#-but also would probably. you know. maybe target me too depending on where they draw that line

[cat-of-starlight]

tfw you are trying to Limbus Pull but the game's only Bonus Units™ are the ones that freak you out/irritate you lmao whoops

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean.  She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

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

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

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

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

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

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

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

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ���em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

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

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

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

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

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

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

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

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

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

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

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

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

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

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

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

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

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

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

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

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

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

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

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

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

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

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

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

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

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

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

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

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

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

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

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

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

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

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

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

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

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

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia

[robininthelabyrinth]

(Uh. You're bio says prompts are open but your ask button says prompts are closed? I'll send a prompt anyways, feel free to ignore me.) The Burial Mounds are not made for people. It's not willing to change this. So as people eat it's food, drink it's water, breathe it's air... /they/ change. They're still human, technically, probably, but they're... different

It affected the strongest first, Wen Qing found.

Strong was, of course, a relative definition – no one at the Burial Mounds was ‘stronger’ than Wei Wuxian, of course, but all his power was borrowed, not his own, not after what he’d done to his golden core. So rather than being considered the strongest, he was considered among the weakest, right up there with A-Yuan: the rest of them, despite being civilians, had at minimum been civilians in a cultivation sect, meaning that they either had golden cores or had made some progress in developing their qi.

Of them all, Wen Qing and Wen Ning had always been the best; it had been that which had made them Wen Ruohan’s favorites.

So, to no surprise, it affected them first.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know that the Burial Mounds was full of resentment: a battlefield so bitter that it had poisoned the earth and water and air, left without purification for years upon years, and eventually the resentment had solidified, turned into a rotten lump of it.

It was that they hadn’t realized that it had started resenting anyone who tried to change it, and that it instead sought to change them.

It was a little like Stygian Tiger Seal, Wen Qing reflected in those years where she had too much time to reflect. That had been a regular sword, once – some cultivator’s treasure, no doubt, right up until they stabbed it into the corrupted Xuanwu’s side as they did, leaving their mark on the beast even as it ended their life – but years and years of being near resentment had made it resentful itself.

Had given it power, but also – malice.

The Burial Mounds had malice to spare, and it did not like them when they were just – human.

When they were still cultivators, trying their best to purify what little evil they could before they planted their crops.

So it changed them.

Wen Qing was the strongest cultivator left alive from their Wen sect, but Wen Ning – Wen Ning was something else, of course. Literally, thanks to Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation.

Perhaps the Burial Mounds saw what he was – a fierce corpse, living and conscious and shot through with resentful energy, not needing to eat or drink or sleep, no ability to purify anything – and thought that it would be much happier if the rest of them were like that too.

Wen Qing was the strongest, and so it went for her first.

At first she thought it was her own strength showing through. She’d always refrained from meals when possible to allow her family to eat more, especially A-Yuan, because the amount they were able to buy or grow was simply not enough for all of them. But she’d closely monitored her inedia to ensure that she was not growing weak – that was equally unacceptable, someone had to protect them – and eventually she noticed that her ability to refrain from regular food had grown rather impressive, to the point that she barely ate a bowl of rice once every fortnight.

Meditating in a small cave seemed almost like it was enough.

It wasn’t until she was there, drawing in what she thought was natural qi, and something living came in – a bird of some sort, she though – that she began to realize that something was wrong.

Did realize.

It was hard not to, not with the way she had torn at the bird with her teeth and swallowed the heat of its blood down her throat, leaving it rich in meat but without any blood.

After that Wen Qing had quietly panicked – though of course she’d brought the bird back for the rest of her family to cook and eat the normal way – and she’d vowed that she would eat only rice and radishes, just the way the rest of them did, and not resort to her cultivation any longer.

It was too late, though. The rice tasted spoiled in her mouth, even though everyone else ate it easily; the radish made her gag even though it was fresh. She could not eat them.

Only blood was sufficient.

Wen Qing wasn’t sure what to do about it – she couldn’t just go and hunt all the time, there weren’t enough living things on the Burial Mounds to make that practical, there was a reason they’d tried growing food instead – but around that time Wei Wuxian got the idea of making a blood pool for his experiments.

She didn’t know where he got the blood or how he kept it fresh.

She didn’t ask.

In the beginning it was only a spoonful here and there, enough to keep her energized and healthy while she tried to force herself to live on human food again, but after a while she found that a single cup of blood each week was enough to sustain her entirely, meaning that her aunts and uncles and poor little A-Yuan could eat a little more.

(Wei Wuxian ate too much, just as much as he might if he were a normal human who had never practiced inedia or couldn’t because his core was gone, but he was their benefactor. Of course they had to feed him before all others, except maybe the growing A-Yuan.)

After a while, Wen Qing noticed some of the others – Fourth Uncle was first, but others weren’t far behind – also leaving food on their plates, unable to eat, only they were wasting away for lack of it. She should have let it happen, maybe, but they’d worked so hard to survive, gotten through so much together, and so she decided to slip them a little blood in their tea, just to see if it would help.

It did. It was like night and day, the way their faces filled with life again – animated and cheerful, the way she remembered them best.

So she kept doing it.

(She’d once had medical ethics that forbade experimenting on those who did not know or consent, she recalled vaguely. She’d thrown those ethics into Wen Ruohan’s face, refusing to do his bidding even if he killed her, and he’d rolled his eyes and given in, assigning her only to hospital work for his soldiers and a management position in a supervisory office – he’d been nasty and cruel, but also practical, at least when it came to members of his family; he preferred to boast of having an excellent doctor as part of his clan over yet another corpse in his Fire Palace, and she’d made it clear that was the choice.

Wei Wuxian hadn’t accepted her refusal, though, and once you decided there was something worth breaching your ethics one time, it made it so much easier to make the same decision again – and again – and again…)

And then, before she knew it, the end came.

Wen Ning struck down Jin Zixuan on Wei Wuxian’s sloppy, badly-designed orders – however unintentional it had been on either of their parts – and the Jin sect demanded blood, whether Wei Wuxian’s or theirs. And Wei Wuxian was their benefactor, and that meant it had to be them.

Wen Qing told the Fourth Uncle about what she’d been doing with the blood before she left, not wanting them to starve because she wasn’t there any longer, and then she went to Jinlin Tower to die, seething with resentment about the whole thing. And they took her brother away, and they killed her and scattered her ashes in the Burial Mounds, probably as a final fuck you to her.

They also killed the rest of her family.

She knows they did, because whatever they did to kill her, it didn’t quite – stick.

It was about a year before she fully reformed herself out of the ashes, piecing each ash together back into a physical body like they were all just puzzle-pieces, and crawled out of the ground. Her family was waiting for her: their bodies had been thrown into the blood pool, and the blood of the pool had interacted with the blood already in their bodies – the blood she’d fed them – and they hadn’t stayed dead, either.

“We’re going to need to be careful,” she warned them, settling into the role of leader as easily as always. “We’re living off resentment, now – I’m not quite sure if we’re mo or gui, depends on when we count it as having happened, but either way, we’re now the things that cultivators night-hunt. We can’t allow ourselves to become known, or we’ll be targets.”

Nods all around.

She looked around, reviewing the crowd. “…where’s A-Yuan?”

“I think he’s still alive,” Granny said. “I hid him away before the battle, and the place was empty when I checked it again. No corpse.”

“Good,” Wen Qing said. She hoped he stayed that way, alive, the way they weren’t. “I don’t know what happened with Wen Ning – they didn’t kill him along with me. Maybe we can try to find him, later.”

Maybe they could find A-Yuan, too.

Maybe they could finally make themselves the home they’d been trying to build for so long.

[4n0da]

"Fly through the earth, run through the sky, eyes of the sky and eyes of the earth"

Chapter 1: The Return of the Legendary Warrior

Snap, snap.

The arrow released by the boy was not blown away by the air currents and broke the shiny blue target in a straight trajectory.

"Holy shit! Link's as good with a bow as Mr.Revali!!"

A small Rito boy who was watching the scene (he was probably still new to handling arrows, since even a small bow seemed to be too big for his body) commented with a twinkle in his eye on the boy...Link, who had already broken all the targets in a few moments.

Revali.

It is the name of a young warrior who was chosen by Rito to defeat the evil 100 years ago.

The arrows he shoots pierce the fine.

His flight through the sky is like a gale.

He handled the bow, which was as tall as he was, with ease.

Even though it is only in literature, his name and strength remain in the village of Rito, and even today, all men grow up being told to "become a warrior like Master Revali," and this is passed on to their children when they are born.

"Hey Dad, did you see that?"

"Of course."

The dignified-looking, white-feathered warrior of the Rito tribe, who was called "Dad," was named Teba.

Teba had been sitting in front of the cooking pot earlier, but he stood up and came over to Link with his son, Tuli by name, and laughed and showed his white breath.

"You're always so good at what you do, I'm going to have to start making targets again."

The place where the three of them were was a place called the Flight Training Center, which was built by the old chief to help Revali hone his skills.

In this place where the updrafts are always blowing up from below, he created an unconventional technique called "Revali's gale", which is a vertical leap.

According to his diary, which has recently been found, he allowed the children of the village to use this place freely, not only for himself, but also for all the warriors of the village.

Thus, the availability of Teba and Tuli was a remnant of this.

It was quite rare for a Hylian Link to have access to this place, and it was safe to say that Teba's recognition of his high level of archery was the reason why.

Now after the defeat from the disaster,

The hero of Hyrule, the boy Link, and the princess Zelda, who possesses the power of the seal, and,

Unbeknownst to the people of present-day Hyrule, the disaster was safely contained by the divine beasts controlled by the four champions who had become souls and were waiting for them.

Maybe there's no reason to fight anymore.

However, in order to protect their loved ones, both Link and Teba spent their time training as knights and warriors.

Teba wanted Tuli to become a great warrior, and whenever Link stopped by the village of Rito, she asked him to teach Tuli how to use a bow, saying, "There are other men besides the Rito who are good at archery.

"By the way, Link."

When his name was called, Link, his face flushed from the cold, looked back at Teba.

"What about the Steller's sea eagle bow? I'm sure you can handle it no problem, can't you?"

The bow said to have been used by the former champion Revali.

That is the Steller's sea eagle's bow.

It is made of wood so that it is easy to use in the air, and it is no different from other Rito bows in that the master craftsmen of Rito can draw the string faster than other bows, making it easier to shoot in rapid succession.

However, the weight was increased by four stabilizers, which were like weights, and there were no Rito who could use them to get the right arrow flight, not only at that time, but even now, 100 years later.

Of course, Teba tried to use it, but although he could pull the string, the weight of the bow greatly reduced her speed in the air.

This fact must have made Teva and many other warriors envious of Revali, and passed his name on to future generations.

And Link, this thin-armed boy who showed great skill in the air, might be able to handle this bow.

After the two of them sank the divine beast, Va-Medo, Teba told the chief about entrusting the family's treasure to Link, and he agreed, saying that of course the descendant of a champion would do it.

Teba wondered if it was his imagination that Link had muttered "nostalgic" when he handed him the bow, even though no one had been let out of Rito's village in a hundred years.

With that in mind, Teba let Link try out a shot at the flight training area.

Link dropped a number of targets in a moment, just like the legendary champion. After Teba finished her praise, "That's great," most of the visible targets were gone.

Even though it is an excellent bow, there is inevitably an affinity between the bow and the user. And bows are different depending on how they are used.

Teba had heard that the bows of the Gerudo region were suitable for hunting in the desert, and that the bows of the beast kings were powerful enough to finish off their opponents.

What Link was holding now was not a Steller's sea eagle bow, but one that had been adjusted for the Hylians, but would a Steller's sea eagle bow really be suitable for his purposes?

That bothered Teba, so he called out to him.

"...I think I'm going to confuse you."

That's what Link says back.

"Confused? You didn't break it, did you?"

"I didn't break it.

"Did you lose it?"

"I didn't lose it.

"What do you mean?"

Just then, He heard a gurgling sound of wind.

Teba and Tuli peeked to see if the wind was blowing up from the flight training area, but there was clearly one updraft that was stronger than usual.

The Ritos have ten times the visual acuity of other species, and also have excellent kinetic vision.

They could clearly see a bluish or black-feathered Lito in the middle of the current, carrying a Steller's sea-eagle bow and climbing up the current like a swimming fish.

The dry snow fluttered in the wind and hit them cheeks.

"I got it back."

As soon as he heard the sound of the strings being pulled, three bows were released and snatched Link just short of his hair.

No way, no how, no how.

Teba didn't blink and stared at the Rito warrior.

There were no details of his appearance in the literature, only that he was not that tall, as the Steller's sea eagle's bow was as tall as he was.

Four braids of jade, interlaced with thin cloth.

The red of his cheeks showed that he was not yet of age.

"Dad, is that..."

Shortly after Tuli called out, the Ritos landed on Link, Teba and Tuli.

"Do you know me? Well, of course I do."

[chokemeanakin]

Aggressive Negotiations (part one)-- Anakin Skywalker x fem reader

Okay so I’ve gotten a lot of requests for Anakin seeing reader dressed up for the first time, and I also got a “stuck-in-the-closet” trope, and a “handcuffed-together” trope, so I thought I’d knock out three birds with one stone and just combine them all. Enjoy ;)

(Ps I hope you all don’t mind that I always make reader a non-jedi? Idk I just prefer it when they both have their own strengths.)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

The thin material of the dress stuck to your legs, and you tugged it down self-consciously. Fancy red dresses were not your usual cup of tea, but tonight you had a mission, and the entirety of it depended on your ability to seduce the Prince of Krygo.

For once, you wished Anakin had failed at a mission. He had been sent before you to drive Separatist forces away from Kygo before they could take over the rich mining planet, and had succeeded in not only that, but saving the Prince’s life. Of course, this meant a banquet of celebration was to be held, with Anakin as the guest of honor. 

Then, rumors of Count Dooku’s presence at the ball were revealed, which is where you came in. Anakin could not get the information alone-- he needed a more… direct source to the knowledge, one where the Prince would have his guard down and he’d be completely open to divulging important information. The Council was obviously “under-the-table” about suggesting you fill this role, and still won’t explicitly tell you what they suggest you do. But you got the idea. 

Not that it made you uncomfortable. You were perfectly fine with exploiting a man’s weaknesses for your own good-- in the most respectful way possible. It was mostly the fact that it was Anakin who would be by your side tonight, and it was also Anakin who was your secret lover, and Anakin who had a bad habit of becoming possessive and jealous whenever he felt like his attachment to you became threatened. Therefore, you had to have a talk with him before all this.

“Anakin, sweetie, baby, my love,”

“Hm?” 

“Pookie pie. Boo bear. Apple of my eye.”

“Yes, Y/n. Cut it out with nicknames.”

You leaned over the couch where he was sitting and reading his war reports, looking at him sideways. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do...” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Then you know that whatever happens at the ball, between me and the Prince, it means nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, exactly?”

Now he was sitting up, alarmed. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his cheek from behind to try and diffuse the situation.

“Nothing too elaborate. Just get him in a position where he has no choice but to tell me where and why he’s hiding Count Dooku.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ani. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But he might.”

“I won’t let it get that far.”

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to control someone in a situation like that.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No-- no of course not. I just don’t want you to be in that position.”

“Anakin, I know how to handle myself.”

He was rigid beneath your arms, quiet.

“This wasn’t supposed to be that elaborate.”

You drew patterns into the leather armor over his chest, as if you could draw the stress out through your fingertips.

“It’s not. I just thought I’d warn you, in case you see something you don’t like. I don’t want you to think I enjoy his presence, or him. I love you, and that’s all that matters at the end of the mission. Okay?”

“I still don’t like this,” he sighed, finally relaxing back into your arms. “But I trust you.”

“Thank you,” you kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You could feel his unease, but both of you knew there was nothing you could really do to help the situation. You had to get the information out of the Prince, and he was notorious for favoring human women like you. The setup was perfect-- all you had to do was lure him in, set the trap, and then spring when the moment was right. You both knew you had it all under control, even if it did make Anakin nervous.

The one thing you didn’t really think about before agreeing to this, however, was the fact that you would have to dress up. Like… dress up, dress up. It was a formal ball, which meant the ladies had to wear gowns and men had to wear suits. You didn’t know much about fashion, and what was expected for this ball specifically, nor did you even own anything fancy enough to wear. So you went to Padme, who more than gladly lent you a dress that was both elegant and sexy… more so than was probably appropriate.

It was a necessary evil.

Step one was getting the dress, and that part was over. Now began the more difficult phase of the mission: actually putting on the dress and becoming that seductress, even though you had never really done anything like this before. Even more nerve-wracking— you’d have to face Anakin, who had never seen you in anything but your daily clothes before. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your dress down again. It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about— you looked amazing. The dress clung to every inch of your body, the red hue of it popping out against your skin color. Your hair was styled and draped over your shoulders, and you had done your makeup dark and alluring. 

You were just nervous to see Anakin’s reaction… or was that excitement?

A buzzer startled you out of your train of thought, signaling that it was time to head down to the party. Anakin must be right outside, waiting for you. You took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to open the door.

The sight of him took your breath away, as per usual. He was dressed in a black suit, form-fitting and dark through and through. You’re not sure why he favored the black theme, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t flatter him. He looked dangerous, and the tilted smirk he was giving you added to the bachelor aura. 

“Y/n…” he murmured, immediately fitting his hands around your waist. 

“Yes?” You asked when he didn’t continue. He held you a couple inches away, admiring every inch of you. You squirmed under his greedy eyes. “Do… do you think it’s good enough?” 

“Good enough?” He finally met your gaze, lifting his brows incredulously. “You’re enchanting.” 

Your cheeks flooded with heat, the intensity behind those words loaded with truth. His voice was low, slightly raspy as if he was holding himself back from dragging you into the room and having his way with you here and now, mission be damned. A big part of you wanted that, but a bigger part of you enjoyed standing here, being inspected as if you were the most beautiful girl in the galaxy under his intensifying gaze. 

The shift in Anakin’s eyes made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you could do anything. If he thought you were so beautiful when he looked like that… well, maybe you could do anything.

“You look incredible,” he breathed, sliding his hands further around your waist to pull you closer. It was only when he nudged your arms around his own waist did you realize what he was doing— he wanted you to feel the lightsaber he had under his suit jacket, reminding you of the mission, how he’d be watching and protecting you from afar.

You should have known before even opening the door that you would be watched every second of this ball, even now in the hallway of the palace. Something shady was going on on Krygo, and you two were the main targets.

“Let’s head down to the main event, yeah?” He suggested, pulling away and offering his arm. You gathered your composure and hooked your arm around his elbow, allowing him to lead you down the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the ballroom.

It was exactly what you’d imagined— a small orchestra on the stage, playing slow violin waltzes, elegant lace dresses spinning around the room, dress shoes tapping over glossy marble floors, and an overwhelming floral scent from the thousands of purple roses adorning the room. 

You spotted the Prince across the room— he was dressed in a delicate white suit, accented with silver and gold, black hair gelled back with a single curl hanging over his forehead. He was striking, but in a different way— a mischievous way. Those mossy eyes were hiding something. 

The Prince stopped the whole room with a raise of his glass. He tilted it toward Anakin and you, thanking him for his service to himself and the planet. A murmur of gratitude travelled around the room, and his glass lowered. The ball resumed, but the Prince’s eyes stayed locked in your direction— this time, landing directly on you. He flicked his head, motioning for the two of you to approach.

“You have your knife with you?” Anakin grit between his teeth as he led you toward him.

The arm that wasn’t hooked onto Anakin’s brushed by your side, feeling the minuscule lump of the knife you had slid into the band around your thigh. Your dress had a slit on that leg, providing you easy access for when the time came to use it. 

“I’m all set,” you whispered back. He looked at you quickly, his eyes full of hesitance and fear. It was gone in a blink.

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Prince purred as the two of you approached. The rest of his company filtered away. “Or should I say, General Skywalker?”

“Please, Anakin,” he smiled, charming as ever. 

“How are you enjoying the ball so far? Does it live up to your Coruscant-ee standards?”

You didn’t like the Prince’s tone of voice. He had a playful lilt, as if everything he said was mocking, a game. It was irritating and unnerving, and made it seem like he knew something you didn’t. 

“I can’t say we have many dances at the Jedi temple,” Anakin answered coolly, accepting the drink that the Prince handed him. “But this far exceeds any expectations I might have had.”

“I’m glad you think so— you are the guest of honor,” the Prince bowed his head, lips curling impishly. “And for you, my lady,” he handed you a flute of champagne, similar to Anakin’s.

You took it, smiling sweetly in response. Inside, your nerves were firing out of control. You couldn’t do this— how were you supposed to flirt this man up with Anakin right next to you? It felt too unnatural, too wrong… You needed him to leave, and soon;  before the Prince dismissed you, and your only chance at getting him alone for the night was gone.

“I regret coming off as ungrateful, but I believe I see Captain Wel-Solley. We haven’t talked since the battle of Geonosis. You don’t mind, do you?”

You sighed in relief as Anakin excused himself, unhooking his arm from yours.

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Prince encouraged, ushering him with a sweep of his hand. Anakin nodded once and left, fingers lingering on your arm. You knew what he meant by it— 

Be careful.

You took a sip of the champagne so you could have a moment to gather your thoughts before hurling yourself headfirst into this mess of a mission. The Prince was already looking at you as you lowered your glass.

“And what do you think of this ball, m’lady?”

“Call me Y/n,” you smiled a bit, leveling your gaze at him. “And I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a ball this extravagant before.”

“So you’re experienced in gallant culture?”

“My mother was princess of Fauna, before the Separatists took over,” you lied. “I grew up in a palace much like this one.”

You’re not sure where that story came from, but you always were a terrific liar. You knew you needed to find a level ground with him, create some kind of unifying factor between the two of you. Why not choose his status? You trusted your gut to just go with it.

“The daughter of a Princess. So that makes you… what? A princess as well?”

“I’d assume so,” you laugh prettily. “It’s no matter to me. I’m not bound by a royal lifestyle anymore.”

“So what do you do? Travel with Republic war generals to keep their morale up?” 

“Actually, I’m more of a diplomat,” you swirled the champagne around in your glass, feigning absent-mindedness. “I negotiate treaties, keep the peace when possible.”

He tilted his head, scanning your figure. You could see the appreciating glint in his eye but pretended not to notice. Funnily enough, his face was his weakness. While his voice and demeanor gave you the impression he was spinning a trap around you, his face gave away all of his emotions. You could almost read his thoughts— how you looked so enticing, elegant but teetered on the edge of scandalous. How could an outside like yours be paired with an inspiring, intelligent interior? And a member of royalty, at that? It must be too good to be true.

“Besides,” you continued nonchalantly, “you know the Jedi… their morales don’t require much upkeep.”

“Oh?” The Prince was intrigued. “And what are you implying?”

“Well, they teach against that sort of attachment,” you inform him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “A pity, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had any… fun.”

The Prince picked up on that quickly. His grin turned equally sinful, eyes darkening just a shade.

“Well, if you finish that drink, I’m sure we can find something more worthwhile to do.”

“Yeah?” You took a sip and bat your eyes innocently. “Like dancing?”

“Like dancing,” he confirmed, and you both laughed.

Got him.

You scanned the room for Anakin as you took your next sip, finding him dancing with an older woman by the window. He immediately turned to catch your eye, just barely nodding.

You swallowed the last of your champagne, setting it on a silver platter as the server walked by. “So where would you like to continue this?”

You attributed your newfound boldness to the alcohol in your system, as well as the high you got from your recent success. It was almost too easy how he fell into the palm of your hand, but you weren’t going to question it. Now, you had to get him all alone.

“My bedroom is quite large,” the Prince suggested. “There’s lots of room for dancing.”

“I’d hope,” you played along. “I can get quite… sloppy with my steps. No one ever taught me how to dance like a lady.”

“A princess with a dirty technique? I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to do it right.”

His arm stretched out to you, and there it was. Your golden ticket to success. You hooked your arm around his elbow, and he began to lead you out of the ballroom. Anakin’s eyes were palpable on your back as he watched you leave.

Just as you crossed the threshold, you began to feel funny. Your head grew light, vision blurring in and out. Your stomach dropped, and you suddenly felt very faint.

“Are you okay, m’lady?” The Prince paused. “You’re complexion has turned a little pale.”

“Excuse me, I’m alright,” you held onto his arm a little tighter so you wouldn’t fall. “My excitement is getting the best of me.” 

“I must admit, I’m just as eager.”

You continued on through the halls, but with each step your grew worse and worse. Before long, your knees could no longer hold you up, and you could barely see two feet in front of you. The last thing you saw before blacking out was the Prince smiling cruelly down at you as he lowered you to the cool, marble floor.

[zzinvolterra]

I’ve read your post about the downsides of having powers and I loved it cause I always thought it couldn’t be that easy. Now I want to know the others!

I have a couple of ideas but I’d love to read your headcannons for Aro, Marcus, Edward, Alice, Jasper... I mean... everyone with a power.

Have a splendid day and be safe!

[previous post]

Thank you so much, you too!!

// mentions of panic attacks, anxiety attacks, sensory overload //

Aro

When he touches someone, he can read every though the person has ever had.

The possibilities.  I think the primary concern would be losing or mixing up his own memories with others’ thoughts.  He’s come into contact with vampires with millions of their own thoughts many times, and because of his memory, they’re all locked in there, perfectly preserved forever.  (Also, the criminals that he would be reading would likely have quite gruesome memories.)  So forgetting who he is, experiencing constant déjà vu and horrific flashbacks (that aren’t his... or are they?), and becoming overwhelmed to the point where he can’t function are all very possible.

Marcus

He sees the relationships or connections people have to one another.

I suppose Marcus could occasionally be overwhelmed, perhaps experiencing headaches when looking at a large coven.  (Also, there’s so much honesty in his gift, meaning in nearly every relationship he has, he knows exactly how they feel about him.  Which could be painful at times.)

Didyme

Aura of happiness, I guess. [not a quote]

Didyme emits an aura of happiness that seems unconscious and may have occurred to a lesser degree as a human.  Like I mentioned before with Chelsea, every relationship she’s had could have been affected by that.  (...including Didyme/Marcus - would their love be the same if she didn’t have her Ability?)  And depending on how much her gift affects a person, she could be sobbing (vampirically) and everyone else in the room would still be grinning and laughing euphorically.

Everyone else is under the cut!

Edward

Edward can read the thoughts of anyone in close proximity to him...

I just started MS, so I’m not quite sure how this is in canon, but I imagine it would be quite easy for Edward to become overwhelmed, especially as a newborn when he didn’t know how to block out voices.  He could also experience migraines.  Plus, in terms of how much he’s got bouncing around in his head, he’s like Aro Jr.  Not Good.

Alice

She can see into the future, although what she sees is based on decisions being made; thus, she must wait for a decision to be firmly rooted in the mind or acted upon, before she can see the end result.

Her visions send her into an almost catatonic state, and she sees them often enough that there must be quite a few of them preserved in her mind.  She exists on a different plane of reality, really, that must make it harder for her to connect with others.  Could definitely see her experiencing constant déjà vu (she’s just living to catch up to her next vision) as well as anxiety attacks from trying to avert every single possible disaster.

Jasper

Jasper has the ability to both feel and manipulate the emotions of those around him.

It seems like Jasper is constantly inundated with the emotions of others, including their thirst, so him experiencing sensory overload is definitely possible.  He’s also able to manipulate others with his gift, so unconsciously influencing someone could be a concern of his.

Bella

Her mind is impenetrable; no one can read her thoughts unless she allows it.  She can shield herself from all types of psychic attacks and learns to shield those around her.

I like to think that Bella feels a dampened down version of whatever she’s blocking, especially when she’s expanded her shield.  For example, she could feel a stinging sensation when Jane attempted to Pain™ them in BD.

Resume

She can show people her thoughts by touching their skin.  So far, no one has been able to block her talent.

Sounds scary, but okay.  Maybe showing other people her thoughts drains her energy?  (While we’re talking about her, I support the headcanon that Resume is like an immortal child in the way that she draws people in and encourages them to die for protect her.  Her Ability could increase that effect.)  There are also some weird parallels between her and Aro.

Zafrina

Zafrina has a strong illusory talent.  She can make her target see any illusion she wants, or see nothing at all.

Hmm.  I suppose for Zafrina, she could perhaps experience a diluted form of her own Ability when using it on others for an extended period of time.  I’m assuming that she has to concentrate on what she wants them to see, and maybe after a while, she starts seeing bits of it herself.  Or, her own vision could start growing dimmer as she exerts more energy.

Eleazar

He has the ability to sense the type and strength of gifted vampires’ talents.

Eleazar is like a gift metal detector.  Consequences could be that being around powerful gifts, or many at the same time, could overwhelm him.  For example, getting headaches when he was part of the Volturi or during the army witness gathering in BD.  (And I’m assuming Aro visits him semi-regularly, which is not an enviable position to be in.)

Kate

She has the power to cause a painful, electric shock-like jolt in anyone she touches.

I think with Kate, she could become drained, especially if she’s touching more than one person or using her Ability for an extended period of time.  And until she fine-tuned her control over her gift, she was probably shocking everybody and was afraid to touch those she loved in fear of hurting them.

Benjamin

He can influence the elements – water, earth, fire, and air.  He is able to physically manipulate the world around him with his will, similar to telekinetic.

Because of his power, Benjamin wasn’t allowed to leave the house for years, so yeah.  Downside of being the Avatar is everybody wants you.  Also, it seemed, at least in my opinion, that he doesn’t have the greatest control over his gift - meaning every time he uses it, it’s large and powerful.  In the BD (movie) vision, he creates a chasm... that’s deep enough to reach magma?  (Fault lines!!)  So if he were to ever lose that bit of control over his Ability, he would do a lot of damage.

Maggie

She is able to tell if a person is lying.

Maggie is compelled to point out lies, to the point where she can’t stop even when people become uncomfortable and punish her for needing to state the truth.  Therefore, hearing lies could hurt her, mentally or emotionally.  It could also be sort-of an obsession of hers to have everything be the “truth”.  (Do with this what you will - basically what I’m trying to say is that Maggie is unable to not point out lies.)

Siobhan?

Some suspect she can affect the outcome of a situation through willpower alone.

If she does have an Ability, I suppose it could be that the outcomes she causes have unintended side effects - a bit like how Alice attempts to manipulate events, but those new events bring new potential disasters.

James

He was a skilled tracker, able to sense in advance the most likely moves of his prey.

Demetri-ish?  Hyper-aware of his surroundings.

Victoria

She was exceptionally good at evading enemies.

She’s canonically good at hide-and-seek...?  To me, it seems like an Ability that was invented to explain why nobody could find her, but all right.  Perhaps a mix of Afton, hiding-wise (though she doesn’t turn invisible-ish), and Bella, evading-Demetri-wise.

Fred

He has the ability to make anyone feel physically repulsed.  He can use this ability to make someone unable to think of him for a period of time.

In “The Second Life of Bree Tanner”, it seems like Fred’s Ability is always active.  Perhaps gaining control of that power could be difficult because, until he does, he pushes everyone away...(Reneta-ish?)  Also, he’s called “Freaky Fred”.  Rude.

Raoul

He had a limited ability to make others view him as their leader.  It worked best on those who were directionless.

This is hard because it almost seems like Raoul is just exceptionally charismatic.  Potential scenario: if his directionless followers somehow found direction, he would have to deal with an uprising.

Alistair

Alistair can track both people and things.  He can sense the general direction of whatever he is looking for, but it takes him a long time to narrow this feeling down to a specific location.

(He’s very good at finding those car keys.)  He would be aware of his surroundings, similar to Demetri but to a lesser degree.  Not sure if he’d be as overwhelmed as often since it seems like he needs to focus on something specifically to find it, but I imagine his first few years weren’t fun.

Charles

Charles can sense when someone is lying to him.

Maggie 2.0?  Or perhaps more accurately, Maggie 0.5?  Sounds like he’s essentially Maggie, but less affected by lies.

Mele

Could take Abilities and transfer them to other people.  However, she couldn’t use the gifts herself. [Also not a quote]

Gift snatched.  Her power on its own is not very helpful to her survival, since she can’t harness the gifts she takes, nor is it beneficial to her existence.  In my opinion, Mele, due to her Ability, will always be stuck in the position of serving someone (like Sulpicia in Life and Death) or be killed because she’s a threat (Aro).

[ilikekidsshows]

Another explanation for Chloe fans: as the-grey-tribe recently wrote, since the feminist movement was primarily formed to combat male abusers, a lot of feminism is adamant on "never giving people who oppose us a valid reason" (since that reason could then become an excuse for abuse). But if being a mean girl/female abuser is wrong, that gives others a valid reason to punish women, which might become abuse. So Chloe fans can't let anyone, creator or fan, have good reason to punish a teenage girl.

Yeah, it probably is some over-the-top feminism to some, I still see some people use "boss babe" unironically, after all (look up some info on “multilevel marketing” to discover how this term is used to manipulate and take advantage of women). However, the Miraculous Saltdom just generally cries "misogyny" like the little kid who cried "wolf" in that one fairytale, so I take all of their sexism-based arguments as using hype words to shield themselves from criticism. "You can't get mad at me for being unreasonable, because I'm fighting for feminism!"

As such, I still don't think that most Chloé apologists are in it for some actual social justice clout. If there's an actual motive other than just wanting to manipulate media and using any rhetoric to do so, it would probably be an age thing. A lot of Chloé apologists can't shut up about how Chloé is "fourteen years old". In fact, just a few days ago I, once again, saw someone screeching how that was all the reason needed to give Chloé a redemption. Because the younger you are, the more your sense of self is in flux. That's how it works for a real person (if you ignore the fact that most serial criminals started as nasty kids).

But Chloé isn't a real person.

Miraculous characters are fictional characters. They're not real people. Chloé being 14 doesn't matter, because Marinette is 14 too. It's a kids' show, so the characters are kids. They have some #relatable #kidproblems, but the rest of the time their age isn't a factor. Why on earth would Fu give the Miraculous to 14-year-olds? Even if he was purposefully not picking adults who are more powerful with a Miraculous and therefore more difficult to stop if they went rogue, he could have chosen anything in the 14-17 bracket (or even higher depending how “adult” is determined here). You guys know I waste no chance to dunk on Fu and what a crap mentor he is, but I have never brought up him choosing 14-year-olds to protect Paris, because I don't think it matters.

Master Fu chose 14-year-olds because kid protagonists are relatable to the target audience. In Naruto you can be a ninja when you turn 12 not because the world is a crapsack world with child soldiers and every single ninja is a child soldier instead of just the very specific kids traumatized by their experiences, but because kids wanna see kids as the protagonists in their shows. The reason Marinette and Adrien's romance is being depicted as a Miracle Romance ala Sailor Moon, where they'll totally stay together forever once they get there, is because Miraculous is fiction. In real life, you're very much not likely to stick with your middle-school sweetheart, in fiction, the universe itself revolves around that relationship.

Even when someone analysing the show is talking about how realistically Miraculous often portrays the teenage struggle of figuring yourself out, I feel like it's missing a very important point. This point is that Miraculous is a fictional, fantastical, story. Some parts of it are purposefully designed to be relatable, but others are pure wish fulfilment or exist solely to move the story into a certain direction. Arguing that something is 100% acceptable because it's realistic for kids, and then simultaneously turning a blind eye to everything in the show that spits in the face of age-based realism is a biased way of looking at the show. Max programmed a fully sentient A.I. at fourteen, Adrien is the most popular celebrity in Paris, despite just being a barely-teen heartthrob. You can't just decide the line suddenly goes here, where a show about kid characters has a kid villain. If some of these things are okay because it's just fiction, then all the things about the characters should be okay because it's just fiction. Media analysis is specifically discussing a piece of media based on it being a piece of media, not a biography of the teen experience.

This is why I'm one of the people not in a hurry to get to the Ladynoir reveal or the Adrinette get together. I can accept that Miraculous, as a fictional story, is drawing out the big changes in its status quo because they haven't yet utilized the status quo in all the stories they want. I can see the clockwork gears and watch them move, I'm not staring at the clock face waiting for a specific time to come.

This is probably also why I'm so fine with Chloé and Lila being villains, and cartoony villains at that. Sure, it's maybe not realistic that they're so vile (as hinted before, serial killers weren't nice kids either so I still argue that even in the name of "realism" it checks out) or get away with stuff so easily, but it sure is consistent with their characterization and the fictional universe they live in. This piece of media is sticking with what has been established earlier in the series and that's good. That's how a piece of media is supposed to work, because it shows that the creators care enough to keep track of their characters and world building.

[r3almellow]

MLQC Boys With A Famous S/o

Here we go! Thank you anon for this request I hope its to your liking!! Apologies for typos as always!

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

Kiro (YouTuber S/o)

How did you meet ?

You were a YouTuber that had over 500,000 subscribers. During a Mukbang Q&A video you received a question in regards to your celebrity crush. 

“I think the big ass poster currently behind me kind of gives it away, but my ultimate crush is Kiro. I’d give anything to meet him at least once.” You went even as far as to give him a shout out. “Hey, super star! I heard you were a big foodie and since you like to eat and I like to eat, maybe we can eat together sometime? Okay, that was dumb, please ignore this!”

Little did you know, Kiro was a huge fan of your videos and just so happened to see your request. Next thing you knew a clip of you “shooting your shot” made its way to his social media page with a caption of “Its a date ;)” right above it. You just about died when you saw his post. You were only joking around! Well...not 100% joking, but you didn’t expect him to respond! 

You spent weeks talking to each other through private messages soon after. Your messages filled with gushing over your similar interests, playful banters and light flirting. He offered to be a part of your next Mukbang stating that it was better to have two people eating themselves into a coma on camera than one. You couldn’t argue with facts and took him up on his offer! Kiro only had one condition...you let him take you out on a date afterwards.

And the rest was history. 

Dating

The cutest couple to have ever existed! 

Both of your social media pages are filled with couple photos. 

You both get to dress up in disguise whenever you go on dates! A baseball cap, sunglasses, and face masks are your usual go to’s, but depending on where you’re going you might be required to get a little creative. 

Dealing with overly excited fans and even more persistent paparazzi was a bit new for you, since your interactions with people is mostly through the internet, but you handle it pretty well.

Interviewers practically threw themselves onto every opportunity to get information about your love life. Kiro was more skilled than you about these things, so you tend to just laugh awkwardly and let him take care of it. 

Kiro appears a little more in your videos whenever he’s free which the fans are grateful for. Of course, your channel doesn’t turn into all things Kiro and you never use him for your own personal gain. 

Dating Kiro did open up some opportunities for you, like getting to experience award shows and networking with other celebrities and content creators. Again, you refused to throw Kiro’s name around just to get the things you wanted. 

You both like to bounce ideas off of each other, whether its for his music or for your latest video. Having two creative minds come together does wonders! 

You’re almost always somewhere in the background during his live streams.  

Gavin (Actress S/o)

How did you meet? 

High school. You were a part of the drama club and Gavin was...well...forced into being a part of the stagehand after being threatened with expulsion from his last brawl. 

You were the first one to welcome him. You were kind, funny, and cute. And when you were on that stage? Mesmerizing was the best way to put how Gavin saw you. You were inspiring. 

After graduation Gavin lost contact with most of his acquaintances, but he never once stopped thinking about you. Gavin wasn’t big on celebrity news, but he actually kept up with your progress once he got wind of a newcomer taking the entertainment world by storm. 

Fast forward to a few years later and he was playing bodyguard for one of the most successful actresses in the world. You. This was just an undercover job that was going to last as long as his target was still out there. 

There was definitely chemistry between you. And while Gavin wanted to act on his feelings, his work had to come first. You respected that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to let him know you were interested. How could you not be? You had a huge crush on him back in high school and now that he was by your side practically every day those feelings came back with a vengeance! 

As soon as Gavin’s objective was complete he continues being your bodyguard stating, “Only I can keep you out of trouble.” Which you responded by kissing him.

Dating

Once word got out about you dating your “bodyguard”, it shocked many that you decided to be with someone that wasn’t a celebrity. 

Even so, Gavin doesn’t look like your average Joe. He has the body and face of man who could easily be on the cover of Vogue or Vanity Fair, but you know your man isn’t about that life. 

You’ve spent years being a private person, so when you and Gavin start dating not revealing much was easy. The public only knew what you wanted them to. 

There are a lot of at home dates filled with takeout and movie night. Just being in each others company is more than enough for you!

You work out together a lot! He’s really good about motivating you especially when you have to prepare for an upcoming movie. You honestly don’t need a personal trainer when you have Gavin. 

The paparazzi are afraid of Gavin. Like they won’t even get within six feet of you whenever he’s around. The last poor soul who got a little too close for your liking ate asphalt within seconds.

Gavin isn’t one for the limelight or the glitz and glam, which you appreciate. Its nice to be around someone that isn’t a part of the entertainment world. 

You don’t have to hide a part of yourself, in fear of judgement, whenever you were with him. You appreciated Gavin’s genuine nature. He was always truthful with you and he never gave the impression that he was only with you because of your status. 

Gavin does a great job with making you feel special. Whenever you feel like you don’t meet the standards of what the industry wants, he pulls you out of that dark hole and gives you the pep talk you need to get through the day.

You could walk around without an ounce of makeup on or trade in a Dior dress for sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Gavin still found you beautiful. 

Victor ( Famous Pianist S/o)

How did you meet? 

Victor was a fan of your work for quite some time. There was something about your raw talent that drew him to your work. He always made it a point to go to all your live shows whenever he was available, but has never met you personally. 

It wasn’t until you waltzed right into his office out of the blue. When he saw you enter his office with Goldman and two security guards tailing right behind you, he didn’t even recognize you. You looked as if you had just rolled out of bed with a messy bun, ripped jeans, t-shirt with some random cartoon character and thick rimmed glasses. His first thought as you stared him down with a frown was, “Who let this homeless person into his office?” 

When Goldman called your name as the two security guards grabbed your arms, Victor had to do a double take. The elegant and graceful woman, who commanded the stage with just pads of her fingertips, was...YOU?! 

Victor allowed you to stay, curious to know why you were here. You business with Victor was simple. You wanted funding to create music schools for low income families. You had sent countless emails to LFG with hopes to do business with them, but after being ignored the first few times and receiving a rude rejection email that morning, you were ready to take the bull by the horns. 

Surprisingly Victor found himself intrigued by you and thus started an interesting partnership. 

The more Victor got to work with you the more he became attracted to the headstrong, smart, and talented person who seemingly enjoyed ruffling his feathers every chance they got. 

You were also attracted to the blunt, detail-oriented man and it bothered you to no-end. What you saw in a man who probably would critique drawings from a toddler, you had no idea. But you appreciated his work ethic. He genuinely wanted you to succeed with this project and you couldn’t deny his heart was in the right place. 

The day the first school opened was the day Victor decided to stop tiptoeing around the mutual attraction and asked you out.

“We can celebrate your accomplishments over dinner.” 

Dating

The CEO of LFG and the child prodigy turned world famous pianist dating?!

CAN WE SAY POWER COUPLE?!

Whenever paparazzi get a picture of the two of you, you both look as if you just finished a professional photoshoot. You NEVER look bad in those photos. Never! 

And when you do professional shoots? It leaves people SHOOK. Magazines like Forbes have never had such a beautiful couple grace their covers before. Just wait until people see your wedding photos.

You always ask him to visit you during your rehearsals which he almost always declines but shows up anyway, if he’s not too busy. He’ll also bring a box of his homemade pudding because knowing you, you probably were too busy with preparations for your upcoming concert to eat. He’ll take you out to eat afterwards, but the pudding should hold you over for a bit.

Victor will never admit this to you, but your music helps him de-stress after a long day at work, so whenever he isn’t with you, your music helps him fall asleep. 

Victor also likes to watch you work. Seeing you so focused as you create your next piece was a sight to beheld. The pensive look in your eyes as you went over your music sheet, the slow nod of your head as your fingers danced across the keys as you intently listened to the melody, and the way your eyebrow twitched when you hit a key you didn’t like; all things oddly enjoyed seeing.

You’ll never catch him staring. He’ll pretend he’s working whenever you feel his eyes on you and if you try to call him out on it, he will most likely deny it. 

Lucien ( Novelist S/o)

How did you meet? 

You needed the help of someone knowledgeable with neuroscience for your next book. Someone recommended a Professor at Loveland University who specialized on the topic. That was how you met Professor Lucien. 

You two worked closely together once you started your manuscript, going over various topics under the neuroscience category. It wasn’t surprising just how intelligent the man was on the subject, but you were in awe about how much you knew.

Your meetings would often start at the university which led to you going home together once you found out he lived in the same building as you. You leveled up from the lecture hall to aquariums, movie theaters, restaurants, and his apartment where you had lunch or dinner. 

Your conversations never stayed on the topic of work. It often changed to your interests. You found that you and Lucien had a lot of similar interests like your taste in books and art. He also developed a love for teasing you. 

Seeing the look on your flustered face turned into one of his favorite pastimes.

When it came to the topic of your books, you learned Lucien has read quite a few of them and was very intrigued with your work. He asked you numerous questions, questions no one thought to ask. 

He admitted to you his favorite of yours was the first book he ever read titled, “The Boy Who Dreamed.” You jokingly offered to sign his book, but he declined with a smile.

“I’ll admit I do enjoy the book, but I’m more interested in the woman who wrote it.” 

Dating

More dates at your favorite places. 

Almost every other week, Lucien seemed to have tickets to art exhibits, festivals, or the movies. 

His teasing intensifies by a hundred! That man loves to tease you and you hate it! You love it. 

The closer you got to Lucien, the more you realized he didn’t enjoy talking about himself, so it takes a while to learn about him or his past. You never press him for information, but he does reveal things to you within time.

Lucien loves when you read to him. Its how he falls asleep and once you find out he has trouble sleeping, you always suggest what you call “story time.” 

In truth, having you by his side is more than enough to get him to sleep, but if you aren’t there hearing your voice will do the trick. You could be reading anything and he’d be fine with it. From Dr. Seuss to H.G. Wells, Lucien was fine with it as long as he got hear your voice.

You like to ask for his opinion on your latest projects. He does a great job making you think outside of the box which will make things easier or challenging during your writing sessions. 

Whenever you encounter writer’s block, Lucien will pull you away from your laptop and mountains of papers to enjoy a nice relaxing day with him. 

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Doooone! Please comment if you enjoyed this! I’d love to know what you guys think!

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my MLQC masterlist here!

[itoldsunset]

semi-translating/summarizing some things p’boss said on the hardest brief podcast. putting it under the cut because it ended up being wayyy longer than expected. also, my thai knowledge is that of a little kid who left her country very young so i probably missed some words/references, sorry!

(i got lazy and skipped the last part where they talked about the props and the colors (red = oh-aew, blue = teh, purple = tarn) but i feel like enough folks on here have done the color/visual analysis so we should be good):

he had this story he wanted to tell about two childhood friends and also knew he wanted to cast pp and billkin, but to make it work they had to pull from pp and billkin’s personalities to make sure that the characters they ended up creating would mesh with who pp and billkin are as performers; in writing the script, they sometimes asked pp and billkin to talk about their experiences as teenagers and adapted it to the series, so for example the storyline where teh and oh-aew meet each other again at afterschool chinese class and start out not liking each other, comes from pp and billkin’s real life when they first met and didn’t like each other

the interviewer asked p’boss to talk about how the itsay team has balanced representation in terms of gender and sexual orientation, and p’boss said it was important to have a team that understands the human experience and can draw from life experiences from multiple perspectives, which led to diversity in gender, sexual orientation, and age

when asked whether itsay is a Y series (BL), p’boss said his intention is to tell a story about the relationship between two boys, so it depends on how you define what counts as BL, LGBTQ, etc.

the interviewer and p’boss had this conversation about what characterizes something as BL, and the interviewer said after asking around it seemed like BL is about relationships between boys but more from a fantasy lens and tends to be different from gay couples in real life, and focuses on scenes between the two male leads, scenes that make you “pinch your pillow” (op: like scenes that make you squeal), but not so much on other moments outside of that; p’boss’s response (approximate translation): “i’m not sure myself, but from what i know, BL series seem to be about relationships between boys, but from the perspectives of girls, since that tends to be the target audience. so it tends to be what makes girls happy, what entertains them, that ends up being the content of BL.”

p’boss on lgbtq series: “i think it looks deeply at the real lives of people who are lgbt, it might be more realistic. it might be like, this is a real thing, but when you tell it in a series it becomes dark, but it’s real. in terms of itsay, in the beginning i didn’t know how to classify it, but when a lot of people started calling it lgbt, i thought, okay. [...] it’s just the story i wanted to tell, and i wanted to tell it with as much humanity as possible. i don’t want to limit viewers, i want as many people to see this as possible, so we can call it whatever they want as long as they watch it and it makes them happy.”

this is his first series focusing on lgbtq characters, but in hormones he wrote goi and dao’s characters (op: i didn’t know this?!)

with itsay, p’boss said it was important to him to have slower pacing to explore the intricacies of the emotions in each scene (different types of anger, different ways of sulking, different types of happy, different types of crying), making it somewhat different from my ambulance where things had to move more quickly to keep up with the speed of a tv drama

the interviewer asked “how does having two male leads change how you work?” and p’boss said there’s nothing different in the way you build chemistry between the two characters because you would just pull from their personalities, but the difference is in the conflict of the story which involves confusion and questioning about sexual orientation which a straight couple wouldn’t go through

p’boss: “when we think about how teh is the kind of person who doesn’t say what he’s thinking, or how oh-aew is the kind of person who’s upfront, anyone can play those roles--women, men, gay people, trans people can all have these roles.”

the interviewer said “itsay seems to be expanding the scope of lgbtq narratives by presenting it as easier for the characters to come out and say they love someone of the same sex. for example, especially compared to love of siam where the kiss scene between mario and pchy was considered something shocking, or in hormones, with the relationship between march and tou (phu and thee) where the characters spent a lot of time fighting with themselves about who they were attracted to. but in itsay, oh-aew was totally straightforward in saying he liked bas. do you think that’s because it’s easier and more open today?” p’boss: “i think the content changes depending on the generations, and oh-aew is really of today’s generation. it’s not that there are no longer kids who are confused about their sexual orientation or afraid to come out, even if ten or twenty years pass there will probably still be some kids who experience that. but there are people who are open and happy about how they live their lives. oh-aew is the type of lgbtq character that’s like, ‘i’m gay, and i’m proud to be who i am.’ [...] and it’s very positive that he sees himself as equal to straight people, because when we’re born, we can love anyone. if you’re a man, you can love another man and that’s a normal thing. that’s oh-aew’s attitude: i’m lgbtq, i’m gay, i’m proud, my parents accept me, and i can tell anyone confidently who i can love. i think a lot of people in this generation already see this as something normal, and we really need to make it something that’s equal. oh-aew represents that equality.”

p’boss on teh: “teh is a character who seems to come from older societal expectations where he’s a man, and he has to love women. but there are people who do still think this way. for teh, it’s hard for him to accept that he might like boys, but when he finds out oh-aew likes boys, he’s totally fine with it and sees it as normal. i feel like society needs to progress to this point, and beyond it, because it all has to be seen as normal. a lot of people when they talk about gay people they say there has to be a top and a bottom, but in reality anything can work, love can happen however. one day i could date someone who’s a trans woman, that’s possible, because it’s about feelings. or a woman who has always loved men could one day date a woman, that’s possible too. there’s a lot of freedom, and i want the characters to show that.”

they talked about how in the scene where teh pretends to hit on oh-aew in front of all their friends, the friends are shocked not that teh is attracted to guys, but they’re shocked that teh likes someone in the friend group. and that goes to show that it’s normal for someone to like someone of the same sex, whereas 20 years ago maybe the characters would have reacted in confusion or shock.

p’boss talking about what was challenging about making this series: “in terms of writing the script, we had to think about how to tell the story in a way that shows the characters’ emotions at all times. for example in episode 2, we explored the restlessness that teh feels when he’s confused about he feels jealous or possessive of his friend. when we say it like that, it’s relatable to people who know what it’s like to feel possessive of their best friend, but how to execute that on the screen is a different matter.”

why phuket? p’boss: “when i decided to tell a story about two boys, i wanted the atmosphere to be romantic. even if the story isn’t romantic, like two boys who are best friends eating together, but i wanted the visuals to be romantic that it looks like it could be a romance film. it intrigues the viewers and adds a certain sweetness to it. i wanted a good environment, so i searched in a lot of different provinces. at first i went to ayutthaya, mae hong son, chiang mai, chiang rai, songkhla. but when i talked to the team, one person wanted to go to the mountains, another wanted to go to the cape, another wanted to go to the beach. even if there’s a beach there has to be a city. we wanted everything, and phuket has it all. old town has a city feel, but there’s also the beach and mountains, so we decided to go to down to phuket while we were writing the script, to confirm whether it would actually work. i’m from hatyai, so i’m from the south, but i rarely ever went to phuket so i wasn’t sure if it would work.”

p’boss said filming the underwater kiss was difficult because there needed to be sunlight in order to capture everything in the way they wanted, but when they got to the island, there was no sun and it was about to rain. so they looked up the color of luck/success for that day and it was purple (op: i don’t have context for this so i can’t explain further lol), so they told everyone to wear a purple shirt. the day they went to film the scene, they all wore purple shirts, but when they got to the site it looked like it was about to rain, so p’yong took off his shirt and hung it on the boat, and as they were filming, every time they said “action” the sun would come out and every time they said “cut” the sun would go away, and p’boss said it was magical and that’s how it came out to be the scene we saw.

[persephonessunflowers]

A little batjokes fic I have been working on. It’s also on ao3 but I’m kind of at a loss of which direction to go with it at this point. So I figured I’d post it here for now until I figure it out .

I fell in love with an idea. A picture I had created that was never meant to be. There was never any possibility that we could be happy together. That a life where only the two of us existed could be possible. Not when every part of me craved the adrenaline from a night of violence and waking up to new scars that defined who I was. And you with your savior complex, thinking the whole world would fall if you went away. Needing the praise even in anonymity. Hiding the scars that defined you with a well-dressed suit. It could never be. But I would be a liar if I said every part of me didn’t ache for the possibility of existing.

Joker rolled over. His thoughts had once again turned the bat. He would never admit that he spent countless hours losing sleep considering the possibility of a normal life. One where his past had not led him to this place. One where he could casually run into a beautiful man while doing something completely mundane. Maybe walking down, the street, perhaps in a coffee shot, or even stealing passing glances on the subway. Finally, one would make a move. They would go on dates, share laughs, and slowly fall in love. He grabbed a pillow lying next to him a slammed it into his face, an attempt to eradicate these thoughts. The joker wasn’t a romantic. He was tyrannical, a leader, the bringer of chaos.At least in his mind this was how he chose to believe he was perceived. Sure, some would say he was insane, psychopathic, a cold-blooded killer, and well truthfully, he was these things. So, these romantic urges that kept coming over him where very detrimental to the brand that he had built around himself. For God’s sake if a hot intelligent blonde woman in a skintight suit who was utterly devoted to him never did it for him then why the hell was he fantasizing about a grown man in a cape. Joker groaned again because it wasn’t just any man in a cape, it was Bruce fucking Wayne. Leave it to him to fall for an eccentric billionaire with a savior complex and moral compass to match.

If you had told Joker a few months ago, the man he was caught in this never ending dance of justice with was Bruce Wayne he probably would have laughed in your face and depending on his mood that day, you might have also not survived the interaction. He did have a flare for being dramatic and something about senseless murder just made him positively giddy. Rumors have always spread in Gotham City’s underground. And why would they not, everyone wanted to know who was truly under the mask that continuously foiled their plans. Most wanted to know so that they could end him for good. Or at the least target those closest to him in order to prove a point. Joker had never particularly cared about the identity of his sworn enemy. He much preferred the tango the two performed without any outside views of who the other was. Both pushing each other to the right to the edge, waiting for the other to overstep their boundaries and go too far. Names could ruin that. There was something about the not knowing that added to the thrill of it all. That made the excitement of both men rise. Joker couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of it. But now he had name to the face behind the mask.

It had started as a relatively normal day, when Joker received word that a Mr. Bruce Wayne had been seen sneaking around one of Joker’s new warehouses. Of course, this had piqued his interest. Why was the elusive billionaire in such a bad area of Gotham, it’s almost like he’s asking to be robbed. It’s not as if he could blend in, everyone knew his face. And secondly the only ones in the know about this newest warehouse were Joker, his most trusted henchman R, Harley, and a certain bat who had found out and stopped by for a visit a week ago. Of course he had found nothing, and the camera only caught him for a moment before he flung one of those damned batarangs at it and every other one he found. Joker sighed, batbrain probably never even considered the expense Joker would have to incur to replace those. The warehouse was nothing, more of a safety net if he ever needed the space. Or more than likely it would be converted to a place for those who worked for him to stay. God knows the filthy animals couldn’t keep a living space to save their lives. And providing living arrangements, food, drugs, and booze was generally the best way he had found to keep street thugs loyal to you. He may be insane, but he wasn’t stupid. And of course, he knew word about his new endeavor would draw the bat in. If there was one thing batsy couldn’t resist it was a hot tip about a new diabolical plan the Joker was forming. And so, what if Joker had his henchman anonymously tip off Jim Gordon knowing he would immediately find a way to alert the bat. Sometimes you have to force fate to get what you desire. And that night what he desired was not a fight but just to watch batman in action.

From his hiding spot the Joker could see everything his bats did. He watched him canvas the area and could hear the frustrated huffs he let out every time he again came up with nothing. He watched as bats paced back and forth clearly trying to figure out what angle was being played. Listened as he radioed Gordon filling him in on the nothingness the warehouse held. They went back and forth wonder what plan was being devised for this place. God Joker could watch him forever. Studying his lips, the way his jaw clenched when he was unhappy. He longed to see his face, to touch him. On the other hand, that would ruin their game and Joker really really liked games. It was fascinating to him that even though the bat had found nothing he stayed there pacing. Glancing at the door every few moments. Joker almost wondered if the bat was waiting for him to show up. Did their little fights give the bat the same thrill Joker got? The way both of their adrenaline rose, their hearts beating fast, and their breathing getting deeper. The pain was so intoxicating and led to the ultimate pleasure. Nothing else could top it. But not tonight. Tonight, Joker wanted him to squirm. And squirm he did. In semi defeat, the bat sat down on a box in the corner. Hidden in the shadows waiting. He waited the entirety of the night, unaware that the Joker was sitting merely feet away. It wasn’t until light started to seep in that the bat finally sauntered away. It was curious. Surely there was other crime going on in Gotham. Honestly when wasn’t there crime in Gotham, the city was a cesspool of it. He’d even heard tell of a heist the Penguin was planning that night. And surely Bats had been made aware of that. And yet he never left the warehouse.

Snapping back to the present Joker frowned at the tingly feeling the memory had given him. Now onto the pressing issue of why Bruce Wayne was at his warehouse and how he knew it was there. He gathered himself, choosing his most basic suit. It was navy blue and had none of the flare that he had come to appreciate. He also forewent applying his face makeup to appear more normal. After a moments thought he also chose to grab his sunglasses, gloves, and a hat in an attempt to slightly disguise himself. He doubted this would do much as he slid a hand across the white skin of his face. It was an aspect of himself that he struggled to hide. It was why he preferred the night over day. In the darkness he could appear normal, avoiding the judgmental eyes that the daylight cast. He had learned throughout the years of course. Purchased wigs and learned how to properly put them on so they looked real, he had found contacts that closely matched the color his eyes had once been. But he was unable to find anything for the skin. He had tried foundations but none of them worked. He often questioned if it was due to the acid, this led to a spiral of remembering the events that caused him to fall. He never spent to long considering it otherwise his mind began to drift to a dark place. A place that scared even him, one where he could feel his mental state slipping. Slowly succumbing fully to the madness. Joker shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. After a final glance in the mirror, he slipped out of his apartment to find an available car. He hoped Wayne would still be there, thankfully it was only about a 10-minute drive from his place. He had made this decision deliberately hoping that no one would consider he lived close to his investments and would rather stay far away from them to avoid suspicion. Once in the garage, he chose a simple black car and started the drive, preparing for a confrontation with the treasure of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. As Joker pulled into the warehouse drive, he could see a small blue car parked not far off in the distance. It was pulled off to the side of the road just slightly, he assumed the placement was meant to make it look like the car had broken down there but due to the current situation it seemed like it may be Mr. Wayne’s. He pondered whether he should go search the car before heading to the warehouse, ultimately deciding against it in case Wayne decided to stop whatever he was doing and head back. Joker put his car in park and turned off the engine. He felt it best not to alert the man breaking into his building. As he walked up the gravel, almost by divine intervention a certain someone was crawling out of one of the first story windows.

“Uhm, excuse me sir. I don’t usually like finding unknown men crawling out of my buildings.” it seemed best not to start off too accusatory in case there was a valid reason a billionaire was snooping around his property.

“Oh, uhm, of course I am so sorry about this.” He stopped and cleared out his throat. “I am Bruce Wayne, I uh wasn’t aware that someone had purchased this property. I had been informed it was for sale and wanted to check it out to see if it would be a good space for some new developments at Wayne Industry.”

Wayne held out his hand and Joker realized he intended for them to shake hands. How disgustingly formal. He slowly reached out a gloved hand to shake, watching as the man’s hand nearly covered his own. The strong grasp jolted through Joker and he quickly pulled away wiping the glove on his pants as if this would establish some kind of unspoken boundary between the two. Joker kept his gaze on the man, there was something so familiar about him. Maybe he was making it up it was completely feasible that he had just seen an interview the man was in. His excuse was reasonable as well. The property had only been off the market 2 weeks at most, but why bother sneaking into it and distancing your vehicle from the building?

“Oh, I see. I’m Jack. Jack…Sawyer. Do you always examine potential investments by climbing through the windows?”

The man’s face reddened. “The uh, the door was jammed and when I was assessing the outside of the building, I noticed one of the windows was ajar and figured it wouldn’t hurt to use that as an entry.”

“Hmm understandable. Well, I would be happy to give you a tour of the building, but I am afraid that it has already been purchased by me, so it would be no use to your company endeavors.”

Clearly embarrassed by having been caught the man stood there fidgeting. His jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes darting to the gate. He wasn’t scared, no Joker knew fear, and this was not it. Nervous perhaps? Anxious? Something was off but Joker couldn’t quite place it. His voice, his mouth something about it called to Joker.

There was a long uncomfortable pause before Wayne looked at Joker and said, “Yeah, I…I would love a tour. Do you have any plans for the building?”

Joker hadn’t expected this. It was more of pleasant offering rather than one he actually wanted to do. But, maybe during the tour he could pinpoint what it was about this man exactly.

“I’m not really much of a planner Mr. Wayne. To be honest the price of the building was such a steal I couldn’t pass it up. I’m sure you understand that you don’t become a billionaire by spending recklessly now do you? I am considering using it as a storage facility. I own a bar you see and the storage capacity there is really lacking so I figured why not buy a cheap warehouse.”

The man seemed genuinely taken aback by this statement. His jaw clenching again. His eyes searching Jokers face as if he was trying to pull something out of him. Joker stared back, his eyes never leaving Wayne’s. It was as if they were locked in a battle only Joker wasn’t sure what exactly they were battling for. Surely Bruce Wayne wasn’t so pressed for a warehouse building that he was going to come for some lowly bar owner. And that was when it clicked. Jokers’ eyes broke the stare and fell to the man’s clenched jaw. He knew that clench. He knew that mouth. As if he hadn’t fantasized about those lips on him for months now. Bruce fucking Wayne was Batman, unbelievable. In his surprise he let out a not-so-subtle gasp.

“Are…are you okay Mr. Sawyer?”

“I uh oh yes of course, sometimes my mind escapes me, I suffered an accident sometime ago and the effects seem to pop up at the most inopportune times.”

Wayne dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. “You said you owned a bar. What’s the name of it maybe I’ve visited there?”

“Oh, I highly doubt that Mr. Wayne. It doesn’t usually bring in” he paused looking the man up and down “your type, but….If you’re ever feeling frisky, it’s called The White Knight.”

Joker stopped to look at the man after saying this. He knew damn well that Batman had no idea of the existence of this place. He had undergone every security measure to ensure so. But he knew that this would elicit a response from the bats. How could it not? The Joker owning a secret bar that batsy hadn’t been informed about, on top of the bar being a mockery of his title. It would make Batman seethe.

Wayne’s eyes darkened and his nostrils flared, it was slight, but it was enough for Joker to confirm what he already knew.

“Thank you for the offer to show me the building Mr. Sawyer, but I’m sorry I just realized I have to go.” he glanced quickly at his watch, “I forget I had a meeting to attend. This has truly been an enlightening afternoon.”

“I agree Mr. Wayne, it certainly has been. Are you sure you don’t want a quick tour?”

“No, uh thank you but no. I truly have to go.” And with that Joker watched the man saunter down the driveway. He pulled off his glasses and stared after the man. This newfound information complicated things but it also gave Joker leverage and God knows Joker liked having leverage.

What to do with this leverage? He could let it slip…no…no he didn’t like that. Freely handing out this precious information to those lowly Neanderthals. No, they would go after him, and while Batman would never stand down, they would probably kill him. The bat would die at the feet of those he spent so long pursuing. He grimaced picturing the scene. He couldn’t let them kill Batman. Batman was his. Joker felt that nagging voice in his head again, the one he constantly tried to keep at bay with Scarecrow’s medication.

if anyone is going to kill the bat it’s going to be you right?? You could never let anyone take him from you. He’s yours, yours yours. HAHAHAHAHA.

He took his hands, slamming them to his ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut up I do not want to kill him.”

Of course not, maybe just torture him a little bit until you can’t stop, poor Joker always unable to prevent yourself from going to far.. Drag the knife across his throat, cutting a tad too deep. Tie him up. Let him bleed out while watching you perform. That’s what you want isn’t it? For the bat to bleed, his pretty red blood spilling across the floor. And as he falls to the ground ceasing to exist so does his deluded version of Gotham. You, standing strong watching the city succumb to crime and destruction. Knowing they will not mourn him. Gotham doesn’t care. Gotham feeds on destruction, chaos, and the ruin of its citizens. If you’re born here you don’t stand a chance. There is no good in Gotham, so you must kill the only thing that believes it exist. Kill the bats, Kill the bats, Kill the bats.

He felt his mouth curving up into a terrifying smile as a fit of giggles erupted from his mouth HAHAHAHAHA.

His hands fell from his ears to clasp over his mouth, an attempt to silence, well really everything. After a few minutes, the laughter subsided, and the thoughts quieted. He sank to ground resting his chin on the top of his knees. His faced ached from the experience as it usually did, tears began to well in his eyes, a product of self-hatred, anger, and sadness.

He didn’t want the bat to die. Or…or maybe he did. Things would be far less complicated if a certain dark knight wasn’t involved. Unfortunately, a part of him wanted to be held by the knight. His slight framed wrapped in the strong arms of his enemy. Letting his body go limp as he breathed in the comforting smell. Hands running through his hair. Soft whispers trying to convince him that the world isn’t all bad. But it is isn’t it? There’s no good here, no God exists because if he did, he would surely drown this city. This hell on Earth, putrid and reeking of sin. Never allowing happiness to live within its borders. Joker pulled himself upright and violently wiped away the tears that had covered his face. He was the goddam Joker not some pathetic schoolboy with the luxury of pathetically crushing on the most popular boy in the grade. Brushing off his pants from sitting on the ground he began to stroll back to his car. Tonight, he would choose chaos. Perhaps a robbery he hadn’t performed one of those in a long while. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Harley to get the men prepped and to choose a nice jewelry store for their night out. Yes, a robbery sounded splendid. Maybe tomorrow he would figure out what to do with Mr. Wayne. Or maybe he would do nothing at all, just keep the information in his pocket. After all what was the point in ruining their game?

"Mr. J, if you don't mind me saying, you're uh heart didn't seem to be all into the score last night..." Harley's eyes didn't quite meet us. No doubt they were fearing the repercussion these words would bring. She would never say it but she liked the anticipation, the not knowing what was coming. Perhaps she even liked the pain when it came. But, perceptive as ever she was correct.

Sighing Joker looked over at her. "Harley I've told you time and time again please do not call me that. Just Jack is fine. Please just Jack. I was merely distracted last night. There's some financials issues with the club that I need to work out."

She walked over to him, placing one hand on his. The other at her side twitching to cup his face, knowing he would withdraw if she did. "I can't call you Jack anymore, it's too...personal." Then she jumped back and just like that her mood changed and smile erupted on her face "Besides Mr. J is so much more fun to say, wouldn't you agree? It gives you authority and I love a man who has power." The deviousness written across her face.

"Damn it Harley. Then call me Mr. Napier if you insist on acting this way about it. Also cut the showbiz act. It makes you seem desperate and pathetic." He knew the words would sting her. He wanted it too. He hated her for bringing out the worst in him. But that nagging voice loved her for it. Together the two could be unstoppable, maniacal. It's why he had broke it off. She was smart, brilliant even. She knew what his inside voice wanted and she knew how to provoke it out of him because in that world at least they are together. Part of him wanted to snap her neck and that be the end of it. And yet another part knew he could never do that because he cared for her in the way only two people with so much history and tragedy could. His gaze fell to her stomach, wondering what could have been. "Leave me alone Ms. Quinzel, your presence is pissing me off."

Tears gathered in her eyes as she turned to leave the room, slamming the door for effect.

He winced at the sound. Going after her would just provoke her wrath and he didn't have the energy to deal with that. It's best to give it a few days. He shouldn't have lashed out at her. He was frustrated. The bat had failed to show up last night, which meant the thrill he normally got from nights like that was nonexistent.

There was no point feeling sorry for himself. It never led to any place good. He stood up grabbed his jacket and headed for he bar. At the very least he could use this energy to get something done and for the sake of his workers hope that none of them were stupid enough to tantalize him tonight. His bloodlust was encompassing him and anything could set him off at this point.

The walk from his apartment to the bar wasn't a far one but the cold air made it seem like miles. Joker shivered trying to shake the chill that encompassed him. Gotham was always cold. It didn't matter what time of year it was. Sure the air warmed but you could still feel the breeze nipping at you, waiting to drop. He glanced at the sky, dusk was settling. It didn't matter, the sun never quite shown here in Gotham either. It was gray, just consistently gray. But it never seemed to bother any one else, or at least not that he had noticed. It's where his flare for colors came from, he wanted to break away from the gray.

He was merely feet away from the opening of the bar, the music creeped onto the otherwise silent street. He smirked, the song playing was one of his favorites. He leaned against the brick wall feeling the vibrations of the loud speak reverberate through calming him. He closed his eyes and just listened. Sighing as the song ended he felt a little better. Perhaps he would just go to his upstairs room and let the music take him away for the night. He would never admit the sway the sounds had over him. Finding comfort in the beats a rock song would produce.

A rustling sound came from the doorway, making him straighten quickly, keeping his face a blank canvas. He could already hear the gossip from his men if one of them found him out here basking in the sound of the music. Especially, with how he talked about it in front of them. Calling it a pointless waste. No. His entire personality was to remain hidden. To them he was a maniac, always angry, and mere moments away from snapping. Everything was jokes and crime. Not an entirely wrong synopsis but he was never to be seen as human, because that meant weakness and he would never again be seen as weak.

Fortunately, this was just a drunk patron stumbling his way out. In his drunken state the man couldn't particularly walk straight and managed to trip over his feet, his face colliding with the Joker shoulders. Finally a reason to have some fun. In less than a second Joker twisted away and wrapped his hand around the patrons throat, with full force he pushed him into the wall. The mans head collided with the brick, a sickening thud could be heard. Joker smirked, even drunk he could feel the mans fear radiating off of him. His adrenaline keeping him alert. His eyes screaming for help in ways his mouth could not. It was heaven. Joker leaned into the man, "Didn't your mother ever teach you that you should watch where you're walking?" He could feel his smile widening

"I.....I......uh.....I....I'm sorry sir." He gasped between words. Jokers fingers were wrapped so tightly around his neck it was a miracle he was able to get any words out all. With a glance down, Joker could see that the man had wet himself. Well this is no fun, the poor sap isn't even going to fight back. His smiled faltered where's the fun in that?

Just kill him, he isn’t worth anything. No one would miss him. Snap his neck, feel his bones crush beneath your strength. Come on you know you want to. You want to feel that rush. See the light as it drains from his eyes. Pleading until the very last second.

Joke could feel his smile widening again. His fingers twitched as he started to laugh. The man's eyes grew large with realization. He knew that laugh. All of Gotham knew that laugh. His body started to shake as tears streamed down his face.

See how pathetic he is. He doesn't deserve to live. You know you want the high this will give you.

And with that he gave in. His fingers tightened and with a final gurgle the mans will gave and his body slumped. The Joker let go and gasped at the feeling it gave him. He was positively giddy. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad day after all. He pulled out his phone and called one of his men to come dispose of the body. He didn't need anyone poking around his bar. A worker came out the side door and Joker motioned him over.

The worker glanced briefly at the body "Geez boss what'd he do to you?"

With a sneer Joker spat back "Not that it's any of your business but he bumped into me. Now get rid of the scum."

Recognizing his boss's mood the man quickly grabbed the body and retreated.

Joker turned away walking into the bar. He was ready to have some fun.

[puckinghell]

11:11 | Carter Hart

Summary: Hockey players are a little superstitious, so wishing on shooting stars, rainbows and dropped penny’s isn’t a rare occurrence. Normally, they’re wishing for things like wins and awards and cups, but Carter has a little something else on his wishlist.  Words: 2,5k Note: based on the song 11:11 by Jae Jin which is the cutest songs I’ve ever heard. Note 2.0: This has been sitting in my concepts for over a year cause I just don’t love it but I like it too much to throw it away, so I finally decided to just post it and be done with it. Hope you guys like it anyway!

---

It’s a well known fact that hockey players are superstitious. 

It’s a better known fact that hockey goalies are stupidly superstitious. 

So far, Carter has been trying to break the stigma, and he’s pretty damn good at it, thank you very much. He doesn’t care if he puts on his left or right skate first, he doesn’t have to turn the shower on and off twice, there’s no pregame meal better than others. Winning games depends on how well he’s playing, not on setting his alarm at 4:32 when he takes his pregame nap.

Carter isn’t superstitious, but he is a little stitious - and he’s watched The Office way too many times, clearly. There’s just one thing he can be superstitious about. Only one thing. 

You.

---

You’ve been sitting on your porch, sketchbook in hand, drawing your neighbor’s dog. He’s big and black and at 11 years old, you’re not really sure if you’re supposed to be scared of him. He looks a bit scary, but he’s never done anything bad, and your parents don’t seem to mind him.

It’s hot outside. Too hot, really, to be outside your air conditioned living room, but your brothers are yelling inside and you just wanted some peace and quiet.

Some peace and quiet, and to stare at the boy next door. 

He’s a little older than you, a lot taller too, and he’s always intimidated you a bit. Sometimes he hangs out with your brothers, who are older too, but today he’s with some boys from around the neighborhood. 

They’re playing street hockey, like they usually are. You like watching them play; it’s such a fun game to watch, and you really wish you could try it, see if it’s fun to play too.

But your brothers always tell you to go away, and you’ve not had the guts to ask Carter. That’s the boy next door’s name; you heard it one time when his mom called him in for dinner. 

You’re focused on where the dog’s ears meet his head - on your paper it doesn’t quite look right - when something goes flying past your head.

“Duck!” you hear someone yell, but you’d already ducked in reflex. A plastic ball comes zooming past your ear, hits the wall behind you and bounces back; it rolls past your feet and ends up in front of somebody else’s.

“Are you okay?” the same voice asks, a little worried, and when you look up it’s Carter staring at you with wide eyes. “Did he hit you?” 

It takes a while for his words to synch into your brain, but then you shake your head. “No, he didn’t.”

Carter smiles, at that. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve told Alex his aim is so bad he shouldn’t be allowed to play in public, but he didn’t believe me.” 

The other guy, Alex you presume, comes running over, his hockey stick still in his hands. “Shit, sorry,” he says, and you’re pretty sure you’re not allowed to say that word but you don’t mention it. 

“It’s okay,” you say instead. “You didn’t hit me.” 

“Maybe keep an eye on the clock,” says Carter to his friend. “If it’s 11:11, you can wish to actually hit the target, some time.” 

“If you catch 11:11 you can wish to actually make a save,” Alex shoots back.

“If I caught 11:11 I would wish for you to shut up,” Carter snaps back and that’s when you giggle.

Instantly, both the boys turn to you. Carter is grinning at you, a wide and happy grin that makes it impossible for you not to grin back. “What would you wish for, if you caught 11:11?” he asks.

You know the answer; it’s right there on the tip of your tongue and it tumbles out with thinking, words filled with earnest honesty like only those of a kid can be.

“I would wish that I could play hockey.” 

The boy in front of you smiles, yanks the hockey stick out of his friend’s hands and extends it in your direction.

“Come play,” he says. “It’s not like you could be any worse than Alex, anyway.” 

And under loud protest of Alex, a new friendship is born. 

---

Your 16th birthday party is crazy exactly the way 16th birthday parties are supposed to be, with beers snuck into the kitchen as your parents go away for the night, telling you again and again that you can always call them if you need them, even if you think they’ll be mad.

There’s loud music everywhere, and people; you don’t even know half of them, but your brothers promised you they’d make it a party to remember and they’ve kept their promise.

The thing is, well, you’re not the biggest fan of parties, actually. You thought it would be cool, would be like in the movies and you’d feel all grown up and cool, but instead you feel a bit lost, with the noise of the people too loud and their drunken dancing having you worried about your parents furniture.

You also found out you really don’t like beer. 

You get a Pepsi from the fridge, where some friend of your brother’s is mixing some of your dad’s rum into a bottle of Sprite - it doesn’t seem like a good match, but then again, you’ve never tasted rum - while your brother is eating cheese straight from the packet. 

It’s all a bit too much, too sudden, and you find yourself yearning for some peace and quiet, some familiarity.

You make your way to the back yard; it’s quiet, there, the October air a little too cold for your guests, and you sit down on the porch, wrapping your arms around your knees.

The music booms through the walls and you can still hear people screaming, but it sounds more muffled, and it allows you to breathe.

Almost immediately after you sit down, you hear the creak of the backdoor and footsteps against the wood of the porch, and then a familiar body sits next to you, smelling like foresty cologne and floral laundry detergent. 

“Hey,” Carter says softly, smiling at you when you gaze up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just needed some quiet.” You take a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much, I guess.” 

Carter is your best friend; has been, for years, and you would trust him with literally anything, so you don’t hesitate, telling him the truth. You don’t think there’s anything you’ve not told him the truth on.

Except when he asked you why you never said yes to the boys asking you out on dates.

First, you’d tried to dodge, told him you never got asked, but that didn’t work because James had asked and you’d shot him down, and James was on the hockey team with Carter so obviously Carter had found out.

When he confronted you with that, you just shrugged. 

“Just not into it, Cart.” 

Because they’re not you. I would say yes if it was you. But those are words only meant for your own ears, words your heart utters into the silent void because there’s no way your brain would even let you say them out loud, not when it could ruin the best friendship you have. 

“You know,” Carter says now, “maybe we see a shooting star. Then you could still make your birthday wish.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What are you on about?” 

He laughs, lightly. “I saw you when you blew out your candles, on the cake, earlier. You were super quick with it, there’s no way you made a wish.” 

It earns him an eye roll, from you. 

“Maybe I didn’t wanna make a wish. Maybe there’s nothing I wish for.” 

“Everyone has something they wish for,” says Carter wisely. He bumps your shoulder and then frowns, suddenly. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re freezing.” 

You put your hands on your own arms, wrap your arms around yourself, to feel that indeed your skin is cold and there’s goosebumps on your arms. Before you can comment on it, Carter has taken off his hoodie and is tugging it - not so carefully - over your head.

“Auw,” you whine, “you’re pulling my hair.” 

He immediately stops, then very slowly pulls the fabric down the rest of the way. It’s worse, that way, makes it feel more intimidate than it is. 

“Well,” you say finally, “there’s no shooting stars, so I guess no wish for me, this year.” 

Carter sighs, sounding defeated, then glances at his watch and his whole face lights up. 

“It’s 11:10! You can make a wish at 11:11!”

You can’t help but giggle at his excitement. “Cart, that doesn’t even have anything to do with my birthday.” 

“No,” says Carter, talking slow, as if he’s explaining something to a toddler. “They’re more special. Everyone gets a birthday wish, because everyone has a birthday. Not everyone catches the 11:11, though. That’s the universe telling you it’s your turn for a little bit of luck.” 

It’s dumb, and you don’t believe it, but he says it so adorably convinced, that when he motions at his watch that it’s time, you close your eyes and make a wish.

It’s fine if the wish will never come true. As long as it makes the tall, slender boy next to you happy, the way he does you. 

---

Carter’s first year as a Flyer is stressful.

You get to watch it from up close cause you followed him to Philly; there was never really an option not to. You know, after years of searching for something else, someone else that makes you feel the way he does, that it’s a lost cause.

It’s him, for you. It’s always been him. 

You’re driving to his apartment, the night of what you knew has been a hard game. They lost, again. You know Carter will - wrongfully - blame himself, again. You know you’re gonna do whatever it takes to pick up the pieces, again, and probably fail, again. 

Maybe Carter’s stupid goalie superstition has rubbed off on you, but when you drive through a tunnel, you hold your breath until the end of it.

Let him be okay.

His front door creaks as you open it; he gave you a key as soon as he moved in, and you’ve been using it ever since. You don’t even think you know what his doorbell sounds like.

“Carter?” you call out. You know he’s not asleep; he never sleeps well, after losses. It takes him ages, tossing and turning in his sheets until he just gives up and sits on the balcony, staring at the stars.

He says it calms him down.

You’re pretty sure you know where to find him.

“Cart?” you mutter, opening the balcony door carefully, and indeed, there’s a human figure slumped over the railing, head down, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. At your voice, he looks up, and you’re struck with how tired he looks. 

Dark circles surround his bright eyes, which seem to light up the dark night as much as the city lights below you.

You go stand next to him, close enough for your shoulders to touch; warmth is still radiating off him, his cheeks are flushed. 

“I don’t get what you’re looking at, here,” you tell him, giving him time to decide whether or not he wants to talk about the game. You know he doesn’t do well when you push him. “You can’t even see the stars. The city lights are way too bright.” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “The stars were so much more beautiful back home.” 

“Do you miss home?” Carter asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Some things. You?” 

“I miss my family.” Carter pauses. “Not home, so much. I thought I would, but, the one part I thought I’d miss the most...” Another pause, then a tentative smile. “Well, she followed me here.” 

Your heart flutters at that and you have to remind yourself that he’s just in a mushy mood, probably trying to hide his emotions about the game. 

But you still wanna let him know you appreciate it, and you feel the same, so you lean closer, letting your head drop to his shoulder. Right away, his head is resting on top of yours.

“Can you wish on city lights?” you ask, just to fill the quiet night, and he chuckles.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I’ll need the stars to wish on. I make wishes when I hold my breath in tunnels, when I throw pennies in wells, when I blow out candles...” 

“There’s no wells around here,” you interrupt, and you feel Carter’s shoulders shake with muted laughter. It’s so much better than the sad expression he wore when you got here, and you feel the brick that’s settled in the pit of your stomach since you saw the score, slightly dissipate. 

“I think it’s probably around 11,” says Carter, then. “If we catch it, we can make another wish.” 

You know what you would wish for; the same thing you’ve been wishing for for 8 years. You also know you might as well be wishing for the sky to turn purple, so you’re not really too worried about catching 11:11.

“What do you wish for, anyway?” you ask him. He turns slightly, so he’s facing you now, and incredulous look on his face.

“You really don’t know?” he says. “It’s the same thing, every time.” 

“How would I know?” you huff. “You’ve never told me.” 

“Guess.” 

You don’t see the fun in this game but you’d do anything to see him smile, anything to keep his mind off the game, so you humor him.

“Stanley Cup.” 

“No.” 

“Vezina?” 

“Nope.” 

“World peace.” Carter seems like that guy.

“No, but I would, if I thought it was possible.” 

“A puppy.” 

He laughs. “No, but I should.” 

“I don’t know, Cart,” you tell him, smiling now. You expect him to say something silly, but a serious expression crosses his face, and then his hands come down and grab hold of your hips. He takes a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“What...” are you doing, you start, but he interrupts you.

“When I wish on 11:11, I’m wishing for you.” 

His lips touch yours before you’ve processed the words, but as soon as you realize what’s happening, you hook your arms behind his neck, push up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeper. 

You try to put everything you have into that kiss; try to tell him, wordlessly, that you wanna grow old together, wanna be his person, want him to stay with you even when you’re scared, that you think he’s beautiful and magical and everything you could ever wish for. 

That every time you wish on shooting stars and ticking clocks, you’re wishing for him too.

“I think we might’ve missed 11:11,” is the first thing you say when you finally pull apart, breathing a little heavily, Carter’s cheeks tinted a little pink.

He breathes out a chuckle, rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s okay,” he says. 

“I’ve got all I’d wish for right here.” 

[some-dr-writings]

Fuyuhiko tries to comfort a depressed reader

·       Even as your alarm blared right in your ear, you found it difficult to move. You felt so sluggish even just turning over in bed. You felt so tired and exhausted, but even so you just could not sleep. You were tempted to just skip class and sleep the day away, but you knew better. If you did that, you’d just feel even worse than you already did.

·       So you were going to get up…

·       Now!

·       …

·       N-now!

·       Uh…

·       You were getting there!

·       You got the quilts and sheets off yourself.

·       Somehow that simultaneously felt to be an accomplishment yet not at the same time.

·       You just… could not get yourself to bother to do this.

·       Or anything.

·       You just had no motivation for anything.

·       But at least sitting in class could be productive while sitting in bed would just… be nothing. With that thought you managed to get up. After making yourself presentable for the day you trudged to your usual stone planter with the old tree where you always waited till five minuets before class began. You used to rather be outside than inside.

·       “Hey, Y/N!” You seemed surprised for a moment before looking up from your phone. “Ah, hey Kuzuryu.” “Where were you?” “Huh?” “Oh my-” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “After the school festival you just disappeared and left everyone else to do break down! We all worked together to build it, so none of us can just go off, and leave everyone else to do the work.” “Breakdown, I- damn it, I did just leave you guys. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.” Placing both his hands into his pockets he felt the small piece of glass.

·       That glass made him recall the moments prior and more. How despite being in the reserve course he ended up become friends with Hagime… his first true friend. And how said friend encouraged him to approach you not even a few moments ago.

·       “Even you don’t know? Heh, so even if I asked the fuck has gotten to you lately, you couldn’t answer.” You flinched, stiffening under those words. You didn’t say anything, looking to the ground below his feet, unable to bare to look at him. “You’ve been so out of it lately. Hey!” He snapped his fingers before your face, drawing your attention back to him. “Even now! You, you just keep staring out into space. You’re just distancing yourself from everyone. You’re acting so weird lately, and it’s pissing me off. What happened to you? You were so dependable before and now you’re just not, out of nowhere!”

·       “Ah… I guess I am… sorry.”

·       Fuyuhiko simply glowered at you for what felt to be an eternity. He just stood there and did nothing else. You felt as if you were standing under a spotlight. You hated this; you didn’t want this attention on you. You wished Fuyuhiko would just leave you be but knowing him, if you attempted to make him go, he’d just so stubbornly stay. There was no point in even trying.

·       Suddenly you snapped up onto your feet, Fuyuhiko holding you up by the collar of your shirt. “That look in your eyes… It’s really pissing me off!” “Wait- where are you dragging me too!?” “We, are going to talk some place more private.” How he said that, so ominously you honestly thought for a moment he was going to kill you! It didn’t make any sense but, could you have angered him so much he wanted you dead!?

·       Soon he tossed you into his lab, the place in the school built specifically for him and his talent, nothing and no one else. If he were to kill you this could a good, all be it obvious place to do so. Then he stepped up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Fight me.”

·       In an instant you had collapsed, only still on your feet by Fuyuhiko holding you up. Your breath had been knocked out of you. You clutched your stomach, feeling this dull pain radiating from it. “It’s as if you’re going hollow. Show me something, anything! Y/N, fight me.” “The hell?” You were absolutely baffled by all this. “What’s holding you back? Scared? Worried? I can take it. Throw a punch! Show me there’s still something in you! I know your and my worlds are completely different. I doubt you’ve ever been in a fight before. And because you never have you’ll have to try, and by trying you’ll show something. So, show me what’s eating away at you!”

·       No longer glaring there was something new in his eyes. Some sort of fire or life, a liveliness or determination that was fueling him. Feeling your heart race, you held up your fists. “… what’s eating away at me.” You lightly bumped your fist against Fuyuhiko’s arm. “That’s it? Whatever is happening with you is not that weak. It’s brought you, a strong individual to your knees! Do the same to me. Knock me down!” “I… but… I just can’t.” “You just can’t, what?” Your grip tightened as you hit his shoulder. “Anything. I just can’t do anything!”

·       He smirked. Finally. A single spark. In kind he threw as much force as he could into your shoulder, causing you to stumble back. “What do you mean you can’t do anything!?” You gritted your teeth, retaliating with a blow to his chest. “I mean what I said! Anything!” Fuyuhiko went for a kick to your shin. “Seriously!?” You stomped on his foot. “Yes!” You threw a swift jab at his stomach. “There’s just nothing! And I couldn’t care less!” You threw an upper cut right under his chin. “I keep going and going, and for what!?” You then punched him square in the jaw. “Everything I used to be passionate about! My hopes and dreams! It’s all withered away! I can’t get myself to do anything anymore! And I don’t know why!” Holding your hand together over your head, you threw them down right on Fuyuhiko who almost collapsed to the ground before catching himself. “It feels like I’m just losing myself! I’m eating what little of me there is left to keep going but… But!” That spark was dying! Fuyuhiko tackled you into the table, it and you two instantly crashing into the floor. “Yeah, and!” Even as he held his fist, ready throw it down with you pinned under him, you didn’t fight back. Tears welled in your eyes as you shut them tightly. “I can’t… I can’t do anything anymore. Things that used to make me happy just don’t. I know I should work, but my body and mind just won’t. It feels like I have no more control over myself! The only damn thing I can muster to do anymore is get so fucking frustrated with myself! AND I DON’T KNOW WHY! WHY CAN’T I DO ANYTHING ANYMORE!?”

·       You broke down, beginning to bawl on the spot. Slowly Fuyuhiko lowered his raised fist and got off you. Well… shit. He sat beside you, entirely unsure as to what to do. He assumed it was a physically solvable problem like feeling homesick, or being bullied, not… not something like this. Then… “s-sorry. I- are you okay?” Oh shit, this was NOT a good idea! “Tch. It’s takes a lot more than that to hurt me.” You simply staired up at the ceiling just looking so haggard and ragged. “Hey, let’s get you to class to see Tsumiki.” After a moment that felt to be an eternity, shakily you sat up, resting your face in the palm of your hand, as if even lifting up your head was too much anymore. Hesitantly he reached out a hand and helped you up by the sleeve of your uniform. “Come on. Whatever’s going on with you… it’s not going to get better if you don’t take care of yourself.” You silently nodded, wiping the tear streaks from your eyes. As Fuyuhiko lead you to class he questioned whether or not that helped at all, at least he had some idea of what was going on now, but…

·       As a yakuza Fuyuhiko was always hyperaware of himself, others and his surroundings, he had to be. He was also aware of how he appeared to others. He couldn’t start going soft around you. If he did, it could place you in danger, hell his classmates were likely in enough trouble as it is with their class president Chiaki making sure everyone was getting all buddy-buddy with one another. So… helping you in particular would only place a target on your back. Besides, he probably screwed up enough as it is, or did he? He wished he could just talk to you about this, but then he’d just be placing you in danger and this endless cycle of thought continued. “But you talk to me and not worry about the danger.” “You’re inconspicuous Hinata, and you’re like an honorary member of the class. You’re in the same boat as everyone else.” Not entirely sure how to take that statement Hajime instead decided to give his advice. “Well… It seems they could use some support right now. Maybe get the others to help them out.” “I don’t think…” Suddenly, a thought struck him.

·       You were not surprised that the cleaning schedule had been changed, it so often did due to everyone’s constantly fluctuating schedules, so when Chiaki asked you to clean, you half mindedly accepted. It… was something to do. Better than just sitting in your dorm room. And so once your classmates had left you opened the windows, got a broom and duster and set about sweeping. And so you swept, just… mindlessly doing so.

·       “Hey. You’re on cleaning duty too?” “Huh? Oh, hey Kuzuriyu. Yeah, I’m not busy so I shouldn’t burden the others. I’m sure they have better things to do.” “So your time is not valuable?” “Uh… I… heh, I know it’s bad, but, I want to say yes. Everyone’s working so hard and I’m just…” Your words trailed off as you tried completing the sentence, not being sure how too.

·       “Look, Y/N. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” You looked to him in confusion, only to be greeted to his back as he cleaned the windows. “As the next leader of the Kuzuriyu clan, it’s important that I recognize my faults and… I don’t know what to do here, but I take care of my own, god damn it. And you… you’re hurt, or depressed or something.” “I- Wait, hold on!” He took a glance over his shoulder to you. “Don’t worry about me! I just cried, but nothing’s wrong! I’m okay!” “Cut the crap.” He strode towards you, stopping but a few paces away. “Losing the motivation for anything is not nothing to worry about. You have your friends, you have your family, people you care about and who care about you too. And you have me. You can’t solely rely on others but if you can’t find any motivation for yourself, then do it for us. We want you to be happy and healthy. And you can’t do that if you give in or quit, so you have to keep fighting. I know it’ll hurt, it may even seem impossible. But things won’t get better if you stop trying! I know my words may not change your feelings. Even if logically something makes sense, the heart can just refuse to accept it, so even though I’ve told you all this, you might stop trying, it might be too much to bear, but…” He kept trying to stay calm, but he couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore. “You’re not alone in this, understand that! Even if you don’t think so, YOU! MATTER! So don’t you dare stop trying! Because we’re all with you, and we’ll do whatever it takes to lighten your load till you can carry it on your own again! But you have to keep going, no matter what! No matter how much it hurts, you have to keep going. You’ll hit rock bottom eventually and once you’re there, you can only go up! You’ll have no choice in the matter. Things will get better, you hear me! So keep fighting for it! That’s the only way to get better any time soon!”

·       A light pink dusted Fuyuhiko’s cheeks as he turned on his heel and marched back to the window, thinking over his words again and again, wondering if he screwed up and said something wrong at some point. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he had to try something. There couldn’t be a chance at change if he didn’t do something, anything. He had to at least try, just like how you had to keep trying.

·       And since he was trying, he was going to fight tooth and nail! After waking up and getting ready for the day he’d send you a text to wake you up under the guise of reminding you about something you and your classmates were going to do that day. He sent Peko to keep an eye on you, he even just chatted with you. He had no idea what he was doing, but if it helped you, even a little, he’d keep trying and improving his skill set in this regard. He had too. You were his friend, a rare person to find in others for him, and he was going to do whatever it took to help you.

[fritae]

The Missing Piece (Chapter 12)

Closer.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

a/n: i really like this chapter heh, hope u enjoy! 😚

The staircase leads all the way to basement. I wondered why they would hide such steep, hidden steps in Dabi's office when they could create (much) shorter, more accessible ones from the first floor.

But I'm guessing that's the point.

This isn't supposed to be easy to reach. And Dabi's office is the one place no one would dare enter.

Aside from us, of course.

The basement is completely dark, forcing me to draw myself even closer to Dabi. I enjoy the weight of his hand in mine. He has a firm, tight grip. But just as the thought warms my cheeks, I shake it out of my head.

Within seconds, Dabi turns on the lights.

My eyes widen, taking in the sight before me.

Blood.

A lot of it.

Though it looks dried, like it's been there for ages.

I spot a wall of different sized knives on one hand. A gun display on the other. A shelf of jars, filled with a murky looking liquid and...I don't even want to know what that is inside.

Dabi watches me.

There's a simple, plastic white table in the center of the floor with a large white board behind it.

The place is much messier and less...classy, than the rest of the Blaze.

But I have the feeling it's because it's not meant for outside eyes.

"You okay?" Dabi asks.

I nod, squeezing his hand to comfort myself.

Before the others reach the bottom, he whispers in my ear, "Whenever you want to leave, let me know. You don't have to be here."

"Okay."

"And," He takes another glance at the stairs as the others begin to appear. "Again, Rina. This place does not exist. Anything we say here does not leave this room. Got it?"

I glance warily at the knives.

"Why are you so worried?" I try to smile so he doesn't pick up on my nervousness. "I don't have anyone outside of you guys anyway. Who would I talk to?"

My comment seems to confuse him. "What about-"

"Welcome to the League!!" Toga jumps off the last few steps and swings into full view.

I shoot Dabi a look. "The League?"

"The League of Villains, of course!" Atsuhiro follows Toga, a dramatic grin on his lips. "Only the baddest group of bad boys in town."

"And girls!" Toga calls out.

"League of Villains?" I cackle. "Who came up with that?"

Tenko scowls.

Oop.

Dabi lets go of my hand and motions for me to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

I pick a red chair near the board.

"So what is that you guys really do?"

"I told you," Dabi says. "Special services to people willing to pay up."

Given where we are, that suddenly feels a lot more sinister than it did when he first told me.

I look back at the knives and jars in the background.

"So like, a gang? Where you steal things and hurt people if someone pays you enough? Like the movies?"

"Guess you could put it that way."

"And there's actually people that pay for this stuff?"

Dabi shrugs. "It's a niche market."

Woah.

There's a lot more questions in my head, but now is not the time. Maybe later.

As Dabi moves to take a seat, his abdomen brushes against the edge of the table and he hisses in pain.

It releases blood again.

"Fuck!" He grips the skin.

I move closer to him, gripping his hands again. "It still hurts?" I ask worriedly. "Is there anything we can do?" I look around at the others quickly.

"Yes!" Toga says, a little too eagerly.

"What is it?"

She hops over to knives behind us, and takes a moment deciding which one she wants.

She brandishes a short but sharp blade and lets out an excited squeal, as though she enjoyed this.

"Fire please!" She calls out.

What's she doing?

Dabi groans and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He tosses it toward her, and she carefully holds it under the edge of the blade, running it up and down for several minutes until it turns red.

She's going to seal the wound so it doesn't get infected.

"Lie down, boss," She says in a sing-song voice.

I clear the few papers were scattered on the table and move so Dabi could spread himself over it.

He lifts the edge of his shirt to his midriff, and my breath catches in my throat when I see his abdomen.

The skin is covered in large swaths of reddish purple.

Like parts of it were burnt off...

I gasp.

"These are old," Dabi looks at me. He's watching me carefully, wanting to see just how I'd react. "Still want to be here?"

I swallow my anxiety as I stare at Dabi's mismatched skin. I won't give him the chance to say 'I told you so.'

This must be why he wouldn't let me dress the wound.

He didn't want me to see this.

No wonder the stab didn't phase him.

What else has his body been through...

"Here I come!" Toga grins.

She was all too eager to take the scorching knife and press it to his stomach.

Dabi clenches his teeth immediately, leaving me to hurriedly stand next to him. I squeeze his hand to soothe him, but he grips mine back so hard I think he might break it.

I brush his hair out of eyes and press my hand to his forehead to calm him.

"It's okay," I tell him softly. "It's over."

The others stare at Dabi's wound uncomfortably, like they've been under Toga's knife before.

I wonder if they have similar wounds.

Dabi releases his harsh grip on my hand and begins to breathe slower.

One things strikes me though.

Despite all the pain he's undoubtedly feeling right now, not a single tear drops from his eyes.

I think it might just be him trying not to appear weak in front of us.

But as I look into his eyes, I'm surprised to find them completely dry.

"Are you superhuman or something?" I joke with him.

He looks at me quizzically.

"All of that and you didn't cry?"

Dabi closes his eyes. "I don't cry." He grits his teeth.

I roll my eyes.

Whatever you say.

The others slowly help him sit up straight. I take the first aid kit from Atsuhiro, picking out the cotton, gauze and antibacterial wipes.

Dabi is less reluctant when I try to wrap the area this time.

"You can hold onto me if you want," I tease as I wrap the gauze around his body.

A small smirk appears on his lips. His arm suddenly snakes around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I blush and the gauze falls out of my hands.

Dabi tilts his head. "What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to hold onto you?"

The guys snicker behind us.

I push him away from me, and he laughs as I take another piece of gauze and try again.

"You guys can talk now," I tell them focused on what I'm doing. "What exactly happened today?

Did Mr. Lane find out about the League? Is that what made you a target?"

Dabi is silent.

His silence puzzles me. I look to the others to see if they knew anything.

"Dabi tried blowing up his car!" Toga volunteers.

I frown.

Could this be just because of how Mr. Lane treated me?

No. There's no reason for it to mean that much to Dabi.

Enough to get angry, sure.

To harm Mr. Lane?

Doubtful.

"Why would you blow up his car?" I ask.

Tenko pulls up a chair. "We did some research on him. He's working with some really shady people. And Dabi told us about the whole Todoroki affair."

I shoot Dabi a look.

"They're trying to trick people into thinking they're heroes. That they should be put on a pedestal and admired. There's people out there telling their kids to be like them. Meanwhile they're going around-"

"Enough," Dabi interrupts Tenko. "Point is, they're fakes. They built up their media empires off that fake image. And we're going to expose them."

"But you guys are also doing...you know," I don't know how to say it in a way that isn't offensive. "I mean, you tried blowing up his car. And I'm guessing you probably have done more...if I'm not reaching."

Their eyes harden.

"We never pretended to be good."

I know I should stay silent, but I keep going.

"Right, but you have a double image too. There's the Blaze, and then there's the League."

They shake their heads.

"The Blaze is to funnel money into the League. Yeah, sure it's a front, but those who need our services know where to find us. We can't have masses of people finding out about the other shit we do, can we?"

"But how did this all start? What are you trying to achieve?"

"We just hate hypocrites. We'll help a bad guy to bring down a worse guy. Those that act like angels in public are our favorite targets. I don't care if we have to steal, blackmail, or kill them," Dabi's eyes shine with evil. "Whatever it takes to beat their egos down. Reveal the private faces they hide. Until they're forced to show their bloody hands before the world. Someone like Enji is using Lane for media coverage. Lane is depending on him for protection and cash. We can take them both down."

"What if you get caught?"

He dismisses the question, like it's not even worth his time. "By who?" He scoffs. "Lane? As soon as we take down Enji, Lane's done for. Since he's your old boss, we can give you leeway with how badly you want us to go after him." Dabi says this like that's what I'm genuinely concerned about right now. "Lane's a scared little prick anyway, as soon as he saw me he bounced out of the car and screamed for protection." He laughs like he can picture Mr. Lane's pathetic position as we speak. "But he'll fall. Just like the rest of them."

"I meant the police, Dabi."

The question puzzles him as if he's never considered it before. But the look in his eyes tells me they're even less of a concern than Mr. Lane.

"Don't worry about that," He says. "That's the least of our problems, to be honest."

I nod.

I let them speak uninterrupted for the rest of the night. They have business to take care of, and if I keep asking questions like this, they'll never get to finish. It's enough that they waited all day for me to leave so they could start. Can't hold them up at night as well.

The Todoroki name was brought up several times, among others. It seems strange now, considering Dabi knows it was Mr. Lane's relations with Enji that led to me leaving the company the way I did. Turns out he knows a lot more about Enji than I do.

I try to keep track of the other names as well, but there's so many and I'm so tired, I can barely keep up.

"Here's where Rina comes in," Dabi continues.

My eyes widen at the mention of my name.

"Enji's using Lane for his image. Rina, you said they were working on a movie or something?"

"A documentary, yes."

"We need to make sure that shit doesn't air."

I bite my lip, trying to remember as much information as I could about the documentary. It was supposed to air already. I remember Mr. Lane saying it would be within the month.

But it hasn't yet.

Which means I need to find out more from Al.

"My roommate still works at NNTV. She's the floor manager so she might have some idea of what's going on. I can ask her."

"You sure you can trust her?" Dabi asks with a frown.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell her any details, she's the one that's gonna need to have trust in me, no?"

Atsuhiro cracks his knuckles and rubs his neck. "I don't know, I don't like the sound of that. We have our own ways of finding stuff out so-"

"It won't hurt to try," I insist, looking at Dabi since he's the one that has final say on these matters. "Having 2 avenues of information is better than 1."

Truth be told, I just want to feel useful. I want to feel like I have a role to play, not just that I'm here to "sit and watch".

I want them to feel good about me being here, not apprehensive about whether this was a good decision.

After some deliberation, Dabi sighs. He looks to the others for input. "Might as well?"

"I mean she's here," Tenko says monotonously. "Might as well use her."

Dabi nods and then turns to me. "Just don't be stupid with it. Lead her into the conversation, don't bring it up out of nowhere. She'll be curious about why you're bringing it up. Don't say anything that'll make her ask questions. The more questions she asks you, the more suspicious she'll be."

"Relax guys, I got this." I smile. "Besides, she's a chatterbox. She'll open up at the slightest nudge and go on forever. She's the one that told me about all the.." I grimace. "..issues with the Todoroki company."

Plus, she's my friend! Of course, I can trust her. We've been roommates for years. If anyone could tell me about Mr. Lane's current plans for the documentary, it'd be her.

"So it's settled!" Toga claps. She takes a marker and goes up to the white board, drawing a flow chart with all that's been discussed today. She adds my part last, circling my name and underlining it several times for emphasis, over a big red INTEL SOURCING.

The sight of that makes me smile, like I have a role to play in all of this. I look around at the others but they're all preoccupied with moving things around and discussing their own parts.

The lack of enthusiasm isn't surprising, I mean this is normal for them.

But all I can think of is how exciting it'll be if I have something to contribute the next time we meet. If they'll call me down, and look at me expectantly. I imagine the looks on their faces with glee and the thought almost makes me giddy.

"Okay, are we done here?" Dabi asks.

A bunch of 'yes'es and 'yup's fill the basement.

"Alright then," Dabi grabs a leather jacket from on the wall and checks to make sure his keys are inside. Then he walks my way and grabs my arm.

"Time for you to go home," He says, moving me in front of him.

"But-"

"Now," His eyes narrow. He moves his head in a silent nudge, telling me to turn around and make my way upstairs.

The others watch us curiously, and Toga lets out a snicker at my expense.

"I'm jealous!" She calls after us. "Wish I had someone to drive me home!"

Dabi groans, nudging me to keep moving.

"Bye guys," I wave back at them from halfway up the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

They all wave warmly and I can't help thinking how grateful I am that they trusted me with this.

It feels so weird emerging out of Dabi's office like this, from a secret path that leads deep under the building. But Dabi simply presses another tile in the walls, and the entrance reseals itself, as though it never existed.

We make our way to his car, and I hurry to catch up to him. The height difference certainly doesn't help.

He unlocks the car and slides into the driver's seat. I follow into the passenger's seat and shift awkwardly in my place.

"Where do you live?" He asks as he readjusts his rearview mirror. No sooner had I told him the address, than he revved the engine and sped away from the Blaze.

The ride is quiet for a while. Regrettably so. Dabi hands me a box of disinfectants to wipe the blood off my hands. I wonder how many times he's had to do the same thing before coming into the office.

I fiddle with the hems of my shirts as I try to think of something to talk about. Dabi doesn't seem to be in as big of a rush to speak, his eyes darting from the rearview to the side mirrors periodically as we cruise down the mostly empty highway.

"Dabi?"

"Hm."

"When they said you were gone today, were you really in the basement the whole time?"

Dabi takes a moment to answer. "After I got back, yeah. Couldn't exactly walk through the front doors looking the way I did." He glances at me before switching lanes.

"Were you avoiding me?"

"Partly."

I nod. "Now that I know about the League, do you think you'd avoid me in a case like this again?"

"A case like this won't happen again."

"Okay." I respond quietly. "Cause you know I get worried."

Dabi seems to be deep in thought.

"You worry a lot for someone who's only met me a month ago."

I smile. "Well, of course. We're friends aren't we?"

Dabi spares me a look before switching lanes again. "Right." But he doesn't look like he fully believes me.

"You think you'll be able to handle your friend?" He changes the subject.

"Who, Aliyah? Of course! I told you, we're really good friends and she's the kind of person that loves gossiping anyway. It'll be a piece of cake."

He grunts. "Okay. Because to be honest, that's part of why I wanted you at the Blaze."

I don't know why hearing that makes me feel slightly sad, but it does. "The documentary?"

"Yeah. I mean you work in the media industry. You'd know about that stuff. People like Enji have the industry wrapped around their palms. When you told me he was cozying up to NNTV, I figured you'd be the person to handle all of that for me."

I nod. "So why haven't you asked me before today?" Come to think of it, he even sounded reluctant about agreeing.

"I don't know," He sighs. "Still not sure I want you mixed up with all of this."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not even a member, remember? I'm just getting information for you," I tease. "What's so dangerous about that?"

"That's what worries me," Dabi glances at me, his brows pulled together. "That's all you see it as."

"What am I supposed to see it as?"

"What it is," Dabi gets increasingly agitated, but he tries to keep himself calm. "I'm not sure you're taking this seriously enough, Rina. The closer you get to us, the more at risk you are. The more people that know you work for me, especially what kind of work," He looks dead serious. "The more danger you'll be in."

I roll my eyes. "But no one knows anything about you, Dabi. I've been here for a month and I'm only just finding out about all of this. And I'm sure there's much more I don't know. How would people outside of the League even find out?"

"Same way we find out shit about them. Lane's using his Todoroki connections to supply him with information and protection. They're good at what they do."

My mouth drops. "You mean the Todorokis know about you?"

"Well," Dabi's jaw hardens. "They think they do."

I wait for him to say more, but he leaves it at that. We ride the rest of the distance in silence.

Once we pull up in front of my apartment complex, I try to put a smile on my face.

"Thanks Dabi." I tell him as I unlock the door.

He nods without looking at me. "See you tomorrow."

Those words trigger me immediately and I let go of the handle.

"Don't say that."

Dabi looks confused.

"You said that yesterday and had no intention of seeing me." I cross my arms. "You broke your promise."

"Don't be dramatic, no one says that shit as a promise."

"See you tomorrow means I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him seriously. "Otherwise, just say goodbye or something else."

He leans his head forward against the steering wheel and sighs. "It's just a stupid phrase, you're overthinking it."

I frown.

"See you tomorrow," He gives up. But still, I don't leave.

"I mean it!" He says. "I. Will. See. You. Tomorrow. Good enough?"

I grin. "Mhm, thank you!" I lean over to give him a quick hug before I leave, and he immediately recoils, like my body was made of ice.

"Handsy, aren't you," He mutters, craning his neck to look at me, without getting too close.

I pull away.

"Always have to ruin the moment, don't you," I counter, slightly disappointed. I turn to open the door, and suddenly feel him pull me back in.

"How do you do that?" His voices comes out low and raspy.

I look into his eyes. "Do what?"

There's that frustration in his eyes again.

"Fucking making me feel bad about shit I'd never fucking feel bad about." He growls.

The way he says it makes me blush.

"Cut that shit out."

"Yes sir," I mumble.

He leans his head back.

Then, he hesitantly opens his arms.

I shake my head, pulling my purse over my shoulder again. "Not gonna force you to do something you don't want to do."

I open the door this time, and just as I'm about to step out of his car, he pulls my arm again - harder this time, and I fall back into the bend of his arm.

My heart is pounding faster. I shake my hair from my face to get a better look at Dabi in the dark.

"Why are you so much fucking work," He mutters, his face inches away from mine. I swallow.

He leans forward to hug me closer to his chest. The leather jacket feels surprisingly smooth against my cheek, and my hand finds the back of his seat to balance myself, careful of coming near his wound. He holds me to him for a few long breaths and I smile against his chest, knowing he can't see me right now.

When we pull away, I look at his face once more. But Dabi avoids my gaze.

"You don't have to play along with me," I tell him, a teasing smile on my lips. "I'll only expect more from you next time."

"See you tomorrow," He mumbles, still without facing me. His foot is on the brakes but he's already pulling the gear shift into Drive.

And then, just before I leave for good and with no time to think this through -

I press my lips on his cheek.

Dabi's eyes widen immediately and he looks at me in alarm. "What-"

"Bye Dabi!" I wave with a laugh as I hurry out of his car. I run to the door of my building, grateful for the dark to hide my red cheeks.

Dabi remains in front of the building for a moment, his head still turned my way in shock.

I close the door behind me but hurry to the window, peeking the corner of my head out just in time to catch him shaking his head and rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.

There's no way to describe the relief and warmth in my chest, when he eventually pulls out of his spot.

But just before he can drive off, I swear I feel him smirk at the window.

As if he can hear the adrenaline thrumming in my veins.

[rexcoatlarchive]

Summer Quetz ideas

Super long so adding a read more to it

Gonna share some ideas for a potential summer alt for Quetz. Now when you look at most seasonal alts for servants what's something you notice? Usually they kinda hyperfixate on some modern thing. Especially when their base form was already a fan of said modern thing, their alt is usually them hyperfixating even more so. Like normal Archer Tomoe likes games, while Saber Tomoe is a straight up gamer with her VR headset and sword controllers. This has already been done for Quetz with her Santa alt, where Rider Quetz was a lucha fan who likes the fighting style, Ruler Quetz is a straight up Luchadora, with Samba thrown in their too. Now with this summer Quetz I was thinking do that but with her being a superhero type character. Now you may wonder why a superhero, well for one thing Quetz is already relatively similar to one, she has abilities that are comparable to many hero's powers. She has flight, super strength, fire powers, weather powers and so on, and yeah I get a lot of other servants have superhero like abilities but another thing about her that I think would make her fit the superhero thing is her love of Lucha. Now if you don't know Lucha is essentially a way to kind of bring superhero stories to life, that's why the masks and the costumes and the flashy behavior and so on, so Quetz becoming a superhero type character in her summer form is basically her taking the Lucha even further and going full on hero with it. And if you still having trouble seeing the connection, if you take a look at one of the most iconic superheroes, Spider-man, was influenced by Lucha Libre. When you look at his mask, it's almost one for one the same as a tradition lucha mask and even his fighting style matches up with Lucha Libre in a lot of ways.

Now another thing, if we're doing a superhero Quetz alt it makes sense to have her be a paragon type specifically. If you wonder that means, paragons are characters that do good for goodness sake and inspire others to follow in their footsteps and are often enough leaders of a superhero team too. The biggest examples of this being heroes like Captain America and Superman. Kind of an obvious choice given how Quetz is literally a goddess of all things good, so much so that good aligned characters can't do as much damage to her as those of other alignments.

Now when it comes to story reasons as to why, that's a bit of a bigger hurdle. The only thing I can think is basically the real life reasoning (aside from the fact that the idea of Quetz being a superhero is fucking amazing to me) that Lucha Libre is already pretty close so why not go all the way. I do think a summer event story that tells about hero Quetz fighting against someone whose being the super villain (probably Tezcalipoca) while the player and others are caught up in the middle. Now with such an idea, it also makes sense for her to be the 4 star welfare servant for such an event, if it wasn't for the fact that she deserves to be a 5 star summer servant in my eyes. One way I can think for a superhero summer story with Quetz as the main hero but still be a 5 star with proper ascensions is by having the 4 star welfare be her sidekick or something along those lines (kinda like Bradamante in the Quetzmas event but flipped)

With class the main one I can think of for such an alt would be Saber. The main reasons for this being a. I want a Quetz of every class and b. I can't really think of a class that's 100% fits the idea so saber it is. Now we don't really need to 100% justify the classing for the alt considering DW themselves don't seem to care enough to try to justify the classes for many alts. But we can atleast have her use her Macuahuitl in this alt along with lucha moves with some superpowered boosts to them.

Now since I insisted her be a 5 star with proper ascensions, I might aswell think of said ascensions. Now the first one I think should be the one looks the most like a normal bikini. The second one I have more trouble with, I'm thinking like a one piece swimsuit but with a lucha style mask, cape and boots maybe? Or maybe kind of do what they did with Summer Carmilla and go all the way superhero in the second ascension and when we reach third it's another nicer bikini like the first one. I dunno, I have to brainstorm these a bit more.

Now for the actual gameplay and animations. I'm thinking for most attack animations it's still her using Lucha Libre along with the Macuahuitl but maybe add some fire to help emphasize the whole superhero theming, along with stuff like a flying super strength punch and so on too. Also maybe have it look different depending on ascension, like the moves look more hero-esque in the ascension that's more hero focused while the other ascensions it's mostly just flaming lucha. Abilities are a little more difficult, I rarely think of these things. For the first one I'm thinking something a kin to charisma like her default rider and x-mas ruler forms. The second one I think should probably boost defence and grant debut immunity and maybe even cleanse to the whole team, kind of meant to embody the whole inspiring others thing that paragons are known for, but for gameplay. The final ability I think should be like a self buff, maybe boosting buster, self healing, immunity to death, ignore invincible, and maybe even add that special protection against good and even evil aligned servants she had in the Babylon story. For the card selection I think 2 arts, 2 buster, and 1 quick makes the most sense. I think the NP should be a buster single target, maybe it can be that super move she hit Tiamat with in the Babylon story.

That's about all I have, if anyone has some input they want to share about the idea that would be great. And maybe one day I can commission an artist to draw the ascensions when I'm finally fully satisfied.

[mc-doppomine]

Day 21 Bonus: Fling Posse vs Mad Trigger Crew

Man this was the loaded fight for this whole season. And it’s in the FIRST round. Like I was so sure on both of these guys having like the most going on in this DRB and thought that their fight would’ve been like later...not out the gate. So I was like ‘oh.’ Yeah, I was legit intimidated by that fight so I chose not participate because I did not want to be held responsible for any fallout from whatever happened. This was like a super hard fight in terms of story but I’ll choose to do the music first since the other aspect would take some explaining.

Including the before 2nd DRB for the solos and then the battle album now......I’m so sorry but FP blew MTC out of the water. It really wasn’t much of a fight in that aspect. All of the before 2nd DRB for FP was great. Like those tracks are my favorite song for each individual rapper. Although to be fair, a lot of the 2nd DRB albums gave me the favorite solos of the characters. MTC included...except Rio’s...I feel he gets slighted to often and I feel like I have to say the most bad stuff about him. It’s probably the whole soldier thing. But yeah, it’s completely just the whole pop vs any other genre to me...but Black Journey just beat out Hunting Charm in terms of its appeal. 

So then I run into the battle. And let me just say, what a bop. And it was solely it’s boppability that edged it past Light & Shadow. But it feels like it embodies both teams vibes somehow. And I love it. As for the fight itself...yeesh, it was a massacre. And I was a little sad because this was the song I thought Jyuto was the smoothest and still lost for me. Tragic. But I think Rio and Dice’s politeness before absolutely ripping into each other was wonderful. But I think the BB line just took it for Dice. And then it was no real contest with Jyuto and Gentaro, he said he’s bought to feast on you, rabbit. Please back down graciously. That was Gentaro’s best verse, I’m sorry that this was what you had to go against 

And then there’s Samatoki and Ramuda’s verses. Aahhhhh, it was tough to be honest because Samatoki sounded like he’d make good on this threat on FP with the shot to the head and tearing them apart. Meanwhile Ramuda is just so good at being a nuisance to others and exploiting it. But I think the voice drops just did me in. I’m sorry Samatoki. So yes, FP took the battle for me.

As for the story, I really thought it was gonna be a difficult decision with these two. Because before the battle season they really had a...Reason to Fight. Like FP’s is more dire because Ramuda’s actual life is in danger. But MTC also had the need to go in because Samatoki had reason to believe that Chuuoku may be manipulating his sister and depending on his crew’s goals...her life would end up in danger. They have such strong reasoning from their leaders alone and a loss would hurt either team severely. 

...At least I had this idea until A Dream...for Good or Evil drama track. I feel like that deescalated the situation quite a bit. Like I am all for Nemu’s motivation and work on herself. I didn’t expect it and was pleasantly surprised. But it also kind of knocked down the danger in engagement for MTC...sorta. Because while Samatoki is still willing to go up and then drag her back home, WE know Nemu doesn’t need nor want any sort of help. At this point it only got raised a bit from Honobono and her interaction with Jyuto but even that didn’t feel like enough to kick back up the urgency for MTC. 

Meanwhile in Catch Us If You Can drama track, we’re just cemented to the fact that Ramuda is still unwell and will continue to so long as his supply of candies dwindle. And then it’s exacerbated because now FP as a whole were in danger of being hunted by both the clones and by Honobono. The stakes only rose for them. 

Then we’d have to consider where their battles lead...MTC vs DH would be Samatoki getting closure with Sasara. Despite not getting it, Samatoki showed an immense amount of restraint as he didn’t even draw his mic on Sasara. But he wanted to know and while he hasn’t HAD to think on it for a while, the battle throws it in his face. And now Sasara can’t run from him, which works in his favor. I don’t think MTC would know anything about Rei to really get in a fight with him unless Rio recognized him but even that I’m not sure is enough to really cause a friction with the two crews. 

MTC vs BB is War War War all over again. But I think it would be a chance for reconciliation for Samatoki and Ichiro the only way they know how (fighting). Especially since now it’d be known who Ichiro’s dad is and Samatoki being able to empathize with having a piece of shit dad and keeping those ghosts from taking what he has. Also he has no reason to fight Ichiro anymore. Not knowing what he does now and having already smashed his feelings with the eldest Yamada in the last battle season. I feel like Jiro could get along with MTC easier now along with Saburo as they have had time to think how MTC isn’t really their enemy outside of this competition. They took on a grudge that wasn’t theirs and now they don’t have to have it. And I hope that they take that angle. 

MTC vs BAT I can’t think of too much for. I don’t think there was much interaction from any side outside of Samatoki and Kuko’s short time in MCD. I think Hitoya would steer clear of MTC as he doesn’t want Jyushi or Kuko wrapped up with them despite Kuko’s knack for finding trouble. 

MTC vs MTR I can’t think of being as intense as their last time since they really didn’t have reason to hate each other outside of they’re the opponents. Although It would be interesting to see how they’d duke it out knowing each other’s abilities a little better. Maybe there’s a chance of Samatoki asking Jakurai to see if his ability could heal his sister and Jakurai not being mean, wouldn’t be opposed regardless of win or loss. Although it could be mutually beneficial if Jakurai could ask Samatoki to deal with Honobono so that it didn’t lead to trouble for his team. Doubtful but interesting nevertheless. 

Going on to flip the script FP vs DH would really only boil down to Rei’s machinations for this battle. I did go back and he did say he had further use for Ramuda after the 1st DRB. What is this use? Is it like a backdoor to Ramuda that obviously the creator would know? Ramuda doesn’t seem to be quite conscious of Rei for some reason and I wonder why that is. I don’t think he’d really have reason to target Gentaro unless it is the idea that he knows whatever secret Gentaro is keeping. Which I feel Gentaro has a major secret but we have yet to have the full picture as to it. And lastly Rei knows who the fuck Dice is. He knows who’s watching him. It’s a secret that the group doesn’t even know Dice is keeping. It’d be hella shady though if Otome was like ‘I’d entertain your whim so long as you get rid of this guy for me.’ Which if it was for Ramuda...Dice would less argumentative against it but he’d have to know why. Even if I don’t feel he dislikes his mother, he isn’t proud of her by any means either. 

FP vs BB...god I am sort of curious because I can’t think of much of a fight between them. Like Ramuda never seemed to think much of Ichiro and vice versa. Although I almost feel like Ichiro knows about Ramuda’s secret but said nothing because it’s not his business as I believe he was the one that had remarked to Ramuda ‘hey do you have a twin?’ in TDD. I also feel like Gentaro can start another rivalry he will never let go with Jiro...just because thoughtless words tend to find him. A lot. I feel like Saburo could also break the secrets on FP while looking into them and finding them...odd. But overall it’s too vague to imagine.

FP vs BAT...haaaaaa, I got nothing. I’m sorry, I haven’t found any sort of connection or thread with them to go onto.

FP vs MTR woooooooo. Not only do we get Battle Battle Battle remix, but they just have so much that can go on between them. They both have a mutual enemy in Honobono, whom seems motivated either by her job (with FP) or personal amusement (with MTR), in serving as an antagonist to them. While it would be cool for them to link up and deal with her, I feel more like they’ll beat the other and leave them as like an offering to her while they deal with their own problems. Which would honestly just make them both easy pickings for her. She seems to understand the heart of both teams and I could see her using that against them such as Jakurai’s compassion, Hifumi and Doppo’s defense and  Dice and Gentaro’s desperation. 

Then there’s the whole issue of them being wanted by Chuuoku for differing reasons. I don’t know how but that could work for the other team if they knew about the motives of their opponents. And also it would be a chance for Ramuda and Jakurai to have some semblance of reconciliation because they wouldn’t want to see the other used by Chuuoku. Even if they can’t stand each other. There’s a difference between disdain and suffering.

But based on all of that...it is pretty easy for me to slot for FP in this fight. So overall FP would’ve been who I go for in this DRB round.