#/also irrelevant but thank you all so much for your support and words!!! its my first time getting this amount of attention on here...

[soapsinthebox]

A sketch of Teruko in lolita since i thought she'd look cute in them ^^

[insertsomthinawesome]

@sleepyorchidmonster​​ EY THANK YOU!!! 🧡🧡 I’m glad you enjoyed!! SDFLJSDF I HOPE YOUR HAVING FUN IN THE TWST MADNESS o7 I’d be More than happy to do Those two sets :D For anybody who’s confused, somebody asked about Dorm Leader/Housewarden Friendship Headcanons HERE. And I think a lot of people have been missing it (which is my bad I ended up extending the post poorly) But I also Did Azul and Riddle in the reblogs!! The version I linked contains that discussion. OKAY THAT SAID, ON WITH THE SHOW

Leona and Riddle: This one is Hilarious because They already have an awkward place to start xD Riddle being present and active during Leona’s overblot.... sure is something. Although honestly I don’t think It’ll effect their relationship much. Riddle having already overblotted himself wouldn’t care to hold that over Leona’s head, and Leona seems to me to be more of a “water under the bridge” person. Riddle was one of the least offensive party members there, and if he was going to hold a grudge he might as well start with Jack, and he doesn’t do that, so i think bygones are bygones between them. Having started book 5 as well... I think at this point Leona’s already adopted Riddle, since during the Housewarden meeting over The VDC (i hope i got the acronym right x’D) he threatened Azul when he was trying to scam Riddle. Riddle I think respects Leona for his power. He probably doesn’t think all that highly of him slacking off, but he also is aware of Leona’s prowess in multiple different areas, and knows that while Kingscholar is not punctual, he is reliable. Especially in a bind. That and I can imagine Riddle has a lot more base respect for the Hierarchy of the school. He’s a Sophomore, so no matter what, Leona is his Senpai and to a degree he will respect that. Within reason of course. I think Leona is neutral to respectful of Riddle. The housewarden of Heartslabyul has no interest in picking fights with Leona, so he has no interest in trying to hold his ground. I think Leona probably respects Riddle’s work ethic too. less the rules, but more that he’s an honest individual who puts in his effort and does what he’s supposed to do. I can imagine he might be rolling his eyes a little bit at his rule keeping, but hey not his domain not his problem, therefore he could probably care less in the end. Now where I think they can connect? Intellectualism. Riddle is the studious type, and so is Leona. If the two of them got started on certain topics I can see the two of them discussing it for hours. Riddle making some offhand comment about a historical figure and Leona bouncing off of it with more information, both of them discussing their different viewpoints of failures and successes, of victories and defeats. Riddle would be interested in hearing Leona’s viewpoints as an actual member of Monarchy/government himself, and Leona would just probably enjoy actually getting to talk about some of the nonsense he’s had to learn for school and/or politics over the years. I can even see Riddle maybe asking Leona for advice on leadership on occasions. While Leona’s leadership style isn't’ Riddle’s, if he got to know Savanaclaw and its housewarden better, he’d see that they were a very tightly knit and supportive pack. Something that he finds more similar to his heart soldiers than he would’ve guessed. Riddle showing interest and Curiosity in Leona’s way of leadership and the topics he is well informed in could do Leona a lot of good. It could ease the frustration of having so much “irrelevant and useless” information now that he’s not going to be King. It could help him realize his own skills and talents. If nothing else it’d just give him somebody to talk to in a non-antagonistic situation. I think they end up meeting in the middle a lot with their relationship. Riddle is a lot more willing to put in a good word for Leona and give him the benefit of the doubt, but maybe also more willing to calmly and gently chastise him for his more self sabotaging behaviors. Leona grows to respect Riddle and his way of working even if he wouldn’t do it in a billions years, but also how to push the kid forward out of his comfort zone to try new and different things, and think about the world and other people in a different way. I also just think that Leona is a highly protective person of the people he cared for, so I can totally see him being more than ready and willing to defend Riddle in a physical or magical fight. He needs to worry about it less with the Heartslabyul housewarden because he has his card soldiers... but when Riddle goes off the deep end... Ohhhhh bother. Sometimes Leona will just see a scared teenager and that will be what he acts on. Riddle is small, he’s learning, he’s growing, he’s young, and as a result its Leona’s duty to protect him (uncle instinct ftw SLDFJKSDKLGSD). But this would only really happen in a real fight or in the case of something like, an awry potion explosion. If he sees Riddle choosing to throw hands with Floyd he’s just going to sit back and laugh. And the more proof he gathered of Riddle being able to defend himself the less he’d worry. So yeah! I think they could have a very cute respectful Upperclassman/Lowerclassman bond of respect and understanding. :) Malleus and Kalim: I look at Kalim and go, “You could fix him”. SDLKFJSDGLKJSDLGJSDGLJSDGLSJDGKLDSGJKLSDGJ. OKay but seriously. Malleus is the person who never gets invited to anything. Kalim is the one who always invites people to things. I’ve connected the dots- SDFLLSDKFJSLDGJSD Now it would be more complicated than that for so many reasons. Part of the reason Malleus is so lonely is because he tends to be unintentionally reclusive. But not without good reason. People don’t treat him like a fellow student, and it grates at him, so he steps away from the masses to be able to breathe. The chances of Kalim actually encountering him are practically living in the floorboards. On top of that, Jamil is freaking TERRIFIED of being around Malleus. It has nothing to do with him inherently fearing Malleus, it has everything to do with him fearing THE CONSEQUENCES OF AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT WITH A FOREIGN PRINCE xD. And honestly??? Given Kalim’s track record I can’t blame him. But if we were to put the nitpicky details aside and just view them like they didn’t have these obstacles, I think they would be incredibly good friends. The Fireworks event that takes us to the Scalding Sands showed to our faces that Kalim doesn’t fear Malleus like other people does. Trey and Cater were both a little bit wary of him, but Kalim didn’t care at ALL. It might be because he’s also royalty and it just hasn’t occurred to him that Malleus being Royalty is not the only reason people are afraid of him, but regardless Kalim Does Not Care Nor Notice. This means that Kalim is one of the only person who consistently just treats Malleus like a person. This is a FANTASTIC place for them to start! Because honestly isn’t that why Malleus grew so close with Yuu???? Because you’re the only person who treats him like a normal friend instead of something to be Gawked at or Feared?? And Malleus also does something that Kalim really needs. He would see Kalim for being Kalim exclusively, and not care a single bit about his riches. Somebody pointed out to me that Kalim throws money at a lot of problems because he doesn’t know how else to repair things. He’s never been taught the emotional navigation of having a real friend, all that he knows he’s learned through trial and error. And he’s such a generous and giving person, that of course he’s going to try to give to solve a problem!! Because he knows giving is good and it helps and makes people happy!! Because that’s also part of the double edged sword of this method, is it kinda works. Some people do need money, some people just want money, so in that way it does solve some problems! And it ends up teaching Kalim the wrong lesson again and again. Malleus tho, Malleus wouldn’t care about all that. He’d be there for Kalim and Kalim alone. If he wanted grand parties and fine dining he could simply request it from his kingdom, but he’d rather have a good friend any day. He wouldn’t ask much more of Kalim than his company, and I could see him often turning down Kalim’s more exuberant requests for simpler things, unless it seemed like Kalim was really passionate about it. It might honestly take the two of them having a falling out where Kalim grows distressed that Malleus doesn’t want his normal method of ‘fixing’ things, and Malleus grows frustrated that Kalim keeps trying to give him things that he neither needs nor wants, but if they got past that hurdle? Man the amount of good these two would do for each other. They’d finally both have somebody who sees them for who they are rather than what they are. Malleus values Kalim for being Kalim, and Kalim values Malleus for being Kalim. (As a side note, yes Jamil is also a great person for Kalim to know, but their relationship is understandably complicated and will take time/effort to heal. And I believed they’ll figure it out. :D ) Kalim finally seeing that his own presence, as just himself, no shiny gold and sparkling silver, would do a tremendous amount of good for his self love and confidence. Malleus having somebody who loved him for being a friend would bring him a lot of quiet and peace and contentedness he seeks, and it would make his frustrations with people who do get caught up on his aspects easier to tolerate. So I also guess I’m also looking at Mallues and going, “You could fix him” SDLFJSDLKGJLSKDGJASDLJGSDGJDSGSD But yes wholesome besties sdlkfjSLDKJGSDLGJSDG you would always be able to know when they spotted each other cause Kalim would get really excited xD

[saintsenara]

Dipping my toes into your unhinged ship asks with rather tame options: James/Remus, James/Sirius/Severus triad, James/Peter. Oooh and I think your answer to this will really tickle me - Voldemort/Remus.

In that vein: Voldemort/Lyall Lupin and Severus/Lyall Lupin.

thank you very much for the ask, pal! are these tame? not if i have anything to do with it...

remus lupin/james potter

answered here.

sirius black/james potter/severus snape

i actually really back this - both as a toxic triad and as marginally more functioning one - because each of the three is connected to the others in a distinct but overlapping way.

sirius and james have their rampant codependence - but it's a codependence in which james' life experience [above all his happy home life] makes his mutual entwining with sirius much less desperate and needy. he needs to be with sirius constantly because he's his best friend, sirus needs him because he'll forget how to breathe otherwise.

but sirius also has a mutual obsession with snape - which gives him an outlet for his feelings for james in the direction of someone who has a very similar experience of seeing the world.

and, if snape and sirius are rivals [homoerotic], then snape and james are rivals [rivals], which adds masculine flavour.

hot.

peter pettigrew/james potter

answered here.

remus lupin/lord voldemort

my controversial opinion is that this is - in fact - the most plausible pairing for voldemort with one of the four marauders.

one of the things that's really striking about voldemort - and, in particular, how the series, in its defence of the wizarding status quo ends up unintentionally making him look like quite an admirable political radical - is that he's the only political figure we encounter in canon who actually integrates non-human magical creatures into his worldview, to an extent that - as ted tonks says to griphook in deathly hallows - the majority of britain's goblins, centaurs, and werewolves are known to support him.

i think this is really interesting - especially how voldemort squares it with the death eaters who think his aim is pureblood oligarchy - and i also think it would allow a really interesting study of the struggle lupin [king of self-loathing] must feel between his gratitude to the "civilising" experience he's been granted by dumbledore and his desire to keep that mask in place and his conviction that he is a primal, savage beast who can't be restrained, especially if we assume this is taking place in the first war, when the wolfsbane potion hadn't been invented.

i think lupin would actually be fairly easily seduced by voldemort - encountering him as a spy in e.g. greyback's pack - dropping lots of pretty words about how werewolves will be allowed to live as their true selves, no more hiding, under his regime. and i also think that lupin's self-loathing would lead him to stay when it became apparent that voldemort was chatting shit, and that he has exactly the same contempt for werewolves [i.e. being happy to let greyback do his dirty work but refusing to let him take the dark mark] as everyone else.

[plus, lupin's irrelevance in the secret keeper plan must be read as an indication that sirius - and possibly james - were convinced that he was the death eater spy, so the other three would back it.]

lyall lupin/lord voldemort

they can be presumed to be reasonably similar ages, so i actually back this in the "it's 1966 and lyall's vibing in the office when a familiar - tom what the fuck has happened to your face?" way.

lyall lupin/severus snape

how dare you suggest snape has daddy issues.

now, if you'll excuse him, he has to go and fall to his knees before either dumbledore or voldemort.

[necr0lysis]

hi! I uh have a question, If I may? Relating previous post about “if your autistic and wondering if you underwent abuse” (not exact phrasing)

I’m an undeiagnosed autistic (and adhd but irrelevant to current discussion) i have done a bunch of research and stuff, but I’m wondering if my parents abused me in relation to my autism. Like uh my mom told me to be Normal a lot and sort of drilled into me that I am Normal and I must be normal and one time we got in a huge argument cuz I got upset over losing earbuds and she yelled at me to stop acting disabled (exact wording, promise). They don’t like physically abuse me but I think this may fall under emotional abuse. I am also constantly mocked, especially when I express an opinion that differs from theirs, and especially especially when it concerns me (especially especially especially like my mental health or overall ok-ness or like needs and accommodations). Also constantly mocked by my dad, like one time he told me to get my head out of my ass cuz I wasn’t ready in time and when I later rather reasonably told him it bothered me and why it bothered me (like I’d get in so much trouble if I told my brother that) and then he started laughing at me and kept repeating “get out of your own ass” and it sucked and he apologized later but you know. And uh generally my mom brushes off any concerns I have like one time in fifth-sixth grade (well, the summer between) I told her I thought I had an e@ting d!sorder, and she instantly was like, “but you just told me you want a crop too! Your so beautiful! Also there are tons of minor eating disorders that aren’t an0rexia!” (That was the ED I thought I had). And uh later that year I did in fact have an ED and end up really hating myself and had a depressive episode and stuff and then she’d guilt trip me for not coming to her. So uh yeah. Does that sound like abuse? Idk. Sorry if this constitutes as trauma dumping!!! I believe I censored anything that should have been but sorry if I should not have written this or sent it or if I did something wrong! Really sorry, thank you so very much!!! Also good luck on the autism evaluation!!!

(i'm approaching this like you're living with your parents as i can't really tell by your ask. some stuff might not make sense to your situation specifically if you have already moved out)

putting aside the fact that they're family. do you think someone who is struggling with their mental health should be mocked, told to be normal, and/or told that other people know their support needs more than them?

i know most normal people who come from loving homes don't necessarily describe it as all i love you and you make me happy and i can talk to you about anything

however

your home is supposed to be the place you can relax. its supposed to be the place you can be yourself and if your parents can't accept you as who you are the next best thing is to apologize when you bring up how they hurt you.

my mother wasn't the best mother. she had her own issues. but she cared about me. i remember when i was developing body dysmorphia at 10 years old and i said i wish i was anorexic and she was so upset. she told me to never say that. (she soon attempted suicide while i was visiting my father and i ended up having to live in that abusive situation for 4 years. they tried to starve my autism out of me and i ended up with an eating disorder anyways)

i say this not to make you feel bad or think your parents are the worst people ever, but some people simply aren't parent material.

i don't necessarily enjoy telling people they are abused but if i was in your situation i would consider my parents to be emotionally abusive at worst, would benefit from some boundaries/family therapy at best.

no one deserves to be treated that way, especially by family. let me answer your question with some more questions

- do you sometimes wish they would hurt you in a more obvious way so people (or yourself) can tell you're struggling?

- do you dread going back home after being out?

- do you anticipate getting your feelings hurt most times when you have conversations with them?

- are you afraid to make mistakes in front of them?

- does it stress you out to know they are in the same room?

- do they punish you for things your friends don't get punished for?

- do they neglect your basic human needs in any way?

- do you feel like you have to hide big parts of yourself to avoid an argument?

- do you think you will /will want to talk to them after you move out?

- has the possibility of your parents being abusive come up before? have you considered it multiple times?

- do you feel nervous or agitated around them before anything has happened?

you don't have to check all the boxes. it's SO easy for an emotional abuse victim to think "it's not that bad, they're not REALLY hurting me, i can't call it abuse"

but let me tell you something. realizing what i went through was abuse aided so much in my healing and therapy journey. descriptor words are helpful. it might not feel the best but it's good to know. and like i said before they can still be good people. they could be good friends good cooks funny people donate to charity idk them personally. but that's not what this conversation is about.

we're talking about their quality as parents and if i had to separate every person on this earth into who would be a good parent and who would not, i wouldn't put your parents on the good list

and thank you for the luck on my eval! it went about how i thought it would go but i still have to wait a month for the results!

hope you're having a good day :)

[fkinavocado]

i just reread chap 25 of DI and i just wanna say dreea this is my comfort story.attention to every detail,dysfunctional family,not a saviour lover,but a supportive lover,how support and love can save people ,such a lovely love, such a monumetal but a the same time simple but beautiful love story ,it healed me,it made me believe that someday i can have this too no matter how damaged i am and how damaged the other person is ,there is someone out there that will love me through everything , you reminded me of it and i can't thank you enough for that, but i just saw people's reaction to it recently in your blog and it truly breaks my heart cause i see so much of a person's emotions poured into it so whoever wrote al those criticism,remember that dreea wrote a very realistic story with trauma and sensitive issues ,she never said it was a fairytale,the way she's writng it ,thats how life is and when ur critisizing it you are ignoring that a lot of the emotions ,incidents,things that are happening in the story ,how the story is going could be reimaginations of the author's real life emotions,(maybe),but when your reading a realistic fiction/fanfiction you should know that nothing ends like a fairytale and when ur asking the writer to stop at somewhere when they put so much of themselves into the story ,its no longer feedback or criticism its just something very wrong.you're not only taking away a writers will to write but also invalidating the writer's heart that she poured into it thus ignoring her feeling AND also the feeling of the readers that relate to it.this might be a new perspective but a perspective nonetheless so please think hard before coming here and criticising cuz at the end of day an app like tumblr,and things like fanfiction ,writing /reading is for escapism people come here as an escape ,away from all the criticism not to drown more in it we have enough critics out there as it is let's not bring em here too how about that!

but alas could go on forever about this but im just gonna say dreea pls whater you do with DI i want you to do what you would've done initially ,what your heart wanted initially, not what others want because remember we,the ogs, loved the DI that you created from your heart not the one you will make just to satiate other's expecations of you.DI is your most lovely baby.i love you and i'll wait for you however long it takes for your heart to beat like it used to for DI again.love you soo much!!XD

i'm literally crying reading this. i finally feel like someone GETS IT. i feel whole again after reading this. i swear to god. i've had other ppl reassure me and send me love for DI and encouragement, but you worded it perfectly and i just-- i don't know how to thank you. like, i swear it healed me.

everything you wrote is 1000% correct, that's exactly how i feel about everything. y'all don't understand how much this fic means to me... and how much it's been killing me to feel like i was being told their story was wrong, invalid, irrelevant etc. even if those exact words were not used, that's what it felt like.

it was my story to tell, and people were slapping their palms over my mouth telling me to quit it with that nonsense. they didn't want that. they wanted the fairytale and i wasn't delivering!

it made me upset. but mostly, it made me so sad. this was always a story about two broken people finding eachother and healing themselves by being together. and now it felt like people were mad at me for not having them be perfect all of a sudden. "there's always something wrong, something bad is always happening to them, problems from the past haven't been solved yet and others are already being created etcetc". like-- yeah. because just because you're healing and found your soulmate (because this is what i think they are) doesn't mean life is just gonna be hunky-dory from there on out. life is still gonna throw shit at them. the real challenge now is to face obstacles together and not let them ever set them apart ever again. to prove their growth through the lessons they've learned the hard way.

i just felt like nobody was getting what i wanted to do with the story.

again, i'm generalizing because i know so many others have been there for me too, and i thank them also and have been amazing supporting me all throughout and ever since that happened. i'm not taking away from the importance of their presence here at all- please don't misunderstand me! but i'm just saying- this particular person that wrote this ask put it into words perfectly and it all just clicked within me. like it finally feels right again...?

i'm still crying. i'm so happy.

thank you from the bottom of my heart for this. i don't know who you are... but i'm forever indebted to you for reaching out and telling me this. i really needed to heart it. i can now finally finish telling their story the way i always intended to!

i truly don't know how to better express what i'm feeling. i'm so grateful to you. and to all of you who have stuck around ❤️❤️❤️❤️ it means the world to me.

i'm going to pin this post to my blog cause this is what i'm most proud of- i've got lovely, big-hearted, like-minded people here that get me, that appreciate my work and this is the reason why i'm doing this in the first place!

all my love to you ❤️

[2ofpentacles]

A Close Reading of Ivy and Zelkov's Support Chain (and why I ship it)

These are just the opinions of an internet rando. Take it with a grain of salt. I am probably (definitely) reading too much into things here, but what else is fandom for? That disclaimer out of the way, go watch Ivy and Zelkov’s supports. I’ll wait… 

Great, right? It makes a difference to hear the voice acting. I think it brings shades of meaning to the words. Plus both actors did an amazing job. Anyway, on to my (hopefully coherent) analysis.

C Support:

Ivy: Ugh…

Zelkov: What is the meaning of this sound, Princess Ivy?

Ivy: Just a headache.

Zelkov: I hope you are not overworking yourself.

He sounds so genuinely concerned here. Looking at all his supports together, it’s obvious how much he wants to take care of the people around him, whether he realizes it or not.

Ivy: I’m fine. And there is no need to pretend you care. I know you are not fond of me.

She’s clearly upset about the fact she thinks he doesn’t like or truly care about her. She doubts his motives and his honesty, likely due to her childhood experiences with the Elusian court. I’m going to note the use of the word “fond” here. It suggests something softer and more affectionate than if they had just used the word “like.”

Zelkov: Hm. Let me make this absolutely clear. My concern for your well-being is genuine. It is, after all, my responsibility.

Ivy: Hmm…

Zelkov: Yet for some reason, it concerns you whether I have fond feelings toward you. So, allow me to state it plainly. I do not have fond feelings toward you, Princess Ivy. I see such things as irrelevant. Whatever my sentiments may be, what matters is that you have my obedience.

He is very careful to keep her at arms length. My interpretation would be that, due to his past, he tries not to get close to people for fear of losing them. He chooses to minimize and leave his feelings unexamined (“whatever [his] sentiments may be…”), in favor of focusing on his work.

Ivy: What a curious thing for my own retainer to say. But that’s a relief. I don’t like you either.

This, to me, sounds like she’s lashing out in order to hurt him for his supposed dislike, and also to protect herself. I don’t like you, so it doesn’t matter if you don’t like me. But note that he never actually says that he doesn’t like her, just that he isn’t “fond” of her. 

Zelkov: I will obey you regardless.

He doesn’t particularly seem to want agency over his own life, which goes with his philosophy of “killing time until time kills you.” His work is all that matters, so he’s just going to do whatever Ivy tells him to. But he doesn’t just obey orders. He sees her well-being as his responsibility (i.e. he can’t help but feel the need to take care of her).

Ivy: So good to hear.

Some sarcasm from Ivy. What I get from this C support is two people whose perceptions are colored by their traumatic pasts. They’re both acting indifferent trying to protect themselves from being hurt.

B Support:

Zelkov: There is nothing quite so isolating as pain. It cannot be explained. The only window to understanding it is experience. Does that mean we are destined to be strangers to one another? Not at all. For we possess the gift of wisdom, by which we may intuit what we cannot see. I have distilled this wisdom to its essence. I have corked it within this tincture. This vessel encapsulates the light which will dispel the dark fog of your isolation.

Ivy: … I’m sorry, what is happening? What is this?

Zelkov: Headache medicine.

So this whole exchange is funny, but when you really look at the meaning of what he’s saying, it’s pretty touching. It’s due to their past (emotional) pain that both of them isolate themselves, but he’s here showing her sympathy. He wants to stop her from being in pain.

Ivy: You’re saying you made this? For me?

She sounds so happy.

Zelkov: Yes. As your retainer, I have a duty to serve you by every available means.

Ivy: I… Thank you.

And then she sounds so disappointed.

Zelkov: Your thanks are unnecessary. I am only doing my duty.

Once again he’s trying to push her away and convince himself that he’s only doing his job.

Ivy: … Thank you for reaffirming exactly why I dislike you. That said… I admit I appreciate your honesty. Many in your position would flatter or lie. You speak your mind. I respect that.

So she never explicitly says why she dislikes him, but what exactly did he do that reaffirmed it? Well, he was pushing her away, treating her like a responsibility rather than a person. She wants so badly for him to like her as a person. Despite being disappointed, she’s still grateful for the gesture, so she tries to be nice in return. She’s been surrounded by flatterers and liars her whole life, so his blunt honesty is something she values (although I don’t think Zelkov’s being totally honest with himself about his own motivations).

Zelkov: I, uh…

When she praises him is the only time I can think of that he gets tongue tied like this.

Ivy: Did you…have something more to say?

She really wants him to have something more to say.

Zelkov: Apologies, Princess Ivy. The sentiment merely surprised me. I will take my leave and attend to my other duties. Rest well.

He would probably take it at face value when she says she doesn’t like him. Once again, he distracts himself with work to avoid thinking about his feelings.

Ivy: I will. Thank you, Zelkov.

She sounds genuine here and is smiling. The B support is sort of a two steps forward, one step back situation. They’re both reaching out to each other, even if they can’t quite admit it to themselves.

A Support:

Ivy: Zelkov, I have something for you.

Zelkov: A paintbrush? Is this for me?

Ivy: Yes. To thank you for the headache medicine. I understand you’re a painter. But if you have no need for it, feel free to get rid of it.

Despite the fact that she said she doesn’t like him, she wants to give him a gift to show her gratitude for his kindness (even though she thinks he doesn’t like her and is just doing it out of a sense of obligation). She’s taken some initiative in finding out about him as a person and not just as her retainer. Although, once again she tries to protect herself by acting cool, saying that it’s really not that big of a deal and that she wouldn’t care if he threw it away.

Zelkov: On the contrary─I will take exquisite care of it. Thank you.

I don’t think he’s used to people being kind to him.

Ivy: I’m…glad you like it.

Zelkov: I… Princess Ivy, I hope you know I enjoy my work. In fact, when I have a task before me, it is my way to immerse myself in it entirely. In those times, and only those times, my mind is truly at peace. So long as I am your retainer, so long as there is work to do…I have a purpose. That is how deeply I appreciate working for you.

He responds very intensely to her gift. Put another way, he’s saying “My purpose is to be your retainer.” That’s a pretty strong statement. He must find something in Ivy very valuable if that’s the case. This does also show how little meaning he sees in his own life.

Ivy: I see. If that’s true, then I’m happy to have you.

She’s still hesitant to take him at his word (“if that’s true…”), but she’s pleased to hear that he enjoys working for her regardless.

Zelkov: These are indeed my true feelings. You know I am unwilling to lie or flatter.

Ivy: Yes, you’ve made that clear.

She’s laughing here.

Zelkov: I hope you will never hesitate to delegate any task to me. I would die for you, my liege, and gladly.

Fellas, is it romantic to say you would gladly die for someone? I mean, he’s saying “I would do literally anything for you.” It seems fairly obvious to me that if Zelkov were to theoretically fall in love with someone he would be completely, head-over-heels, obsessed with them. He never gives anything less than 110%.

Ivy: Gladly? Despite your lack of fond feelings toward me?

She’s feeling things out here, curious (hopeful?) about his change in attitude. Even at this point she seems guarded. I think it would be hard for her to accept the idea that someone (you know, hypothetically) loved her. She would need a lot of reassurance.

Zelkov: My feelings… may have changed. I now think of you as an acceptable liege.

Before, he was able to express his feelings by talking about how much he appreciated his work, but when it comes to talking about his feelings for her, he has a much harder time.

Ivy: I find you acceptable as well, Zelkov.

Based on the tone of voice, I don’t think being called “acceptable” was quite what she wanted, but she is also terrible at talking about her feelings.

Zelkov: Hm, kind of you to say.

Ivy: However, dying for my sake is not a task to which I will assign you. Gladly or otherwise. Consider yourself under strict orders to survive as you continue to serve me.

Telling someone not to die for you kind of seems like basic human decency, but when you think about them being liege and retainer, it would be part of the job description. Taking into account the conversation in chapter 10 where she gives him and Kagetsu the opportunity to leave, this is the second time she’s shown that she values his life above his responsibilities to her. She doesn’t consider her life as being more important than his. Digging into the subtext a bit, with his statement about “So long as I am your retainer, so long as there is work to do…I have a purpose.” (among other things he says) you get the feeling that the man is only holding on by a thread. “...Survive as you continue to serve me” would be a way of saying “Don’t do anything drastic. Stay with me.”

Zelkov: You may rely on me, Princess Ivy.

“I won’t die. I’ll continue to be here for you.” 

They still haven’t quite let down their walls, but they at least have come to an understanding. Their B and A supports are a very subtle back and forth of them putting themselves out there and the other responding in kind. For these two, that feels very significant.

Even from my first viewing of their supports (which was before I shipped them) it felt like Ivy was all into him in their C and B, and then when he admitted that he did like her in their A support her response was strangely reserved. You could come up with some reason, like she wasn’t expecting his reaction and didn’t properly know how to respond (and I mean… fair). Or maybe she was thrown off by the use of the word “acceptable” and isn’t quite sure how he really feels. Or maybe the idea of having someone feel that strongly about her scared her and caused her to withdraw a bit. But I think it really comes down to Fire Emblem having three short supports to create a whole character arc, and in this game they have to be platonic (although some definitely read more romantically than others). 

And here’s where I get into my own shippy interpretation. They each have what the other desperately wants. They supply something to the other that is missing from their life. Ivy very much wants to be valued as a person. She wants someone to make her feel safe and cared for. Zelkov wants to be needed and have someone to take care of. She needs to be loved and he needs someone to love. But of course she would love him because he loves her and he would  love her because she loves him until they’re in this continuous feedback loop of being obsessed with each other.

[Edit 2: I had a thing here about how it might not be the healthiest relationship (and sure, it's not) but I'll replace that with a hot take. A therapist definition of a healthy relationship is tepid as hell. If both of you aren't head over heels, willing to do anything the other asks, in love, then I don't want it. Note that I said BOTH. Also note that I'm just an idiot on the internet and this is not advice and you shouldn't have fictional characters as relationship goals.]

[Edit 1: I wanted to add a few other thoughts here. In every fic I've read where the two of them interact in any significant way, they always have the best relationship. (And I don't mean that in a shippy way, since I'm just about the only one writing Zelai fics.) It's always clear that Zelkov knows and understands Ivy better than anyone, and Ivy trusts Zelkov completely. And it recently came to my attention that there are TWO people in the game who can't say the word "love" when engaged with Sigurd. Two emotionally stunted people who just can't admit to having feelings. I swear it makes me go crazy.]

[macncherries]

Full grown white man typing an essay over why he's not racist. Jesus Christ

You are white. You are not a person of color. Please listen to brown and black people instead of talking over them.

Hello again! I assume this is the same Anon as before (i apologize if not.) Sorry for any confusion, i was not writing "an essay" on why i was not racist. I was outlining the new and old terminology i have used for clarification purposes! I thought you had made an innocent mistake. I understand that There is an answer under the cut. I do not feel it fair to subject my followers to an Anon consistently clinging to my ask-box, on a concept they do not care to understand, in motivation purely to perpetuate irrelevant, melodramatic conversations.

For everyone else, thank you for sticking around! I know its been mostly text posts from me lately >_< theres more Labru art on the way!! Im also planning on doing kinktober for Labru!!! please stay tuned!

I actually did not even know you were even attempting to call me racist. I thought you were confused on the difference between "race science" and anthropology. I assume you are young, or uneducated about more niche sciences (which is okay) but i dont think its right to call someone racist for having a special interest in something you do not understand. And for something you likely did not fully read. It is not appropriate for you to lightly throw around accusations like that. Especially without proper commitment, research, or evidence Considering youre calling it "an essay" at a measly 544 words, i can safely assume you also did not bother to read the full thread(s) of reblogs your comment originates from. 544 words is not even considered an essay in college. Im required to write that much for a discussion post. Regardless, I can also assume this to be the case because the person who originates that thread (whom i outwardly agreed with, amplified, and was newly informed by) is POC. I dont feel comfortable depending on that aspect any further though, because i dont know OP personally, and wouldnt feel comfortable roping them into anything.

And i am white, im not hiding that fact, so im not sure why youre using it as a "gotcha" moment. I am a person who cares deeply about ethnically accurate features, cultural implications, skeletal anatomy, and anthropology. I care about being accurate to characters ethnic backgrounds, whether canon or implied. White people can do that. Its better for white people to do that, rather than be racially ignorant.

And, by extension, I am listening to people of all ethnicities. Especially POC. I am not speaking over anyone, and am only adding my own commentary. More importantly; no one else, not white, not POC, has spoken against it. So i physically am unable to speak over anyone.

More importantly though, i have talked to, and received input from POC already. Thank you for your concern. I have received input that what information i put out there did help people. People from everywhere. It was so very beautiful to hear. I saw multiple people both here and elsewhere appreciate the research i did. That was so heartening. And so despite this whole text post, i also want to thank anyone who contributed, reblogged, liked, just appreciated, or talked to me in reference to those original posts.

All contributions to the reblog thread had an overarching theme, and since you didnt read it all, i dont blame you for not knowing. That is; assessing the best, most accurate, possible way to portray Kabru and Thistles ethnic ambiguity. I go very much in depth as to how achieve that, as well as where i specifically find Kabru to most likely originate from in comparison to our own worlds culture and geography. I use anthropological and facial-anatomical evidence to support that. The evidence i use is not related to "race science" or anything similarly grotesque. The implication that "race science" is at all similar to anthropology is a disservice to everyone who studies it, professionally or otherwise. Anthropology inherently acknowledges that each ethnicity is different, and that those differences should be demystified and honoured. For the purpose of integration, ethnic appreciation, and antidiscrimination.

You are of the opinion that commemoration and study of different ethnicities is racism. Why you believe that is beyond me, but nonetheless, what you are insinuating is the equivalent of saying "i dont see race". I hope i do not have to point out the issue there...

You will also likely not read the entirety of this, either. It is unfortunately 820 words, which is beyond your limit. That is okay. Im here to tell everyone else that your background and culture is deeply appreciated. If it were within my capabilities, i would love to speak to every one of you and represent you within someone you hold dearly. That is my goal. I hope to continue upholding that with my art. I hope to continue doing thorough research to help aid peoples solidarity and interest in characters.

[bittyfromquotev]

"imagine telling a minor to shut up" I dont see what you being a minor has to do with it? Being a minor doesnt excuse stuff, it just means that adults shouldnt be inappropriate with you and you should avoid adult spaces because they arent suitable for your age group. being a minor doesnt mean someone cant tell me to stfu and check my behaviour, like parents and teachers do it all the time and being a minor doesnt stop that. Like I dont agree at all with how that anon went about it because that was rude and uncalled for, but that tag confused me cause its irrelevant to being told to shut up and stop stirring the pot. They should have said it not at all like that, but yeah.

and that other post where you said they were assuming your intentions? Im not sure I understand that either. Like im glad you see how the things you say makes it sound like you wanted them to try and harrass you and how that takes away from victims, but all i read from that was that they were just calling your behaviour attention seeking which isnt assuming anything about you as a person? you dont have to know someone to see what they do and perceive it in certain ways. i think it might also be a good idea to take down posts you recognise as being said impulsively in anger once youve calmed down, cause it keeps bringing you back into drama and stuff you dont wanna be a part of and if you remove them then theres less chance of people seeing it and potentially mentioning you again, which would also be safer for you.

also i dont think its great that just because someone disagreed you immeaditdly assumed they were a gore a non or supported them, cause thats also minimising what the victims go through. if you make everything "oh must be the gore anons" then it makes the actual gore anon problem meaningless cause its thrown around so much where there isnt an actual gore anon. if everyone is a gore anon then theres no gore anons bascailly. its not nice to accuse people like that willy nilly even if you dont like them. its a serious acusation that shouldnt be taken lightly and its unfair to place blame on everyone when the victims need actual answers not wild accusations

*siiigghhhhhhh* Okay. One more time, everybody!

I honestly have no idea why I said that. Thank you for pointing out how confusing that is. I think I just said that because they were being rude as fuck and I didn’t know what to say.

I say they are assuming my intentions because with the way they worded it, they think I was doing it on purpose or really DO just want attention. While I enjoy being interacted with, I don’t want to be popular in any sense. I don’t want a bunch of random people who I haven’t talked to more than once to flood my blog honestly.

While that is a reasonable idea, I don’t feel like taking down the posts I made when I was impulsive. I think people have the right to know what I can be like when I’m emotional or under pressure. I feel like me taking down those posts would be the same as me trying to hide my ugly side. If my IRL friends and family can see that ugly side, people online can too, at least to some extent.

I didn’t say that they were probably affiliated with the Gore Anons simply because they disagreed with me. I said that because they were rude and typed in a similarly aggressive way to said Gore Anons. Not many people IN this fandom other than them are rude when disagreeing with someone. Keep in mind I also said “probably” in that post. Not “definitely”.

This has been ANOTHER “clearing things up” post.

[ruddcatha]

F, G, and I

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it. Ok, so this is going to be a longer one, and I apologize. Its from Guardian, Chapter 32:

“He needs an army,” the wind yokai said with a small shrug. “He’s been without any contact with his supporters for 500 years, and while you have all spent the last six months training and preparing, the second seal was only broken one month ago, and without his powers he likely hasn’t been able to fully summon his remaining supporters.  Where do you think he finds an army so fast?”

Kagura’s words were met with silence.

“You never once looked to see what other tools he could try to use, did you?”  she scoffed at the look of confusion on the faces around her.

“Kagura…” Koga groaned.

“No, Koga.  You have been training and researching, keeping tabs on his followers and their actions, while I have been watching as others thrived and grew.  I have watched humans evolve and become more ruthless than we ever anticipated.”  Kagura’s eyes swept over the room, her gaze narrowed in annoyance. “You never once considered that Ryukotsusei would use the humans, did you? Their ingenuity, their ruthlessness, their naivety, for his own purposes.” 

“Ryukotsusei never had any use for humans,” Toga mused, “why would he now turn to them?”

“Think like your enemy, Toga.” Kagura’s voice was cutting as she snapped.  “What did I say… he never bothered to dirty his hands when he could get others to do it for him.  And what, would you say, would be the most effective tool against beings that sought to preserve humanity?”

“Oh no…” Kagome whispered, and Kagura shot her a look that bordered on respect.

“Well, it's good to see someone here has a brain,” Kagura smirked, her eyes turning back to Toga and Sesshomaru.

This was our re-introduction to Kagura, and a point where some of the main characters have to realize that the world they knew no longer exists, and they have to start thinking differently. It plays on movements we have seen in the world with the rise of the internet and social media and how it motivates and influences people.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Usually it is start to finish, unless there is a particular scene that NEEDS to be right first. So like in Guardian, the scene about what happened in the past had to be right to set up the story, so i wrote that out of order, as well as elements of a dream Inuyasha had. Other stories are written in order, I've tried to write as my brain needed but by the time I got to the later chapters so much had changed they were now irrelevant.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Hmmm, I will pretty much read anything, but stories where it is a more dominant Inu (to a point), or where he's dominant and caring at the same time I will read and reread and reread. Not one's where he's acting oppressively or trying to make Kagome adhere to what he wants or dominate her personality, but where he's confident, cocky.

I also really like hurt comfort, things like Earthshake by @sugarrosfanfiction or the Accident by @splendentgoddess i have read over and over and over.

Thank you @eowynwise!!

Fanfic ask game

[arknights-imagines]

henlo!! could i request a mountain/doc imagine where an unexpected attack is launched upon the doctor and mountain quickly goes to protect them? if possible, could fluff be incorporated into this too?

..man, the line where mountain says; “rest assured, im here to protect you” had me turning into a small blob…

Hiya anon!! 🥳 Tysm for this request, it's so sweet sgshsgsh!! 🥺💕

Sbjshsjs Mountain is a great character!! Aaa he really grew on me while I was writing this, I'll happy write for him again!! 👉👈 and yes, some of his voice lines are so gentle and sweet sgshsgsh!! 🥺😭 I can definitely see why you transformed into a blob because of them lolol

I incorporated the voice line you mentioned into the writing piece just because it fit so well! 🙏 This is my first time writing for Mountain so I hope I handled his character okay 🥺👉👈

Tysm and please enjoy!! 🥳 Hopefully I did Mountain justice sbjshsjs 🌸

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

Safe Haven

Imagine format; mixed perspectives (written in second person!)

Contains: Mountain, gender-neutral Doctor as the reader, brief mentions of explosions and injuries, fear, slight violence, very vague spoilers for Episode 8 regarding the Reunion, implied established relationship (Sort of? It's up to the reader!), and a fluffy ending at the end!! 🥺

Word count: 1.8k!

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

You weren't prepared. How could you have been? It all happened in mere seconds.

A small groan left your lips as you regained consciousness, ‘What...happened?’; you recalled being distubed by yelling while you were reviewing a battle formation, sitting around idly and waiting for Amiya to brief you on the squad’s next steps. Before you could investigate, a massive, ear-splitting explosion erupted in the center of the camp, tossing you backwards into crates of cargo - the bomb might as well have gone off inside of your head, because it shook you so much that every thought in your brain had scattered.

How they found the small Rhodes Island camp that had been set up, you didn’t know; you didn't even know who ‘they’ were. But that was irrelevant, first priority was figuring out what had happened and evacuating.

Considering the pain that was throbbing through your body, you were in no state to move, and you were most definitely in no state to think critically, but you forced your mind to gather itself regardless - now was no time to start floundering.

As you sat with your back against what was probably one of the crates you had been thrown into, your vision came into focus; your eyes flicked around in an attempt to get a better grip on your surroundings. There was billowing, thick smoke coming from farther away and the camp tents you could see were collapsed, flapping limply in the wind - you didn't see any Rhodes Island Operators or staff nearby.

Your eyes grew wide when they caught view of your arm; most of it was being pinned under a cargo crate, one too heavy for you to pull your arm from under it. Unfortunately, before you could even begin looking for a way to free your limb from its trap, the sound of nearing footsteps and voices sent a frisson of cold shock through your body: “Did you find them yet?” There was a beat of silence before a second voice answered, confused, “Find who?” An aggravated groan came from the first speaker, “Who else; the one called the Doctor! One of you better find them now, or this’ll all be for nothing!”

For a moment, your heart stopped in your chest - these people were looking for you, and there was clear malice in their intent. Panic began making your heart palpitate and your stomach feel heavy; you were in no condition to fight, with your arm stuck you couldn’t run, and the only thing keeping you hidden was a few crates of cargo.

One of the voices from before caused your shaky breaths to halt; “Did you check over there?” There was a pause, then another voice replied, “Those cargo crates? No…” They trailed off - when you began hearing footsteps nearing, tendrils of heavy dread constricted your chest. You screwed your eyes shut, bracing for a hit, a yell, or whatever came next.

You heard the crate in front of you scrape the ground; even with your eyelids shut tight and your limbs - apart from your trapped arm - pulled inward you could still feel a menacing aura hang over you when the crate was pulled aside. You had been found.

Your assailant took in a sharp intake of breath before spitting their words out, “There you are. Trying to hide, are yo- UGH!!” Their pained yell caused you to jolt, as if ice water had been poured over your form, and finally your eyes snapped open. Your assailant had been slammed into the ground, and when your gaze looked up - your widened eyes came upon a familiar, imposing figure of white and black.

“Mountain?” Your call of his name came out as a gasp, filled with uneven amounts of fear, confusion and relief. Over your assailant he stood tall and threatening. His ears perked up at the sound of your voice, and when he met your eyes his own softened by a hair. The Feline must've only read the fear in your voice, because his next words tried to bring you ease, despite being a stark contrast to his following actions - “Doctor, calm yourself. I’m right here; rest assured, I’m here to protect you.” He then returned his attention to your disoriented assailant; with a yank of their ankle and a harsh blow to the face by Mountain, they were no longer a threat.

The Guard Operator was crouched before you seconds after, hands surprisingly gentle when they came to rest on your shoulders, “They’ve been dealt with. Now breathe, Doctor.” His tone was firm and steady - you followed his instructions and let the tension release from your body. Eyes carefully scanning over your form, Mountain took note of your trapped arm before you could point it out yourself. Carefully, he lifted the crate and laid your arm in your lap; you were bleeding, but thankfully the pain wasn’t unbearable.

As the Feline helped you to your feet, he spoke again, “Are you hurt anywhere else?” You shook your head, “N-No, I don't think so…” A nod came from him in reply, “You need to stay alert, there's still more of them searching for you.”

Expression now less panicked and full of thankfulness, you looked up at him, “Thank you Mountain, thank you. I was worried that no one was coming-” “I owe my life to you, I would never leave you to fend for yourself.” The sincerity in his voice caused your heart to warm - unfortunately the sensation was ephemeral, cut short by the distant pounding footsteps and shouting racing closer. The people after you were clearly persistent.

Firm but gentle, Mountain pushed you behind him before standing in front of you protectively. He looked towards the direction of the clamor, then spoke to you quietly from over his shoulder, “Doctor, stay close and follow my lead. I’ll protect you.” At those words, the icey fear in your body melted; it was as if you had been standing in a bitter Kjerag snowstorm and the Feline had come to wrap you in a soft, warm blanket.

Your assailants approached fast; they had you and Mountain surrounded within moments. Like a fire, his aura roared with intensity - though it intimidated your attackers all you felt was safety. The Feline’s tone of voice didn't waver once as he addressed the crowd around both you and himself, “If you want them, you’re going to have to get through me.” Finally, he readied his fists,

“Bring it on, you scoundrels!”

…

“You’re awake. Don’t be afraid, I’m right here.”

Rather than jolting awake, a certain Feline’s voice gently coaxed you into consciousness. Eyelids fluttering open, you mumbled Mountain’s name softly; your head rested in his lap and his coat was draped over your body, acting as a blanket. Your gaze scanned around a little more - the wound on your arm was now dressed with bandages, and you were no longer at the Rhodes Island campsite, but it didn't look like you were back at the landship either.

Before you could ask, the Guard Operator spoke first, “Amiya had called in air support to transport everyone away from danger just after the explosion. We and the rest who were stationed at the camp are flying back to Rhodes Island as I speak.” He paused, and you let out an audible sigh of relief, “The attackers fled, and they were quite uncoordinated. It’s unlikely that they’ll pursue you again. This is simply a guess but… I assume they must’ve been whatever is left of the Reunion.”

Understanding, you nodded a little. A comfortable silence soon embraced the both of you; you lost yourself in thought and Mountain’s eyes looked down towards his lap, studying your facial features gently. Your voice was gentle when it broke the quietness - “Mountain? Thank you again, for protecting me back at the camp. I mean it.”

The Feline tilted his head to the side and lifted a brow up, “You’re thanking me again? I can't tell if you’re being sincere or repetitive.” Absent-mindedly, his palm hovered where your arm was draped over the middle of your torso, “Don’t worry. Protecting you is… important to me. You are important to me.” He hesitated for a moment, but then his larger hand came to rest upon yours, “I may not have the power to save you from all harm, but I will keep fighting so I may become strong enough to face any threat that crosses you.”

His words were so honest - you could tell from the expression on his face that he was a little uncertain, however. The last thing Mountain wanted to do was scare you, but he was also intent on being his truest around you. The Feline sighed a little, “So there you have it. If that makes you afraid in any way, I-”

He stopped short when you lifted your head from his lap and sat up; before the Feline could even ask, you had sat yourself comfortably in his lap then met his gaze with sincerity in your eyes, “Anthony.” His real name from your lips was not entirely unfamiliar, but it still caused suripse to paint his face. Now that his rapt attention was on you, you went on, “You’ve never scared me, not at all. I know you see your true nature to be violence but… you make me feel safe. You’re my safe haven.”

Perhaps that was nonsensical. To most, and even Mountain himself, he embodied anything but safety. When faced with opponents, he always lived up to his name - immovable, towering, strong. However, as fierce as this mountain was, he never frightened you; he kept you from harm, he stood between you and danger without any hesitancy. For you, nowhere else felt safer than his side.

Your gaze never left Mountain’s once - you watched as eyes widened at your words, then filled with warmth. He was quiet for a moment, then - “You… you’re an interesting one, huh?” He exhaled, “I want to reprimand you for being so carelessly trusting, but I can't bring myself to.” You grinned softly, and the Feline mirrored it. “But… if that’s indeed how you feel, then I’ll keep going further. Thank you, Doctor.”

You were quick to shake your head; shifting closer, you let your head rest on his shoulder before you replied, “No need to thank me, Anthony. I should be the one thanking you.” Your words were repetitive again, but Mountain felt his grin widen at them regardless.

You two were only just escaping danger, and yet there was not an ounce of tension or worry in the air around you. He was marvelled; you were causing a smile to come to his face and warmth to bloom within his chest, simply by allowing him to hold you. With you in his lap and your head on his shoulder, Mountain felt embraced by warmth, by safety.

It was there, with his arms wrapped protectively around your body that he decided:

He was perfectly okay with being your safe haven for however long you wished - because you were slowly becoming his.

[skyeventide]

I’m really really fascinated by your interpretation of Maedhros and I’d love to read more of it, I saw your comment on the post about earlier versions and then was super intrigued

-@outofangband

hello @outofangband ! thank you for the ask, I'm going to try putting it into words, though I'm usually much better at fanfiction to explain how I envision characterisation — and unfortunately I don't have any Maedhros fanfic other than To die in the light (which is less about him per se, and more about the ex thrall who interacts with him; but there's a good swathe of Maedhros as well). still, to explain:

essentially, what I meant with that specific comment is that I don't attribute to Maedhros any personal unwillingness to follow along the rebellion, the first kinslaying, or the Oath, certainly not at early stages. what I instead attribute to Maedhros is an aptitude for politics and a willingness to attempt diplomacy routes and handle public perceptions of facts, no matter how facts actually are.

a lot of this is, by necessity, extrapolation. the bare bones of characterisation are there in the text, but the flesh that is built on those bones varies, and can vary a lot. so mypersonal construction is informed by a few external things too. I basically just... don't really vibe with restrained good person Maedhros, cause that feels to me like the easiest route to construct a narrative that's contrasting, depending: his father's; his brothers'; sometimes other characters' (e.g. Elwing). and like, to each their own, but it's not my thing, and I'm not into singling out the good guy out of the bunch as a trope, it simply doesn't call to me.

I'll try to explain my points about early Maedhros (much as I'd love to explain my headcanons for the whole character arc, that would be so long and complicated that I give up without even trying lmao); also I'd like to add that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence but that's where both "personal construction" and "extrapolation" come into place. essentially, this is what I construct and extrapolate, and I'm not really interested in alternatives, I don't like them, or I just disagree with them. and by contrast, people may think the same of this.

firstly, not against the rebellion and the Oath: the early text in @undercat-overdog's post is to my knowledge the only existing text that gives insight with regard to the state of mind with which the Oath was taken. now the Silmarillion says "a dreadful oath", but the Silmarillion has reason to do so by virtue of hindsight. the entirety of the speech to the Noldor, fear and gloom of the moment aside, is a speech that pushes to action: it seems extremely fitting to me that the taking of the Oath itself should reasonably be something with an upwards push, taken without full acknowledgement of its lines and what they may entail when it comes to other elves. because the stated purpose of moving war to Morgoth is very clear throughout, and even though the reality of the war hasn't hit them yet, the awareness of its approach is very present — there is, imo, a readiness for fight and an acknowledgement of intent: killing a deity.

I also feel that "these leapt with laughter / their lord beside / with linked hands / there lightly took / the oath unbreakable" meshes fairly well with the Silmarillion version, where some of this is not kept but the sons still leap at Feanor's side, this time with their swords drawn. Maedhros in this is not called out as any different — in fact, Maedhros is not called out as being different during the feud either: "lies came between them" with regard to Fingon paints the rumour-spreading among the Noldorin factions as affecting them equally, just as it affects Fingolfin ("grew proud and jealous each of his rights and possessions").

the first kinslaying: again maedhros is not singled out as against it. and again, absence of evidence doesn't equal evidence of absence, however, my preferred method in reconstructing my understanding of canon through the skeleton of its textuality is at times trying to make sense of drafts and grabbing the fil rouge of their logical development. and, when there is someone called out as acting against the Noldor during the first kinslaying, that is Galadriel. Maedhros never even is named in this circumstance.

I also think that the modus operandi of the whole situation is a remarkable early calque of the second and third kinslaying. first, other options are exhausted first: the noldor go north, stop in Araman by foot, and decide the crossing of the ice is too costly, not doable, or otherwise not something they're willing to do (more: people directly blame Feanor for the bitter cold they're exposed to, before they have to cross, if they wish to reach Middle Earth); second, there is an attempt to convince Olwe and the Teleri via words; third, a passage that is textually absent from later deeds of the same sort, but which might be potentially inferred, the leader (here Feanor) sits alone brooding on his options; fourth, action. this is the same as what happens with the later kinslayings, even though the first was not meant to be a deadly undertaking in its conception (it was a theft). but, what I mean is, second kinslaying: failed first option, the battle of unnumbered tears, part 2 diplomatic attempt, the message to doriath, part 3, not textually stated, part 4, action. third kinslaying is muddier and I won't attempt to map it perfectly other than: delayed attack to the havens; diplomatic attempt via message; [not textually stated, may be incorporated in the delay]; action.

either way, my point is: whether Maedhros is outright leader or he isn't, there isn't any fundamental difference in the story beats of the kinslayings. inb4 "Feanor and Maedhros have different character traits" — yes, to an extent. and this is where the early draft from that post returns to my aid in terms of personality building: "the eldest, whose ardor / yet more eager burnt / than his father’s flame, / than Feanor’s wrath". now, I feel there's an important qualitative difference in ardour and wrath, but that line exists and the Silmarillion doesn't contradict it: the fire of life burns in Maedhros, the eagerness here mentioned does not fade from this draft to later versions. (inb4 “the circumstances don’t overlap perfectly”: yes of course they don’t. I’m not trying to argue that they do)

now, what happens when it's time to depart with the ships? Feanor takes counsel with his sons, and the decision is to take the loyalists and go to the other side with them first. what happens when Feanor tries to burn those ships? Maedhros gives his famous lines, "what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first". my extrapolation here is this: I think it's obvious that the burning was not supposed to happen; and I think it's obvious that the joint decision of Feanor and his sons, dare say of Feanor and his firstborn heir, was to send back a group and carry the rest of the Noldor to Middle Earth. Feanor says lmao fuck you and the rest is history. Maedhros doesn't take well to that, and here comes forth what I think actually distinguishes him as a character: the cool-headed pragmatism that will imo really come forth post-captivity, the diplomatic abilities, and weighing his options with a level-headedness that his father lacks — and I would like to posit, these options are not weighed in a particularly moral way: he appeals to Feanor about Fingon being carried first because Fingon rushed in and got involved in the kinslaying on their behalf (there may be different readings, but they don't appear to me as textually supported as this — and for the purpose of this I am making no difference between feelings of romance and friendship; the quality of the relationship is here irrelevant, the strength of it has more bearing). it isn't "Fingon because he's my friend", or "Fingon because he's a good guy", it's "Fingon because he killed for us". and after he is on this side, actually keeping the rest of their army, an army they need to effectively wage the war they said they would wage, becomes a cake walk.

also, I go back and forth on this, but: it's possible that Fingon gained his "the valiant" sobriquet before the Darkening; it isn't a given that it was gained in this instance, his Alqualonde attack. but I still feel like it's quite telling, whether the epithet is gained now or before, that it's brought up under these circumstances. the last "valiant" deed from Fingon has been saving the day during the kinslaying. whether Maedhros is saying it to convince his father or because he truly feels it's currently deserved, he's nonetheless saying it.

a last point is the envoy with which he accepts to meet with Morgoh's forces: this is very shortly after Feanor's death, and Maedhros goes in with more warriors than agreed, though it's still not enough to counter Morgoth's own breaking of the terms. Maedrhos in this demonstrates that he's willing to pursue diplomacy despite his father's own words, but he is neither blindly trusting nor a good person who's simply out of his depth: he goes prepared to be the larger armed force and brings none of his brothers with him. it's not enough, but the attempt is there.

which reads to me as an ardour and eagerness that are kept in check by pretty solid abilities to plan, and that do not, really, counter his father's wishes in any truly consistent way. yes, the ship burning, but in the long run having all the Noldor in ME was going to be a benefit; I feel he could have well patched-up the problems without giving up any crown. yes, the parleying with Morgoth, but they just lost their father and despite that the Dagor-nuin-Giliath is a victory: he's coming as the winning party and newly crowned king, and he might, perhaps, find another route to proceed.

so these are more or less the salient points of my personal reconstruction of "early Maedhros". it'd be too long to get into post-captivity and this post is already long lmao, but I hope this made sense to you? and clarified how I understand his character with that early draft included as an aspect.

*all opinions and analyses are personal and are not attempting to establish a true canon. they make sense to me; I’d argue that I try to make them as textually supported as possible with a canon so fragmented. if my readers’ here are different, go on y’all’s merry way.

[kiribaku-queen]

Let’s gooo! How about Oikawa x reader, but it’s a secret relationship (married) because she’s a trainer alongside Iwa, but she starts getting shipped with Iwa and pictures of them hugging show up... Basically Oikawa isn’t stupid, he KNOWS they aren’t doing anything behind his back but he does get jealous. So roll around to the Olympics and Iwa and reader are being asked about their relationship and bam Oikawas had enough so he comes over, kisses her and is like this is MY wife so fuck off and stop shipping her with my BESTFRIEND HAHAH

She’s Mine

Pairing: Oikawa x reader

Fluff

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: Thank you for being the first requester ever! I hope this is to your liking. I was actually worried that it wouldn’t be long enough but it actually turned out longer than I was expecting! I tried to make it funny and add Oikawa’s personality to give it that flavour. I’d love to know what you think about it anon! Thank you for your support! <3

“One touch!”

“Chance ball!”

“Get it over!”

The gym was loud with calls from their teammates, every player wanting to play their best even if it was just a practice game. You watched from the bleaches, eyes shining with admiration when you watch a certain brown haired boy spike, earning his team a point.

“Yes!” he cheered for himself and then turned to face you. “(y/n) did you see that?! That was for you baby!” he shouted, making the rest of his teammates laugh and you all red and embarrassed. You just signaled a thumbs up and let them continue with their practice game. You didn’t want to interfere, no matter how much your husband was already interfering.

“Oi, Oikawa! Focus on the game, not your wife! You can do that after!” Iwaizumi scolded him. Oikawa waved him off, his attention back on the game.

“This guy…” Iwa said under his breath. You giggled to yourself and looked at the clipboard in front of you. You were still learning how to effectively position people so that they can play their best against their opponent. And Iwa was there to help you. You guess who could say you were his assistant coach. But it was hard trying to stay professional while your husband is on the team you are coaching.

It was no surprise to the team that you guys were married. Your wedding pictures with them in the background drunk was proof enough. But you had to keep your marriage secret from the rest of the world. And this was purely based on your decision. Oikawa has always been popular, ever since high school. When he became pro, he gained even more followers. You saw it first hand. Some fans could be really obsessive and scary. Though, you knew that most fans would be supportive of you two, but you really didn’t want to risk it. You weren’t scared that they were going to come after you. Actually, you have been preparing for it ever since you got together in case you got exposed early on in your relationship. You didn’t want his fans to freak out and then he would lose his popularity over it. You were so scared that it would permanently damage his career. So you both kept it a secret. For now, at least.

“Good work today!” Iwa shouted. The boys immediately fell to the floor, exhausted. But your hubby didn’t do that. Instead, he ran up to you as soon as he finished practice to embrace you in the tightest hug.

“Babe!” you laughed and tried pushing him away. You pushing away only made him hug you tighter. And since you were trying to run away from him, he added in a few smooches just for fun.

“Okay, okay,” Iwa tugged on Oikawa’s collar to pull him away from you. “You can hug your wife later. Go clean up.” He ordered. With a pout, he left but never failed to look back at you and give you kissy faces. You were also cleaning up, putting the volleyballs away and packing up your things in your duffle bag.

“(y/n),” Iwa called to you and to ran up to him immediately. “What do you think about this line up for the game this weekend?” he asked you. You got close to look at the plan he laid out. As you and Iwa were discussing, a photographer snuck into the private gym and hid in the stands.

“Shit, looks like practice is over,” he cursed to himself. How was he going to get a good scoop now? He looked around the gym. None of the players were around. Just the coaches and maybe a few other irrelevant people. He wanted an exclusive showing how practice was going for the big team, but now he never going to get a good picture in if no one was here. The photographer was about to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw you standing next to the team’s coach. You were wearing the team’s colors and outfit. So you had to be a coach if you were standing close to coach Iwaizumi. You were standing a little too close. And you two were laughing. And play fighting? And flirting? The photographer smirked.

“Now this could be a story,” he said as he snapped a few shots of you and Iwa together. Then he made his way out of the gym, looking at the freshly took pictures for his story.

“Honey!” Oikawa came running with his bag hanging loosely over his shoulder. You ran towards him, meeting halfway and you jumped into his arms. “Ready to go home?”

“Mhm!” you hummed, placing a kiss on his lips. He kissed with equal force, if not harder, and gently set you back down on the ground.

“Still up for lunch tomorrow?” Oikawa turned to his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you guys there,” he said. Oikawa then wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close.

“Let’s go,” he told you. You looked back at Iwa as you left the gym.

“See you later, Iwa-chan!” you waved at him.

“Mhm, good work today!” he yelled back. He wouldn’t have to yell if Oikawa hadn’t kept you from continuously walking away, further and further from him. But Oikawa was always one to be touchy and protective so it was nothing new. And he was trying to be as lovey-dovey as he could because once they were out in public, absolutely no touching.

The next day, lunch rolls around and Iwaizumi is already waiting for you two at the restaurant you picked out.

“You’re late,” Iwa stated. You sat down, apologizing profusely while your husband just laughs it off.

“Sorry! Someone was in the bathroom too long,” you glared at the man beside you. He scoffed and pointed an accusing finger at you.

“I was ready before you! I was waiting so long, by the time you got out of the bathroom, I had to take a shit,” Oikawa explained himself.

“Well you should have just held it in!”

“I can’t hold my shits in!”

“Well I can!”

“That is so unhealthy,” Iwa chimed in, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“She started it,” Oikawa breathed but oh, you could hear it. And you were about to retort back if it wasn’t for Iwa to stop another oncoming argument.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just order. I’m starving,” Iwa stated, looking over the menu. It took the guys a few minutes to figure out what they wanted but you were stuck on two options. Glancing around the room, you saw another table that had the same order you wanted and boy did it look delicious. The only problem? The portion was gigantic. There was no way you were going to finish all that. So you did what any girlfriend would do.

“Babe, can you share with me?” you asked Oikawa, giving him a pouty face.

“Mm, but I’ll still be hungry later,” he said, giving you an apologetic look.

“But it’s too much food!” you stated, trying to reason with him. If they had a half portion, you would definitely take that. But unfortunately, there was no such thing.

“I’ll eat your leftovers, how about that?” he compromised, making you equally as happy.

“Tank you,” you said in the cutest baby voice that you know he loves. He gushes at how cute you are.

“Anything for you, my love,” he says back in an equally cute tone and touched noses with you. Iwaizumi is just watching this all unfold in front of him. And to think they were just arguing a second ago. He pretends to have a disgusted look on his face but on the inside, he’s happy that you two found each other. Of course, he’s never going to admit that and never will he ever mention it…. EVER.

Time flies when you’re with your two best friends. You guys could talk about everything and anything, arguing back and forth, making fun of each other, having deep talks, you do it all. Sometimes its hard to believe that you guys work together and it makes you cringe how professional you have to be with each other because you’re not used to it at all. You’re already finished with your food because you couldn’t even stomach all that. Now, you were just waiting on the boys to finish up. Especially, Oikawa since he also had to each your leftovers.

“I’ll be back. I’m gonna wash my hands real quick,” Oikawa announces and heads for the men’s room. You and Iwa were left at the table together. You lean your elbows on the table and rest your chin in your hands.

“You think we’re gonna win tomorrow?” you asked Iwa. He’s much more knowledgeable that you were after all.

“Even if we don’t, it’s no big deal. But I want you to take charge tomorrow so you can get the feel and practice,” he explained. You internally, and maybe externally, groaned. You didn’t feel like you were ready and now all the pressure was going to get to your head. “So if we lose tomorrow, it’s all your fault.”

“Iwa!” you smacked his hand across the table. He kept poking fun and laughing at you, loving the reactions you were giving him. If no one knew you guys, they’d think you were dating. And that’s exactly what Mr. Photographer was thinking.

He had just arrived at the restaurant you guys were eating at, watching from behind a few trees with a big camera in hand. You were laughing at something Iwaizumi had said, earning him a few, nice shots. The photographer made sure to get the food presented on the table, as well as a few cute snaps of you two play fighting, laughing and smiling with each other. He was going to wait around longer, in case you two kissed, but he was too eager to write this new news story that he left when he got enough pictures of you two. When the photographer left, Oikawa came back to pay the check and you were on your way out.

 It’s the morning of the game and you were fixing up some coffee while Oikawa sat at the dining table, eating the breakfast that you prepared for him. Both of you were minding your own business; you jamming out and singing to your music and your husband reading the news on his phone. Everything was in the ordinary until Oikawa spotted an article that made him do a double take.

[BREAKING] Coach Iwaizumi and Assistant (y/n) Dating!!!

“Honey?” he calls out for you in a questioning tone, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing you. You go over to him, coffee in hand and hug him from behind with your chin resting on his shoulder.

“What is it, love?” you ask and take a sip of your coffee.

“Look at this,” he says and brings his phone up so you can see it as clear as day. “You and Iwa? Dating?! And look at these pictures. What are these?!” You take a closer look and its definitely you and Iwaizumi. But the first picture was from the other day when you were going over positioning. And then the other picture was from yesterday at lunch. Out of context, you guys did look close and lovey-dovey… but it was all false. The more Oikawa looked at these pictures, the more irritated and jealous he got. For heavens sake, he was there both times! And that dumb paparazzi couldn’t see that you and him were together?

“Babe, looks like I’m dating your best friend now,” you laugh but Oikawa didn’t find it funny. He had a big, old pout sitting on his lips and seeing that? You knew it was going to be drama, drama, drama all day.

“Baby, don’t pout. It’s all just rumors. I love you and only you,” you try to cheer him up by giving him as many cheek kisses as you could. Your husband loved that but it didn’t make him feel any better. He should be the one in that article title not Iwa-chan.  “It is kind of funny though, I’ll have to let Iwa know later.” You laugh it off and go back to the kitchen. Oikawa laughs too but it was fake and forceful. The moment you went back to the kitchen, his smile drops and a frown is immediately replaced.

It was right before the game and the boys were warming up on the court. The whole ride there, Oikawa was silent. He was acting like a child but you were used to it already that you paid him no mind. You knew he was just going to let it all out during the game. You were standing next to Iwaizumi, watching them practice their spikes. But let’s be honest, you were looking at your dashing husband the whole time. When you got to the venue, you immediately told Iwa the news but he wasn’t surprised because he had already seen it. You both had a good laugh over it and dismissed it. Because what was there to discuss? The whole news was just ridiculous with no proof as backup.

“(y/n),” Iwa came up to you with a clipboard in hand. “Did you-” but before he could finish that sentence, you were both rudely interrupted by a lady shoving a microphone and camera in your face.

“Iwaizumi, (y/n), do you have time for a quick interview?” she asks you. You look up at Iwa because you weren’t used to the sudden aggression. He felt how awkward you were and was the one to speak for the both of you.

“What is it about?”

“You guys look really good together. Is it true that you are both dating?” she asks and shoves the big microphone right in your face.

“No,” Iwa butts in, giving the interviewer and the camera an unamused face.

While Oikawa was focusing on his spikes, he panned over to you just so he could see you. But what he was left a bad taste in his mouth. Interviewers were all in your face. You had a painstakingly uncomfortable expression on your face and he was so tempted to just storm over there and take you away. But professionalism. Remember that. He’s trying so hard to focus back on the warmups but his ears are listening in on your interview.

His ears perk up when he hears that you and his best friend look good together. He looks back in your direction and you were being peer pressured into telling the truth and just being bombarded with unnecessary questions. That’s it. He’s had it. You were his and no one else’s.

“Come on, (y/n). Give us a statement,” the interviewer was coming into you.

“Uhm,” you felt yourself literally backing up. The answer was said to them multiple times but they kept pushing and pushing. It started to get suffocating. And no matter how many times Iwa tried to calm down the situation, it felt like it was just getting worse. All that seemed to disappear when a hand grabs your waist from behind, spins you around and a pair of lips gently cover yours. Your eyes widen in surprise as you see Oikawa passionately kissing you. In public. And on the big screen. A wave of gasps spread throughout the venue and even the interviewer was in shock. When he lets go, you are just all around flustered and Iwa is standing on the side rolling his eyes.

“Please stop pressuring MY WIFE. And please stop shipping her with my dear friend because she’s mine,” Oikawa said to the lady and straight at the camera with a polite smile but threatening eyes.

“And you!” Oikawa dramatically points at his friend and sticks up both middle fingers. “She’s mine so you can fuck off!”

“I don’t even want her, dumbass,” Iwa informs him of the obvious. Oikawa walks off with your hand in his, proud to finally let the world know that you were his and his alone.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You always hated tagging along on boys' night.

Words: 3300

Warnings: tw//kassanovella

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: HI LOOK AT ME I GOT THIS OUT IN TIME. I did indeed test positive for COVID so this was wrought through my fatigue--and may be why there is a delay for the next chapter. We'll see!

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I am doing my best to respond to all the feedback, but I'm like... so tired LMFAO. Thank you so much for your support and engagement. It literally means the world to me and is so encouraging.

I love you. ❤️

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered. 

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return. 

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence. 

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate. 

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch. 

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen. 

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit. 

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels. 

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator. 

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said. 

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing. 

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind. 

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Your eyes widened. Master? 

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you. 

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear. 

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead. 

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly. 

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar. 

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea. 

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat. 

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel. 

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead. 

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you. 

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness. 

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault. 

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret. 

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name. 

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find. 

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there. 

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t. 

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk. 

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.” 

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

[haledamage]

"you deserve good things." for whoever strikes your fancy ;D

I realized after I finished this that I don’t actually know if you’ve played Neverwinter Nights 2 before 😅 but it’s written now, so here you go! if you haven’t played NWN2, you should, this game is for me what KOTOR is for you 💖

Etain/Casavir, mutual pining my beloved, sometime in the early days in Crossroads Keep, spoiler-free except for one very vague reference to in-game events

---

Etain found Casavir right where she expected to, in one of the rooms that hadn’t yet been furnished enough to see much use beyond one paladin seeking solitude. This one was fully constructed, at least, and had a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, though it wasn’t quite enough to chase away the chill that seemed to radiate from the very stones of Crossroads Keep.

There was a pile of old furniture against the wall opposite the hearth, some of it little more than splintered wood while others seemed to be fine except for a bit of threadbare upholstery and a lot of dust. Casavir had managed to find a few chairs that were in working condition, and had saved them from their fate as firewood. One of them had been repurposed into a table, holding a well-loved book and a steaming mug, while he sat in another one with a piece of his armor in his lap, meticulously repairing a ripped seam. The rest of his armor lay in a neat pile next to him, his sword and shield propped against the wall next to the fireplace - within reach, as always, just in case.

A third chair sat across from him, empty and inviting. Etain took its presence as offer enough, and slid into it cautiously in case it couldn’t support her weight. It creaked loudly before settling, announcing her arrival with more fanfare than she would have preferred.

Casavir looked up from his sewing, the warmth that bloomed in his pale eyes as they met hers doing more to dispel the cold than the roaring fire. He bowed his head to her, as formal and solemn as always. “Good evening, my lady.”

“Hey.” She flushed at her own comparative lack of decorum, and added a mumbled, “I mean, good evenin’.” He chuckled quietly, the sound clearly intended to be kind rather than mocking, though it also made her blush darker.

“Is there something you need of me?” His voice wasn’t quite hesitant, but it was the closest to it she’d ever heard. While his face betrayed nothing - it rarely did - he tensed, sitting up straighter in his chair. He looked like he was about to reach for his sword, as if he expected trouble; she was starting to realize that he always expected trouble. 

In his defense, trouble did tend to find them - and her in particular - more often than could be explained away as coincidence.

“Relax. There’s no emergency or anythin’. I just, um…” Etain bit her lip nervously, digging around in her pocket until she found the little cloth bundle she had hidden in there.

“You what?” he asked patiently. He set his sewing down on the floor next to him and relaxed back into his chair, slowly untensing.

“I have a gift for you,” she said in a rush, thrusting the bundle at him. He took it much more delicately than she had presented it. “A little bird may’ve told me that your morn day was a few days ago. I wanted to get you somethin’.”

The ‘little bird’ had been Katriona, but truly his birthday was just a convenient excuse. She'd bought the gift weeks ago - not that she would tell him that.

Casavir ran his fingers over the soft green cloth square as if trying to map the shape of the item within it before unwrapping it. The corner of his mouth rose with the beginning of a smile, though he didn’t let it fully bloom. “It was kind of you to think of me, my lady, but you did not need to trouble yourself on my account.”

“It’s no trouble. Really.” She laughed as he still made no move to open the gift, and nudged the toe of his boot with her own. “C’mon, open it.”

He studied the cloth for another long moment before carefully unfolding it. In it was a bronze cloak pin about the size of his palm, simple but well-made and shaped like a sword and shield. On the shield was a crescent moon, curved like a bow and crossed by an arrow - the symbol that had been chosen as Etain’s heraldry when she’d been knighted.

His old cloak pin, a dented and battered shield bearing Tyr’s scales, had been his gift to her before her trial, a token of his faith in her that had helped her through one of the darkest nights of her life. But that had been over a month ago, and he hadn’t gotten a new one yet; he’d been using an unadorned one since. It was only appropriate that she replace it, since she’d taken his old one.

Part of her felt like it was arrogant to give Casavir a pin with her own mark on it, but she knew his bond with Tyr was a complicated thing, and his relationship with Neverwinter was tenuous at best, so they were both out of the question. He’d cut so many ties that, when you took those two away, all he had left was… this. This room, this half-ruined keep, and its Harborman commander.

“It’s lovely,” he said eventually, oddly subdued. He traced the crescent on the shield with his forefinger. “I do not deserve--”

He moved like he was about to try and hand it back, and one of her hands shot forward to stop him. He froze as soon as her skin touched his. “Yes, you do. You deserve good things, Casavir. In all the months we’ve known each other, you’ve never asked me for anything.” Sure that he wasn’t going to try and give her gift back, Etain loosened her grip on his hand, though she didn’t pull away completely. “When’s the last time you let yourself want somethin’?”

“What I want…” His hand unfurled under hers, the rough pads of his fingers brushing light as spring rain over her palm before coming to rest at the inside of her wrist, where her pulse raced at a hummingbird pace. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a small catch in his normally smooth, deep voice. “What I want is irrelevant.”

“Not to me.”

He met her eyes again, and he looked at her in a way no one ever had before. The normally wintery blue of his eyes turned as warm and intense as a summer storm, and made her feel the same way, powerful and wild. 

The smile Casavir had been holding back finally settled on his lips, small but real. “Etain…”

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. “Knight-Captain.”

Etain jumped back, her face burning as she realized how far she’d leaned toward him. She turned toward the door, relaxing a little to find it was only Kana. As far as she knew, her right-hand woman wasn’t much for gossip, so there was a small chance that they might be spared from the rumor mill for at least a little longer.

“I apologize for interrupting.” Kana seemed to mean it, though if she had any opinion beyond that she kept it close to the chest. “A group arrived at the gates, and the leader is requesting an audience. He says he knows you.”

“Of course he does,” she muttered sourly, then louder she added, “Thank you, Kana. I’ll be right there.” She saluted and left without another word, and Etain turned back to Casavir and his poorly concealed amusement. “I guess duty calls.”

“It always does,” he said, a hint of either sadness or disappointment behind his voice. He rose to stand, his movements stiff from the unhold hours he probably spent in that chair before she disturbed him. But when he bowed and offered her a hand, the motion was as graceful as ever. “May I accompany you?”

“Are you sure?” Despite the uncertainty in her voice, she still took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “You were in the middle of somethin’ when I came in.”

Casavir tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “It can wait.”

Arm in arm, they left the room to go see what trouble had come to find them this time.

[always-on-tatooine]

MaulxReader part 8: The Escape

Finally getting to this part of the story (this has been rolling around in my head since winter break). At the same time, I’m happy I gave this story the time it’s needed to develop. Also, I’m so happy for all the friends I’ve met on here so far. I really appreciate everyone’s support.

Unfortunately, school is really ramping up so big sections like this will be coming out much slowly. I’ll still be working on this story but until break I will probably only be posting small blurbs. Also, I’m thinking of trying some other side projects too. (yes, most of them will consist of our favorite grumpy red Zabrack)

Also thinking of making an ao3 account too. I’ll keep you all updates if I do so.

Warning: Mentions of violence/wounds to reader, action sense, explosions, and strong emotions. As always, let me know if I missed anything

Masterlist link: https://always-on-tatooine.tumblr.com/post/640968824459526144/shooting-stars-maulxreader-masterlist

3.8k word count. Enjoy :)

@justalittlecloud @a-dorin @hornystarwarsbisexual @mother-0f-monsters @lovelyzabrak-meadow @pinkiemme @maulieber @joslynuniverse @dollar-tree-witchcraft @lalalandbutbetter @zabrak-show @secretmaul @jedi-bitch @helloladyvanilla @enchantress666

            Waves of questions and confusion were overwhelming, as (y/n) took in her surroundings. In what was less than a minute of holding her head down, the room once full of mob guards was now littered with dead bodies. The only one left standing held a strange glowing red weapon as it plummeted into the man who almost killed her. Who was the single survivor of this outmatched battle? She knew his name was Maul, and that she had provided housing for him over this past week. Yet here and now, (y/n) realized how little she knew about the man who just saved her life.

             One of the glowing beams of Maul’s weapon retracted, releasing its hold on Lysscol’s body. Leaving the former mob boss motionless on his throne, Maul walked over to (y/n). “Hold still,” his command was soft as one swoop of the remaining end of his weapon cut through her cuffs. Reaching a black gloved hand towards the freed captive he asked, “Are you ok?” (Y/n) did not know how to respond. So many questions ran through her head, yet none were able to find their way out, “What…? How…?”

            Helping her off the ground Maul looked her over, “Are you able to move on your own?” (Y/n) looked deeply into his tattooed face. Who was this man? “Yes, but…”

            Maul retracted the other end of his weapon, “Then we have to hurry. We may have killed their leader, but they will still come for us.” Pulling his hood back over his head, he grabbed (y/n)’s hand and led her out of the throne room.

            In the hallways, more guards laid on the floor. Rushing past them, the farmer was only able to get a glimpse of their condition; large slash wounds had cut though the guards chest plates, inflicting a deadly blow. Before, (y/n) could process the scene, the two were already past the alley way and rushing into the streets.

             The pair moved fast, yet stayed within the crowd, maneuvering through the groups of people as not to be seen. Still holding Maul’s hand, she did her best to keep up with him as he led her though the streets. Finally gaining the nerves, (y/n) asked, “How did you know where to find me?”

            “Only an organized syndicate would be able to push the number of weapons you were selling. So, I looked for their usual hiding places until I found the right one.”

            His remark did not satisfy (y/n)’s scrutiny. Remembering back, Victor Lysscol had seemed so familiar with Maul. As if they knew each other.  “You said you had given them orders. Are you a part of the syndicate?”

            “Something like that…”

            “Then what was that weapon you killed him with? Those blades you were using. I thought those were Jedi swords.” She could feel his hand tighten at the name of the legendary space monks. “Jedi are not the only ones who know how to use a lightsaber…” the words rolled off his lips with anger, yet his unpleasant facial expression would be left to the imagination as it was hidden by his hood.

            “Then how did you…?” (y/n) wanted to continue her interrogations, but Maul cut her off. “I will answer your question later. Right now, we need to get out of this town. You are now marked by the Crymorah’s. That means if they ever see you again, then they will kill you without a second thought.” The tone of urgency in his voice was enough to make her stop.  Taking her saviors advice, she focused on keeping up with him as they headed back to the shop.

            Quick on their feet, the two arrived back to the shop shortly after their conversation ended. Madam Rekstall now stood under the awning of the vegetable stand, as she had agreed to watch the shop while Maul had gone to retrieve (y/n). “Thank the maker you’re ok,” the psychic embraced her old friend in a big embrace, “I told you I foresaw one of your deals going wrong if you kept doing business with those mobsters.” Brushing some hair out of the farmer’s hair, she could see the bruise that was forming, gifted on her cheek by the late Lysscol, “It looks like they did a number on you, but it could have been a lot worse…”

            (Y/n) ignored the pain on her face. Still in shock, she was trying to piece everything together. “Is that how Maul knew to find me? You saw it in one of your visions?” Madam Rekstall shook her head, “Oh no my dear, he was quite capable of sensing your danger without my help. I just simply took over the shop when he ran over to go save you.” (Y/n) looked over at her savior, who was now starting to pack what few vegetable crates were left. He was the once who sensed she was in danger? But how?

            Still holding the farmer in her arms, the psychic began to speak again. Yet her words would fall on deaf ears as (y/n) was still compartmentalizing everything she had just witnessed. She watched as her old friend’s mouth moved, yet she could not hear a sound. Even the sounds of Maul hastily gathering the shop, the bustle coming from the open road beside her, and all the other overwhelming sounds of the city, all became an incoherent hum. Out of all the noses that surrounded her, the only thing she could make out was the sound of a radio. Specifically, a small radio that sat on the counter of another nearby shop stand. Looking over, she could see two men standing under the awning, listening to the broadcast as well.

            ‘We're here to interrupt this program with breaking news. The war is over now! The Separatists have all been defeated by the Republic Army. Counselor Palpatine, who’s leadership has recently been extended under jurisdiction of war, has announced that with the war over, The Council will now declare a new kind of republic. One that will unite the entire galaxy under one Empire.’

            “Did you hear that?” (y/n) hear the man standing behind the shop counter ask, “the war is over now!” “Thank the maker,” the other man chimed in, “maybe this new empire will do something to clean up this slum planet.”

            Watching the scene unfold, (y/n) wanted to join the men in their enthusiasm. The end of this drawn-out war between the Republic and the Separatists should be a good thing, right? Despite how good it sounded, something inside said otherwise. She could feel her insides start to twist as shivers ran down her spine. Something deep inside told her this was wrong. Then she remembered what Victor Lysscol had said in the throne room. ‘New governments mean new business,’ could this have been what he was referring to? Either way, the unsettlement she felt within was enough to tell her the end of this war would not bring anything good…

            (Y/n) was only broken by this strange state she found herself in, by the feeling of Maul’s hand on her shoulder. During her trance-like state, Madam Rekstall must have walked away, as her hooded friend was the only one standing near her now. How long was she out?

             “We can’t stay any longer. If we do not leave this town, it will only be a matter of time until they find us.” The sharpness in his voice reminded her of the paramount of the situation they were in. Grounding back into reality, she realized he was right. Nodding her head in agreement to the Zabrak, (y/n) headed over to the wagon to help pack what was left.

            Madam Rekstall now watched as the two quickly finished gathering their things. Folding one of her sets of arms, she started, “Do you have a plan on how to defend yourselves if they come for you out there on the plains?” (Y/n) was already mounting her jumper, getting ready to make their escape. Shaking off the eerie feeling of what she just experienced, she tried to compose back to her usual self.

            “You know I have one of the best security systems on this planet. Lysscol’s men know it too. If they even have the Reek balls to try to take us on, then they won’t make it back in one peace.” Rekstall rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Maul who had taken his place among the few crates that were left in the wagon. “Please take care of her out there. I haven’t seen any harm coming your guy’s way. Please don’t prove me wrong.”

            Maul looked over at (y/n) who was now starting the jumper. She would have died if he had not interfered. Yet now that the Crymorah Syndicate knew that she was connected to him, their grievance with the young farmer may only get worse. It was clear to him now, that in his current situation, he would be incapable of controlling the different crime families. If they were willing to betray him and disobey his orders, then his association with (y/n) meant they would stop at nothing to kill them both. ‘It’s her fault for getting herself into this mess,’ he thought to himself. Yet despite how much he tried to pass on the responsibility in his head, he could not deny the fact that she had been the only person to help him since he crashed on this planet. The causation to the state they found themselves seemed irrelevant as he felt it was his duty to protect her now. Over the sounds of the jumper engine starting, he insured, “I promise, no harm will come to her.”

            The farmer pulled the jumper and attached wagon out of their parking space. Looking over at the psychic, (y/n) called over, “Thank you for watching over the shop! I owe you one.” As the jumper began to pull away, Madam Rekstall called back, “Just be safe out there,” she waved an arm, “and may the force be with you!”

            The force? Her bike was already too far away to ask why her old friend had given her such a strange farewell. Weaving through the populated streets, (y/n) made her way out of the city. After some much careful driving between the hordes people, the pair had made it out. As tall clay buildings turned into flat grasslands, (y/n) felt that they had made their getaway. With the city behind them, she was able to pick up some speed on the open road. With fewer crates than they had that morning, they were able to move faster than before. It would not be long until the two would be home, and safe.

            Unknown to (y/n) and Maul, only moments after they left, two men on speeders arrived at the shop stand they had been selling at. They wore mixed armor like the guards in the throne den had, yet more time had been put into their garb to attempt to make it look coherent. They did not say for long; once it was obvious that their targets had escaped, they got back on their bikes and headed toward the city outskirts. Madam Rekstall could only watch the scene unfold without gaining the attention of the armed men. Sitting in her fabricated chair, she smoked her pipe, attempting to not show interest in the guard’s inquisition. Only after the men left, did the psychic feel that it was safe to mutter to herself, “May the force keep them safe.”

**************

            Only when they were out in the fields of grasslands was (y/n) able to gather herself. As long blades of pale blue grass were pushed away from the velocity of her speeder, the last hour that had unfolded replayed in her mind. The farmer understood that arms dealing with the Orkaron Mafia was a dangerous job. Just getting her hands on the various bits of blasters and armor had almost cost her life a few times. Yet out on a small planet such as this one, she could only sell as many vegetables as there were mouths to feed. She was always just one bad growing season from not being able to make a sustainable income.  Her immoral and hazardous situation was not blind to her, but the need to eat and stay warm at night was overwhelming on a planet such as this.

             Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Maul was alert as he sat in the back of the wagon. ‘Strange’ has been a term she had used to describe her new housemate over this past week. Now she was now beginning to see there was much more to him. It felt almost haunting now, to have had someone stay with her for a week and know so little about them. Yet right when she was about to be executed, he came in and took on a whole syndicate base, all by himself.

             Executed… it really was a close call. Too close to (y/n)’s liking. It had been a long time since she had been in a situation where she had so little control. Danger was something she was used to. Yet each encounter she had out on this lawless planet, she always managed to have the upper hand. Yet today she was rendered powerless and was almost put down like an old Fathier. Helpless, it made her feel helpless. Tears that formed in her eyes were pushed to the sides of her face by the air that brushed against her vehicle. She had built this life of independence so that she would not need anyone’s help. Yet she would be dead now if it were not for Maul. It was not that she wasn't grateful to him, she just hated the feeling. ‘Helpless,’ the word repeated in her head again. A dreadful feeling, she had not felt in a long time. Not since she…

             “Incoming,” Maul roared, waking her out of her thoughts. Over her shoulders, (y/n) could see two speeders behind them and getting closer by the second. The wagon was already slowing them down enough as it was, but as the bikes got rapidly closer, it became apparent that their speeders had been altered, allowing them to move even faster for occasions such as this. Once they were in firing distance, blaster shots started flying past the escaping pair, nearly hitting.

            Maul was now standing in the back of the wagon, red sabers in hand he deflected the blasts as they came towards them. His deflections were flawless, yet the riders exhibited their maneuvering abilities; dodging each bullet that flew back. As they moved out of the way of the returning shots, Maul took the opportunity and turned to warn (y/n), “They're gaining on us! If we don’t do something soon, they may get close enough to crash the speeder!”

             (Y/n) looked around the empty lands. There had to be something that could help them. That is when she saw it, off in the distance she could see her farm coming into view. They were almost to safety, she just had to make it there before their new ‘friends’ could catch them. “Hang on!” she called, as she pushed full throttle toward the hut.

             The sounds of an overworked engine filled the space around them. With a slight jerk, the speeder gained speed, using all its power to carry their weight and the wagon with it. Despite their increase in speed, the riders managed to still get closer. Maul kept his balance as he continued to block the basters coming at them. “(Y/n), we need to do something fast! It’s too easy for them to overpower us at this rate!”

             (Y/n) called back to them between shots, “Can your saber cut though the wagon hitch?” “Of course!” Maul called back. “Good, I need you to get on the back of my bake, and when I tell you, cut the wagon.”

             In between the breaks of defecting shots, Maul took a glance towards the front of the speeder. The farm he had come to know was now in view. A few kilometers in front of it, he could see the familiar blinking lights hidden in the grass. (Y/n)’s plan was starting to make sense. Without hesitation he made his way to the speeder.

             If Maul were anything like the legendary Jedi she had heard about, she figured that he would have no problem getting from the wagon to the attached speeder at these speeds. What she did not expect was for Maul to do so while still managing to stand. Just as he did in the wagon, he was now balancing on the back seat of the speeder, waving both ends of his saber around as he continued to block blast as they came their way.

             There was no time to question how he was capable of any of this. The faint blinking posts were coming close at a rapid speed. (Y/n) knuckles grew lighter over the throttle as every bit of energy the engine could handle was headed right to it. It was only a few meters away when she changed her trajectory. Dropping all speed, she took a hard turn to the left. As the speeder spun around, she now faced the riders, who used to be right behind them, coming at them at full speed.

             “Now!” she called. Just as effortless as Maul had cut her cuffs back in the throne room, it only took one sweep to release the wagon from its confines. As (y/n) continued to spin, the velocity sent the wagon flying in off in a distance, away from the chaos. Free from the weight of the wagon, the speeder had almost completed a full spin.

            In sync with (y/n)’s unspoken plan, Maul maneuvered himself to a sitting position for what was about to happen next. With full speed, (y/n) now took off to the right, as the riders were almost in grabbing distance from them. Yet at their speed, they were unable to recorrect in time to follow. As their speeders continued to drive forward, the two grads went straight into the mine fields.

            The last that would be seen of the riders was a series of explosions that only consumed a small section of the vast planes. Dust and flames filled the area where they had detonated one of the many hidden landmines. Even on hovering speeders, the pressure from the anti-gravity converters was enough to set them off. (Y/n) stopped and turned the bike so they could watch the spectacle. Though Maul was used to this kind of excitement, here on this humble planet, it seemed so out of place. As for (y/n), she was just relieved that her home security came in handy when they needed it.

            When the flames died down, (y/n) drove over to the control pad she had used earlier that morning. Stopping the bike, the farmer got off the speeder and hit the switch. Buurrrrr the sound rang around them. Maul took the opportunity to stand up and address the young woman after such an encounter. “Very impressive strategy,” Maul complemented, “these traps really are excellently placed. I can now see how you’ve been able to take on so many…”

            (Y/n) was faced away from him, but Maul could sense something was wrong. “(Y/n)?” The young farmer turned towards him; arms wrapped around herself as she was beginning to cry. Maul was shocked. Usually, she was so composed. So cocky. Yet here in this moment she was… vulnerable. Had today been too much for her?

            Too much it was indeed. Waves of emotions flowed over (y/n) like an overwhelming sea. She did everything in her power to keep herself together, but after everything that had happened today. Being captured, almost dying, Maul saving her, and now this chase; it became too much to contain as tears began to fall from her face.

            She did not want to be seen like this, especially not by Maul. He had already seen her chained to the floor and beaten, and then this? Clenching her eyes shut, she wanted to disappear into the tall grasses. ‘Helpless,’ the words flooded her mind as the dreaded feeling crept in again.

            Yet, before the feeling could travel in her any farther, a warm sensation surrounded her. Opening her eyes, black cloth surrounded her as Maul began to hold her in his arms. His body felt slightly awkward, as if he had never given anyone a hug before. However, his arms around her were enough to make her start to cry even more. Barring herself further into the layers of black fabric, she released the feelings that had been overflowing inside.

            With everything that had happened, one thing in particular came to mind. Something that, for unknown reasons, (y/n) felt crucial to tell Maul. Between sobs she spoke, “In the market… there was a radio broadcast…” Maul pulled his head back a bit so that he could look at (y/n). Her face was a mess, as her (y/hc) was glued to her face and her (y/ec) eyes shimmered behind tears. “On the station. They said the war was over… that the counselor was declaring an empire…”

            Maul’s facial expressions showed how shocked he was by her statement. As much as she wanted to enquiry on his thoughts on the matter, her feelings only continued to come out even more. Crying harder now, she continued, “I don’t know why, but when I heard the news… with everything else happening… it’s supposed to be good news, but all I can feel is fear and dread when…”

            (Y/n)’s words became more incoherent as she began to cry more. ‘The force must be very strong with her,’ Maul though, ‘if she was able to see through Sidiou’s plans; even if she did not understand what she was sensing.’ The young farmer was now uncontrollably weeping in his arms. Maul was honestly a little envious at (y/n). He could feel how difficult this was for her, but to openly cry the way she was, took a kind of strength he felt he did not have.

            Seeing as she was barely able to hold herself up, Maul picked up the smaller woman and carried her in his arms towards the farm. If she wanted to fight him on the matter, but she was too exhausted to do so. As he continued to carry her, (y/n) tears started to subside as she was starting to fall asleep in his arms. “Rest,” Maul gave the gentle command. The sun was beginning to set in the horizon, revealing the two moons that were now hovering over the farm he walked towards. “Close your eyes for now, for there is so much for you to learn.”

[zims-left-shoe]

I'd about this stuff but zim x reader where reader has to introduce zim to family and its awkward and fluffy?!?! Did I do that correctly??

AAAA yes!! This prompt actually works perfectly. Ily bby!! I really need to get back on Insta and Snap so we can talk more lmao.

Romance. What even is it? You could never say for sure, and yet you had been playing the courtship expert for about a month or so. What else were you supposed to do? Not only would he not take no for an answer, it was a fine way to kill your boredom. He had zero expectations, which was what made it great. You could tell him anything and he would believe it. Boyfriends were supposed to do their s/o's homework for them? He never questioned it once. To be completely honest, he was the only reason you were passing chemistry and calculus. 

That being said, at the end of the day, it was all one big game. Wasn't it? All he had asked of you was to be his 'lovepig' in a romantic experiment he was conducting. You had nothing else better to do, and hell, it wasn't like you needed to be keeping your options open. You were just as unpopular as the alien freak himself. So, why not? Wasn't it just some mutualistic dynamic? You both benefited from it. He got 'data' (the accuracy of it questionable) for his Earth infiltration, and you got to have some fun. Plus, there was the fact that you haven't touched a homework assignment in weeks.

These were all things you had told yourself. You had managed to explain away all the times you had defended him from Dib and your classmates as being all part of the experiment. If there was a deeper reason, like real feelings perhaps, you didn't want to consider it too much. This relationship was intended to be one big joke after all. 

"Y/n? Hello?" A hand was waved in front of your face, ripping you from your thoughts and reflections. 

"Huh? Did you say something?" You tore your gaze from the plate of uneaten food that sat before you, eyes dragging up to meet those of your father. The man next to him groaned; your other father. You loved them both, but they were both staring at you with slightly annoyed frustration. They particularly disliked when you would space out while they were talking to you, which apparently they had been.

"Yes, I did. I said, when do we get to meet the boyfriend?" The one you called Father spoke; he was your biological sire, and the one you tended to get annoyed with the most. Genetics, you supposed. You were too much alike, and thus you butted heads often.

"Zim? I dunno." Shrugging, you picked at the dinner on your plate with your fork. It was a response that you hoped would suffice, despite knowing full well you had no intentions of ever introducing the Irken soldier for obvious reasons. Having lived with you for so long, they both knew what your response meant. At first, you assumed they'd only sigh and move on, but that wouldn't be the case. 

"We really want to meet him. We've given it a month, but I think it's time that we finally see him." Your father spoke again, voice firmer than the last time.

"I know you said he's...er, unique, but we promise we won't think anything of it. So long as he's good to you, it doesn't matter." The one you called Dad chimed in, a kind smile on his face. You knew he wasn't just saying that, and that he meant it. He was probably the nicest person you had ever met, and you were thankful to have him in your life.

That being said, you couldn't help but scoff at what was said, particularly the last line. Good to you? Zim was probably the most selfish person you had ever met in your life. Still, he did provide you with a source of entertainment. And if you worded things the right way, he would do anything you wanted him to. He was surprisingly easy to manipulate. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Nothing, Dad. But, no. I don't think you'll be meeting him." You expected that to be the end of it, bringing a forkful of dinner to your lips. 

"Y/n M/n L/n, you will bring your boyfriend home within the next week or else you won't be seeing him ever again." Eyes widening in surprise, your fork clattered against your plate as it slipped through your fingers. You would never have predicted your father to become so agitated over this. On some level, you supposed he was just looking out for you, wanting to make sure that Zim was a decent guy and all that. But at the same time, it was annoying. Did he not trust you to handle yourself? Plus, you were almost certain they wouldn't be satisfied upon actually meeting Zim. 

You remained silent. What you should have done was once again shrug your shoulders and say, 'fine'. Your relationship wasn't even supposed to be real, just some experiment that didn't matter too much to either of you. So why should you care if they forced you to break up because you wouldn't bring him home? And yet...you found yourself devastated at the mere thought of that. Was it because you enjoyed the absence of boredom? That had to be it. It couldn't possibly be because you had developed feelings for the little roach...no way. 

"You either bring him home for dinner Friday night, or-" Your father pressed, and you slammed your palm on the table before he could continue.

"Fine, okay!" Glaring at your food, you were no longer hungry. You just wanted dinner to be over. "May I be excused?" You asked, voice still seething with attitude. They both waved you off, so you took your plate and covered it, putting it in the fridge for later. Storming off to your room, you supposed you shared more similarities with your 'boyfriend' than you'd like to admit. You both had quick tempers for one thing, but you both liked being in control for another. You were about to get a rude awakening soon enough; you weren't keeping your feelings and relationships in check as much as you thought.

(more under the cut)

-

There were several ways your peers, if asked, would describe you. Nice, however, was not particularly one of them. It wasn't that you weren't a good person deep down. You just preferred to make yourself your number one priority, even if it turned you into a little bit of a bitch in the process. It was much easier than taking the risk of offering yourself up to others. After all, who really wants to deal with untangling the mess of emotions? Ignoring everything was the safest thing to do. Considering that, it wasn't surprising that you and Zim had been drawn together. They say opposites attract, but you found it to work almost the same for those who are similar. 

After all, Zim was also a big supporter of suppressing all emotions, so much so that you were sure he forgot he even had any. And maybe he didn't. You didn't think it was possible, considering he was still pretty much a person, but at the same time, you never asked about Irken psychology.

Not only that, but Zim seemed to care only for himself at all times. Even in the times he would do anything that vaguely resembled an act of love, it still had everything to do with his own personal motivations of gaining human courtship data. 

With all of that on the table, plus the fact that you weren't really sure what the status of your relationship even was, you weren't expecting you would be bringing him home for dinner Friday. What you envisioned happening was for him to call this whole thing off once you gave him the ultimatum, claiming that he had enough research so you would be through.

And again, there was that small wave of anxiety that passed over you. For whatever reason, you didn't want to lose whatever it was the two of you had going on. You had grown used to having someone to talk to everyday, even if the majority of conversation was listening to him drone on about his evil plans to conquer the Earth in the name of the Irken empire. Frowning, you glanced down to whatever toxic food substance was sitting on your tray. 

The surrounding cafeteria was filled with the chatter of your classmates, all rambling about mostly unimportant things. You had your popular kids laughing and running their own psychoanalysis on Dib, who in turn ignored them from across the room while his sister played video games by his side. You also had your social outcasts, sitting by themselves and discussing whatever they liked to talk about; well, Gretchen wasn't exactly talking. She chose to occupy her time by staring at Dib, who in turn ignored her too. Same shit as always. 

The din of irrelevant voices and clattering plates barely did anything to mask the forceful footsteps approaching your table, ones that could only be brought about by a soldier's march. Whether it was because you had grown so used to the sound or you were so wrapped up in your mind, the noise didn't register with you until a tray was harshly dropped onto the table.

"Why do you look like that?" The alien now sitting across from you asked, with a hint of something that at first you thought was distaste, but later recognized to be Zim's version of concern. Which was strange in itself, concern for others was always an afterthought for him, sometimes not even a thought at all.

"Like what?"

"All shmoopy." You narrowed your eyes, about to give a remark of denial, but whatever words died in your throat as you instinctively straightened up from your slouch, lips straightening from downturned into a neutral expression.

Breathing out a sigh, you decided to just get straight to the point before he would go off on a tangent about whatever thing Dib said in class that offended him. "Look, Zim. You need to come over for dinner Friday night, or else our relationship, experiment, whatever the hell it is, is over." Zim opened his mouth to say something, but you continued on before he could get even a single syllable out. "I know you don't want to, and believe me, you embarrassing yourself in front of my family is the last thing I want, but my parents are demanding to meet you. And if they don't, they're forbidding me from seeing you again or whatever." 

The Irken stayed quiet for a moment, thinking this over. To you, you guessed that his silence was him formulating some great break up speech in his head, so you braced for it. Why you even cared was beyond you, but it was still not what you wanted. "First of all, Zim will not embarrass himself!" You fixed him with a disbelieving look. There was no chance in any of the infinite parallel universes that he would not make a complete fool of himself. "But FINE! Zim will conquer this...interrogation."

Rolling your eyes, you attempted to fight the grin tugging at your lips. "It's not an interrogation, roach boy."

He disregarded your comment, clearly no longer listening. Instead, he hopped up onto the table, heeled soldier boots striking the tabletop, the sound echoing off the cafeteria walls. "Zim will be the best love-mate your parental units have ever laid eyes on!!" He yelled, throwing his fists in the air. Shrinking into yourself, you covered your face with your arms, face burning from the heads that were all turning in your direction to stare.

"Please don't say it like that." After a moment, Zim climbed back down and into his seat on the bench. Your classmates quickly lost interest, as these outbursts were commonplace. Eventually, you came out of your self cocoon to lay some very specific instructions on him. "Okay, cool. I need you to listen very carefully."

"Eh?" He snapped his attention back to you. Groaning, you reached across the tabled to grab his hand, your go to move to make sure he listened to you.

"Come over Friday at six. The whole time, just smile and nod. Don't say anything more than necessary. Just get by with the bare minimum, and then go home. Do you understand?" You looked to him with an intense look in your eyes. You knew that if you were not explicitly clear, the night could end in disaster. House-exploding, alien death battle kind of disaster. 

"Of course I do! Don't worry your stinky head, Zim has it under control." He dropped your hand, waving you off, overconfident as always. 

"Alright...I'm trusting you." You didn't trust him in the slightest. But there was really nothing you would be capable of doing. You had instructed him, very specifically you might add, and that was all you could do. And hope. You would be hoping too. With one last relenting sigh, you had no time to process the relief that came with the surprise of not being broken up with. Whatever relaxation you had briefly felt was immediately replaced by dread for Friday.

-

You laid sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling and drumming your fingers on your stomach. You really hoped that Zim would take your advice and behave himself over the course of the next few hours, but in the back of your mind, you knew that to be impossible. The house had been quiet, save for the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen as your dad worked on dinner. Meanwhile, your father was just finishing tidying up the house, despite you telling him that it didn't matter. You told him that Zim wouldn't care, but the real reason it didn't matter is it probably would end up in worse shape regardless. His response had been to ignore you as he continued to wipe down surfaces you forgot existed. 

Right at six o'clock on the dot, your doorbell rang. You bolted up right, scrambling to reach the door faster than your father. Unfortunately, you weren't quite quick enough to match his long-legged stride, and he threw open the door just as you had the doorway within your sights. You had to skid to a halt in order to stop yourself from slamming into your father's back. 

"You must be Zim." Your father's voice was firm, but not threatening. At least not yet. You peered around him to get a good look at Zim, who, to your relief, was smiling and nodding. You stifled the laugh that was brought on at the sight of a simple black bow tie that was tied very incorrectly around his neck. It was a strange sight, considering it didn't quite fit with the standard invader uniform he always adorned. 

Your father stepped aside to let him in, sticking his hand out afterwards, prompting the Irken to shake it. Zim gazed at it quizzically, apparently not understanding what to do. Just as you were about to bestow a helpful hint, his face brightened as he kicked his leg up, resting his foot in your father's hand. He still seemed to be processing the motivations behind Zim's actions, but before he could respond, you grabbed ahold of Zim's leg, yanking it back onto the ground. The invader stumbled, and before he could fall, you threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close and poking his cheek.

"Oh, Zim, what a jokester! Anyway, we'll be off now, call when dinner's ready-" You tried to drag your alien counterpart away before he could do anything else stupid, but unfortunately, your father had other plans.

"No, I don't think so." Although his voice was less than pleased, you knew he was just trying to put up an intimidating front. He wanted to scare Zim at least a little bit. Groaning, you turned around. "So, you think this whole thing is one big joke, huh?"

"Father, please-" You rolled your eyes, knowing that Zim was too dense to actually be pressured by your father's act. 

"You do drugs? Ever been suspended?"

"I thought you said this wasn't an interrogation." Zim muttered to you, and although it was intended to only be heard by you, Zim is physically incapable of speaking under his breath, and thus your father heard it too. You thought he was more fazed by Zim being unaffected by his grill attempts than what was actually said. 

"What's with the...you know?" Your father decided to ignore Zim's comment and go right for the green elephant in the room: Zim's appearance. In all honesty, it was a rude question. But, Zim was used to it by now.

"We talked about this! It's a skin condition!" You sighed in exasperation, just wanting to get through this night with your sanity intact. "Also, you can't just ask people that." There was an awkward pause between everybody, and you almost wished Zim would start screaming about something not even relevant.

Luckily, you didn't have to stew in silence for much longer. "Dinner's ready, come get it or don't!" Your dad called from the table. You gestured for Zim to follow you as you shuffled after your father, whose strides were quick and long, making it hard to keep up at a normal pace. Both parents had sat down, you following suit across from them. Zim, however, stayed standing, eyes fixated on the plate and glass of water resting on the table in front of the chair next to you. You hoped he was sensible enough to just ignore the food and sit there politely. 

"You can sit down, you know." Your father eyed Zim skeptically. The invitation to take a seat seemed to snap Zim out of his trance, as he sat down so fast he bumped the table, making the silverware shake. He finally appeared to take notice of your parents, and pointed a clawed finger across the table.

"It's like my Tallest!" His grin was wide, and his contacts portrayed his excitement. Your parents, on the other hand, looked to be beyond confused. You didn't exactly blame Zim for the association, considering both were tall males, and his comment made you notice that they were coincidentally wearing hues of red and purple. "I didn't know you had your own Tallest." 

"Who?" Your dad asked, eyes flicking between you and your uninformed alien boyfriend. You gave Zim a swift swat to his thigh under the table, intending to convey the message of 'what happened to smiling and nodding?'. He seemed to understand your intention, and answered your dad's question by cracking a smile and nodding furiously. Internally, you were smacking yourself in the face as both parents stared at you as if they were wondering whether or not Zim was higher than a fucking kite. The dinner so far was going fantastic. At least he hadn't caused any physical damage yet.

Your father cleared his throat, deciding to move on. "So, Zim...what are your plans after high school?" Thank god, a subject change. That being said, your relief only lasted about a half a second before you realized he didn't have any answers to this type of question, and he was horrible at bullshitting. 

"Um...oh, you know...stuff." Zim took a fork and began to experimentally stab at the food that was on his plate. "Sciency stuff." He tacked on those words, sensing your father not being satisfied with his original answer.

"Like what, doing an internship at Membrane Labs or something?" Your father continued to ask questions, but at this point you were helpless to stop him. Zim was on his own. 

"Yes!" Your father seemed to not believe Zim's confirmation, so you decided to help him out.

"Yeah, he's actually really good friends with Dib. You know, the Professor's son." You offered, albeit a stretch of the truth. The two knew each other very well, and, well, enemies after enough time are basically friends anyway. 

"Yes...the Dib-worm is my best friend." Zim spoke through gritted teeth, and you prayed that your parents wouldn't pick up on the venom seeping into every syllable. 

"You have any siblings?" Your dad asked, gaze less critical than the man next to him.

"No." His answer was short, almost as if he was attempting to speedrun the questions to get this dinner over with faster. Unfortunately, your parents would only fill it with more questions. Any attempt to stop them would be futile. 

"Where are you from exactly?" 

"Somewhere that isn't here. Eh, uh, er...it's very far. You wouldn't know it." Your father raised an eyebrow, growing tired of Zim's evasive and nonspecific responses. In a shocking turn of events, Zim was actually able to read the room for once in his life, picking up on your parents' distrust. "Wow, is this good food or what?" Before you could squeak out a single sound, Zim began to shovel the food on his plate into his mouth as fast as he could, washing it down by chugging the glass of water.

This of course sent you into a panic. You reached out an arm, to do what you weren't sure, but you never made contact. Instead, your hand hovered in the air as you gawked at Zim in bewilderment. He wasn't smoking, flailing, or screaming. In fact, he was taking it quite well. Everything seemed to be okay, and even he seemed to be surprised. His face relaxed into a smile when he realized that nothing was trying to kill him from the inside. Which, if that was what he had expected, you weren't quite sure what his plan had been in the first place, but you knew better than to question him. Questioning Zim only led to long rants that no one had the energy or the willpower to listen to. 

"Thank you-" Your dad's gratitude was cut off by Zim's ear piercing shriek as he dropped to the ground, knocking aside his chair in the process. He thrashed about like a fish out of water as he clawed desperately at his throat and face. Apparently, the delayed reaction had kicked in. His ear-piercing screeches were chopped up by choking and spluttering as he continued to kick and flounder his limbs around wildly. Looking up from the Irken rolling around on the ground to your parents, you noticed that they looked absolutely petrified. 

"He's fine! He'll be fine!" You waved your hands desperately, despite knowing full well they would never believe you. As if to accentuate the incorrectness of your statement, Zim howled out another cry of pain, the sound twisting your face into a cringe. At once, your parents clambered out of their seats, stumbling over each other to get to your side of the table. Your dad kneeled down next to Zim and tried to help him, completely at a loss for what was going on. Meanwhile, your father grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you off around the corner to the kitchen.

As you're being hauled away, you hear a distant "Should I call 911?" from your dad. 

As soon as you were out of ear shot of your suffering boyfriend, your father whisper yelled at you. "What the hell is wrong with him?!"

Again, you felt the need to defend him. It wasn't his fault that his alien biology couldn't handle Earth food, and that he didn't understand Earth culture too well. Okay, maybe that last one was his fault considering he's been on the planet for about four years and blending in was kind of his job. But still! "Look, I promise he's a decent guy once you get to know him."

"He's strange, Y/n! Not in the good way, in a concerning way." He hissed to you, never dropping eye contact. 

"He's just a little different is all!"

"A little different?! He's dying in our dining room!" Suppressing the urge to say, 'you mean our die-ning room?', you took a deep breath, preparing to explain away the probably traumatizing situation your parents were witnessing.

"He has a biological condition that makes it to where he can't a majority of foods." You thought that maybe that statement would calm him down, but it only seemed to worry him more.

"Jesus, Y/n, you couldn't have told us about the dietary restrictions before you brought him over? We almost just killed him!" Running a hand through his hair, he watched as you cast your eyes toward the ground, wringing your hands together. You knew he was right. It was something you should have thought of saying beforehand, you should have just told Zim to bring some Irken food along. But you had expected him to not even think about touching the food. And yet, you had just watched as he scarfed down almost the entire plate and a whole glass of water. 

"Sorry! But...would you please just give him another chance?" You pleaded, voice sweeter than you had ever sounded in your life. 

With a heavy sigh, your father nodded, waving you in the direction of the dining room. "Fine, if he doesn't need to go to the hospital, he can stay for the movie if he wants to. Just go hang out upstairs while we clean up" Your smile displayed your thanks as you made your way back to the scene of the accident. Things seemed to be alright now. If anything, your dad was more shaken up than Zim was. The Irken was standing again, pretending as if nothing happened.

"C'mon." You said nothing more as you took him by the hand, pulling him towards your room. He didn't protest, glad to be away from your dad who had been continuing to fuss over him. As you shut the door to your room behind you, the solace that came with knowing he was okay completely drained from your body. "What the hell was that?!" You smacked him lightly on the arm. He should know better than to consume food that would cause his insides to sizzle and smoke. Apparently, he seemed to still think that had been an ingenious idea.

"Zim was trying to show them that I am a good candidate for your love partner!" Your eyes widened, astonished on multiple levels. He really was a special kind of clueless, wasn't he?

"That was not the way! And why do you even care? I thought this was just some stupid experiment? Why should you care if this whole thing ends, you can just find someone else!" Throwing your hands up, your voice raised in volume, fire licking every word.

"Because Zim doesn't want someone else! Zim wants you, Stinky...Stink-worm." His voice had matched yours in loudness at first, but near the end of his words he grew quieter, arms crossed tightly against his chest, eyes averted in curt sheepishness. If Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be.

Any follow up argument you possessed had fled your brain, the only thing replacing it being the slight heat that flushed your cheeks. "Zim...are you saying that you actually...like me?" You were surprised, but pleasantly so. Now that you had to force yourself to think on it, you had realized that somewhere along the way, you began to like the roach boy more than you care to admit. It was a bit irritating to dwell on, considering this whole arrangement was, in the end, supposed to be no strings attached. He got his data, you had something to fill your time. Life has a funny way of panning things out, regardless of your intentions. 

"Zim is saying nothing!" His eyes were shut tight, a sign you could interpret as confirmation to your question. Neither of you would admit it, nor ever wanted to. That was the unfortunate downside to both sides of the equation having destructively low EQs. 

Even if you wanted to press him more, you were interrupted by your parents calling you for the movie. Sighing, it seemed you would have to shelve this conversation for a later date, which was fine by you. Feelings were messy and complicated anyway. "Let's go, roach boy." Zim followed without complaint, and as soon as you both came into view, your parents hit play on the film, which you instantly recognized as E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, something you had seen a million times. It had been your movie of choice as a kid. "Topical." You murmured under your breath, directing Zim to the couch. 

Your parents seemed impressed to see Zim alive and well, acting as if he hadn't been borderline dying on the dining room floor less than twenty minutes ago. "We've seen this about a hundred times, we know how it ends. You two have fun." Your father smiled to the both of you. Apparently, he actually listened to you and was giving Zim the benefit of the doubt.

"But not too much fun." Your dad added helpfully, but of course the implications of his comment flew right over Zim's head. 

"Anyway, if we don't see you before you leave, it was nice to meet you, Zim. Sorry for almost killing you." Your father didn't wait for a response--which he most likely wouldn't have gotten anyway--before heading to bed with your dad, most likely to watch something of their own. Your parents flicked the lights off as they exited, leaving the room dark, save for the light being thrown from the TV, as well as a soft glow coming from Zim's PAK. You had never noticed that before, but it made sense, considering this was the first time you had seen him in the dark before.

"You might like this. It's about an alien who comes to Earth. Well, more like gets stranded on Earth." 

"Hmm." Zim peered at the screen with interest, but began to frantically rub at his eyes, blinking repeatedly. Before you could even ask if he was okay, he snapped a tired response. "Contacts are bothering Zim." 

"Just take 'em out." He attempted to fix you with a distrusting stare, but it was broken by another stint of scratching. "They won't be coming back out, at least not before you leave. You'll be fine." You sank into the couch cushions, the darkness and familiarity of a favorite movie easing you into a contented state.

"Fine. But Zim is blaming you if you're wrong, Stink-worm." With speed and skill, he peeled the lenses from his eyes, stowing them in his PAK, which didn't seem all that sanitary. He blinked a few more times, but seemed comfortable. You directed your attention to the TV screen, but it was snapped away again at the feeling of weight settling on your thigh. Looking down, you saw Zim's head casually laid on your leg, eyes fixated on the movie. "Say anything and I'm replacing your organs with space squids." Zim grumbled, still not looking at you. 

"That's not very nice." You snickered through your words. You knew his threat was empty, and you weren't exactly a stranger to outlandish warnings yourself.

The Irken groaned, still not moving. "Ugh, fine. Say anything, and I'll, eh, lick your face or something." You said nothing more, arm resting lazily on his side, hand hanging near his own. Out of his own volition, he intertwined his claws with your fingers, almost daring you to say something. You didn't.

As the movie progressed, you could tell Zim was a hundred percent into it. That being said, when it came time for the scenes of Elliot and E.T. dying and being treated by the government, you felt Zim grip you a little tighter. You were beginning to wonder if you should turn it off. You were only encouraged in that thought when you felt Zim's back tremble, and although you couldn't see his face, you believed him to be crying.

You reached out your free hand for the remote, but stopped at the sound of Zim's uncharacteristically shaky voice. "Do-don't." You drew back your free hand, the other hand being tucked closer into Zim's chest. A sigh slipped past your lips, and you lifted him up and set him on the ground while he swiped at his eyes so you could kick your legs up and across the couch, reaching out to grab him and lay him on top of you before he could even begin to protest about being moved.

"You okay?" You asked, expecting a fight about being placed in this position. 

To your amazement, he didn't squirm off of you at all, instead, saying a simple "Yes." He even cuddled into you, head resting on your chest as he watched the film. This was the calmest you had ever seen the normally high-energy alien. A hand began to absentmindedly stroke his back, the texture of the fabric of his uniform unlike any you had ever felt. At first you were at a loss for what the rumbling against your chest was, but after a moment you were able to place it. Purrs were rising from Zim's throat, and although it was reminiscent of a cat, it was still a sound that was distinctly alien. It was a noise you had never heard before.

"For the record, I like you. A lot." You murmured quietly, hoping he was too enthralled by the movie to register what was said. Regrettably for you, Zim only seemed to listen when you wished him not to.

"Zim also thinks you are quite tolerable...for an Earth-worm."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so special." Despite your words, there was still a smile in your voice. At this point, the movie was past it's tearjerker moments, and the kids were all trying to get E.T. back to the forest. "So, do Irkens have a thing like E.T., where they connect with someone?" The syncing of Elliot and E.T.'s biological functions, emotions, and thoughts was a main plot point in the movie, and it got you wondering if maybe there was some accuracy, if not with Irkens, perhaps with another alien race?

"Sort of." His answer was unfocused, still drawn into the end of the film. You guessed this would be his new favorite Earth movie, which meant he would most certainly be demanding for you two to watch it together at least twice a month. 

"What do you mean, ‘sort of’?"

"We mate for life." He paused while you were still processing his statement. "But I don't think that was the connection you were asking about."

"Oh brother." You mumbled, deciding to toss that information out the window. Good to know that you wouldn't be getting of the roach anytime soon...or ever.