, but your tone and mannerisms are throwing him off. He always felt at least a sense of comradery with you, but this pliant and civil manner you’ve taken up bothers him for reasons he won’t can’t name.

You ignore his probing eyes. The voice in your mind is too recent an experience to let yourself relax even slightly. Your muscles are rigid from the straight posture of the elite woman you’re playing and from the stress of keeping your mind calm and under control. A headache is starting to form.

“I take it that K is situated?” You inquire of Cassian as you stand with bare feet. You pad over to the extensive closet space, selecting an outfit for tonight.

“Yes. He’s taken the ship to the lower levels and will stay there while we’re here; he’s close enough if we run into any issues.” 

Cassian’s voice is still low as he follows you to the wardrobe, just in case any of the movers are lurking outside the door. You both stand back to back as you each survey your arsenal of clothing for this mission. You run your hands lovingly over the soft fabrics, happy that your sensitive skin won’t have to endure anything rough for this mission. Cassian’s clothed shoulder blades scrape along your exposed back, sending imperceptible shivers down your spine. 

You quickly pull out a beautiful dress and move away from Cassian. You call over your shoulder to him as you near the refresher. “I’m wearing pink, unless you don’t have anything to match.”

“Of course I do. You selected the wardrobe,” he reminds you. 

You hadn’t seemed yourself since the ship, which Cassian picked up on immediately since you were so sure and confident at the beginning. He is trying hard to understand your abrupt change.

You shut the door on Cassian and take in the immaculate space around you. You hang the dress so it can air out while you apply your makeup and arrange your hair and try to enjoy the solitude while you can, knowing that tonight and all the nights to come will wear you thin. 

***

Cassian comes in a while later, taking note of your elaborate hairstyle and details of your thoad-eye makeup. He feels the nearly overwhelming need to comment how stunning you are and how similar you look now to when he saw you that first time, but holds his tongue. He doesn’t want to make this any more awkward for either of you.

You had been staring listlessly into the mirror before you until Cassian walked in. You can barely recognize the person staring back; hollow eyes, down-turned lips, dull skin. She isn’t you, but she is who you need to be until you’re sure the phantom hasn’t found you.

You move your eyes to study Cassian as he stands in the doorway. He looks handsome in his party-ware, the organic tones complementing his features and your pastel gown nicely. But you don’t dwell on how the sight alone of Cassian in something other than his everyday wear threatens the stability of the winged creatures in your stomach. You want them to be dormant, need them to be, but something about the man behind you sets them to tittering.

Since closing yourself off from your emotions and the galaxy at large, you have come to realize that you haven't been as careful as you should have. Despite your better judgment and without conscious effort, you have formed attachments in the Rebellion. Found yourself building relationships that mean something to you. Your fellow rebels from Rogue One are your life-line in this never-ending war.

Your bond with Cassian is one you are especially fond of.

You have grown to care for the man in a way that you know you shouldn’t. Your detachment now allows for you to reflect on your feelings in an objective way, understanding that you put yourself and the entire Rebellion at risk without fully realizing.

It stops today.

You harden what little bit of your heart you can still feel and fill in the small, Cassian shaped hole that had started to carve itself there.

You take your eyes from where they had locked onto his own. You can sense his hesitation to approach you and his inner turmoil that feels so like your own had earlier in the day. So while dabbing under your eyes for fallout and around your lips to neaten the line, you speak up.

“I’ll be done in time to greet our guests with you, but I need a few moments.”

Your voice is flat and devoid of any warmth that it once held for the man. Cassian notes immediately that your countenance has taken another turn, one that has pulled you even further away from him. His chest tightens. He sets his mouth in grim acceptance and leaves with a small nod in your direction.

***

All throughout the evening, a sense of foreboding had settled itself deep in your bones. You can feel it getting heavier and heavier as the party drags on, weighing down your body and worsening your already sickening headache. You continue to laugh and smile demurely despite it, but the bright light from the chandelier hanging above your head is sending bolts of pain behind your eyes.

In order to present a united front to these Imperial officers and sympathizers, Cassian has his arm wrapped around your waist and you’re resting your hand over top of his on your hip. The warmth of his hand as it caresses your curves sends heat between your thighs completely against your will. Your mind and heart know what you can’t have, but your body has wants of its own.

When an interesting piece of information comes up in conversations, one of you will squeeze the other’s hand in silent communication to pry further. It arose through no effort on either of your parts, but Cassian feels the rightness in the subtle exchanges. It feels like you’ve been partners for longer than a day, fake married for longer than a day, fake intimate for longer than a day with the way it feels to hold you. 

He can’t get over the rightness of having you in his arms. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, even with the few past partners he’s allowed himself to have between missions. He can feel the heat of your skin beneath his palm and through the fabric of your dress, making him want to pull you all the more closer as the night wears on and the open windows bring a chill to the crowded room.

You’re both in the middle of a conversation with a commanding officer when it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, like a cabin losing pressure out in space. Your eyes widen and your heart races as your sense of foreboding from earlier ramps up into full fight-or-flight mode. You’re hastily scanning the faces in the room, terrified.

Cassian feels you tense in his arms. With a quick glance at your face, he knows something is wrong. Your eyes are flickering around the room and the pulse in your neck is prominent against the stiffness of your body. He tries to catch your eye or squeeze your hip, but he gets no response.

Quickly and subtly shifting your body behind his, he excuses the two of you from your conversation. You don’t feel yourself moving, too caught up in trying to find the source of this feeling. 

You’re intimately familiar with this presence, having spent years in its company. You had tried so hard and traveled lightyears away in order to escape, but all your efforts seem futile now. You should have gone into hiding, should have locked yourself away on a little no-name moon, should have done something more. 

A whimper escapes your mouth without permission, and Cassian’s heart lurches at the frightened sound. He’s always known you to be the bravest, strongest person he has ever met, but the woman in his arms right now looks like a scared child, looks like someone he doesn’t know. He would take your cold and detached manner from the previous day over this. 

Because this? This scares him. And Cassian does not scare easily.

He leads you into a secluded area of the penthouse, away from prying Imperial eyes and whatever has caused your body to convulse with tremors. He still has his arm wrapped securely around your waist holding you close to him, and his other hand has a gentle but firm grip around your upper arm that is pressed tightly into his side. Cassian is practically dragging you away as your knees refuse to hold you up.

Cassian finds a small cupboard furthest away from the party. He looks around to be sure no one is near enough to listen in, and pulls you inside. A dim light turns on above your heads and Cassian places you gently against a wall. You start to slide down, but he puts his arms under yours, giving you support.

You can still feel her, can sense her proximity and her sinister presence in the back of your mind. It’s been so long since you were last with her, but your body must have known somehow that she was drawing nearer. Your headaches and anxiety that had only heightened throughout the party should have made you think.

But you didn’t.

Having Cassian at your side had made you feel safe, no matter that you were actively avoiding having any feelings for him. You have known his character well from watching and interacting with him over the years, learning to trust him and his calm and reserved nature. You were remiss in thinking that you could keep yourself and your feelings away from him during this mission. 

Now that the walls you carefully constructed on the ship have crumbled around you, you can’t help but feel again. Can’t help but feel the warmth radiating from his chest and into yours from where he’s standing so close to you. Can’t help but feel his breath against your face as he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong. Can’t help but feel the pressure in your head slowly dissipating as you force yourself to breathe in time with Cassian’s instructions.

You readjust against the wall after a short while, standing taller and trying to regain feeling in your legs. Cassian’s hand shifts from the wall and cups the side of your face so that he can look into your eyes. You can see the question in his concerned gaze and answer in a still-weak voice.

“My… my mother. She’s here.”

Cassian’s brow furrows slightly as he wonders what that could mean for you and this mission. He opens his mouth to ask for more details, but you shake your head.

“She’s - we’re - I don’t know!” You cry out softly. You bring your hands up and grasp the lapels of Cassian’s shimmersilk jacket as you try to ground yourself and explain. “She’s in my head, Cassian. I can feel her. I can hear her. I couldn’t get away, and now she’s found me.” 

You suck in a deep breath through trembling lips. You look deeply into Cassian’s eyes, watching as a dawning understanding fills them. 

“I’m scared, Cassian,” you admit.

Cassian wraps both of his hands around your head with his palms against your neck, using his thumbs to sweep softly under your eyes, catching the tears that had fallen without you noticing. Your breathing is still stuttering in and out of your lungs, and Cassian can feel your pulse as he continues to stroke your cheeks.

“I know. I know, Princessa. But it’s okay, we can figure this out together, hm?” Cassian murmurs to you. 

You nod your head and close your eyes as you lean back against the wall, drained of energy. Cassian takes both of your wrists into one of his and holds them against his chest when he feels your grip slacken, hoping that you can feel his heart’s rhythm and use its steady beat to come back down from your adrenaline rush.

“What do we need to do?” Cassian asks after a moment. “I can signal K and we can leave right now.”

You shake your head as you look back at him. You can’t let this opportunity for information slip away because of you. And you’re definitely not giving K-2SO any more reason not to like you.

“No. No, Cass, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just… give me another moment or two. Please,” you implore. 

Rational thought is coming back to you as you finally match Cassian’s heartbeat and breathing. You start to feel embarrassed about your breakdown, but Cassian’s sympathy and understanding prevent you from doing so. You’re now focusing on the shift in your mission.

“The good news is I’m using my real name, so she can’t ruin us immediately,” you begin slowly. “The bad news is now we have to contend with her story and timeline of events. I haven’t been with her since I ran away, Cassian. I haven’t spoken to her in years, but she’s been in my head a few times since then.”

What you have to tell Cassian next is hard, but he needs to know. For your own selfish needs, you want somebody to know what you’ve been through. 

“She… she studied under the Sith in her childhood, but never completed training. When she had me and realized I was force sensitive…” You’re pleading with your eyes and your grasping hands on his jacket once more. “She raised me on the Dark Side. To become the Sith she never could be.”

Cassian tries to pull away from you, shocked and angry by your perceived betrayal. His face hardens and his hands drop away from you, but you’re quick to hold tighter to him, keeping him from leaving you.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Cassian! I never joined the Rebellion for her or anyone else. I stopped training and cut myself off from the Force after my 16th year because I knew what she was teaching me was wrong. I joined you because I wanted to make up for all the awful things she made me do, to give myself over to a cause that I believe in.

“I never intentionally put the Rebellion in danger. Every time she found my consciousness, I shut myself away from whatever I was feeling that let her in and left the base until I was sure she hadn’t found me,” you explain. “I don’t know why she’s here now, but it can’t be good. We have to find out, and I’m the best shot we have.”

You can see Cassian’s mind moving at lightspeed to determine if he can trust you. You’ve never given him any reason not to, but this secret is explosive enough to shake his faith in his own discernment. His eyes are shifting between yours, staring into each to find any trace of duplicity. You keep your expression honest and open. It’s the first time you’ve ever presented your emotions – true and real emotions – to someone. You’re vulnerable in this state, but Cassian needs to see it.

And he does. Cassian’s shoulders drop imperceptibly and the tension you can feel under your hands loosens.

“Does Mon Mothma know? She’s the one that recruited you, yes?” He asks, looking for a solid reason other than his gut instincts to guide his decision.

You nod. You hadn’t told her the full truth all those standard years ago, but she knew enough to think of you as a worthwhile risk.

Cassian exhales and reaches for your hands where they clutch at him. He gives them a squeeze in acceptance and you can’t stop a small smile from coming to your lips in relief.

“What’s your plan?” He asks you, deferring over to you on how this mission should move forward now that there’s a massive obstacle to manage.

“I think…”you hesitate, already dreading the series of events your next words are going to set in motion. “I think I need to get close to her again. Not ‘close’!” You reassure Cassian when a troubled look comes over his face. “Just make her think I’m still on the Dark Side. Being here already lends itself to that.”

“I don’t know. Putting yourself directly in her path like that is dangerous,” Cassian reasons.

You give a short laugh and look at Cassian with amusement. “We’re Rebel Intelligence currently undercover with elite Imperial officers and weapons dealers. I think we’ve been in danger.” 

Cassian mimics your small grin and rattles your hands around a bit. “Smart aleck.”

You’re feeling better than you have been since the U-wing. A weight has lifted from your shoulders and now you can breathe easier, safe in the knowledge that someone knows your secrets. Knows a large part of you, and doesn’t hate you for it.

Cassian’s smile fades. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever this moment is, but you need to go back to the party. 

“I’m going to signal K-2SO; we might need him for security.” At the thought of K running his mouth off near all these officers, Cassian decides that he’ll instruct the droid to disable his modulator. “Are you ready?” he asks.

Your face drops into a determined expression. You gather all your strength and prepare to greet your mother. You’re going to need it.

***

“Well there’s my darling daughter!”

You keep your expression neutral, but quirk one eyebrow up as you look to the direction her voice is coming from. You watch as your mother saunters over to you, pulling along a middle-aged man in an Officer’s uniform; he must have been her way in, since you hadn’t seen her during your reconnaissance phase. He was of low-rank and low-importance, but you invited him because he could still harbor important information.

Your mother has aged: wrinkles line her eyes and crease her forehead, gray hairs are dyed an unnatural shade, and the skin on her neck and hands is thin and dry. Her dark robes swathe her frame in an abundance of fine fabric, perhaps to distract from all that you are observing.

“Mother,” you reply in a clipped tone. No one but Cassian notices the beginnings of sweat on your forehead. He leans in to place a kiss on your hairline, wiping away the droplet with his dry but soft lips. You grasp his hand tighter in appreciation.

“I knew I would find you here…” she taunts, but trails off as she eyes Cassian beside you. 

You stiffen because you know that look. You angle yourself to where your breasts are pressing against Cassian and you lay a possessive hand over his chest, clearly indicating he was ‘yours’ in the only way she really understands. 

But she hasn’t changed in all this time, so she tries her hand with Cassian. Even though her escort has an arm around her stomach in a not-so-subtle effort to keep her close to him and away from your partner - or anyone else in the room that catches her eye.

“My, my. Who is this handsome man you’ve conned into spending the night with you, daughter?” She addresses you, but bats her eyelashes coquettishly at Cassian. “I’m sure you’ll have much more fun with me, young man. I can give you anything you want,” she tries to whisper seductively, but fails in your opinion. 

Her date looks at you and Cassian contemptuously, as if you were the ones to blame for her behavior.

Your mouth curls into an uncontrollable sneer and your expression morphs into one of disgust and anger. How dare she proposition Cassian in such a way? What a lewd and demeaning way to come onto someone! 

All fear is forgotten in your outrage. You’re about to respond with vicious words as you start to move your hand towards the poisoned blade hidden under your dress, but Cassian stops you as he tightens his arm around your waist and pulls you further into him so that you’re basically looking over your shoulder - you’re full front is pressed against his as he takes his own hold on you. His hand snakes down to cup your ass in a proprietorial way to show your mother that he already has his hands full. 

Your heart quickens at the possessive act. Focus.

Cassian gives an uninterested nod as his greeting, making a show of looking her over and finding her lacking. It’s cruel, but it fills you with a spot of joy.

“The husband, actually,” he remarks coldly. “Weapons Specialist.”

“Oh.” She pouts for just a moment, disappointed that he wants nothing to do with her. “Well!” She claps her hands together and steps out of her date’s arm. “I’m sure you gentlemen won’t begrudge me a moment with my long-lost daughter,” she bids. She flaps her hands around as she says, “You boys talk amongst yourselves.”

She walks off, expecting you to follow like a kriffing Kath Hound. One of your eyes twitches in agitation as you look to Cassian. He uses one hand to adjust a piece of your hair, wanting to draw attention away from his lips as he mutters to you.

“Do not let her get to you. I will be right here when you return.”

“I don’t think I can follow through on the plan. I don’t think I can get close enough without failing,” you whisper. 

You are terrified of this woman and what she can still do to you, what she can still make you endure because of her connection to the Dark Side. But… you can’t really sense anything from her. You allow what diminutive control you have on the Force to surround her and probe for information, and you find very little. 

You’re wondering now if whatever prevented her from completing her training as a Sith has been depleting her midichlorians since then as well. Her voice in your mind has been diminishing for quite some time now; the event today having been the first time in over a year, when you used to hear her every other month.

A hypothesis begins to form. But in order to explore further, you need to follow your mother.

You rub Cassian’s cheek with the palm of your hand in farewell and his stubble is rough against your skin. He takes your hand from his face and places a soft kiss on your knuckles, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

 After your revelations in the cupboard and dispensation of some of the fear you had been holding all your life, you’re finding it easy to fall into this level of intimacy with Cassian -- false as it may be. You are no longer held back by thoughts of your mother reentering your life and wreaking havoc for the Rebellion. She’s found you here with Imperialists, ‘married’ to a war profiteer, and presumably on the same side.

But Cassian is still Cassian and you are still you. Public displays of affection make both of you uncomfortable, but you’ve been pushing it aside for the sake of the mission. You let go of each other and walk away from him, but you can still feel his eyes on you as you go to your mother.

“I never imagined you as a credit-seeking harpy, daughter of mine. Always so toffee-nosed and self-important. You never agreed to a single match I tried to make for you,” your mother starts in as soon as you’re close enough to hear. Some party-goers glance in your direction, but your glare sends them looking away.

“Perhaps you never set your sights high enough, mother. Maybe I sought better for myself than you could provide?” you retort, channeling Cassian’s cool demeanor into your character for this mission. 

You had never imagined as a youngling that you could ever be brave enough to face your mother in this way; she had dominated and dictated every facet of your life, refusing you free-will and a normal childhood. But you need to complete this mission and find out why she’s here, so you don’t have time to dwell.

She looks at you now with thinly veiled contempt. You imagine she thought you would still be that girl who was too afraid to speak out against her. And if it wasn’t for this mission and Cassian dragging you from the party so you could collect yourself, you would still be.

Your hands are trembling where they’re hidden behind your back and beneath the capelet on the dress, and gravity seems to have broken: incredibly strong at your feet and incredibly light on your head. It keeps you rooted to the floor while also making you feel like you’re floating away. Rationally you know it’s your fear response, so you work on taking inconspicuous breaths.

“‘Sought better for yourself’; don’t make me laugh! Those ‘friends’ you had were barely sentient! Let alone have any connections to elevate you anywhere,” your mother mocks.

You’re momentarily dumbfounded: how did she know about your friends? You made sure to never mention them or hang out with them when your mother was on-planet. “What friends?” you ask quietly.

“Don’t play ignorant with me, daughter, it’s so unbecoming of a Sith. Did you forget? I’m in your head.”

You jerk away from where your mother has leaned in towards your face, taking a step back. Her last words had been inside your head. 

“I’ve missed this, daughter,” your mother coos telepathically. She brings a wrinkled hand up to cup one side of your face while you’re struggling to breathe. “I’ve missed having you under my thumb.” 

At this, she drives her thumb into your cheek, pushing your head roughly to the side. She has a firm grip and directs your face back to where you have to look at her. You’re breathing fast and shallow, panic taking over. Your hands have flown to take a hold of her wrist and forearm, struggling to remove her nails from your soft flesh.

You finally wrench her hand away, just in time to feel a strong arm snake around your waist and pull you backwards. Cassian steps in front of you in a protective stance, one arm still holding you against his back and the other pointing his blaster in your mother’s face.

If looks alone could kill, your mother would have evaporated under Cassian’s glare.

You can feel his breath escaping him in angry heaves, nostrils flared. His mouth is set in a thin, angry line, and you can hear his teeth gnash together as he clenches his jaw. His eyebrows are furrowed over his hard, piercing stare, your mother the sole object of his ire at the moment.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at Cassian as her focus is still on you. Staring down certain death and one of the most intimidating men in the galaxy, she doesn’t move a muscle except to smile cruelly.

“They were so heartbroken when I told them you were dead,” she mocks as you stare at her from around Cassian. “It was quite fun to watch them suffer.”

They thought I was dead? Your hands grasp Cassian tighter at the thought. Is that why they never tried to contact me? 

Feeling your shaking hands on his back and unsteady breaths against his neck, all Cassian wants to do is blast a hole through your mother. As soon as he saw her lay a hand on you, he was racing over to the altercation – blaster drawn and heart on his sleeve. He knows how strong and capable you are, but this mission is asking more of you than he can stand to watch be taken away. 

He feels your warm hand slide around his where it grips his blaster. You bring his arm back down to his side and step out from behind him.

Your nerves are shot and you’re so nauseous that you could vomit at any moment, but you need to take control of the situation again. Your mother is making you look weak and incompetant in front of the Empire’s largest figures. The party had come to a screeching halt when Cassian drew his weapon.

“It’s alright, my love,” you say loud enough for those around you to hear. “I believe our guest has forgotten who is in charge here.” 

You snap your fingers in K’s direction where you see him stationed against one of the columns beside the entrance. You’re elated when you see him actually heed your command and stalk over. He grips your mother’s arm and waits for your command.

“I do believe it’s time you and your date left now,” you say as you wave your hand in a dismissive gesture.

Your mother is absolutely fuming as K2 leads her out of the hall, stopping to grab her date as he tries to make himself small amongst the crowd. You can see her trying to move her arm out of the droid’s grasp, but she’s unsuccessful. Her date’s jacket sleeve is nearly ripping at the shoulder from how unwilling he is to be pulled along by her.

Cassian is immensely proud of you for standing up to your mother. After he watches her being dragged out by K, he turns to you with a glimmer in his eye, only to notice the sallowness of your skin and the movement of your throat as you swallow multiple times.

Cassian immediately turns to your guests and makes an announcement so you can sneak away unnoticed. “Now that we’ve weeded out the undesirables amongst us, it’s time to get this party started. Fosu–” Cassian calls to the Ortolan leading the live band “–let’s go!” 

You make your way out of the crowded hall with one hand fisted over your mouth and the other holding your stomach. You hear the band start up as you reach the nearest refresher and bolt inside. As soon as the door slides closed and you’re alone, you promptly empty the contents of your stomach into the vacc tube.

-------

You’re shivering against the wall when Cassian comes in some time later. Your body has lost all ability to function after trying to purge itself of these mephitic feelings, so you’re collapsed into a seated position on the floor with your head leaned back to rest against the wall. The expensive stone interior of this refresher is beautiful to look at, but severely uncomfortable to sit on. 

Cassian crouches down next to you and hands you a crystal flute full of water. You give a small smile in appreciation and sip from the cup, closing your eyes as you feel the cool liquid slither down your raw throat and into your empty stomach.

“You did good,” Cassian says to you.

You peep open one tired eye and look at him. His face is sincere and his eyes hold no hint of the disappointment you feel for yourself. You scoff at his words and close your eye again.

“The entire mission has gone completely barvy because of me,” you mutter harshly. If your mother hadn't shown up, you would have completed this mission without any problems. But as soon as you felt her presence and realized that she was in the same room, you broke down. And when she spoke to you and grabbed you...

At the thought of your mother’s touch, the anxiety in your stomach rumbles into nausea again. You press a closed fist up to your mouth to fight off the feeling. “I can’t even think about her without wanting to spew my guts up.” You roll your head to the side so that Cassian can’t see the self-deprecating expression you know is on your face. “How pathetic is that?”

A warm, rough hand encircles the wrist that still hovers in front of your mouth. The firm pressure brings your face up and forces your eyes open. Cassian is leaning towards you with an arm outstretched to you and balancing on one knee. You can’t help but feel bad that he’s ruining such a nice suit just to get you to look at him.

“Nothing about you is pathetic, Princessa,” he urges. “The way you handled that situation? There is no one else in the galaxy who could have gotten through the way you did.” He moves his hands in an exaggerated gesture to emphasize the shape of the galaxy around you, but your wrist is pulled along for the demonstration since it is still held between his fingers. 

“I didn’t really do anything. I asked K to kick her out for me. I’ve probably lost any ounce of power and respect we scrounged up in such a short time.” 

Your eyes are downcast as you say this, so you don’t notice Cassian’s other hand reaching up from where it was hovering over his bent knee. He oh-so-gently grabs your chin in the same place your mother had, but the difference between the two touches are immense. His thumb ever so softly brushes along the side of your mouth where a bruise is most likely forming, and his fingers perch below your chin as he pulls your face up to meet his gaze.

“If anything, you gave us more respect. You effortlessly took away all her power and turned her into the laughing stock of the party; these sorts of things are the highlight of any event for these people. You’ve just ensured that they’re all going to be coming back just on the off-chance that something like that happens again.” 

His eyes are so intense on yours and his hand so kind against your abused jaw that it brings a flush to your face. You shouldn’t be relishing in the closeness you’re feeling in this moment because he is only trying to comfort you and get you ready to be hostess of the party again, but you can’t help the warm feelings and fluttering of your heart at his proximity.

You think he must have noticed your blush and became embarrassed for you, because he drops his hand from your face and rises from his crouch. Cassian clears his throat and pulls your wrist up towards him, indicating that it is time for you to stand as well. You push against the wall with your free hand and stand in front of him.

You’re unsure of what else to say besides a whispered, “Thank you.”

Cassian nods his head in acknowledgement and drops your hand. The loss of contact stings a little.

Cassian quickly starts ruffling his hair and jerking his clothes until they’re disheveled. Your questioning look is answered a second later as the same realization comes to your mind. A married couple locked in a bathroom together for some time after an apparent power move? Everyone at the party is going to think that show of dominance got Cassian hot with desire for you.

Your blush reappears with a vengeance as your hands remove some pins from your hair and ruffle through it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you grab Cassian’s shoulder as he is preparing to unlock the door. He looks back at you and you drop your hand.

“It.. it would be more believable if some of my makeup…” you flap your hand towards his face, indicating what you mean.

Understanding crosses his face as he slowly leans towards you. You take your thumb and smear it across your lips, dragging the lip color from its place and around your mouth in a facsimile of the chaos a kiss would create.

You take your makeup covered thumb and firmly glide it across Cassian’s lips. The contrast between the softness of his delicate skin and harshness of his stubbled chin remind you that your face and neck need to be more red.

Making to take your nails and redden up your skin, you’re stopped by Cassian’s question of, “Can I?”

You look up to see his hands reaching for your face and you allow him to hold you. He brings his face into yours and presses his stubbly cheek into your skin. You hold back your gasp of shock, but the inhaled breath allows in the intoxicating smell of him. You close your eyes in order to maintain some semblance of control over yourself. Your hands are itching to run through his hair and dishevel it even more, but you refrain in case it makes him stop.

Cassian is nuzzling into your neck now and you can feel a slightly shaky breath leave his lips and fan across your ear. A shiver races down your spine and lands hotly in your lower abdomen. The sensitive skin of your neck is red now from both his ministrations and your increased temperature.

All too soon, Cassian pulls away. You're warm all over except for the irritated skin on your neck that feels cool without Cassian’s warmth against it. He looks at you unsurely, probably worried that he overstepped a boundary.

“Your hands wouldn’t have left the right pattern,” he mumbles out. 

He doesn’t seem unsure of himself, but not wholly convinced that you necessarily wanted him to do that. You nod your head too quickly when you agree with him to reassure that you do not mind. At all. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, but swings out one elbow as an offer to you. You take a deep breath to calm down and place your arm within his before exiting.

***

Weeks pass and you and Cassian have been inundated with dinner offers, gala invitations, and special meetings from members of the Empire and their allies. It seems that Cassian was correct in saying that everyone at the party - and not at the party - would be clamoring to get into your good graces after taking so much power away from a prominent member so easily. 

When the topic is brought up, you always smile and laugh haughtily so they think such a thing was no big deal to you. The problem is that it was a big deal. You never stood up to your mother like that when you were younger - you always took the abuse until the day you jumped on a random cargo ship and ran away. You had always thought you were weak and powerless against your mother, but Cassian and these Imperial scum are beginning to make you realize that you’ve grown enough that she no longer holds power over you.

This realization makes you feel strong and more competent than ever. You’re fully ingratiating yourself with the beings around you, pretending that the Empire is the only way forward and that the Rebellion is just full of useless chizks. 

Ha! If only they knew they were being played like an Ewok drum by one of those ‘useless chizks’.

As you’re laughing at what some high-brow weapons dealer is saying, you glance around the room to find Cassian. You were separated when someone dragged you away to have a ‘female talk’ that was excruciating to sit through. You spy him across the hall, but your heart drops as you watch him follow a beautiful Twi-lek into a side office.

Over the past few weeks, you and Cassian have gotten close. Or you thought you had. You were both becoming increasingly comfortable in each other’s arms and Cassian had even taken to kissing your lips when others were around.

You couldn’t help but take those little kisses and tight hugs personally. You know that, rationally, he is only doing those things to keep up the pretense of a happily married couple, but your touch-starved heart was going soft for the Rebel captain.

And maybe it’s that soft heart that makes you excuse yourself from the current conversation. That soft heart that makes you follow in the pair’s footsteps. That soft heart that constricts and feels as if it’s crumbling away when you hear the soft murmurs coming from behind the closed door you have your ear against.

You’re unable to make out anything being said, but the closeness that whispering requires crushes your soft heart. You know this is a mission and you both need to get intel at any cost. Cassian is one of the best spies in the Rebellion – kriff, the whole galaxy – so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that seducing a target is one of his methods. 

But we’re supposed to be married, you reason out. Happily!

You hear the Twi-lek whine. Your chest tightens and your eyes start to burn for no reason. You shake your head to try and force the tears back. Taking a deep breath, you channel your current persona and feel her wrath and anger at the situation funnel through you.

You twist the handle and barge into the room. You stand scowling at the two as you eye them up and down. Cassian is unruffled and holding onto the Twi-lek’s shoulders as if to keep her at a distance. The Twi-lek, on the other hand, has her dress pulled down past her shoulders to expose her chest and her hands clasped onto Cassian’s lapels and fingering the buttons of his shirt.

Their eyes turn to you: Cassian’s relieved ,and the Twi-lek’s shooting daggers.

“Husband,” you deadpan, “what’s the meaning of this?” 

But you’re not looking at your fake husband, you’re eyeing up the female who still has her dress around her waist and her dirty hands on your man.

“Princessa,” Cassian seems to plead with you. You flick your eyes away from the Twi-lek and onto him. Princessa has become a normal term of endearment from Cassian since your heart-to-heart in the fresher, and you can’t get enough of how ardently he always calls to you. But now the name sends a pain through your heart, because you’re just now realizing he may have used it for others during missions as well.

Your eyes threaten to start burning again, so you look away from Cassian and back to the one that pulled him in here. You notice that she was hanging out with the one that pulled you away for that ‘talk’, making you think that this had been their play all along.

Your nostrils flare as you stare her down. “Fix your gown, find your friend, and leave this house. I will not repeat myself,” you growl at her. 

The Twi-lek’s eyes widen a fraction at the venom in your voice, hopefully understanding the danger that your persona emanates. She pulls her hands from Cassian and slips them through the sleeves of her dress before scurrying from the room.

You turn to watch her leave, narrowing your eyes as you catch hers as she shuts the door. You hadn’t only turned to make sure she left, you also turned so that you didn’t have to look at Cassian. You didn’t want to look closer and see what they were up to.

“Thank you,” Cassian murmurs as he walks up to you. “She seemed to think that I would sneak off with her willingly.”

“Didn’t you, though?” 

Your question catches him off-guard and you see his furrowed brow in your peripheral. You tried not to put any emotion into your words, but don’t know if you succeeded or not.

“What do you mean?”

“You were gathering intel, right? It’s part of the job to seduce targets.” You’re still looking to the door and away from him, but Cassian turns his body fully towards you and raises a hand in your direction. You lightly step away as you finish. “I just didn’t know our cover had changed, is all. I won’t interrupt you next time.”

Cassian calls out for you, but you’ve already left the room.

***

No one notices anything out of the ordinary after you re-enter the party, but you can feel eyes on you the whole night. Whether they’re Cassian’s or others’ is hard to say – once you returned to mingling with the guests, you started wrapping them around your little finger.

You aren’t discriminating against anyone that seemed interested in you. Any being that you felt had even an inkling of knowledge about something and would only give it up if persuaded, you flirted with. Subtly, of course, since you are ‘married’, but enough to let them know you find them just as interesting as they find you.

You’re only laying the groundwork tonight, so you don’t have to worry about planning any rendezvouses. You wish that Cassian had discussed seduction with you while you were both laying out plans on the way to Coruscant. 

No. 

You wish that seduction wasn’t part of the plans at all. Because as selfish as it is, you want Cassian all to yourself – if only for this mission. 

Stop lying.

As selfish as it is, you want Cassian. Period.

***

You don’t enjoy yourself tonight. Not like any of the other events had been times to enjoy, but at least for those few weeks Cassian had been at your side for most of them. Even so, you can’t pinpoint exactly when Cassian began this part of the plan, which means you are too distracted to be doing your job correctly. You internally berate yourself for the slip up. 

It’s late by the time you and Cassian are standing on the landing platform waiting for your cruiser to arrive. The wind this high up causes you to shiver and cross your arms to try and protect yourself from the chill. While you’re thankful for your thin clothing inside the incessantly warm buildings, walking out into the brisk night air always catches you by surprise. Cassian in the past has always draped his jacket over your bare shoulders when he noticed that you were cold, but he refrains tonight. He stands several feet away from you with his hands clasped behind his back and his jaw tight.

The tension roiling between you is uncomfortable. There were no soft touches or easy conversations between you this evening like you have grown used to. After you left the office and Cassian behind, you had avoided him at all costs. But you’d catch him staring at you as you laid a hand on someone else’s shoulder or whispered into another’s ear. 

You know that he’s upset with you for tonight, but you don’t know what for specifically. Did he think you were too bold in your attentions? It’s not like you had snuck off into a private room with someone in full view of the entire party. 

The thought briefly crosses your mind that you’re trying to make Cassian jealous, but it’s quickly brushed away. Why would it make Cassian jealous to see you flirting with others? It’s not like this is a real relationship anyway… no matter that you were starting to think it was.

Your transport arrives and the doors slide open. The warmth of the ship draws you in and you clamber in on your sore feet. The high-arching shoes you’ve been wearing are kicked off quickly so that you can pull your legs up to rest on the seats beside you. You’re fully reclined when the journey to your suite begins, but Cassian is still rigid in his seat in the farthest corner of the ship from you.

The warm transport grows stifling as you feel the heat of Cassian’s gaze on you. Your eyes are closed where your head is resting on the hull, but you’re too tired to open them and stare back.

“Go on and say whatever it is you’re upset about,” you challenge wearily. The events from earlier in the night and your subsequent ‘star of the party’ mode had worn you to the point of exhaustion. You were ready to be alone and to sleep for the next standard year.

“You do not think that was too much?” Cassian hurls at you. “You throwing yourself at them? We are supposed to be happily married. Why are you not acting accordingly?”

The force of his anger surprises you; you knew he was displeased with your actions by the look on his face throughout the event, but you didn’t think he was angry enough to yell at you. Nerves begin to course through your blood at his raised voice. It reminds you too much of your mother’s anger when you were younger – you have been invisible ever since then, so no one has had a reason to scream abuse at you. 

Until now.

Despite your weariness and building anxiety, the growing sense of your own power helps to bolster you. You will not let him lambaste you for putting your all into this mission. You’ve been here too long as it is, and you need to get away from Cassian so that you can get back to the right headspace without thoughts of him getting in the way of your duties. You’ve been too consumed with the feelings that his touch and presence bring you when you’re together. Too consumed with the thought that maybe he finds your presence just as all-consuming as you find his.

Your hands tremble slightly with nerves and anger as you plant your feet on the floor and turn to face him with a fierce stare.

“You will not speak to me that way, Cassian. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. And I do not need you questioning me when you’re the one that started seducing targets without consulting me! I also thought the plan was to be ‘happily married’, but imagine my surprise when I found a half-naked Twi-Lek in your arms!”

The transport has arrived at your dwelling by this point, so you grab the hem of your dress and your footwear before stomping off into the entrance hall. You can hear Cassian muttering expletives under his breath as he races after you.

“If you would let me explain,” he begins after grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him. You jerk your arm out of his grip with a hiss.

“Don’t grab me,” you growl out. “We’re done for tonight. I’m sleeping in the guest quarters.” 

And you stalk away, leaving Cassian angry and alone.

***

Night turns into day, and the day turns into many more. Neither of you would admit to what was really the cause of the anger and the fight, not even to yourselves. 

You still attend functions and dinner plans, but the small and casual affection between you and Cassian has disappeared. Instead, quick pecks and a loose arm around the waist was the only physical contact.

You hate this. You hate that you’re acting this way - so unreasonably. If it were anyone else, you might even laugh at their blatant flirtations with others. But with Cassian… any time you see someone else on his arm or someone else whispering in his ear, you see red. The fire you felt that first night with the Twi-Lek comes back with a vengeance and you can’t help but feel stupid for it.

Your ‘home life’ isn’t any better. You both sit at opposite ends of the dining table, staunchly ignoring the other. At least, you try to ignore him. Cassian is still your friend, despite the silence lingering between the two of you. You want to break the war of no words, but it seems like every event resets both of your tempers.

You had yet to return to the extra cot in the master bedroom you used to share with Cassian.

It all came to a head one afternoon. The same Twi-Lek, Anansi, had put her hands all over Cassian in the middle of a crowded dinner party the night prior, eliciting murmurs from the other party-goers about your and Cassian’s physical relationship. Or lack thereof.

You had glared daggers at the both of them, catching Cassian’s eye and snarling your lip at him out of hurt more so than anger. If he wanted to flirt so openly and auspiciously with the targets, then so would you, you rationalized. You found the most eligible officer and made it abundantly clear that you were willing to do anything to stay with him just a little longer. So you went back to his quarters once the party was over. You didn’t stay over for long, stumbling back to your and Cassian’s penthouse long before the suns even rose.

You don’t even fully undress before you fall into a deep sleep. 

You neglect to leave your bed in time for the first meal of the day, but you make it to the small offering a few hours later. Cassian is already seated at the head of the table, so you avoid his eyes as you move to your place across from him.

Nothing is appealing right now, the firewater moving its way out of your bloodstream making you slightly dizzy. You glance up when Cassian’s utensils scrape across his dish.The noise sends shivers down your spine.

“Could you not?” you question quietly.

Cassian looks up with a quirked eyebrow. “Why? Enjoy yourself a bit too much last night, baby?” he taunts, scraping his plate again.

You send him a deadly glare, daring him to do it again. “I’m sure nowhere near as much fun as you had with Anansi last night. Another office, really?”

Cassian slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up forcefully. “At least I didn’t take her home, unlike that officer. Couldn’t even leave the party with your own ‘husband’ – you just had to leave with him. Did you at least get anything from him?” he demands, glowering from across the spread of food between you.

You smirk at him. “Oh, I got plenty from him last night,” you taunt as you stand as well.

You’ll be the first to admit that was a low blow, but Maker did it feel good to give right back as good as you were getting.

Cassian growls and stalks over to you. The sight of his taut shoulders and ridged jaw send you backwards until you’re up against a low table against the wall. His hands land either side of your hips, caging you in. 

Your heart is thundering and you’re slightly shaking with adrenaline. A warm sensation fills your gut and you can’t believe that his anger is making you feel this way.

“Yeah?” Cassian asks in a low voice, his breath fanning across your lips. His face is so close and his eyes are staring deep into your own. “I bet I can give you more.”

And with that, Cassian’s lips are on yours and it’s hard to even breathe. Your arms snake up around his neck and pull his lips closer to yours, deepening the kiss. His hands move from the table and grab onto your hips, allowing him to grind against your abdomen. A hungry growl escapes his mouth when you bite his lip at the action.

Cassian reaches down to your thighs and hauls you onto the table that had been digging into your lower back. You gasp into his open mouth when he spreads your legs wide and settles between your thighs.

The days of anger and pent-up frustration explodes between you both and there’s no stopping the desperate kisses and wandering hands. You grab the side of Cassian’s face with one hand and slide the other down his chest to lay flat on his lower abdomen. You feel his muscles tense as your fingers slip under his waistband to tease him, forcing his hips to rock into you.

Cassian leaves kisses from your waiting mouth and along your jaw until he reaches your ear. He whispers huskily, “I bet he didn’t kiss you like this.”

You groan as Cassian sucks harshly on your neck, leaving red marks. The dress you have on rides up your legs and bunches around your waist as Cassian’s hand trails up the outside of your thigh. When he reaches your hip, he lets out another low groan at what he finds. Or doesn’t find.

“Nothing on underneath? Did you leave him a souvenir? ” he breathes harshly into your mouth, using his other hand to palm your breasts through your dress.

“Ha,” you laugh shakily. You can do nothing except throw your head back against the wall as his fingers travel towards your wet folds. Nothing had prepared you for this interaction with Cassian, but kriff were you glad you weren’t wearing underwear.

Cassian’s thumb presses harshly on your clit and you grasp his wrist tightly to keep him in place. He slowly teases one finger into your aching hole and grabs your neck to force you to meet his eyes as he feels you flutter around his finger. A small whimper escapes you at the hungry look in his eyes and the second finger nudging at your entrance.

“I know you didn’t get this wet for him,” Cassian purrs, still staring into your eyes. It’s hard to keep them open as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, but the look he’s giving you is impossible to look away from. 

Your free hand that had been on the table below you to keep you upright takes his hand at your throat and makes him squeeze. You gasp softly at the pressure and Cassian’s eyes blaze. He forces himself closer to you, moving his thumb harder and faster against your nub and forcing your chests together so that there is no space between you. Your eyes slam shut when he scissors his fingers to open you wider and you hear the noise of your juices echoing throughout the room from his movements.

His hand around your throat pushes you back against the wall so that Cassian has a better angle at which to see his fingers moving against you. His mouth waters at the sight of his hand glistening down to the wrist. 

You’re rising higher towards your peak, but not quite there when Cassian leaves you altogether. You cry out at the loss of contact and immediately open your eyes to glare at him. Only he’s no longer face-to-face with you – he’s down on his knees and propping your thighs onto his shoulders. Cassian licks his lips as you stare at each other across the distance of your quivering body.

Your heart beats erratically in your chest, and when he licks his lips it sends another flood of heat towards your pulsing pussy. “Tell me how much you want it,” Cassian murmurs as he kisses your inner thighs while still looking up at you.

“Yes,” you breathe, panting and squirming to get his mouth closer to where you want need it. 

“‘Yes’ what, Princessa?” he questions while blowing lightly along your slit.

“You. I want you,” you gasp out. “Now. Please.”

And that’s all it takes for Cassian’s mouth to finally close in and taste you. Your hands fly into his hair and your shoulders are bearing all of your weight as you lean into the wall for support. You tug and pull at Cassian’s hair, ensuring that he’s in just the right spot at all times. A harsher pull at a particularly good lick causes Cassian to moan into you and you nearly come just from the sensation.

He suckles your clit into his mouth and pushes his fingers back into you. You cry out at his ministrations and try to grind against him, but his arms are pressing you down securely and you can hardly move.

“Yes. Please – please. Cassian!” you chant, trying hard not to dig your nails into his scalp and shoulders as your hands grab onto him. You’re so close that you can taste it.

“Did you scream his name last night? Or were you pretending it was me fucking you?” Cassian nips your folds when you don’t answer immediately, causing you to jerk and moan.

“I-I didn’t– Ah!” 

Cassian once again pulls away from you, raising his eyebrows in challenge. You’re determined that this is the last time he leaves you right on the edge, so you lean over and grab him by the shoulders and haul him up to you. You wrap your legs around him to keep him in place and begin to undo his shirt.

You deliberately let your hands press and knead as you tease him, wanting him as needy as you are. Cassian grabs your jaw and kisses you hard as you reveal his chest. He treats you in kind by pulling the straps of your dress off your shoulders and below your breasts. He palms them with both hands, tweaking the nipples when you reach for his pants.

Cassian rutts into your hands as you work him out of the confining fabric. He’s hot in your hand when you finally release his cock and pump his length. He groans into your mouth again and moves a hand down to yours and pulls it away. 

You try to fight against it, but he guides your entwined hands to your center and makes you soak your palm with your own fluids. Getting the gist of his actions, you rub yourself with his guidance. You’re panting into his mouth as he continues to kiss you. 

You deem your hand thoroughly soaked and place it back on him. He pumps into your fist until his cock is coated in your essence. You reach your free hand around his waist and pull him into the crux of your thighs, guiding him to where you desperately ache to be filled. Cassian pulls your hand away from him and places it against his neck, while his other hand keeps him positioned at your entrance.

He edges into you and stops when he meets a slight resistance. He looks into your eyes for permission to continue, and you nod your head vigorously.

With your acknowledgement, Cassian thrusts in to the hilt. You keen loudly at the sudden intrusion, but the fullness quickly turns all discomfort into an overwhelming need. You open your eyes from where they had closed suddenly and see Cassian already looking at you. He grabs one of your legs to hitch it up further around his waist and uses his other hand to cup your jaw and lean you back against the wall.

Cassian follows you and leans all his body against you. Your naked flesh moves against each other when he begins thrusting into you quickly. You gasp and shake against him, using your arms to keep his mouth on yours as you climb higher and higher once again.

Cassian can tell that you’re close. He raises your leg even higher and places one knee on the low table you’re fucking on, causing him to reach such a deep angle that you see stars with every movement. He’s practically on top of you now, bearing all his weight on his other arm that is grabbing hold of the back of the table to give him even more leverage.

He uses this new angle to thrust hard, slow, and deep. Your eyes water as the head of his cock slams into your g-spot over, and over, and over again. You can barely breathe with all of the pressure against you, but you drag in just enough air in order to scream as your orgasm washes over you. Your arms and legs go rigid around Cassian, forcing him to stay close as he continues to pump into you.

He can feel you pulling and squeezing his dick as your walls try to milk every last bit of pleasure, which leads him to his own finish. Cassian comes inside you hard, groaning in satisfaction. He continues to push into you softly as you both ride the last waves of your highs.

Your legs lose all muscle control and the one not being held up by Cassian drops down against the table. You’re gasping hard, trying to draw in a breath that will allow your head to start clearing from its post-coital fog. You can’t for the life of you remember ever having better sex.

Cassian slowly extracts his length from you and you cry out at the hollow feeling. He chuckles darkly. He pushes the hair that had fallen into his face back with both hands, removing all contact with your skin. “You won’t forget about your ‘husband’ now, will you?” Cassian smiles ruefully.

It takes you a moment to process the thinly concealed venom in his words. You still in disbelief as you puzzle out his meaning. 

Wait… wasn’t that? Didn’t he–?

Your face burns with embarrassment at having been caught out. You’ll admit you were angry at your ‘husband’ at the beginning of this experience, but you threw your anger out the very high-rise window of this dining room as soon as Cassian kissed you.

You replay the words he had said during sex in your mind. You had been too busy at the time to pay much attention to what he was actually saying. He really thought you slept with that officer last night? A Rebel captain, sleeping with an Imperial officer? Who did he take you for?

You thought… but that look in his eyes when he entered you. The-the kisses and the closeness and the feelings. The intimacy that comes along with sex. Doesn’t he…? 

You sit upright and grab the fabric of your dress to cover your breasts. The movement of your hips causes Cassian’s cum to leak out of you, and you watch his eyes trail the droplet as it races downwards.

You don’t understand. You don’t.

Did he not kiss you because he wanted to? Because he has feelings for you? Or did he only do it out of anger?

Your feelings for Cassian have grown over the weeks you’ve been together on this mission, and you thought he felt a similar way. All the intimacy in public and pretty words – even if it has been a while – were they really just an act this whole time?

You stand slowly, feeling your eyes grow hot with tears to mimic the warm wetness between your thighs. You bite your lower lip as you look at the floor by Cassian’s feet.

“I–” you start. “I didn’t sleep with him…” You look up to see Cassian’s eyes widen a fraction. You can’t tell if it’s in disbelief or surprise. “You really think I’d do that?” You question him.

“I don’t know…” Cassian whispers, shaking his head imperceptibly. His hair falls back into his eyes, but he doesn’t make a move to fix it.

You look away from him and towards the skyline outside, avoiding his gaze. You tug your dress back onto your shoulders and wrap your arms protectively around yourself once again.

“I thought you – I thought we… I don’t have sex with just anyone, Cassian.” 

Your voice comes out as a whisper and you wrap your arms tighter around your chest. Your heart constricts in fear and anxiety as you utter your next words. 

“I really like you, Cass. I kind of thought the feeling was mutual…because of – you know.” You shrug your shoulders self-consciously. “I thought as soon as you... felt that I hadn’t been with anyone in a while, you stopped pretending to be mad at me.” You look back to him with sad eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. “We were pretending, right? Because we were jealous?”

Cassian repeats your name in a whisper, sounding like an apology, beginning to lift a hand towards you but seemingly thinking better of it. He closes his mouth and shakes his head in a definitive ‘no’.

That hurt. That hurt bad.

Tears overflow your lashes and a small hiccup leaves your throat, but you nod your head and turn to leave. You feel ashamed of the feelings you had poured into your love-making, realizing that he hadn’t felt it. Realizing that he hadn’t done the same.

You shuffle softly to the door, your steps quiet. Your shoulders rise as a hiccup escapes your lips. You press one hand against your mouth to stifle the sob that is sure to follow. You’ve nearly reached the door when you hear Cassian take in a shaky breath.

“She said she was looking to sell weapons and wanted to know if I was interested. I went with her under the assumption that we could gain ammunition for the Rebellion.” Cassian says to your back. 

His voice is soft. Pleading. Begging you to turn around and understand. Cassian doesn’t know why he had said those things to you just now. Why he had to go and ruin one of the best things that had happened to him in a long time.

He sees you pause in your steps, so he takes a deep inhale to calm his emotions before continuing. He needs to get this right so he doesn’t lose you.

If he hasn’t already.

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he begins. All of his focus is centered on you, so far away. “I can not begin to apologize enough for the things I just said to you. Because I was jealous. Very. But those words – that is something you do not deserve. It was uncalled for to act in the way I did. I was angry at myself for not being brave enough to tell you how I feel. For letting you leave with someone else when all I wanted… when all I feel...is...” Cassian shakes his head in confusion while trying to come up with the right way to say this.

You take a moment before asking the question burning burning between you. 

“...How do you feel?” 

You wring your hands nervously in front of you while awaiting Cassian’s answer. Your heart is racing and you begin to feel light-headed from the anxiety coursing through your body in anticipation.

You feel more than hear the quick footsteps that stop just a hair's-breadth away from your back.

“Like…” Cassian begins, struggling to find the right words to convey just how attached he is to you, “like the galaxy wouldn’t be worth saving without you in it.” A tell-tale warble in his voice sends a stab of pain through your chest.

There’s a light touch at your waist, like he’s afraid that you’re going to run away at the slightest movement. That touch sends the chill that had seeped into your skin burning away and leaves you feeling all the warmth that had disappeared when you sat on that table alone. You let out a sob before spinning around to wrap your arms around his neck and cry into his neck.

Cassian hugs one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders so that he can cup the back of your head. He squeezes with all his strength and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. He whispers “I’m sorry” over and over while you shudder against his chest. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I should not have accused you of sleeping with an enemy when I know you would never.” Another kiss to your temple, then one to your cheek. “I let my jealousy overrule my thoughts. I am so sorry.”

You hiccup again as you turn your face to press your forehead against his neck and bring one of your wrists down to wipe the tears from your face. “We were both wrong,” you tell him. “I misread the situation and didn’t give you the opportunity to explain. I just jumped to my own conclusions and caused this whole mess. I’m sorry.” 

Your throat is raw from your earlier activities and your crying spell, but you feel so much better now that your feelings are out in the open and you’re communicating about how’ve you’ve wronged each other. 

Cassian pulls away slightly and moves his hand from the nape of your neck to smooth along your cheek to collect the tears that are still there. His eyes are soft and sorrowful as he sees what he’s done to you. He makes a silent vow to never be the reason you cry again.

“It hurt to not be near you these past days,” Cassian whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “We’ll promise to talk everything out from now on, yes? 

“Yes.”

You both close your eyes and breathe each other in.

***

You wake late in the evening, the suns a few moments from setting. You feel Cassian’s warm breath against the back of your neck and his whole body as he cradles you from behind. You smile at the closeness, once again relieved that you both apologized and confessed your feelings for each other. 

Cassian escorted you back to the master sleeping quarters when he realized just how exhausted you were after this morning’s events. He’d slipped your dress from your form and pulled the covers up around your shoulders when you slid onto the bed. He crawled in on the other side and moved closer, placing a kiss in your hair before wrapping his arms around you.

You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe. If the universe was kind, you would willingly spend the rest of your existence just like this. You turn over as softly as you can, not wanting to jostle Cassian. When you’re looking into his peacefully sleeping face, you can’t help but lift a hand and trace along his features with the back of one finger.

Cassian’s eyes open for a brief moment before closing again, a hum escaping his lips. You laugh softly at his unwillingness to wake up and continue your tracing.

“We should probably check on the status of everything,” you whisper. “We’ve been MIA for a while now.”

“We have, haven’t we?” Cassian’s gruff voice responds. He lets out a deep sigh and pulls the arm that was around your waist up to catch your hand. “Tickles,” he murmurs while twining your fingers together and leaving them to rest on the pillow between your faces.

What’s a few more minutes going to hurt?

***

This is not good.

Cassian had just called you over to review footage and audio that has been recorded inside your suite from the past couple of days. You noticed an odd gap of time between when one crewmate entered the hallway leading to your private quarters and when they returned. This in and of itself wouldn’t have been enough to warrant any worry, but you saw them slip a piece of your Rebellion issued surveillance equipment into one of the pockets of their uniform as they walked away.

There is no way some common staff member could have found some of the only evidence linking you and Cassian to the Rebellion. No way unless they were smart enough and trained in the same occupation as you. 

You’ve masqueraded as household staff enough times that you should have realized that this was a distinct possibility when hiring a crew to keep up appearances.

You’re barely getting over your shock as you move to watch the next clip of the Adarian’s movements around your quarters. You take note of every movement of their cranial aperture as they scan their surroundings for sounds. Cassian had risen from his seat beside you in order to confirm that one of your signal jammers had indeed gone missing and to then send an encrypted message to Mon Mothma and General Draven to let them know you are now compromised. 

Cassian is just returning to you when you come to the last holovid recording. He’s too riled to sit down again, so he stands behind your chair and lays a hand on your shoulder. You place your hand over his and worry your lip.

You watch as the Adarian closes their eyes and presses their head against a wall adjacent to the entryway from the landing pad. You're wondering what they could be hearing when Cassian’s hand grips your shoulder.

You look up at him and open your mouth to ask what the problem is, but he stops you.

“Look at the time.”

You furrow your brows and glance at the timestamp. Your blood runs cold in your veins.

“They heard us...” you breathe to Cassian as you tighten your hold on him.

“I mentioned buying ammunition for the Rebellion…” Cassian remembers out loud. Your lip is nearly bleeding with how hard your teeth are working it.

“Kriff,” you mutter.

Cassian flexes his fingers under yours before sliding back across the room to update the message to your superiors about your immediate removal from the situation. You ponder the implications of ending the mission here, now, and realize that if someone knew enough to plant a spy within the staff that the Rebellion hired directly, then they knew enough to be dangerous.

You stop Cassian before he can send for an escape vehicle. “This is the only one that has shown any subversive behavior.” You begin. “We need to follow them and find out who planted them here.” Your eyes bore into his as he takes the time to deliberate between escape and possible death.

Cassian finally assents. “They’re to finish their shift in the next standard hour, so we’ll have an opportunity then.”

You spend what little time you have planning the recon details with heads together and hushed voices.

***

The alias given by the Adarian, Sulet, didn’t turn up anything useful when the Rebellion ran the initial background check before they were employed, so you are now confident that this is a false identity. Their history is incredibly detailed and in-depth, so whoever they work for has good connections.

You and Cassian follow Sulet onto a hyperbus that takes you to another sector close by, where they are soon picked up by a private hovercraft. You have to commandeer a speeder left nearby, deftly connecting wires and slinging yourself onto the vehicle. The small seat has you pressed up against Cassian’s back and feeling his muscles move as he steers. 

Cassian follows the craft from a distance that still allows him to watch its movements, but not be detected by the passenger. The insane traffic pattern soaring between the buildings on different levels makes you glad that Cassian is the one driving and not you, since your eyes are watering from the wind. You have a hard time focusing on anything further away than Cassian’s elegant neck and windswept hair. You burrow your head between his shoulder blades to escape the biting wind as you both race after the hovercraft.

You feel the speeder slow as the hovercraft drops Sulet off at some upper level quarters. The prime location and size alone tells you that they have the credits to employ their own personal spy.

You watch from above as the Adarian looks around furtively and moves inside.

“What do you think?” You ask Cassian.

“It could be a trap,” he replies. “They were smart enough to figure out we’re part of the Rebellion, they had to have known we’d be able to follow them at any point in time.” He peers down at the unassuming penthouse below.

“Especially with that device and what they heard this morning after we… after.” You blush profusely at the memories that are only hours old and remembering how loud you were when you came on Cassian’s hard…

Stop it.

“We need to be careful,” Cassian murmurs. “Backup will not arrive for a while yet.”

You nod against his shoulder blade and have him settle the speeder down onto the same landing pad the hovercraft dropped the Adarian off. You grasp your blaster firmly in your hands, ready to defend yourself. Cassian follows you as you both dismount and make your way slowly and cautiously to the doors.

You settle either side of the opening and look into each other’s eyes, signaling your readiness after not hearing anything from inside. You both jump away from the wall and bring your blasters up, pointing directly into the darkened living space. There is no sign of movement, the Adarian nowhere to be found.

Sparing a quick glance at Cassian, he motions for you to search your half of the room. You nod. Creeping along the wall, you scan behind the sofa and nudge the window coverings.

Nothing.

You look over to Cassian and find him already looking your way. He shakes his head, not having found anyone either.

“I don’t like this,” you mouth. Cassian agrees with another head shake.

You’re just turning to face the closed door keeping you both out of the rest of the home, when the door suddenly flies open and there’s a blaster pointed right at you.

Your eyes widen in surprise. Your training kicks in and your blaster seems to aim itself while you dodge for cover. Your blaster isn’t the only one that had gone off – Cassian slams into the cushions behind you and rolls down to crouch on the floor with you, his blaster smoking.

Adrenaline is high as you and Cassian take turns to give covering fire as you make your way slowly back towards the landing pad and your stolen speeder. You’re hunched behind a sturdy end table, waiting for your blaster to cool off, while Cassian fires on your assailants. He’s positioned not far from you, his back to the exit to cover your next move so he doesn’t see the figure land just outside the doors.

“Cassian!” you yell desperately, reaching a hand towards him to drag him down and out of the way of blaster fire. Your gun is still too hot, incapable of taking out the figure that has the two of you pinned down. Your hand clutches Cassian’s shirt, twisting him and throwing him down to the floor on your other side. Unfortunately, his weight destabilizes your center of balance, causing your bent legs to give way and making you topple sideways over Cassian’s now prone figure.

A sharp pain slams into your left shoulder blade. You cry out, but still whirl around to fire, hoping beyond hope that your blaster has had enough time to equilibrate. A bright red beam soars from your gun and hits your opponent square in the chest. They go down with a soft thud, leaving your escape path clear.

You turn back to Cassian, planning to grab him and run, but you’re frozen by the look on his face and his hands around his throat. Cassian sputters as if he can’t breathe, trying desperately to claw at his throat to relieve whatever invisible force is closing his airways.

Force.

Maker be damned.

You move your eyes back to the doorway where all your adversaries had seemed to pour only moments ago. Bodies litter the ground, the Adarian’s among them, courtesy of your and Cass’s excellent aim, but there was one person still standing.

A familiar figure you hadn’t seen since you kicked her out of your ‘home’ at your first party.

Your mother stands there, one hand directed at Cassian, fingers curling inward.

“Daughter,” she greets smugly.

“Let him go.” Your voice comes out as a hiss, spitting venom towards the woman in front of you. You already have your blaster pointed directly at her head.

Your mother clucks her tongue. “Now, now, dear. You wouldn’t want to make me kill your husband now, would you?” 

Her fingers come closer together, and Cassian falls to his knees. Your heart twists in your chest at seeing Cassian in pain, but you dare not take your eyes and your aim from your mother.

“Stop.”

“Lower the weapon and I’ll let him go,” she croons with a smile on her face. She is enjoying watching you plead for Cassian’s life. You’re tempted for a split second to do as she says, but Cassian interrupts you before you even move.

“No. Princessa, no,” he gasps. “Kill her.”

Your eyes meet his, and you see determination blazing through him. His strength lends you the power to turn back to your mother and pull the trigger.

Instead of your finger squeezing the trigger, you feel it extending away. You curse and try with all your might to fire your blaster.

Tutting softly, your mother shakes her head.

“I was giving you one last opportunity, daughter.”

Her fingers close the gap between each other and Cassian slumps to the floor.

“NO!” you scream, panicked. You watch Cassian’s chest for any sign of movement, but before you can confirm anything, you feel your own throat being squeezed.

You gasp and turn your focus back on your mother, trying desperately to think of any way out of this before you, too, lost consciousness.

A short sigh leaves your mother’s mouth. “Look what you’ve done, now.”

“Me?” you struggle past your lips. “This is all you.”

“No,” she says firmly. “This is all because of you. Everything I do is because of you.”

Rage burns through you and your words come out icy. “Everything you’ve ever done is all for yourself, mother.” You take as deep of a breath as you can to continue. “Nothing you ever did benefited me.”

“I made you strong,” she growls.

“You abused me!” you cry. Big, fat tears drop from your eyes and what little breath you’ve been able to pull in leaves you in stuttered breaths. “My entire childhood was ruined because of you! My only solace, my only happiness, my only friends. You made them think I was dead!”

“Friends,” she scoffs, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “We don’t need friends. We’re better than everyone else! They should worship us, our strength, our power! We are above them!”

“No,” you whisper out. “We are not better than anyone. We are not anything! You! You think that way. You hurt and maimed and killed so many people because you thought it was entertaining! Because you thought it would teach me ‘strength’.” 

There’s blackness creeping along the outsides of your vision, all the air you’re expelling in your tirade causing a loss of oxygen in your lungs and brain, your heart pumping overtime to accommodate. You gasp big, heaving breaths as you collect yourself.

Your mother stands rooted, anger apparent in the severe set of her mouth and deeply furrowed brows. Her eyes could set the whole city on fire.

You know that there is no coming back from this moment – that whatever happens here, there will only be one of you to make it out alive.

The problem you’re facing now is that you haven’t used your power in years. Over a decade, maybe. The mental muscles you used in adolescence have atrophied in the years that you’ve pushed this part of yourself into the background, trying to forget. 

You pull with all your might, forcing your awareness to focus on your mother. You search deep within her, past organs, past muscle, past tendons. You reach into her cells, finding those miniscule particles she had taught you were the key to your powers. 

You call out to them. Asking, begging, pleading them to obey you. Wanting them to do something that will stop your mother.

Stop her from killing you now. Stop her from hurting Cassian any further – if it wasn’t already too late. Stop her from continuing on this dark path that can only lead to death and destruction.

You feel a rush when the little beings begin to vibrate. It begins as a quiet little shiver, but slowly builds.

Your mother’s eyes widen in fright, her focus broken between cutting off your air or protecting herself from you.

“What are you doing?!” she shouts, arms quivering. She can barely stand, her legs are bowing at the knees and she begins to sink down onto the ground.

The shivering envelopes her cells, vibrates her muscles, quakes her entire body, until she can no longer maintain her hold over you. She collapses forward, crying helplessly. 

The rage you’ve suppressed for your entire life boils through your veins, setting you alight. You feel good. Strong. Stronger than you’ve ever felt; the trials and tribulations she put you through growing up not even comparable to your feelings now. 

“Please. Please! Daughter, stop! Stop!” she sobs into the carpet, curling into herself as if to protect herself from a violent beating, from a violent person. 

But no other threat exists. Only you.

“Why?” you whisper hoarsely, voice barely loud enough to cross the distance between you and your pathetically weeping mother. “You never did.”

With a violent yank, you grab onto the essence within your mother, pulling it away from her and towards you.

She screams for a split second as the power leaves her body, and then she falls unconscious. All the power that once filled her now dances around you. You can feel the energy they house, their want of a new host, their preference for you.

You allow them in.

There’s a tingling sensation across your skin, a warmth enfusing into your blood. You shiver softly, close your eyes, and take in a deep breath. You feel at peace, calm. All your worries have disappeared knowing that your mother could never hurt you again.

A pained groan fills the silence that had settled around you. You jolt, realizing that you need to check on Cassian.

Feeling immensly guilty for taking so long but also incredibly grateful that he is still alive, you rush over to his side. He still lays on the floor with his eyes closed, but you see his chest moving rhythmically with each breath. As you place a hand on his chest, Cassian’s eyes flutter open.

You grin down at him, enjoying the contact as he places his hand over yours.

“You…” he breathes. “You did it.”

“Yes,” you say. “I did. Finally.”

Cassian smiles up at you, pride evident in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Princessa.”

The warmth from both the power and Cassian’s hand travels to your heart, filling it with love and hope for a long life with the man here with you. 

“Come on,” you urge gently, tugging Cassian into a sitting position so that you can help him stand. “Let’s get back to base so that you can rest.”

Cassian comes to his feet and you pull one of his arms over your shoulders, allowing him to place his weight against you. You both begin to shuffle away when Cassian turns his head to look back over his shoulder.

“What about her?” he questions.

You glance back as well to see the crumpled woman on the floor. You no longer feel any fear, or anger, or hatred towards her. You feel nothing at all.

“I honestly don’t care,” you reply. “When our backup gets here, they can take her or leave her. I don’t care what happens to her after today.”

Cassian reaches across his body and clasps your hand within his. He gives a firm squeeze, then interlocks your fingers. Placing a soft kiss on your temple, he urges you to keep moving forward.

As you both walk into the fading sunset, you see a picture in your mind. A murkiness around the edges trying to invade the focal point of the image. But that center pulses with an overwhelming feeling of love, and safety, and contentment. 

You and Cassian stand together inside the image, holding onto each other and never letting go.

[starwrittenfates]

📒🍷🎹 spill the tea bestie

MY EXPERIENCE IN THE ROLEPLAYING COMMUNITY

📒 three blogs i couldn’t live without

I'd honestly say all my mutuals, but if I'm forced to pick only three: @ofluckandmagic, @mysteriouself, @albinoxherbalist (and their blogs) and @mizpaholic (yes, I know it's four, but I'm adding you anyway) mainly because I enjoy all the interactions we have both in character and OOC and we talk so often. <3

🍷 a character i want to write but never made a blog for

Haha, there's actually been a lot. Off the top of my head, I can't think of them right now, but I've definietly had characters I want to write for, but never got around to. I guess my hardest one I have written for before, but felt I struggled with the most (and he's been an on-off character because of it) is Solas.

🎹 the worst roleplay trend I ever saw

Discord servers for roleplaying groups or just roleplaying groups in general. I mean, it's cool if others find it easier to rp on Discord than here, I get it, but it's annoying when you're trying to look for other roleplayers in certain fandoms on here and the generic rp tags for those fandoms are so clogged by all these promos, applications, characters taken or things for the Discord Roleplaying servers and it just...it gets really frustrating and overwhelming. It's okay if you want to promote it, but we don't need to clog the tags with the same promo for it non-stop and wipe out all the indie blogs that actually roleplay on here and are trying to find others too. The "Harry Potter Rp" tag is a wonderful example of what I'm talking about here. Welp...guess I figured out another pet peeve of mine 😅😅😅

[rob-nobody]

Welp, I've found it. The Worst Thing I've ever found in an antique store. I turned a corner, and there it was, staring sightlessly from its glass case.

A red clay bust of Elon Musk, with a message written and signed by the man himself (no certificate of authenticity.) The original asking price was $1000, marked down with a 20% off sticker.

The inscription reads "To My Wonderful STAFF! For Your [illegible] and dedication. Elon Musk" It is dated 4/16/2016.

So, apparently, Elon Musk commissioned a bust of himself as a token of appreciation for some staff working for him (at Tesla? At his house? Who knows.) And now, eight years later, this most precious and thoughtful gift has somehow managed to find its way to an antique mall in rural Pennsylvania.

I don't know how long it has been there, or how long it will remain.

It is an excellent likeness, with dead, blank eyes.

It is almost certainly cursed.

It is 20% off.

[joltai-showa]

naruto reread third edition chapter three woohoo

welp, it was a good run, manga sucks now lmao

just kidding, of course, but Sasuke is by far my least favorite character in the entire series. He's okay in OG Naruto, but literally every arc with him in Shippuden makes me want to bash my head against the nearest wall. And no, the fight with Deidara isn't the main reason for my passionate hatred of this prick. I've never agreed with a Sasuke fan once in those almost 10 years since I read the manga for the first time, but I do agree that Sasuke's fate is justifiedly dramatic and it's not surprising that he lashes out against those near him, but acting like he's some paragon of virtue and was right in all of his unhindged endeavors, particularly after the Itachi reveal, is first degree clownery at its finest lmao

(also the Uchiha clan sucks too. Not necessary from in-world perspective, but from writing perspective, mid-Shippuden Kishimoto really lost the sauce with those assholes and starting giving them any possible powers that he could think of)

another fun fact but I never found any of the Uchiha members attractive lmao. if you're wondering how the hell did I manage to write 35k from Deidara's pov having hots for Obito, listen, it's her pov, not mine, I just locked the fuck in and did it lmao

last thing before continuing with the chapter, main Uchiha guys from least annoying to most annoying accodring to me: Itachi > Madara >>>>>> Obito >>> Sasuke. Itachi mostly never gets on my nerves, so gotta love him for that, Madara sucks at times because he happens to appear on the stretches of manga when Kishi stopped caring about the plot and started the Uchiha bootlicking 24/7, but at least he didn't get a shitty "rEdEmPTioN ArC" (i guess i should be thanking Kaguya for that, bleh), with Obito I am stuck in a perpetual cycle of "there is no way he is that bad in canon, I must have been overdramatic when reading" -> *rereads the manga* -> "oh my fucking god he is not just bad, he is simply awful", he is just the ultimate victim of Naruto being written backwards and Kishi making a cool twist but never actually properly working on his motivations, a real shame, he's got a lot of potential, but canon Obito has one of the worst character arcs in the entire series, so I can only enjoy fanon Obito and fans' work that actually utilizes many many things this character has to offer. I already said a lot about Sasuke, but at times his writing is much better than Obito's, so he's a little less annoying to me (that's generally not an achievement on his part, it's Kishi writing Obito so badly LMAO)

bish you live like this?

but also again WHY THE FUCK NARUTO LIVED HIS ENTIRE GODDAMN LIFE ALONE??? HIRUZEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? IT'S A FUCKING CHILD, WHY IS HE UNSUPERVISED? DO YOU REALLY EXPECT HIM TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO MANAGE THE MONEY, COOK AND CLEAN AFTER HIMSELF? YOU SORRY PIECE OF SHIT, YOUR GRANDSON HAS A PRIVATE TUTOR, BUT THE CHILD OF KONOHA'S HEROES WHO PRETTY MUCH ENTRUSTED HIM INTO THE VILLAGE'S CARE LIVES LIKE THIS?

Kushina has a full time job of wooping Hiruzen's ass in the afterlife, I swear to god

also let's talk about the absolutely horrendous conditions orphans in Konoha live in? There are more obvious cases like the kids that Root takes in, they are raised into emotionless killing machines since the first moment they become their training (child abuse🥰), but even kids who didn't catch ANBU's eye are just... Obviously, we've got Naruto and he's a case of straight up neglect from both his supposed caretakers (literally any of his future teachers, but particularly Jiraya who is supposed to be his goddamn godfather) and Hiruzen, but this is Kishi rewriting everything there ever was and by Mid-Shippuden Naruto is suddenly a literal prophesied hero, a messiah and loved by everyone and everything and those who hate him are either irredeemibly evil or poor little babies who are waiting for a pep talk by Naruto to turn good again (c) Anyway, we've got some bigger fish to fry and it's cases of Kakashi and Sasuke in particular. I am not really worried in cases of Obito and Neji, because both of them lived somewhere near their clans (even if their clan sucked absolute ass, sorry for your loss, Neji), so we can at least assume that some of the older members of their clans could keep an eye on them and, y'know, fucking FEED them, but Sasuke's and Kakashi's living situations are... oooof. I might be misremembering stuff, but in the manga Sasuke is never shown to move from his house, he in fact is shown to return home and cry over the bloodied floor of the room where Fugaku and Mikoto were killied (Hiruzen is a cleaning service really this fucking expensive jesus christ), so what we have is an orphaned kid who lives in the same house his parents were murdered, in the same house his big brother tortured him psychologically, in the same district where piles of his relatives' corpses were lying. Also completely alone.

Do I need to say anything, Hiruzen?

Kakashi is even worse, because not only he lived alone in the same house his only other living family member aka his dad ended his life, I believe that the blade he carried later also happened to be the family relic that his dad used in his final moments. On top of all that, he continued to live alone in that house even after his teammate sacrificed his life for his sake, gave him his eye and this eye happens to be the only thing that remained of said teammate because he was crushed alive. He continued to live alone in that house even after he accidentaly killed the girl he promised to protect with his life, but ended up using the jutsu he managed to develop after aquiring a Sharingan to end her life. He continued to live alone in that house even after his only remaining team member aka his teacher died in a freak accident when half of the village got destroyed.

God damn. Like, Obito's fate is absolutely horrendous, sure, but you gotta admit at least he had a reason to continue living. The only thing I can say about Kakashi is how the fuck did you live to 27 years.

tl; dr Kakuzu should've opened a therapy service for shinobi and Akatsuki could have simply bought off all of the Beasts simply with that money LMAO

Kishi could not draw girls for the life of him at the beginning of the manga and it shows lol, she's so scrunky

honestly relatable Naruto

also Sasuke's haircut looks like a duck's ass and the resemblances only grows stronger in Shippuden

fucking hell I really am just Naruto, aren't I...

oh look it's the canon event kid :D

the following 697 chapters will be spent attempting to explain to the readers that this scene does not in fact allude to the endgame ship. unsuccessfully, of course lmao.

seriously Kishi is so terrible at writing romance, the only believable and toleralable ship he had managed to produce through the entire 700 chapter run of the manga is MinaKushi and they're fucking dead

i think I'll be mentioning extensively later what I think about Kishimoto writing women in general (spoiler: I really don't think that most of Naruto female cast is even good, most of the time they are decent at best, even if my heart is filled to the brim with love to some of the girls, they simply can not compete with women written by other mangakas), but after 10 years since my first read of Naruto I still stand by the observation that my 13 year old self made at the time: sometimes it feels like Kishimoto not only never talked with a woman, but never even seen them in the first place

"why are you so homophobic Sakura-chan😱"

I swear I'm gonna have an aneurism if these 13 year old numbsticks are called "full-fledged shinobi", BRO THEY'RE GONNA DIE AFTER 5 MINUTES ON A SERIOUS MISSION

Okay, so another weird thing that I'm really not sure if is a rewrite/plothole/whatever, BUT

jonins aka the highest ranking you can be given unless your Kage happens to have a tragic untimely accident and you are chosen as the replacement are supposed to be really rare, like "you can count the number of them on your fingers" rare. Of course, Naruto's plot is constantly revolving around at least one jonin-level character, so we as readers see them in overabundance compared to what realistically should be taking place within the universe

here's a terrible illustration by yours and only on how the shinobi rankings should be spread out in general lmao.

Coming back to what Iruka says: why is it that jonins are supposed to be teaching the three-man teams of full-fledged shinobi children? Jonins are cream de la cream of the hierarchy, they are pretty much the highest ranking officers in the villages, save for the Kage, of course, I'm pretty sure they should be busy with something more important, like leading their own fully trained squads/divisions, not looking after little Timmiemaru and making sure that he doesn't accidentaly stab himself with a kunai. And come to think of it, the entire system is weirdly skewed, because Iruka is a chunin who teaches Academy kids who are below genins in the hierarchy, so at the end of the day we have Kages who (supposedly) work 24/7 on the external and interal affairs of the village and probably the country, jonins who do the missions and train genins, chunins who do the missions and train Academy kids and genins being genins. Now I am not advocating for 13 year olds to be teaching 7 year olds, but considering the fact that you need to pass a murder exam the chunin exam to get the rank, I think there should be quite the number of people who never pass/don't want to pass in the first place, so genins can be quite old and experienced enough to teach (hi Maito Dai).

Anyway, there's certainly more than 9 students in that room when Iruka announces that they are getting divided into teams. Did the remaining 18 guys got shafted? "We've only got three available jonins, so only the most talented kids/kids from important clans will be trained"? Or did the 18 guys got some sane teachers that didn't decide to send them to the murder exam after 6 months of missions? Wait, the kids are getting paid for the missions, right? I am not sure whether I should be worried about the unpaid child labor or the fact that 13 year olds (who should really be like 10 year olds judging by the amount of times Naruto flunked the Academy exam) have to enter the workforce at such an age.

(now these are the questions that should be raised by people hating on the shinobi system, Kishi, and not twenty flashbacks in a row to the girl they liked 17 years ago)

that's really awfully convinient that the new generation of InoShikaCho happened to have abilities approximately equal to the ones of other teams, huh, Iruka

(Konoha is built on Hashirama's wood and pure fucking nepotism lmaoooo)

jesus fucking chirst that's some choice of words from the translator

was the translator aware at the time that this is a 13 year old girl's monologue they are translating? i know teenagers are freaky, but this is supposed to be the official translation, why are we getting to the upper bound of PG rating

what even in the world is this dialogue

bro really be laser focused on Naruto since his first appearance huh

nevermind Sakura's bashing on Naruto's status as an orphan (which is really weird to me, because not only that 5 years before she and others in Kakashi's, Kurenai's and Asuma's teams were born there was a giant World War and realistically quite of few kids their age should've lost their parents there, but there also was this little incident with Nine-Tails running over everyone in the village the year they were born, so there should be A LOT of orphans of Sakura's age, yet she's being this... mean? I guess, I wouldn't call her cruel, to Naruto), I've got a bigger question: how the hell did you miss the news of Uchiha massacre and Sasuke's living situation? The kids were like 8 at the time, they should have heard of it, I mean, ONE OF THE FOUNDING CLANS AND A LARGE ONE AT THAT got murked in a single night, yet in the 5 following years Sakura never learned about it, being Sasuke's #1 fan? Maybe it's me misremembering stuff, buuuuut...

(anyway Kishi I've got a bigger question but where the fuck is the Senju clan? The poor repressed Uchiha clan by the time of the massacre stiil had dozens of members if not hundreds, but Senju clan, the other founding clan of similar size, just went poof?)

(my personal headcanon regarding this is that Tsunade during her 20 year long depressive episode took all of clans money and gambled it away :D so the remaining members of the Senju clan just kinda scattered through the countries trying to find the money for themselves and just distanced from the whole shinobi business)

THE MYTH THE MAN THE LEGEND!

Holy fuck I almost died laughing at his first interaction ever, like what the fuck is this.

Kakashi: his milk's expired. Hiruzen, nervously wiping away sweat: he's just clumsy! Kakashi: he's 13 and grew up without adult supervision, I'm not even sure if he can read the dates on the milk. Hiruzen: why are you being such a hater, Kakashi?🥺 Kakashi: not as much of a hater as my sensei and his wife are going to be to you in the afterlife, I guess.

also, Hiruzen, you know what is Kakashi even better choice for? VISITING FUCKING THERAPY

"You have a talent for sniffing things out", sniffing out what, the expired milk on mini-Minato? Gods Hiruzen you suckkkkk

that is a fucking threat and you know this, Hiruzen

LMAAAAAAAAAOOOOOO

you've got no idea, Kakashi

raising these dinguses is already an A rank mission bordering S, but how about accidentaly stumbling upon the guy who you assumed died over 15 years ago after being crushed into meat paste? :D

[halfbredson-blog]

Okay so context this was from a meme sent in by another Gohan, but I honestly couldn’t come up with anything so I went with an older Gohan and based it off of the relationships and headcanons formed with @scholarwarriorfather | @stxbbornwarrior | and @elxgcnt. 

A dangerous trick that nearly cost the lives of his friends and loved ones later on down the line.

Goten had eventually learned restraint; not quite the same as control, but it was enough for him to be able to swallow back the mind-rending rage being aiming it at those who deserved it. He wasn’t a fighter so much as a weapon, a tool that others could use, but Goten himself could hardly say he was truly in control. Only now…

Gohan’s lifeless body had fallen hard to the ground before him, impact causing the ground to indent and crack from the force. Behind him, Goten could hear voices screaming- Videl? Chiyori? His bet was on the latter since the former had come running forward, landing hard on her knees as she did her best to cradle her husband’s broken body.

“Videl.” Was she looking up at him? Goten’s focus was solely on the twisted creature before them, the one that was grinning and laughing at the pain it had caused. He stepped forward as the ground began to vibrate around him, small rocks lifting from the ground. “Get him out of here. We’ll bring him back, don’t worry.”

“Goten-”

“Bring him back? With those magic orbs this world is so famous for?” The creature laughed, the sound akin to nails being raked down a chalkboard. “As I understood it, you need to be alive to use them. I don’t intend on allowing you to remain that way.”

The beam of energy that shot from the creature should have pierced through Videl’s throat. It should have killed him, sending her slumping forward over her husband’s body. Instead-- it impacted with an energy flare up that exploded from around Goten, illuminating Videl’s shocked face for a moment before dying down.

“Goten…?” There was a question in her tone but one he knew he wouldn’t have any answer for. Goten simply stepped forward, taking comfort in the sounds of Chiyori’s sneakers crunching over the broken ground, and the hushed whispers that escaped her as she tried to get Videl (and Gohan) up.

There was still rage. There was still the beast in his thoughts that was screaming for Goten to lose control. But… he understood now. The piece that was missing, that piece that would have always been missing before this. He wasn’t just a weapon; he had a weapon, one that he was going to use to make sure his brother came back.

And Kami help the monster that had decided to awaken this clarity inside of him.

[palpipeen]

CC-3636 Rebels!Wolffe x Reader: Old Men, Old Habits

You're one of many medics for the Rebellion. Sort of. And a retired commander keeps turning up hurt despite your warnings that you’ll keep him on light duty if this keeps up. You're not sure what makes things worse - that you both hate each other’s guts, or that you kind of want to fuck him. Rating: R (For injuries and language) Warnings: Brief description of injuries (compound fracture, not detailed), illness, mention of blood transfusion, Wolffe being a grumpy old man, sexual tension if you squint, SOME angst bc Wolffe is suffering from injuries/a brief infection, the writer doesn't know medical jargon/procedures so that's a warning in itself too Reader is AFAB But pronouns are not used Word Count: 6829 AN: Welp, it's Wolffe Time Babies. When I haven't been working on OC fic planning and Pretending I Do Not See Part7 and 8 of Caf Delivery Service, I've been working on this. The premise of this is just Reader and Wolffe getting to know each other, and I don't know how many parts there will be. Just that this has been a lot of fun so far, so I hope y'all enjoy it too! Part 1 || Part 2 || Part ????

Year Ten, Day 182 after joining the Rebellion

Never a dull moment on base. Most days that just means hearing second-hand reports about the latest attempt to open up trade routes, what squadrons are training up a new recruit, and mourning our losses in whatever ways we can. Some days, that means one unfortunate bastard has to deal with another unfortunate bastard on their worst day. Today, I played both parts. Wolffe went and fucked himself up. Again. I’m glad he’s alive - so I can strangle him when he tries to fuck around and find out again.

“This is ridiculous.”

Eyes lifting from your datapad, you meet the glare aimed at you head-on. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you would have been reduced to a flustered, anxious wreck by that look. But now you could look the man behind the glower in the eye. His deep brown and silver eyed gaze boring holes into your head with equal amounts of fury, and barely batted an eye.

“Yes. You’re right - it is.” Tapping your stylus on the edge of your datapad, you stood, turning to the supply drawers and rummaging through them. “Which is why I’m putting you on medical leave, effective immediately.”

“The hells you are!” 

Before he can so much as push off the bed you're on him, your hands closed around his wrists and pinning his hands to the bed where they gripped the edge. You could feel the strength of his hands, under the weathered skin. Part of you wondered if he wasn’t imagining wrapping those hands around your throat.

Part of you thought you wouldn’t mind if he tried, under more favorable circumstances.

Which made you realize, not for the first time, that this was a huge mess of your own making. And you weren’t sure how you were going to fix it. Or if you could fix it. Because catching feelings when you’re taking part in the Rebellion is ill-advised at bet. But your arrogance that your attraction to the former commander of the 104th Battalion of the GAR wouldn’t run unchecked was the biggest mistake of your thirty-some odd years.

Namely because Wolffe is one of the meanest men you’ve ever met in your life, and his favorite pastime is trying to get a rise out of you.

“Didn’t know you even gave a shit.”

“Don’t start,” you sighed, suppressing the urge to duck your head when you felt heat creeping up from your collarbone to your scalp. Pushing away from the bed, you gestured at his leg, turning before he can see the nerves written on your face. “Your fucking leg’s busted, you nearly bled out on the evac back to base, and you might’ve cracked your prosthetic. Little gods Wolffe, what did you think was going to happen?” While you began to rummage through the drawers at last for the flimsi forms, you huffed, “Bacta patches and painkillers aren’t going to fix this overnight.”

“It’s just a sprain. And my eye is fine.”

Pressing the heels of your hands to the sides of your head, you turned so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. Not that it mattered to you at the moment. You glared at Wolffe . It was the first time you’d ever looked at him like that, with quite so much…venom. Fingers shaking with anger that is almost blinding, you reopened the attachment on your datapad you’d been sent earlier that morning.

“Look,” you seethed, “look, Wolffe.” He barely glanced at it before shoving it back towards you. “No,” you insisted, shoving it in his face. “Look. At. The. X-ray.” Dropping it on his lap when he refused to take it, you stomped over to stand at the foot of his bed so you were in his line of sight. Illustrating with your arms the angle his heg had been bent at before triage got it reset. “Legs are not meant to bend like this!”

“So? Put it in a cast and send me on my way.” He turned his head from you, arms folded across his chest. “I can still fight.”

“You lost nearly two gallons of blood, Wolffe.” You moved to the side of the bed he was pointedly looking at to avoid looking at you. “Look,” shoving up the sleeve of your jacket, you pointed at the bacta patch in the crook of your arm, “I gave you some of my blood, just to make sure you’d make it through the fucking night!” Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you began to pace. “Maker’s left nut, if you can’t take your health seriously, I’m going to need to set you up for a psych eval before we even consider discharging you.”

“That your professional opinion, Doc?”

Ouch. That one stung.

When you joined the Rebellion in your youth a decade ago, you were a fresh college dropout with less than a month until you could have graduated. Until you should have graduated. But the Empire had deemed your entire university as a waste of resources and space, so at least you weren’t the only one. Small comfort though it was.

But when you’d finally decided to do something rather than seething in silence at the Empire, you hadn’t expected the Rebellion to give you the position you currently held. Though you weren’t the only one in this boat - apparently the higher-ups thought ‘degree in blank medical field’ meant you could perform basic first aid. This had more to do with a ‘it’s the effort that counts’ mentality, because the higher-ups were nothing if not smart.

No one would have survived in the Rebellion this long were it not for that.

So the whole ‘Doc’ being your base nickname wasn’t your favorite thing to have happened. Worse things could happen, honestly. And they apparently had, and would continue to.

Case in point - Wolffe.

“More like basic observation and common sense.” You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Two things you clearly lack.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

“What the hells does that - no. No, y’know what?” 

Attaching the forms to a datapad clip, you shoved both into his hands, turned on your heel, and left. Your shift had ended fifteen minutes ago anyway, and you didn’t bother explaining that to your colleague on the way out.

Let Wolffe catch them up to speed. You needed a nap - or a drink. The order didn’t matter, so long as it alleviated the headache that always built when you spent extended periods of time around Wolffe.

You knew from personal experience that neither one usually works.

---

Year Ten, Day 182 after joining the Rebellion

Has someone been leaking these logs?! I know I’m not the best at encryption and coding, but I know for a fact this datapad never leaves my side. So either someone’s gotten into my shit while I’m asleep, or this whole fucking base is consipring against me. I’ve been assigned Wolffe’s recovery-plan case until further notice. Further notice being when we finally fucking kill each other.

“You expect me to do what now?”

“Look, it’s not the end of the world. I know you two don’t really see eye to eye --” Your supervisor pointedly ignored the snickering from your fellow medics, just long enough to roll her eyes. “But,” her sharp voice silenced the gossipers before they got really started, “you’re the only one Wolffe hasn’t…how do I put this….”

“Made you cry?”

“Treated like shit?”

“Threatened to mutilate?”

“How do all of you know he hasn’t done these things to me?” Silence yet again, punctuated by the occasional quiet, immature laughter. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can’t possibly watch him at all hours of the day. I’ll need some help to see other patients--”

“We’ll put someone on night watch, rest assured. But your appointments - barring some sort of emergency - have all been reassigned. And before you refuse -“ your supe held up a finger when you were gearing up to do just that, “- command has said they’ll be glad to send you to Hoth. A new position has opened up—“

“No thanks.” Gritting your teeth, you accepted the data pad handed off to you by her assistant. Staring at the screen but not actually reading it, you sighed, muttering under your breath, “I’ll expect you lot to pitch in for our funeral services.”

“C’mon, Doc.” The colleague you’d handed Wolffe off to that first day gently tapped your arm with the back of their hand. You tried not to rankle as you turned to Limla, who’d been sympathetic to the issue you had with Wolffe from the get-go. “It won’t be bad. You can always decompress in my quarters.” They grinned broadly, all teeth and glittering black eyes, “Gods know I love hearing you rant about the old geezer.”

“Swear,” you groaned, “you lot just live for this shit, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Signal’s crap on base, so I can’t watch anything good on the HoloNet.”

“Oh, these two are way more interesting than any of your bullshit HoloDramas.”

“Children.” After inputting your signature into the datapad, you stood, bracing yourself for what was going to be a very very long couple of months. “I’m working with a bunch of children.”

---

Day Three of Wolffe Observation

I’m going to lose my mind. Or maybe I already have. Really I only have to be there - as in physically - for seven hours out of the day, then I can try to pick up rotations from someone else. Scanners and meds will do all the hard work for me. Really I’m just there to make sure Wolffe doesn’t try to jump out of bed. Which he’s already done - multiple times. But every time - every. fucking. time. - Wolffe finds something else to give me shit about. It’s no different than all the other times he’s shown up. But today - oooh, today. Today I nearly reached my breaking point, and I know the bastard could see it. But gods, I would sooner pull a breaching newborn Bantha calf with my bare hands (again) from its screaming Bantha mother before I give Wolffe the satisfaction. I will not be the first one to break.

The day really had started off well.

Sure, you woke up knowing you had to endure Wolffe’s company for another shift. And of course, anyone who knew anything about the dynamic between the two of you gave you shit about it. This seemed to be everyone’s new favorite daily pastime. And really, you didn’t care - maybe they knew about the stupid crush, maybe they didn’t. You were just here to do your job. To help further the effort to take out the Empire.

Too bad Wolffe’s favorite pastime was trying to make your job difficult. You could see it building in his eyes the second you walked in, his gaze focused on your thermos. Folding his arms across his chest, he huffs,

“Where’s my caf?”

“Fine morning to you, too.” You gave him a deadpan stare before you began checking his vitals. “And you’ll get your damn caf when you’re out of that bed.”

“In that case --”

“Stop.” 

You’d kept yourself close to the bed, close enough that you didn’t even have to look up from your datapad to plant your palm on his chest and hold him there. This was surprisingly difficult, and even with the bloodloss and the fractured leg, you think he could have thrown you like a ragdoll if he really wanted to.

Huh. That’s an interesting mental image.

“Sit,” you gave him a hard shove, “down.” 

Wolffe’s eyes crackled with fury for a few seconds before he pushed back, and you wondered if he was going to start something. It wasn't the first time he’d gotten that fed up with having to follow someone else’s orders. But the fire cooled some, still burning in his mismatched gaze. You felt your pulse skyrocket, and took a step back. Or you tried to.

The moment he felt you try to take your hand off of him, Wolffe’s fingers closed around your wrist, holding you there.

“Poor Doc,” he sneered, nothing but mockery in his tone as his thumb stroked across your pulse. You thought it might have been absent-minded on his part but you couldn’t be sure. It would be just your luck if he was trying to see what unsettles you. “You lose a bet and get stuck watching me another day?”

“No,” you answerdc, twisting your hand away, and Wolffe smirked. Panic flared through you when you heard your own words - you sounded like a petulant teenager, trying to deflect blame or deny...something. Time to do damage control.  “I don’t have any choice in being here today. There are a hundred other things I could be doing, but,” you gestured at him on the bed, “somebody’s sense of self preservation in this room is sorely lacking.” 

He shut down after that, like you were expecting him to, but something seemed different. Or maybe you’re just noticing something for the first time. 

Who knows. Who cares? You certainly don’t. You really don’t, especially not when you saw what you thought might be hurt in his expression before he buried it under a thunderous scowl.

And so it went. Wolffe barely spoke to you through the rest of your shift. That suited you just fine. Except something felt off. You couldn’t shake it. There was something about what you saw - what you think you saw - that made your stomach tie itself in never ending knots the entire time. But you couldn’t bring yourself to analyze it, because this was Wolffe. 

Wolffe, who only cares about his brother, fighting the good fight in this Rebellion, and not at all what the rest of the base thinks about him.

Certainly not about your opinion of him. You’d given up on that pipe dream only a week after he’d been stationed at this base. When he’d made it abundantly clear that you didn’t fit the bill of a medic that should be caring for him. And you were over that - really. It was just the amount of times you’d been assigned to check him over and patch him up that made this crush persist. 

So it could only be that making you worry that you’d struck a nerve. An old wound that refused to heal.

An alarm pinged on your datapad, drawing your attention to it. You frowned as you read and reread the words on the screen in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Wolffe glance your way, but you didn’t look over. When you finally turned to him, he lay back in the bed, and for a moment you were taken aback by the sight in front of you.

Wolffe is a good-looking man, even in his advanced age. It’s something he carried well, and obviously. Not so much arrogance as it was confidence, awareness that yes, he does know he’s handsome despite what the war and rapid aging had done to his body. You’ve seen it. How could you not? Even when resting it showed, and you --

You took a moment to admire.

It was rare that you got to just look at him like this. Usually you have to do this at a distance, out of fear he’d figure you out somehow. So you drank it all in: the smooth line of his jaw, how proud his profile is, the graying of his dark hair around his temples. The lines on his forehead and under his eyes are pronounced from years of glaring, which is kind of funny to think about. It’s also a little sad. At first you weren’t a fan of the mustache, but it’s grown on you. Your eyes are slowly trailing down his torso, the healthy amount of give you can see on his stomach and chest, when he shifts with an uncomfortable groan.

In an instant, your professional walls were back up, and you were on your feet and at his side in record time.

“What’s wrong?”

“Stop hovering,” he tried to shoo you away, but you immediately spotted the tremor in his hands when he waved one at you. Fisting the thin sheets over him, Wolffe twisted uncomfortably. “Just - dammit, why didn’t you bring me any fucking caf?!” His cybernetic eye was squeezed shut when he glared at you, and you didn’t know how you failed to notice the sweat beading on his skin. “Wouldn’t have this blasted headache if you’d just brought me some.”

“Wolffe,” you said slowly, reaching out to him. You decided he let you place a hand on his forehead - or else the fever you can feel was making him delirious. So that’s what the datapad had picked up. You hadn’t believed it at first - the reading of his temperature was far too low. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’.”

“Wolffe,” you dragged your hand down to the side of his neck, trying to bite back your hiss of alarm. He was burning under your palm. “I need you to tell me what you did. If you’re messing with this equipment, we’ll both be in it deep. It could get other people hurt.”

He growled rough in the back of his throat, “Osik - fine.” Batting your hand away, he gestured at the holoscreen that had been tracking his vitals from day one. You squinted at it, bringing it down on the articulated neck as you tapped at the screen. “I might’ve reprogrammed it a little. Damn thing kept blaring all night - your replacement was too busy flirting with the nurse to do anything about it.” Your hands tightened on the screen as you furiously tapped open the troubleshooter - you were going to have Vrakka’s head for his negligence. “S’fine, Doc, I’ll be --”

“It is not fine,” you snapped, wheeling around to stare him down. “Do you realize what else could have gone wrong? You could have died and we wouldn’t have known what the hell happened --”

“Wouldn’t that be convenient?” Wolffe huffed, not having the strength to raise his voice apparently but the ability to throw another barb at you. “Thought you’d be happier at the prospect.”

For what seems like a lifetime, you just stared at him. Left reeling from the words he’d just flung at you, reeling from the thought that he thought you’d be glad he was dead. It took you until then to realize that’s exactly how you’d been acting. The way you kept trying to rush through getting him fixed up, the clipped words, the reprimands. How you always tried to avoid him outside of the medcenter, and when you did run into him, you always made excuses to get away from him.

Gods, you really shit the bed with this one, huh?

…also why were your eyes burning?

“Mesh’la?” The word didn’t mean anything to you, but it pulled you right back into the moment. Something about the way he said it. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. His eye widened slightly, a moment of clarity as he shuffled in the bed so he was facing you. He can see it. “Are you --”

“Vrakka!” Your shout cracked viciously in the relative quiet of the medcenter, and you stormed out of the room after seeing him try to rush past the doorway. By the time you caught up with him, you were out of breath, and when you grabbed his sleeve you felt him wince. “Vrakka, what the hell were you thinking?!”

“I-I’m sorry Doc, he’s just an asshole and I didn’t --”

“So you abandoned your post to try and get your dick wet?! You left a patient alone in his room long enough to give him the opportunity to hack the vitals tracker?!” Dragging him back into Wolffe’s room, you jabbed a finger at the readout datapad. You hissed between grit teeth, “Fix. This. And make sure no one has the clearances to tamper with it again.” 

Shaking your head while turning your back to the bed (and Wolffe), you rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel Wolffe’s eyes on your back. This was - it was such a goddamn mess. You’d let your feelings get the better of you in regards to him. If you had only been more professional from the get go, if you’d only been nicer to him --

But it’s useless to stay in the past. You knew that.

“I’ll get you on some antibiotics.” You looked at him over your shoulder, trying to keep your expression neutral. “But you have to tell us if something feels even a little bit wrong. I don’t care what you think you know about me, but you are my patient.” Arms folded across your chest when you faced him, you set your chin again, “And nobody is dying on my watch.”

You didn’t let him get another word in before you marched out of the room. Limle would hopefully still be up, and even if they weren’t, they had a bottle of whiskey with your name in it.

---

Day Twenty of Wolf(fe) Watching

So things are….different. Have been since Wolffe clued me in that he could remotely hack the damn medscanner’s readouts. It’s quieter now, and I don’t know if I love it or hate it. I’m leaning more towards the latter - I think I almost miss squabbling with him. It’s nice not to have the anxiety of wondering when he’s going to say something shitty. …well alright, he still says shitty things, but he’s not going for the jugular anymore. With me at least.

Well. One thing could be said about your shifts watching Wolffe.

It gave you plenty of time to catch up on paperwork. In fact, you were way ahead on your paperwork. To the point that you didn’t have anything to do besides read.

And, on rare occasions, talk with Wolffe. Which was becoming more frequent as you ran out of books to read.

Instead of working a dayshift on that day, you ended up switching with Vrakka’s ‘friend,’ Yol - how Vrakka landed a date with him, you’d never know. He was booksmart where Vrakka was streetsmart. Yol probably got through to Vrakka about his fuck up more than you did, his own sense of responsibility something he couldn’t just ignore at the drop of a hat. Definitely seemed to be a case of opposites attracting. He’d been reluctant to take the shift until you told him it would open up a night off with Vrakka. After blustering his way through a flimsy denial, he’d accepted, before excusing himself to go blush somewhere else.

Cute. It was cute.

What wasn’t cute was hearing raised voices from the end of the hallway on your way to the medcenter. Hastening your step, you rushed to the doors, your jaw nearly unhinging when you took in the scene in front of you.

You’d come to expect anything, honestly. Especially after hearing about the Death Star being blown to pieces. But this was surprising, alarming, concerning. Wolffe was up and out of bed, half leaning and pushing on the edge of it as he tried to get in Yol’s space. This was a far cry from the way he’d looked a few weeks ago, and is an abrupt reminder of why you’ve come to admire him so much. In Wolffe is a wildfire that answers to no one, not even nature itself when there’s nothing left to burn.

And you got to witness the Commander return to his old ways, which will no doubt leave scars in his wake.

“Of all the bullshit you lot have subjected me to, I have never been treated so unprofessionally. D’you treat all of your patients like this?!”

“I-I, no, no I don’t — please sir, you need to calm down -”

“Calm down? You’re gonna tell me to calm down, after nearly dumping me outta bed just to change the bloody sheets?! Now I’m up, against Doc’s orders, and you’re going to tell me to - oh.” Wolffe glanced away from you almost as soon as his gaze flicked over to you leaning against the doorway. “Hey, Doc. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, well, I heard you. Whole base did.” You lifted an eyebrow at Yol. “Could changing his sheets not wait until I got here?”

“Supe came by saying the laundry needed to be sent on the hour.”

“Well, it’s thirty minutes til, so - oh. Oh, I see.” Giving Yol a knowing look that makes him squirm, you turned to Wolffe, nodding towards the chairs lining the wall. “Here,” you offered him your shoulders, sliding your arm around his back. Wolffe hesitated for a moment before he leaned into you. You barely managed to suppress a shiver when you felt his fingers digging slightly into the small of your back. It was probably just the easiest place for him to put his hand, you reasoned. As you gently guided him to one of the chairs, you dropped your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “He’s got a date.”

“So that gives him a free pass to manhandle me?” Wolffe sniffed imperiously, arms folded across his chest once he settled into the chair. You gently lifted his leg to prop it on the hover chair Yol pushed your way, rolling your eyes at the man’s unimpressed glower. “And that’s also why you’re stuck pulling the all-nighter?”

“Yup.” Propping your hip against the wall, you watched Yol while he ripped the fitted sheet off the bed. “To both.”

“You’re a paragon of patient care, Doc.” 

Anyone within earshot can hear the roll of Wolffe’s eyes in his voice, and you couldn’t help yourself. Hiding it behind your hand didn’t do much to muffle your laughter. It was proven to be absolutely pointless when you glanced over to see the glare Wolffe aimed your way.

“Okay, alright uh,” Yol bustled past the two of you to shove the old bedding into the chute in the wall. “Thanks Doc, I’ll see you--”

“Aren’t we forgetting someone?” 

You lifted your eyebrows at Yol when he froze halfway through the door, his eyes frantically searching the room before they landed on Wolffe. There was a moment where he almost seemed like he was going to just leave you to deal with him by yourself. You’re almost certain he’d made his mind up before he rushed past you, hauling Wolffe up and out of the chair.

“You sure drive a hard bargain, Doc,” Yol grumbled unhappily as you took up Wolffe’s other side. The two of you carefully returned the equally unhappy older man into the bed, who huffed and puffed and growled throughout the whole affair. Once he’d settled in, Yol turns to you, hands outspread in supplication, “Now can I go?”

“‘Course,” you chirped, booting up your datapad as you gave him a sidelong glance. “Say hi to Vrakka for me.”

“OkaybyeDoc.”

Wolffe only waited until Yol was out of the room before he scoffed, “That irresponsible boy?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, pulling up a chair to stretch your legs out in front of you. “There’s somebody for everybody.”

“Oh, and you’re what, some kind of relationship expert?” Lifting your eyes to him, you blinked in confusion.

“That’s what I went to school for.”

“...what?”

“Oh, I assumed - wait, why do you call me Doc? I thought you were in on the joke?”

“Joke? What joke?” Wolffe glanced around the room in bewilderment. “You work in the medcenter, why would calling you ‘Doc’ be a joke?!”

“It’s because I’m not a medical professional. I’m just - provisional.” You shrugged when the confusion in his expression only increased. “Why do you think it was so easy for them to put me on rotations to keep an eye on you? I’m not exactly experienced in actual medical practice - just basic first-aid.” Sniffing imperiously, you returned your attention to your datapad. “Though with your help, I’m beginning to learn more advanced practices.”

“Glad to be of service,” Wolffe chuckled, and the room went silent for a while as you went through your inbox. It was a useless effort - no one had requested an appointment with you in a week. Suppressing a frustrated sigh, you decided to go through your personal library when Wolffe cleared his throat. “Does it bother you?”

“Hm?” Lifting your eyebrows, you stared at him blankly for a moment. Wolffe gave you an exasperated look after a few beats and you perked up. “Oh. Oh! I mean, a little bit? Not anymore really. Limle is the only person who means it in a ‘term of endearment’ sort of way.”

“So they all just call you that - and they don’t bother asking if that’s what you want?” Wolffe seemed angrier than he was at Yol before, and you tilted your head at him. He huffed, arms crossed over his broad chest, “Just don’t see how anyone could take that kind of treatment lying down.”

“I’m not exactly the kind of person to rock the boat just to save face,” you admitted.

“I noticed.” That was - surprising. It must have shown  in your expression, because Wolffe elaborated, “You said it yourself: you don’t have a choice in being here, even if you can’t stand being around me. Who would put up with that if they weren’t a pushover?”

“Oh, so you’ve got me all figured out, hm?”

“No.” Wolffe studied you closely, and you felt your stomach do a funny little flip. No one had ever looked at you like that. It was something you couldn’t put your finger on, which was exciting and terrifying in its own right. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh.” You honestly didn’t know what else to say to that, so for the rest of your shift, the two of you sat in almost complete silence.

---

Day Forty-Six of Wolffe-Sitting

Yol and Vrakka are finally a thing. Openly, at any rate. Which is honestly a huge fucking relief. Watching those two dance around each other (mostly on Yol’s part) was enough to make me age two years every time they tried to deny it all. Wolffe and I made a bet that they would get caught before they were open about it. I lost, and today he finally decided to make me pay up. This man is out to get me, I swear.

“I’m telling you,” you sighed miserably, “you might as well try to reverse gravity with your mind. And last I checked, no one in this room is Force sensitive.”

Wolffe waved you off before he went back to shuffling the deck, “Anyone can learn to play Sabacc, and you lost, fair and square.” He smirked at you - actually smirked, which was a rare sight in itself. It was also distracting. “Better get used to that, mesh’la.”

“What does that mean anyway? ‘Mez-luh.’” You squinted at him when he chuckled at your attempt at pronunciation. “Is it an insult or something?”

“Depends on what you’d find insulting,” he said with a shrug, chuckling at your frustrated expression. He considered you for a moment, eyes narrowed while the cards smacking together became the only sound filling the silence. “If you can beat me five times after I finish teaching you the basics, I might consider telling you.”

“Stubborn old man.”

“Stubborn old man who’s going to wipe the floor with you by the time your shift is up.” The way he grinned at you is infectious. It was also terrifying - all teeth and glowing confidence. “Now pay attention,” he tapped the deck twice with his knuckles, “because I don’t like to repeat myself.”

“Wait,” you looked at him, head tilted to one side, “what do you get if you win?”

“The satisfaction of putting you in your place.” 

…oh. Oh your mind went to some terrible places with that statement. And he did absolutely nothing to clarify, despite your obvious discomfort.

This was going to be a long shift.

* * *

“I’ve changed my mind.”

It took you a while to look up at him. After the last actual game, you sat with your elbows propped on your thighs, fingers rubbing circles in your throbbing temples while you stared at the floor. Just when you thought you understood the rules, Wolffe would you. Easily. When you looked at him, it was to glare at him, the smug smirk that he wasn’t even bothering to hide.

“How so?” you asked, shoving your last hand at him so he could shuffle again. 

For a moment you found yourself lost in watching his hands, the ease with which he went through the motions. It was practiced, automatic - you are enraptured by it. His amused chuckle pulled you out of your stupor.

“You need a little incentive,” he announced, “and I need things to be a little more interesting. Otherwise I’m going to fall asleep by the next hand.”

“Sorry I’m not great at a game I’ve never played until today,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “And what do you mean by ‘incentive?’ You being able to rub it in my face seems like enough.”

“Apparently not.” He knocked on the deck again - a personal ritual, you mused. “I’ll leave it up to you, since you’re so miserable being forced to play the game. Seems only fair.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be decidedly unfair?”

“Because you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.” Ah - you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from beaming at his praise. “So, your choice: I can either take your credits, or information.”

Turning your head so you could give him a sidelong squint, you murmured, “What kind of information?”

“Nothing too damning,” Wolffe shrugged, entirely too casual to put any of your immediate concerns at ease. “And if it’s something you’re too uncomfortable to share, I’ll think of something else.”

“So twenty questions, but I have to wait until you beat me at a hand of Sabacc each time? The odds don’t really seem stacked in my favor.”

“Tell you what,” he offered, dealing out the first hand, “if you can beat me, you get to ask a question. Same rule as when we started though: five hands.” He smirked again, and you felt a thrill of excitement and frustration in equal measure. “Maybe you’ll get there - in the next month.”

“Bring it on, old man.”

He beat you in record time for the first question, and you braced yourself. But no amount of mental gymnastics could prepare you for just how ruthless Wolffe can be when he put his mind to it.

“What was the breaking point that made you join the Rebellion?” Wolffe held up a hand the moment you took a breath to give your answer. “And don’t give me the whole ‘it was the right thing to do, I wanted to be a hero’ bullshit.” It was brief, but you saw it: a flash of pain in his expression, older than the Rebellion itself. You recognize you saw it only because he let you. “People aren’t heroes - legends derived from them are.”

“Wow,” you blinked owlishly, “okay. I guess…” Your head dropped with a groan when the answer came to you, because it immediately felt childish and self-centered. “Spite.”

“‘Spite?’” Wolffe sounded about as incredulous as you’d assumed he would. “That is not at all what I was expecting from you.”

“Have you met me?” With a playful scoff, you gave your hand back to him, considering your next words while you watched him shuffle the deck again. “Half my personality is spite, or fueled by it.”

“Alright, point taken.” He rolled his eyes at you, dealing out the next hand in record time. And then beating you in record time. “Why join the Rebellion out of spite?”

“The Empire took something from me that I worked very hard for.” Your eyes drifted down as guilt twisted at your insides. “Something that seems childish looking back on it.”

“What was it?”

“My degree.” He balked at that, his brow furrowing together, and you held up a hand. “Let me explain - I was months away from graduating. It was guaranteed that I would graduate, and then the Empire just decided that the resources and funding for the university were wasted, and reallocated them to fund weapon manufacturing.” Shifting in your seat, you glanced away from him. “Told you it seems childish.”

“You’re right.” His voice is colder than it had been, and that cut you deep. “It is childish.” That twisted the knife, and you let your head fall slightly. Shame filled you, making your eyes burn. If you almost cry in front of Wolffe again, you’d never be able to face him. But then you heard him knock on the deck again, “But you stayed.”

“I did.” You lifted your head, risking a glance in his direction. He watches you closely, carefully - your next words would decide the trajectory of the rest of this strange conversational set up. “Because it was the right thing to do. For me, anyway.”

He beat you again, in silent contemplation this time. Then,

“Right for you how?”

“I joined the Rebellion to get back at the Empire.” You shrugged, “If I could land at least one blow against them, it would all feel worth it. But then - well. I’ve never even held a blaster. Can’t fly. But I knew basic first-aid, and I know how to figure out what makes people tick, so,” you gestured to the room around you, “here I am.”

You lost again.

“Do you regret it? Staying, I mean.”

“No.” The answer came quickly, no knee-jerk compulsion to try to excuse your reasoning or logic. “Not at all. This isn’t anything close to what everyone else has to go through, I know that.” You glanced meaningfully at his leg, and couldn’t help but chuckle when he huffed. “But…it’s where I’m meant to be.” Pushing your hand back towards him, you stared at a nearby wall, your gut still roiling with guilt and nerves. “At least here, I can be a little useful.”

The warmth of his hand covered yours before you can pull away, and your head snapped round to stare at him. You immediately let your eyes fall to focus on his hand, immediately taken aback by the intensity of his stare. But Wolffe had other plans.

Before you could even mourn the loss of his hand on yours, he stretched his arm out and grabbed you by the chin between a forefinger and thumb. Then he tilted your head back up, so you had to look at him head-on. None of the intensity left his gaze as he studied your features, and you watched as it softened around the edges some. His nostrils flared as he let out a long breath, and you swear his thumb twitches like he was about to caress your skin.

But that was just wishful thinking on your part, spurred on by the disappointment you can’t deny when he let his hand fall away.

“Each individual in this counts towards a future that’s made better through our efforts. But without you - “ Wolffe paused for a moment, teeth clicking when he closed his mouth. “Well, without you, I’d probably be dead. Small consolation that is --”

“It’s not small,” you protested quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, if Wolffe lifting an eyebrow at you in question was any indication. “You said it yourself - every individual counts.”

Wolffe groaned, rolling his eyes at you before you were hit with the full force of an actual smile from him, “You remind me of my brother - always throwing my own words back at me when I apparently need it.”

“Rex?” He nodded, and you hummed thoughtfully. “Smart man.”

“Don’t let him catch you saying that,” Wolffe groused, shuffling the deck again. “Especially in this context - I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He dealt another hand out and -

Well…you won.

“Oh?” Both of you stared in silent disbelief at your hand - two sets of five from each stave. As your victory began to sink in you started to laugh, grinning from ear to ear as you watched Wolffe’s expression turn from shock to begrudging acceptance. “Ooh, how the turns have tabled.”

“‘Course you would win with a Squadron,” he grumbled, running both hands down his face. “Alright,” Wolffe groaned behind his palms, “go on.”

“Why did you join?” 

It was the first question that came to mind. There are others you would rather have asked, questions he’d scoff at or tease you about. But that was the one you grabbed hold of first. It felt…important. More so when he slowly lowered his hands, clear suspicion in his gaze and under that, something else. Something that made you question if this would go sour.

“To repay a debt.”

That’s all you got out of him - and you were fine with that.

-----

Taglist: @rain-on-kamino, @deewithani, @seeking-kharis, @lackofhonor, @ttzamara

I know some of you wanted to be just on the Caf Delivery Service tag so if you want me to remove you from this tag, LMK! If you want me to add you to the taglist for this series also lmk in the replies or in a DM!

[goosedawn]

//Oh gods, welp, here I go [cracks knuckles]

//Tiny farmer Techno Au,,,, prepare for some future lore cjkhcxk

Timestamps from: "I Became the Mayor of Skyblock" by Technoblade

--

(5:39) "I decided to call in an old rival..." - Technoblade

Techno continues on with his life for days on, but finally, he somehow finds his way to society again, seeing that the entire town has been taken over by a tyrant of a mayor. The townspeople called for aid, and from the depths of his cold heart, he decided to help (....what do you mean he only did it so people would buy his potatoes-).

For a bit, he did his work by himself, only getting help from some other living scarecrows (listen, I really like the idea of some scarecrows coming alive [cough] PHIL [cough]), TimeDeo and Jyn (...? Is that how you spell their name?). (Dunno what the process for taking over the mayor would be exactly but,,, chchskdlcx,,,)

But you can only do so much work with... living scarecrows. With a bit of reluctance, he calls for help from SquidKid. And then together they defeat Dante :]

(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)

--

(6:31) "Is there any way to do the teleport room without just like.. guessing?" - SquidKid

(6:36) "You are like... little baby, watch this." - Technoblade

-

Being tiny has its perks.

"Wait, what do you mean you can solve this maze in an hour or less?"

Techno turned towards the bigger hybrid, crossing his arms as he nonchalantly stared up at them. SquidKid only gives him a baffled look back, their tentacle-like hair slightly sprung up to further show their confusion.

He knows this only because he's known the man for far longer than they've known him.

He knows more personal information than should be shared, somehow finding the other farmer's parent's numbers along with a few other things. He had jokingly pocketed away the parent's number in the back of his mind, although, he had no real plans of ever using it. Well, maybe he had played with the idea of calling SquidKid's parents to dunk on the fact that a wild borrower had been winning their competition, but he ultimately decided not to for obvious reasons.

He knows the hybrid's schedule like the back of his hand, having to work around it for the better part of an entire year. Using that knowledge, he had sabotaged countless of SquidKid's tools, poking small, unnoticeable holes into their hoses and irrigation systems.

And he knows SquidKid's behavior from how they speak to how they express any sort of emotion. Lies were easily debunked from the small twitch of the corner of their mouth as they suppressed a smile, and anger was easily shown from how their strange hair pieces would spike up.

Yet, he can't help but feel slightly at unease in front of them. He supposes it's only natural, seeing that there's a huge height difference between them. Plus, this was practically the first time they've been closer than two fields of length in between them. Well, disregarding the times he's gone snooping around the bigger farmer's place, but that's neither here nor there.

"Squid, look at me," he raises his hand, gesturing towards himself, "I'm tiny, yes?" the squid hybrid nodded slowly, and he pointed at the stalks of tall fern and crop, "to you, this would basically be a wall you can't get through. For me, though...."

He jumped off his perch, tightly holding his trusty bag and sliding towards the flora before easily disappearing behind the thicket and appearing moments later at eye level, holding the stalk of the crops easily,

"It's easy to go through."

SquidKid makes a quiet 'oh' sound with another nod of their head, looking slightly in awe. The amazed look turns to one of confusion again, though, and he awaited their next question with a raised eyebrow, "but... the maze is big, how are you going to get through it all without tiring?"

Techno grinned, lifting a hand to his mouth and loudly whistling. He doesn't hesitate to slide back to the floor as a blur of white fur bounds towards him.

"Carl!" he exclaims, wrapping his hands around the rabbit's fluffy neck and combing through the fur with his fingers. He backs away to pull out a broken-off piece of a carrot, feeding it to the eager bunny before turning towards the astonished squid hybrid with a grin, "my noble steed," he waves a hand towards the still feeding rabbit.

"You tamed a rabbit," they dumbly point out, having to metaphorically pick up their jaw off of the floor.

"Yup, I did. you can stop gawking now," he huffed, "you're going to catch a bug with your mouth if you keep your mouth wide open."

"...And you named it Carl?"

"What kind of question is that?" he snorts, shaking his head, "yes, I named him Carl, and yes he's going to be the one helping me through the maze. Any other silly questions?"

The man stumbles over their words for a second, and he amusedly watches from below, "I- yeah, yeah, you bozo," they finally settle on saying.

"Alright, cool, I'm going to go find the exit now," he turns away from the hybrid, climbing on the back of the rabbit's back, "see you there."

He doesn't give SquidKid the chance to respond, already setting off through the thicket. And he sure doesn't suppress the grin that crawls up his face as Carl bounds past stalks and stalks of crops.

Having distracted SquidKid enough to get away, the bigger farmer had barely thought to ask how they themselves would traverse the maze.

They must have realized soon enough, though, since not seconds later, he hears a strangled yell of his name along with a loud groan.

--

Pain, it's been too long since I've written something /Lh

--

"(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)"

When the townspeople come to greet the new mayor, they come thinking that it's SquidKid who's done everything since it's always been SquidKid going into town and doing the talking- the scarecrows being unable to do so for obvious reasons, and Techno unable to do so without revealing his entire existence.

So when the sheepish farmer calmly explains that he's just a helper of the mayor, they're... rightfully confused. At first, they want to know the real identity of the mayor, but SquidKid wearily tries explaining that said mayor really doesn't want to be revealed. They only conceded when he shakily points to the unknown farmer's territory, most of them getting the message.

Techno is very thankful that SquidKid doesn't take his title and also doesn't reveal his existence.

-

"It would have been so easy for the squid hybrid to just pluck his tiny form from their back pocket and shove the wrathful spotlight onto him.

He wasn't even able to even escape now as he found himself stuck in the hybrid's pocket. The crowd had come quickly after SquidKid had removed the other mayor for him, and he remembered feeling panicked as he stared at the other hybrid. The next thing he knew, he was shoved into their pocket.

He couldn't get out without tumbling to the ground with a splat, and, even worse, the possibility of one of the townspeople pointing him out with gossip-drinking eyes was incredibly high too.

He shakily gulped, greedily taking the air around him as he tried to stay calm. He never liked being near anyone- not even the scarecrows - so the second-hand contact with his past rival was not the finest experience.

"I- uhm," the squid hybrid stumbled over their words, "t-the mayor really would rather not... have the entire town to greet them.."

The crowd hushedly mumbled to each other, and one straggler called out, "well, tell them to come out anyway!"

By the Blood God, he hated this. He shrunk to the bottom of the pocket. This was one of the worst worries for a borrower; he had already been pushing his limit with the scarecrows and SquidKid, but this was another level for him.

"...Uh, well, in that case," he felt SquidKid shift, and a hand brushed over his pocket. He tenses, waiting for the fingers to tug him out and waiting for SquidKid to finally prove that they're not as kind as they look, for them to finally get some semblance of petty revenge.

"You can find them over there." He pauses, confused to as why there's no hand reaching down for him. The words finally dawn on him, and he's both relieved and perplexed to what SquidKid could have meant by that.

But hatever they've done has made the crowd fall unnaturally silent, and so he's at least a little relieved for that too.

The same voice that was brave enough to speak before pipes up, "you mean the ghost farmer?"

....He didn't know that the townspeople had come up with a name for him, but he's suddenly thankful that he's gained enough popularity that people stop and gawk.

"Y...Yes," SquidKid slowly acknowledges the villager, "they were the one orchestrating all of this. I was just helping with the... talking parts," the hybrid is silent for a moment before they burst into a stammering mess,

"And- uh, I-I should take my leave now, b-because I should really h-head back and ch-check up on them," he feels the bigger farmer start to take a few steps back, supposedly away from the crowd, "I'll answer any questions later!"

He has to push against the fabric to keep himself from bouncing around in the pocket as SquidKid starts running. He faintly hears the townspeople shout for the male, but it's muffled through the fabric.

As it starts to seem as if the squid hybrid would never stop running, they finally start to slow down, their breaths coming out labored and airy.

He doesn't speak up for a moment, letting the other regain themselves first. When they finally seem well enough, he speaks up,

"That's the best you can come up with?"

--

chKFCHKDSJFSDF oh my Primes, this is so LONG,,,, I have no idea how to write SquidKid,,,, plus, I had no idea how to like,,, oOGHgds,f,, pain.

Anyways, hope you had fun reading ALL of this cchjxcvxkdsf,,,

AAUBHJDUHFJHBFNDKUFHN WENDYYY /POS

i dont have anything to add this is just fantastic,,,,, DEO AND JIYN AS SCARECROWS AS WELL,,, FBJHDKUHSJHHDV,,,,,, i love that techno gets to have Carl still 🥺🥺🥺 and him leaving squidkid on the other side of the maze??? FHJBDJNJKBF

ALSO 🥺 squid protecting techno and not telling people abt him,,,,, aaajfhkdojfh good,, i also appreciate that everyone in the village just has to be like. "the ghost farmer is mayor????... well this isnt the weirdest thing thats happened to me"

SQUIDKID RUNNING AWAY,,,, "ill answer any questions later" djhshhjhjhbhbfhdjhbe

*holds this gently* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i adore

[heretherebedork]

Francis watches Tharntype (Day 5 the FINALE)

First thought: It's 7 am on a Sunday and I'm here to torture myself. @absolutebl I've DONE IT.

Second thought: Cut!

Episode 11

Techno is suffering the way I am right now. He deserves better than this moment in time.

Yeah, Type, go beat up a high schooler. Highly realistic. Ugh, you're all idiots.

Just for the record, I really miss Klui and Seo. They were so refreshing amidst everything else and I'm sad they went away.

Ah, my poor Tar is going to be so traumatized and I'm going to hate it and I already feel awful for him and I know it's going to get worse.

Technic is probably the smartest in the this group... and he's not that bright, let's be honest.

Run, Tar, RUN. No, baby, don't go with him. RUN.

Man, I understand Tar's reluctance to talk more than Tharn's in the previous episode. At least he has a reason not to talk to him. And tar is the tiniest, most dramatic little teenager ever and no one can handle that because they're all idiots.

Hey, you know what would have prevented most of this drama? Tharn telling Type he was going to talk to Tar and why! Wouldn't that have been amazing?

This looks a lot more accurate to how I picture their non-sexual intimacy. Lots of glaring and miscommunication and grumbling and, oh, Tharn never saying anything useful because... no idea, honestly.

Fake crying? Oh, Type can't tell fake crying from a panic attack. Got it.

And that's... healthy... oh wait it's not.

I mean, of course he's fucking worried, Tar is at least a few years younger than both of you and much smaller and you punched him in the face.

I mean, seriously, this explanation is way too late Tharn. Why not explain it when you talked to him that night instead?

A+ love the abusive vibes here.

Yeah, shaking someone by his shirt and threatening him to be only yours and then instantly leaving the room after he promises to be no one but yourself is a sign of a healthy and loving relationship. How did I never realize that before?

"He was worried you'd overthink, so he didn't tell you so you could REALLY overthink and also have to guess about everything."

Oh. So. This is where this comes from. Oh, fuck, goddamn, I've liked Lhong this whole time and now I get to watch him get MAMEd.

Why, yes, MAMEd is my new verb. It's a description for poorly written antagonists but can also mean characters who growth or change in the show makes no sense and comes out of nowhere or out of order. Enjoy your new word!

... Welp, Type and Lhong are the worst. Poor Tar is, in fact, a baby who has been hurt and scared and now he's being described as evil. Ugh. My baby.

Yes, bring a third party into your communication. Frankly, probably couldn't hurt at this point. It could only help.

Look, honest statement? I love the white towel scenes. I have been the ultimate hurt/comfort fan since I was like 12 and nothing has EVER changed and you give me 'taking care of someone' and add gentleness and BAM I love it.

"Why did you go drinking with my friend to have an outlet to talk about our relationship?" Blah blah blah.

See, maybe try saying these things to him when he ASKS and is SOBER. That's actual communication.

HE NEVER SAID ANYTHING TO YOU SO YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LISTEN TO. Tharn refused, again and again, to answer the questions you asked! Like, good, apologize for exploding. But next time he needs to actually talk to you damnit.

I can't even call this cute honestly. It's close, but it's not quite there.

It's like skirting on the edge of actual communication but somehow they never get there.

"You made a promise." Me:... it's episode 11, how's he gonna break the promise just to fuck everything up for them?

Every time I hit halfway through an episode I think I'm done and check and it turns out I have so much left and I groan.

Tar is baby who deserves so much more than he got in this show and all the ones that followed. Poor Tar. And Tharn is absolutely gonna get blamed for this because of the promise with Type and because they're both fucking idiots. Got it.

Ah, so Lhong set this all up. That seems... out of character. But whatever. I get it. I see why people were excited to see my response because this is literally so dumb it hurts.

Lhong and Tar set this up to get Tharn and Type to break up? What does Lhong get out of this? And Tar is just... oh, this traumatized child is so desperate.

How the fuck is Tar overpowering Tharn? I mean, he does have a better position but seriously. Tharn.

Oh, also, Type is absolutely gonna walk in and assume that this is happening with Tharn's consent, isn't he? Fucking really, y'all. Fucking really.

This is so dumb.

dfjkhlgdhjkdl I KNEW IT.

ahahahahaha fucking hell this is goddamn hysterical and so stupid and so absolutely, absolutely pointless.

SO STUPID.

Y'all.

Y'ALL.

They all got MAMEd!

I mean, I do feel bad for Type? But like, holy shit, the list of assumptions he's made in this moment could fill an entire USB drive.

So Lhong and Tar planned this to break them up. Seriously, Type, you're also easily manipulated TBH. Both of you are. This entire scene was set up by a friend and an ex-boyfriend and it makes no sense. How is Lhong going to cover up for the lack of record label?

Oh, so... I mean, I figured out that Lhong was after Tharn for a while here. He wants him very obviously.

This is like the 15th time Tharn has told Tar he doesn't want to see him again.

lol Lhong's serious face and then backing his way out of the room. I mean, fucking hell, that was just funny.

Poor Tar. He might be struggling with his emotions and moving on but I still love the tiny child.

You do understand, Tharn, that you sound exactly like Tar when you say that. A relationship takes both people to exist.

Yeah, frankly, Type has ever right to be done with. There's such a huge level of drama and so much stress on him because, apparently, Tharn can't communicate to anyone.

Ah, this also explains all the older relationships. I get it, I get it, Lhong's been manipulating it all because he wants Tharn to himself.

I mean, frankly, this is probably one of the best break ups because it absolutely makes sense. Type is sick of the drama that Tharn absolutely can't control and can't handle it. Tharn can't handle any of it. They acknowledge that they still care and love each other in a way but Type also knows his own limits. He's breaking up with the situation and not specifically the person. But he has every right to do that.

I mean, this would be more meaningful if I cared about their relationship at all.

This is eerily similar to Leo and Fiat's ep 11 break up. "We know this is absolutely a set up to manipulate us so we're just gonna fall directly into it because communication is for other people."

"I don't know" bae you left him sobbing desolately on the floor in a pile of hopelessness after begging you for forgiveness and promising you literally anything to get you to stay. I feel like you know more than you're letting on.

lol the dramatic sting is back. I feel like it deserves to be it's own character at this point.

Is Lhong gonna smile? YEP. I was right. I mean, I knew this was coming. I've read enough vague comments. But wow. Also, this is so stupid. So, so stupid.

Ugh, Tar. Please let Tum hug him again before the end of the series?

Awww, Tum sitting outside the door and desperately wanting to comfort him as he cries and Tar feeling so alone just on the other side of the wall and just uuughh I love them so much, I hate the they never got to go anywhere.

I mean. I guess you're the only one who doesn't abandon him but only because, like, you hire other people to assault his boyfriends and set up elaborate plans to manipulate everyone around him. Which is stupid, FYI. This is so stupid.

Episode 12

So close yet so far from the end. 90 minutes... fuck meeeeee.

Broken Tharn going home and literally collapsing into his brother's arms is the most dramatic thing in the entire world. Like, literally.

But I do love Tharn's family.

... Type literally explained it to you. Don't you listen to him? He was very, very clear.

My god does Tharn obviously not handle break ups well. Maybe you should slow your roll on these relationships, my boy. Like... don't move in together instantly?

Tharn losing his emotional shit over Type's cursed text messages is very amusing to me. Did I mention I have no emotional investment in this? Also, Tharn, you kinda always just let him do everything while also not respecting his boundaries. Pretty impressive feat.

Oh, that phone's dead.

Thorn's a good big brother.

lol the dramatic sting? is that you? Lhong looking around the living room is somehow so funny to me. Like, what even if this show? Y'all.

Thorn is seriously a good noodle. I like him.

I'm gonna name the dramatic sting Bob. I like Bob. Bob makes me laugh.

Lhong, welcome to the wonderful world of FRIENDSHIP. If you don't explain or communicate that you want something different... nothing happens because people like having friends.

Techno and Type have the best communication in the entire show. I respect that in a friendship.

Bob is back!

I love Thorn so much. He's a good noodle best brother and he just wants what's best for his brother and for him to be happy again. But also, seriously, Type explained it to Tharn. He used his words and everything. He was very clear that he couldn't handle the drama going on and that it never ended and that nothing Tharn did seemed to help. He never communicated or shared until it was too late.

Bob!

Can I ship Song and Tae for no reason beyond this one scene?

Was that a wolf howl?

Also, this still makes no sense. Communication is our friend. We use it with our friends and loved ones so they can understand us better. Thank fuck for Techno. No denials. Best communicator in the series. Even if the bar for that is a fuckin' limbo bar.

There's a clip of something. Honestly, I'm just bored of being in the dark.

lol Type sneaking up behind Lhong and then the whole conversation with BOB in the background. But I do love Type's expression. Of just 'mmmhm bitch' at him. Very amusing.

Okay, Type at least managed to figure something out. And he deserves that. And he even listened to Tar better than Tharn did, kind of ironically. Like... seriously. Why does everyone accuse Type of not listening? He's one of the bets communicators. He's also an idiot. But that's besides the point.

Ugh, my baby Tar. Please, give this boy more hugs. So many more hugs.

If you talk while the phone is recording, it'll record your voices and not just the other voices.

Lhong trying to choke Type out is somehow really amusing to me. Because Type is basically having to hold his hands on his neck.

Also, y'all, if someone is choking you, out your arms -between- their arms and try to twist. That's the best way to get out of such a hold. Use the force of your body against them by focusing on one arm.

Ah, yes, Lhong is absolutely willing to just murder someone straight up in the alley of the school. That's a thing.

Why would he get off at that point? I mean, like, if it's all out why stop? Especially if he's just going to grab the brick to try and finish the job anyway.

lol yeah uh, I don't think this is gonna work out in your favor, Lhong.

Another deserved punch. "I haven't done anything" he says after confessing everything and being recorded and literally almost killing Type in front of him. MAME, so subtle.

Champ and Techno are so protective of Type. Friendship is my favorite.

"I tested them by sending three men to assault him and then by making him think you were cheating on him. Best test EVER. Also, I lied to everyone about you cheating on them. BEST. PLAN. EVER. Also, lie to me all you want! I'll believe anything! I mean, I know you don't like healthy relationships so I thought this could work out!"

He did a lot more than hurt Tar, let's be honest. SO much more than hurt Tar. This fucker. Let's punch him again.

Look, actual protective friends!

Type is definitely a surprisingly good communicator for all that he's been through and done in the past. I think it's Techno's influence.

lol the drama

Techno be like "come on, come take your boyfriend, comfort him because I am literally holding him up right now and that's your job."

Why are we still watch Lhong cry? I don't care. I do kind of wish I saw this actor more, though. He's very cute. I really don't care about him at all. Also, he just said he doesn't think you care. Like, he was really obvious about it. No one in this show ever listen. But also, yes, the sign of true love... letting him cry on your clothing.

Okay, so, we get the make up but honestly Type breaking up with him was kind of pointless for all of this? I feel like more of this could have been solved with, again, more communication. Actual communication.

Thorn, best brother and best noodle.

/eyeroll/

Cute Moment 10: Tharn crying about Type saying I love you.

And, of course, we're not going to get any more TumTar at all. Ugh. I already miss them. I just wish they'd been given a chance to go somewhere.

OH WAIT WE DO GET SOMETHING MORE. My booooys.

I love TumTar so much stfu I love them and they're so cute and Tum is so darling and Tar needs a thousand hugs and all the love in the world and I just wish they could be happy together. Tm and all his tiny worries and Tar just smiling and loved and just whyyyy, whyyy couldn't they have given them a better story together?

KLUI AND SEO EXIST!

There's an entire episode after this?

Why?

There's still 15 minutes left in THIS episode? WHYYY?

I don't care about him. Why bring him back for this? Don't caaaare.

Cute Moment 11: Type and Tharn's little handholding bits.

Also, three years later? Way to skip over absolutely everything.

Can got mentioned and exists! YAY!

PETE! /screeeeee

TIN! /screeeeeee

Is it over yet? Cute Moment 11: I hate you/You love me bridge edition

~~dog walking break for my own sanity~~

Episode 13

Tell me I can skip most of this...

Boo, real things are gonna happen.

Friendship! And Champ's love of food.

Do we really need three shots of him taking his sunglasses off? nope.

Techno is everyone's best friend.

I'm sorry, I don't care enough about music or performance to enjoy this. Why are we still here?

Klui and Seo exist again!

And Tum is so eager to pick up Tar because he's darling. Also, Teo and Song is my secret non-existent ship.

Klui is oblivious baby and I love him and Seo is darling. Shut up I'm here for the side ships.

Awwwww, TumTar is just my favorite, shut up. And I honestly really like the chemistry between these two actors. I might actually prefer them to the actors in LBC just for the sake of this lighter, softer, more comforting chemistry. I can't picture LBC!Tum crading Tar the way this version did.

TIN.

PETE.

Why didn't we get to SEE Tharn meet Type's family? That would be much more interesting than what we're getting.

Cute Moment 12: Tharn and Type discussing the family issues and the little front pony of Type's hair.

Oh, we do get to see it. Goodie! This is more interesting than most of what we've seen, honestly.

Seriously, Type, you might have wanted to mention this to your parents before you took your boyfriend home for three weeks and introduced him to them. At least poked the bear a little.

What a way to come out to your family, seriously. This is so dumb.

Type's mom is good. I'm good with her. She can stay. OH. Oh! Do we get to see Kom again?!?! Probably not. But I do love Type being like 'why aren't you bothered by this?!?!' and his mom loves him more than she loves her expectations of him.

Oy vey. At least it's amusing. This definitely the most fun I've had yet in this show. Because it's just goofy and relies mostly on outside characters rather than the relationship.

Their chemistry is good but it doesn't make sense with the rest of the show.

YES KOM.

Look at that character growth. MAME can't write it well but she has a few moments she can write. They're just... often in a weird order.

Type is right, though, he should be thanking you for forgiving him. I don't care if he was your first love (and, fyi, what's with all these boys falling for the one guy who throws homophobic slurs around the way other people say 'cool'?) he still owed you that apology.

Oy vey. That's all I got. I am amused. But just... oy vey.

At least this beach trip wasn't just about the school. Although I do miss their friends.

Cute Moment 13: Sandy handhold

Again, never gonna deny their chemistry. Their physical comfort with each other is absolutely astonishing.

Cute Moment 14: Forehead to forehead overlooking the beach.

20 more minutes, how is this not over yet?

Dog and cat ears? I... okay? And dog whimpering sound effect. Why. WHY. Amusing but why?

I feel like I should just stop here. Nothing will get more amusing to me than this. Nothing. This is the singular scene I may rewatch out of this show someday.

... Why bring Lhong back? Why? Also, Thorn is still best noodle ever.

PETE.

This is STILL GOING. But also how does all of this lead to the levels of drama I know it leads to in TT2? I mean... nonsensically, obviously, they've got to get MAMEd for a second season. But seriously.

Final Thoughts

I'm glad I didn't watch this show at the beginning of my BL journey. I don't know how much I might have actually gotten through if I'd started without the knowledge I have now or the understanding and familiarity I have with tropes and authors.

I did not overall like the show. Obviously.

Let's see...

I do think I like TT TumTar more than LBC TumTar.

I wish we'd gotten more focus on the side characters in general. But that's almost always true.

Seo and Klui deserved more screentime.

Techno was very fun and I think I like both actors/versions of him pretty equally by the end.

Very amused by Champ. Big fan of foodies. A+. Biggest reason to possibly watch TT2 tbh.

Overall? Again. Not the right garbage for my trashcan. But, you know, I kinda knew that going in.

Might follow this up with a talk about different types of 'garbage' BLs and what I like/don't like/look for/avoid in my garbage.

[toxicgamersiffrin]

3, 4, 5, 8, 10, 12, 16, 17, 18, 24, 25 and 31 for the writing ask game? :] Apologies if thats a lot you can leave some out if you want, i'm just quite curious and the questions are interesting

ask thingy

oh no no it's fine this ask game's questions Are fun

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

hmm. i need to open the docs, write two paragraphs, then open another doc and start filling in what tags this fic i think would have on ao3. that helps understand what it's gonna be to be honest. also i Really don't want to come up with it on the spot later. also stalling. then i may come back to the fic. if i can remember also turn on literally any music, preferably extremely distressing and upbeat if it's fluff i'm writing. so in my opinion. meh. not really cursed. maybe slightly

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

off the top of my head, "feverish"

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

i... honestly i don't remember having any?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

dialogue. i've done that multiple times, a oneshot, a character reflecting on themselves over the years. it's a very fun way to write, i should try that again sometime

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

hmm. i have made an excruciating amount of dark jokes on chapter 26 of HaK, and had writer's block on anything angsty for a few days after finishing it. so. "hearse" would be the closest. i guess for me that means leaving a long impact on the writer themselves, especially since it's most times very muffled for me compared to the way i'd experience it written by someone else

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

what do you mean i can't wish for more wishes. what if i word it specifically so okay okay fine i don't need 30k of lorem ipsum okay

a cheaty one (Not about the rules get the lorem ipsum dolor sit amet away from me) for the way i write dialogue to be a morallyTM accepted one because i do not have it in me to switch to these wretched commas on the split

"You know," Felt gestured. "These ones."

"I prefer to write like this." They added. "I know this might be that one thing looking cursed in my writing and it probably is, but with the differences in dialogue styles between languages I can't bring myself to care about this thing in this particular one. Honestly, the rule looks a bit cursed to me." They took a deep breath. "Wow. That was one hell of a sentence there."

edit: also of course i completely forgot about the other two. welp. you can count the last of the wishes as the traditional genie repellent of freeing them :P and uh. being able to write fluff more. yea

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

i don't read physical books too often ngl, and i don't remember it well back in the day.. i think the worst would be a minions-themed collectable card i got at a mall. 3.9/10 weirdness

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

oof. which is it even. well the lore is just a bunch of spoilers so nah. come back when i finish posting "early departed", then you'll get the juice. but for now i'll be harboring it. it's just kind of hard to talk about it when it's all only in your head and notes

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

i write most things on the fly so that's also a hard one... alright, i guess on a multichap it's easier, still not gonna provide a specific quote though. if you're interested about that (the answer is probably gonna be i made it up on the spot), you can always send it with the number and ask. so in early departed, that moment (in ch1 so i can talk about it >:P) of fwhip waking up and walking down the corridor to find gem and lady beans, it was going to originally include joel sitting there with them, (that's why fwhip thinks he doesn't trust these two, that was originally a typo that i later rephrased as he doesn't trust lady beans and her husband. a note not a quote, mind you). the whole idea for the twins' "holidays" in the smallishbeans manor was to push fwhip further down the road of revenge and to get him to know people who will later be on the other side of the war and his vendetta. that scene was the start of it, and especially it pointed out the difference between his and gem's reactions to the people

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

there's nothing, really, if i need to I google a bunch of things as i go. typically i do Not enjoy that very much because it's hard to find what i need

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

well! efwhip has a sweet tooth. i mention it in a fair few of my fics for no reason

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

oh shit

oh fuck

okay

to end off on a note that's very dramatic and slightly pathetic on my writerly side, i really appreciate the support, guys. honestly even talking the time to read my stuff. it's a little insane. especially you people in lifesteal who are scrambled together with absolutely no fics and shower me with comments on every one of them. yes we do need more chlownzy fics. we do. yeah.

[bella-kate-the-mad]

1. Some of my tabs, I'm a doll collecting nerd in case that wasn't established already lol.

2. Yes I have, let's not talk about it ok, I was in a dark place and they where a jerk.

3. Amused, confident, bored, creative, hyper, sleepy, confused, bleg, wodhjsksjsjsjwowks

4. My bed, doing online classes.

5. Dude my deepest darkest secret isn't actually all that incriminating and it also doesn't make sense to anyone but me, but yes a few people. And they don't get it 🤣

6. No, infact I've had to pretend I was fine for personal gain (aka to keep people from flipping out at me for "fakeing" depression every five seconds.)

7. Somtimes, whenever I gain an enemy/ rival they vanish. No one knows what happens to them. And I don't either *muffled screams from the basement.* I have no idea where they went.

Oh boy that joke was dark 🤣

8. YES I pretend to like people who are complete jerks all the time just to avoid unnecessary conflict.

9. Hmmm, certain writings of mine, they aren't personal or anything, they are just greatly flawed or made for me and written in a way only I understand.

10. Like every talent people think I have I don't have, jk jk. Ok I'm self aware I'm not a complete rock head, I know I'm a bit more creative than some folks, and singing comes a bit more naturally to me. But that doesn't make me better than anyone else. I'm still mostly a rock head.

11. Welp just about every fandom I'm in doesn't seem to be all that popular. And well uh, doll collecting/ customizing. If I where to tell you a braided a dolls hair and put her head in a pot of boiling water 99.999999999% of people would say I'm insane. And 0.00000001% of people would ask me how the curls turned out. Because that's a doll hair curling technique and it turned out freaking adorable fyi.

12. Wouldn't you like to know 😏

Why am I like this today. I would normally get triggered at that inappropriate question lol.

13. No, uh I'm subscribed to like some animators my little sister likes, some of my freinds, Phantom retrospective whitch is a Phan account... hmm OH! YESH! the Shera crack account, she would hate it because Shera is gay and she is homophobic so yes actually.

14. Introduveing Introvert girl! I'm so introverted I was proud of myself for calling tech support at the school today. I'm in high school and it's still hard for me to call people on the phone.

15. As of the late, I would say Instagram, so much inspiration, so many cute animals, so many jokes, so many funny ideas. But it's getting toxic on there. But out of all time, that's probably Wattpad. I hecking love that site.

16. A lot, some was so nasty I has to scroll through half of it. I've read one shots, aus, ships, lemons (whitch I hate so idk why I read them) so much stuff. Like this one called Reavers Fallen kingdom takes place over the 50 year span between two games I like, and it's so heartwarming I love it so much.

17. I hate being in a dark room with no light source, my paranoia levels go 📈📈📈 and I start to see stuff.

18. I've made so many I don't even know man.

19. Hm, if you ask my parents, the time I lied and said my sister broke my fairy doll when she didn't. (I was 9) what actually happened was I left the room and came back to find me sister sitting near a pair of scissors and my fairy dolls wing cut off. So I assumed she did it, due to very bad parenting tactics used on me. I thought makeing accusations off of assumptions was ok, because I was CONSTANTLY punished off of that stuff and it was wrong 90% of the time. But um I think the worst real lie I've ever told would have to be... hm... I think I broke my sisters phone (the thing was dying anyways it had like a week.) Because she left it out and so I accidentally spilled tea on it then I blamed my younger sister. One of the rare times I did the blaming and wasn't being the blamed too 🤣 it was perfect to becuse she was the favorite so she didn't get into any trouble anyways lol. I would have been in deep trouble, so I still think it was a smart call for young Katie.

19. I'm so NOT a trustworthy person, like I'll plan to do something then change my mind last sec so I might do the same thing to like my freinds and stuff. Life rule #1 don't trust anyone or thing, not even your own mind, eyes, ears, and sense of touch. So please don't trust me, don't trust ANYONE. THE GOV'MENT WILL GETCHA!

I WAS KIDDING! 🤣🤣 but no I don't think I should be trusted.

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[queen-of-my-home]

Name: Deadname is... not happening. Alexander Jacobson. 🤗

Star sign: Virgo

Put Spotify/iTunes on shuffle and name the first 4 songs that come on:

So... I don't really have iTunes or Spotify... but I do have a playlist on Napster that has all the songs I like on there so....

1) "Say you don't let go" by James Arthur

2) "Seven Nation Army" by White Stripes

3) "Already Gone" by Sleeping At Last

4) "Castle" by Halsey

Have you ever had a song/poem written about you? Uh... not that I'd know of 😅

When's the last time you've played guitar? So... not that I know how to actually play guitar, but I got a broken guitar when I went out to see my fam for my Grandpa's funeral. So... About 6 months ago? I taught myself how to play a very out of tune version of "Let it Go" (I'm just now realising how ironic that is... 😅)

Who's your celebrity crush? Okay so... I don't actually have like, crushes, but I would love to like get a hug and chat with Thomas Sanders, Lin Manuel Miranda, and Tom Holland, and I'd love to get a picture with Benedict Cumberbatch and Tom Hiddleston... so.. there's that 😁

What is a sound you hate and a sound you love? Uh... I hate the sound of people eating, including myself... and I really like hearing people laugh so hard they can't breathe, because that's such a precious thing, y'know?

Do you believe in ghosts? Well, that depends.. I just kinda-- shrug when I think about death, but I definitely think it's a possibility.

What about aliens? Yep! I just don't believe I. A lot of the theories about them. (I like to think they've just been minding their own business and stuffs.)

Do you drive? Nope! 😊

What was the last book you've read? Uhhhh... "Stranger Than Fanfiction" by Christ Colfer (and oof did I cry 😅)

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Eh, not really.

What's the worst injury you've had? Uhhuhuhfiej... probably when I was really little and accidentally somehow fell onto a screw or nail... it got stuck into my shin... and I'll stop there 🤗 (don't worry though, it wasn't as bad as it sounds)

Do you have an obsession right now? Well, II wouldnt call it an obsession, but I'm currently really into Thomas Sanders/ Sander Sides, and I really like Marvel and stuffs. 😅

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who've done you wrong? Welp... that really depends on what the person's done. I usually don't, and I always try not to, but I trust people, and lose complete trust pretty quickly, so... Oof. I try not to be very outwardly emotional, so I guess that might lead to some grudge holding? But I usually tell myself "Hey my dude, they're probably just having a bad day, and you're not dying, you're fine 😉👍👌"

So.. I dunno if that's really an answer but-- that's what I've got 😜

In a relationship? Yep! I've been with my girlfriend, Alfey, for about a year and a half, and I love her to friggin pieces!

I tag: Anyone who wants to join in on this! 🤗

Get To Know The Blogger

Tagged by: @go-thatoneemo

Name: MyLien

Star Sign: Virgo

Height: 5′2 1/2″

Put Spotify/ iTunes on shuffle and name the first 4 songs that come on:

1) Sick of Losing Soulmates - dodie

2) GUY.exe - Superfruit

3) Wildest Dreams - Taylor Swift

4) Meant to be Yours - Heathers

Have you Ever had a song/poem written about you? No but I’ve written poems about myself..?

When was the last time you played the guitar? Over 2 months

Who is your Celebrity Crush? Dodie Clark, Laura Dreyfuss, Gemma Chan, George Salazar

What is a sound you hate and a sound you love? I hate mouth noises and I love soap cutting sounds

Do you Believe in ghosts? Yes

What about Aliens? MyLien -> Alien 👀

Do you drive? Nope

What Was the last book you read? Dear Evan Hansen the Novel

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Yes but for like 5 seconds

What’s the worst injury you’ve had? Uhh does my appendix almost exploding count

Do you have an obsession right now? BE MORE CHILL ALWAYS

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who’ve done you wrong? No but I do against people who’ve done my friends wrong

In a relationship? Nopeeee

I tag: anyone reading this…

[seatheoceeanview]

Oh dang @killmenowpleaselmao tagged me so now I tag @weirddemigodprincess @spidermanfarfromhome and @theanxiousfander bc all of y'all are precious

Name: I use Cee bc I dont like my actual name that much but it's Majula [ma-ju-la] and its a West African name which is kewl

Star sign; Aries but I'm not a horoscope person lol

Height; 5'4 but still growing so that'll change later lol

Middle Name: Fun fact is that Majula was actually supposed to be my middle name but my dad made a mistake so my first name is actually supposed to be Fatou lol

Shuffle my playlist and the first four songs that pop up: Why You Always Lying by Nicholas Frazier,NERDS by Bo Burnham,School by Bill Wurtz,and Fake Happy by Paramore bc I'm mostly just a meme at this point lol

Grab the closest book to you,flip to page 23 and read line 17: "Anyone with sense should know better than to sing that out loud,tempting fate. I pinched her in the leg to make her stop" from I Am Morgan Le Fay by Nancy Springer (good read if you like medieval times and Arthur's round table type stuff)

Ever had a song/poem written about you?: Well yea actually! But sadly it wasn't a declaration of love lol. My friend wrote a poem about how I deserve better than the family and life in general I have which makes me cry every time I think about it and shite now I'm crying bc it was just so freaking nice of her to do and I just love her sooo much

Last time you played air guitar: Um yesterday when I was watching a guitar hereo playthrough where he did one of the hardest songs BLINDFOLDED and got more than 9000 points like god that was kewl

Celebrity Crush: Welp i think Tom Holland is pretty cool but idk if that counts as a crush

A sound you Hate and a sound you Love: I absolutely despise the sound a broom makes on thicc carpet and I also hate the sound of tissue on teeth,its just a gross sound. I love the sound of rain and nails on hard surfaces like desks.

Do you beleive in ghosts: Well kinda bc your consciousness has to go somewhere right?

How bout Aliens: Um YES bc there is no way we're the only living things in the ENTIRE UNIVERSE bc thats just illogical

Do I drive: Nope cuz I'm not old enough lol

Last book I read: The trials of Apollo book one by Rick Riordan which was pretty good

Do you like the smell of gasoline: Nope

Last movie you saw: I saw Incredibles two against my will at my sis's birthday party but my mum forget about my light sensitivity which made the movie HELL for me to sit through but the short before it was cute

The WORST injury I've ever had: Well i get hurt a lot so I'll just list some v bad ones

Got 30 splinters in feet bc I walked on my balcony without socks and had to get the biggest one taken out with hot wax

Tripped and fell onto a nail and my big toenail LIFTED UP so i had to bandage it up for weeks and had to wear flip flops in fall

Slammed my finger in a car door [that was so fucking PAINFUL] but I didn't even flinch and when I pulled it out the nail was purple and red from the impact [I have pictures] and it was right before school so I was silently suffering all day but the nail was so damaged it literally FELL OFF a few weeks later,it has now grown back but shit dude that hurt

I sliced like three of my fingers open when I was washing the dishes on a knife

And I also slid my ear on a table and the friction made my ear bleed and now it looks like a dog bit it of you look at it

Any Obsessions; Well I'm just obsessed with music in general and always have been,I'm really into studying and things like that atm (follow @tiny-personal-university-thing and @leannstudies if you like studyblrs) and all the fandoms I'm in are

Sanders sides

Voltron Legendary defender

The Rick Riordiverse and prolly a lot more I can't think of right now lol

Do you hold grudges: I try not to but I'm also a petty bitch soooooo

In a relationship: Hun,the closest thing to an SO I've had was someones MOM thinking I was dating her son (my kinda crush) so nah but I have a lotta friends I care about!

Thanks for tagging me but I'm not v interesting lol

RULES: tag ten followers you want to know better

I was tagged by @sprinkle-of-phan919 Thanks for tagging me <3

Tagging: @404-will-to-live-not-found @heyo-its-jasmin @omgbabewiththepower @glitchyxwitchy @killmenowpleaselmao ❤️ 

Anyone can join in on this!

Name: Aurora (i won’t be revealing my actual name bc i’m not comfy with sharing it)

Star Sign: Aries

Height: 5″1

Middle Name: Shantelle 

Put your iTunes on shuffle, and what are the first four songs that popped up?: (Spotify for me cuz I don’t have iTunes)

• Birds - ft Terance Williams Jr, Thomas Sanders

• Hey Look Ma, I Made It - P!ATD

• 4 Seasons - Rex Orange County

• You - Keaton Henson

Grab the nearest book, turn to page 23, and read line 17:

“There were no outer signs of violence except for a few bruises.”               (Book is called The Boy In The Suitcase)

Ever had a poem/song written about you?: 

Yes for Valentines Day. My (now ex boyfriend) gave me one the day before we started dating. Not sure if I still have it.

Last time you played air guitar?:

I don’t think I have. Maybe when I was little?

Who’s your celebrity crush?:

I don’t have a celebrity crush. I’ve never had one?

A sound you HATE and a sound you LOVE:

• Hate: A baby crying

• Love: The rain or a piano

Do you believing in ghosts?:

Not really… What can I say I’m a Shaniac ;)

And how about aliens?:

No… ^^

Do you drive?:

Nope.

If so, have you crashed before?:

^^

Name the last book you read:

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. (I loved this book personally. I was crying when I finished it. I highly recommend it!)

Do you like the smell of gasoline?:

Yes! Whenever I’m at a gas station I’ll be in the passenger’s seat and I’ll have the window open to smell the gasoline.  

Last movie you saw?:

It was Eighth Grade by Bo Burnham 

What’s the WORST injury you’ve ever had?:

When I was in Elementary. It was before class started and me and my friends were at the monkey bars and I like fell of the platform and sprained my arm. Luckily it was my left arm bc I’m a rightie. 

I’ve also gotten bitten by my dog on my forehead when I was little and I started oozing blood. I’m typically a clumsy person too. 

Do you have any obsessions?:

Obsessions? I mean I’m in some fandoms: Thomas Sanders, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, vld, Marvel, otgw, bnha p!atd, top, hp, Studio Ghibli, and more that I can’t come up with at the top of my head.

Do you tend to hold grudges against people who wronged you?:

No not really. I don’t really feel that way to anyone.

In a relationship?:

No. Not sure if I want to be in one in a while bc my last one was mentally and emotionally draining and I’m still trying to get over it. But hey who knows, it might change sometime in the future.