#I know it's a mess but I am so tired

[murder-and-mayhem]

Meet My OC

S E H L A A N | SITH WARRIOR

Romances: Malavai Quinn during the Warrior storyline (ended it after the Quinncident) | Theron Shan during Shadow of Revan | currently in a committed relationship with Arcann.

@ladytirall I saw your post about OC's so I couldn't resist showing off my main. She is a redeemed Sith Warrior, and I am ✨obsessed✨ with her. I gave a lot some backstory below the cut, and I apologize in advance for the dissertation. I got way too carried away....

A/N: I am highly aware that this backstory fucks the SWTOR timeline mercilessly considering all class stories technically occur simultaneously. This is just the headcanon following my in-game family tree. My structuring of Imperial Society is loosely based on this post by @fluffynexu (particularly the schooling that Force-sensitive Sith children undergo), along with my own headcanon that not all "legitimized" children born in the Empire come with the obligation of marriage. Basically something along the lines of "powerful bloodlines are so inherent to the power structure/caste system that procreation has become a transaction". It's fucked up, but the Empire is fucked up so why not go balls to the wall.

In 3665 BBY, Sehlaan was born on Dromund Kaas to Jaidys Mar'el—better known across the Empire as Darth Nox. Her birth was part of a contractual agreement between Nox and a prominent Kaasian family. Darth Nox—a former slave and distant descendant of Lord Aloysius Kallig—had been newly appointed as a member of the Dark Council after killing her predecessor.

Her position on the Council was hardly secure at the time. Many Sith saw her rise to power as an affront, and—whether due to their prejudice, their own ambitions, or both—Nox was met with many attempts to usurp her seat, and subsequently end her life. In an attempt to solidify her position in the Empire and ensure her own legacy, she made an offer to several powerful families at the top of Kaasian society. She focused particularly on old families who had a reputation for their ruthless ambition, and offered them a mutually beneficial contract: she would produce an heir with one of their bloodline. A legitimate child between a Dark Council member with ancient Sith blood, and a sire from a deeply respected family boasting ties to high-ranking officials and its own prestigious bloodline.

The child would cement an alliance between the two, give her a better foothold among the Sith still clawing for her Council seat, and offer the families who accepted a chance to grow more powerful among their peers. Two of the families were able to overcome their distaste towards her years as a slave, and accepted her offer. Two families. Two children.

Sehlaan's brother, Torvahl, was born first to a different father, and Sehlaan followed two years after. Her childhood was strictly managed and closely monitored by both her mother and her biological father's family. When her Force sensitivity manifested at 4 years old she began a training regimen, with the end goal to have her attend the Academy on Korriban when she came of age and had finished her years of study.

Sehlaan took to her training with obedience and an eagerness to please, eclipsing all initial expectations that had been set for her. She was heralded as intuitive and clever among her masters, quick to learn, and deeply attuned to her connection with the Force. Sehlaan excelled in her studies, and her mother's personal lessons in dual saber combat had labeled her somewhat of a prodigy.

Sehlaan's brother hadn't fared nearly as well. He had proficient skill with a dual saber, but his hesitance to tap into his passions during his training had stunted his connection to the Force. He also struggled in his studies and had issues focusing. Sehlaan often helped him practice, even going so far as to help him cheat in order to remain close to him and spare him their mother's ire. When Sehlaan's interference was discovered, the resulting punishment was severe on both children. Torvahl's masters labeled him as weak and slow, and Darth Nox quickly wrote him off as a failure. Sehlaan, however, loved her brother deeply, and she refused to give up on him so easily. She did everything within her power to help him catch up by meditating with him, studying, and sparring.

When they were 13 and 11 years old, Torvahl disappeared. It was discovered later by Jaidys' contacts at Imperial Intelligence that he had run away with an SIS agent who'd escaped capture under mysterious circumstances. Her own spies later reported that he'd been sent to Tython, and that he was excelling at his training at the Jedi Temple despite his late start. 

The event was extremely traumatic for Sehlaan. Her mother forbade any mention of him with swift, brutal punishment to follow if her orders were disobeyed. Nox was deemed incompetent by Torvahl's sire and relations between the two deteriorated significantly, creating new enemies of the family and their allies. The only thing that protected Nox from the fallout of Torvahl's 'betrayal' was Sehlaan's biological father. His family was the wealthier and better connected of the two, and their peers were hesitant to fight an open war between them.

All of the pressure to succeed now fell on Sehlaan, and her already strict schedule became micromanaged down to the minute. She was made to train and study harder, and she was no longer attending a public academy. Instead she trained under Nox's ally, Darth Vowran, as well as several other masters and scholars that shared the same allegiance.

Sehlaan had no choice but to obey.

Torvahl's disappearance left her heartbroken, and being an 11 year old without an outlet her pain quickly turned into outright fury. She felt abandoned by her brother, and was gutted that he hadn't trusted her to tell her of his plan so she could leave with him. Her bitterness and rage fed her connection to the Dark side, and she shouldered the burden of her family's legacy with renewed vigor.

When she was 20 years old she was brought into the Sith Academy ahead of schedule by Overseer Tremel. She was given strict instructions that she was not to reveal her mother's position on the Dark Council to others. Nepotism was rampant among the Sith, but Tremel wanted her to be chosen on her merit, not her connections. The plan succeeded, and Sehlaan became the newest apprentice to Darth Baras.

In the first year of her apprenticeship, she was tasked with hunting down her Master's nemesis, Nomen Karr, and his padawan, Jaesa Willsaam. Baras' intel stated that Jaesa could sense the true intentions and alignments of anyone through the Force, and Sehlaan was curious. She'd had a decade to seethe over her brother's decision to run, and during all of those years under Nox's thumb she'd slowly begun to understand why he'd grasped at any chance to leave. Even if she couldn't forgive him for leaving her behind.

This new understanding left her feeling conflicted, and she found herself questioning her allegiances—something she had desperately tried and succeeded to hide from both her mother and her new master. As she hunted the Jedi down, she found ways to still appease Darth Baras in her decisions without causing as much bloodshed, listing pragmatism for her choices rather than mercy.

When Sehlaan finally confronted Karr and Jaesa, the padawan turned her power on the Sith and saw this confict. Sehlaan was at a tipping point. After Nomen Karr's fall, Jaesa left with Sehlaan of her own free will to become her apprentice, and Sehlaan began to learn and understand the Light side of the Force in secret. It took working through hundreds of setbacks (especially during her years as the Emperor's Wrath) and overcoming decades of indoctrination before she was able to cleanse her lightsaber crystal, eventually changing the color from red to white.

It wasn't until her meeting with Darth Marr and Satele Shan in the forests of Odessen that she was able to find true balance in the Force. Using components provided by Marr and Master Shan, she built a new lightsaber using her own cleansed crystal before going on to defeat Arcann. After his fall, she chose mercy despite the blow back from her allies on the decision, eventually leading to his joining of the Alliance.

Arcann saw it as a chance to redeem himself and heal the wounds he'd left on the greater galaxy. Later during a private moment between the two, he asked her why she'd chosen to let him live and why she'd let him join her on Odessen. Sehlaan quietly told him of her own journey towards the Light, and how sparing him and his mother had been an easy decision in her eyes.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I wish women did not feel so strongly about the fact men, on average, are physically stronger than them. I feel like women have such negative feelings about this that it drives them to ridiculousness. Listen, I get it. I get it, I get it, I get it. The fact men are stronger is frightening. It’s scary to know that if a man decided to physically attack you then you are probably fucked. The USWNT, women who have spent years honing their skills on the field, lost to teenage boys who—when compared to the women—were basically just beginning to develop their talents. I understand how demeaning that can feel to every woman who hears this fact. I can imagine how demeaning it was for the USWNT. I’m sure every woman has been in a situation, playful or threatening, where they have tested their strength against a man and lost miserably. I’ve seen videos where women hit and slapped men with genuine rage and fury and the man barely even flinched. I understand how embarrassing and scary it can be to come to terms with the strength disparity between men and women, but you simply must come to terms with it. Far too many women have taken to pretending that it's not there—this is not a good approach.

Women choose to pretend it's not there because acknowledging that it's there makes them feel inferior. I ask women to remember that this world was built with the ideals of men in mind and to cater to their specific strengths. Men value strength and violence so of course the world is going to seem like those two things are all that’s valued in it. It's no coincidence that many male heroes are physically strong/easily able to cause harm—such as Naruto or John Wick or the Avengers. Of course it feels shitty, as a woman who inhabits this world, to have to acknowledge that your biology generally prevents you from being able to have the ‘can beat anyone in a fight’ type of strength that gets constantly praised.

However, I implore women to consider that men being physically stronger than them is no more of a significant fact than women being able to give birth while men cannot. Women also have biological advantages over men but when was the last time you saw a man calling himself inferior because of them? Imagine if the world was built with female advantages in mind. Imagine a world where the ability to give birth was seen as some sort of pinnacle of human worth. I mean, the ability to give birth is crazy. You are literally creating a whole new life. The female body is capable of providing the necessary tools to bring about a whole new person. Every brain that has thought of something life changing and every hand that has built something new was brought into existence by a woman’s reproductive system. Every single person that has ever so much as breathed was brought to life by a woman, but men never think women are superior for this fact.

Oh, but women couldn’t get pregnant without men, right? No. IVF exists. But even without it, the correct thing to say would be that women cannot get pregnant without sperm. A woman can get artificially inseminated. She never has to go out and find a man to have sex with. Is that not an advantage? Because, I mean, what can a man do if he wants to have a child but no woman is willing to give him one? Hire a surrogate? That comes with a list of complications, is far more intimate than artificial insemination, and is incredibly expensive. How is that not a disadvantage of being male? You may be thinking that you, as a woman, never want to become pregnant, but that is not the point!  The point is that it's arbitrary to look at biological advantages as anything other than completely neutral.

Women also survive famine better and live longer than men. Imagine a world where women held this over men’s heads? But we don’t live in that world. In this world, I’m certain a man would say that they die sooner because of being braver, taking more risks, and doing dangerous jobs. However, if it were women putting themselves in danger and dying as a result, men would not be quick to call us brave; they'd call us the opposite. Idiotic. Foolhardy. Too stupid to take the necessary precautions to keep ourselves alive.

It is just so painful to see women lamenting over the physical disparity between men and women. Let it go. Consider being neutral on the subject of biological advantage. Consider that male strength isn't something to pretend doesn't exist and isn’t something that proves women are inferior.

I understand that acknowledging vulnerability is against the survival Instinct—I get it—but come on. How can we let this get to a point where we’re saying it’s okay for males to enter female sports and beat the absolute crap out of/wipe the floor with women? Them being stronger is neutral! It does not mean anything! But it’s fact. Pretending it’s not only serves to put women in a losing position. Pretending it’s not only serves to make women into a laughing stock. Men will gladly collect medals that belong to women—they’ve been doing that forever. If there was no reason for male and female leagues then there wouldn’t be any. You cannot deny your way into something being true. I also wish it were true that the average woman was evenly matched against the average man, but it’s simply not reality. In the same way that it’s not reality that the average woman is taller than the average man.

I am begging women to think neutrally about this topic instead of being in such deep turmoil over it that they open the door for men to walk all over us.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

finally colored that Eddie scribble <3 rough day p.2!

[lost-in-fandoms]

This is me, trying to preemptively soothe myself for whatever will be said about Daniel in this incoming race week. This got longer than I was expecting, it's about 3.5k, so it's on ao3 too if you prefer to read it there.

Daniel wakes up to the feeling of Max sliding in bed behind him. He smells like Daniel's body wash and his skin is still warm and damp when he tucks himself close against Daniel's back, knees slotting in behind his.

Still too asleep to find a way to work his voice for a proper hello, all Daniel manages is a sleepy sigh, but Max doesn't seem to want to break the silence either, squeezing the arm he sneaked around Daniel's waist in his own quiet greeting, smushing his face against the sweaty back of Daniel's neck.

The room is still fully dark, a combination of the blackout curtains and the fact that it's still not even dawn, so Daniel is happy to let the sound of Max's breathing pull him back under, until he realises two things.

First, Max is still curled up close behind him, sweat already condensing between them, not rolling away like he usually does, complaining about Daniel's mound of blankets, which piles up especially high when Max isn't there.

And second, Max is supposed to be in England.

Suddenly much more awake, he opens his eyes again, trying to make his sluggish limbs coordinate to allow him to turn around, but Max squeezes him harder, keeping him in place, shaking his head slightly, nose dragging against Daniel's skin.

"Hey," Daniel mumbles, raspy and heavy with sleepy. Max doesn't answer.

"Max," he tries again, feeling more and more awake, as confusion and worry start to mix in his stomach.

Max, stubborn in this like in everything else, doesn't budge. His steady breath is damp on Daniel's nape.

For a moment, Daniel considers the pros and cons of trying to have this conversation now, trying to turn around and make Max answer his questions, but finally he decides this can probably wait for the morning. If this isn't a dream, Max will probably still be there, and it will be easier to figure out what happened between this morning, when Max had facetimed him on his way to the factory, and now, Max tense and too warm in his bed.

So he lets it go, intertwining his fingers with Max's and sighing again, feeling Max's acknowledgment of his momentary retreat in the way his muscles finally uncoil, relaxing against him.

Silence falls again in the room, only broken up by the whirring of Daniel's white noise machine and the buzzing of far away traffic, LA's neverending lullaby, but neither of them falls asleep for a long time.

The next time Daniel wakes up the room is still dark, in that unique way it gets when it's light outside and his blackout curtains are doing their job, and his bed is empty. For a second he wonders if it had just been a dream, a weirdly realistic fantasy conjured from the aching spot in his heart that is missing Max all the time. But he can smell Max's scent on his skin, even hidden underneath his own body wash, and the sheets beside him are still just barely warm.

And when he reaches the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and tugging on a hoodie he had picked up from the floor, Max is sitting on a stool, very much not a dream.

"Morning," Daniel greets him, trying to figure out if asking what are you doing here right away is going to get him an answer or an annoyed Max.

He doesn't get the chance to try though, because Max only smiles at him, bright even if pinched at the corners, before pointing at his phone and at the earbuds in his ears.

Almost done he mouths. He pulls a face, exaggerated and ridiculous, but so paper thin Daniel can still perfectly see the annoyance behind it.

Daniel nods, joining him at the counter, sitting on the stool next to him and smiling as Max scoots closer, intertwining their ankles.

He wishes he had grabbed his own phone from the nightstand to keep himself busy, or maybe to order food, since he's not sure on what's in the fridge, but he's feeling too lazy to get back up, so he resorts to laying his head down on the countertop and look up at Max's face.

His mouth is in a hard line as he nods along to whatever they're telling him, distractedly running a hand along his unshaven jaw. He looks tired, and annoyed, and beautiful, and Daniel missed him so much it feels like even sitting like this, close and touching, is not enough to soothe the gnawing pit in his chest.

Max rolls his eyes, then looks down at Daniel and smiles again, reaching over to brush a hand through his hair, the motion smooth and practiced, the same he uses when petting his cats. Daniel fights hard to not close his eyes.

"Yes, change my schedule, email it to me, whatever. I have to go."

Daniel frowns at the snappiness of Max's tone, watches as his expression grows even stormier at whatever he's been told. Something tells him Max was not exactly free to come here.

"Yes, fine. Bye."

If Max had a flip phone, Daniel is pretty sure he would have just snapped it closed. As it is though, he just swipes his finger on the screen and drops his earbuds on the counter, pressing his hands against his eyes with a sigh.

"I'm going to throw out a wild guess, and say you're not a happy bunny this morning," Daniel says, hoping to ease some of the tension from Max's shoulders.

He partially succeeds, as Max does drop his hands, rolling his eyes at him, before laying his head down on the counter too, so that they're staring at each other from the same point of view.

"I am happy to be here," Max says, slow and precise, the way he gets when he's trying to correctly convey his feelings, "but the team is not."

Daniel hums, bumping their knees together. He doesn't really care if the team is happy or not, but he knows being at the receiving end of a scolding like the one Max must have just gotten is not fun.

"They're not very happy with me lately," Max adds a bit ruefully, closing his eyes. His cheek is smushed against the marble, making the bags under his eye disappear a little, the other one much darker in comparison.

"Flew away from many sponsor events then?" Daniel asks, again trying make Max smile. This time it works only halfway, a corner of Max's mouth ticking up, the other kept in place by his cheek and the counter.

"Just a couple. They..." Max stops, a hand coming up to tug at his ear, fiddle with his hair. Daniel wants to grab his fingers, press his mouth against Max's forehead and learn each one of his thoughts like that.

Instead, he has to speak. Boring.

"Why are you here, Maxy?" he asks, because he can't not. He wonders if he should add that he is happy that Max is there, hopes that he doesn't have to, that Max would know anyway.

"I missed you."

Simple, easy, deadly.

Daniel feels his heart do a weird stuttering skip, lungs squeezing, trying to accommodate the surge of love suddenly flooding his chest.

"I missed you too," he chokes out, giving up on resisting the urge and leaning forward, bumping his nose against Max's, their knees knocking together, looking for a kiss.

Max tastes like orange juice, Daniel probably tastes like sleep, and it's awkward because of the uncomfortable position. It's the best thing Daniel has done this whole week.

"They briefed me," Max murmurs, lips still brushing together, sounding like it pains him to speak. A part of Daniel wants to go back to kissing, but he can feel they are now getting to the real reason why Max is there, and doesn't want to stop it.

Not that he doesn't believe Max missed him, Max never lies, never says something sweet if he doesn't mean it, but he knows there must be another reason why he looks like this, instead of just happy to be with Daniel. And even if some part of him knows this will probably not be an easy conversation, he also suspects it's one they need to have.

"On what to say about you."

Daniel jerks back a little before he can really think about it, the words stinging sharply.

He knows it makes sense. He knows he now basically is an ongoing PR disaster for the team, and a part of him enjoys it, but the reminder of it still hurts. And it hurts to think about Max, sitting somewhere across the world, getting told what to say when asked about him.

Max's eyes are open again now, but his expression is carefully blank, just studying whatever Daniel's face is doing, and Daniel suddenly hates it all, pain and rage swelling once again inside him.

He's been doing well, trying his best not to think about it. He's been keeping himself busy, keeping himself with people, refusing to let the feelings dwell and drag him under, but it's unavoidable with Max right there, talking about it.

And something must show on his face, because he sees something flicker under Max's blank expression, and then he's moving back too, out of the space where they were still sharing air, taking his head off the counter with a wince.

For a second, Daniel thinks about staying where he is, neck starting to twinge painfully, and letting Max say whatever he's going to say, probably some kind of apology, then an excuse, and then letting him leave. He thinks about letting Max think that for Daniel it is worse to have him here, painful reminder of everything he's not going to get anymore, than have him gone, aching pit of absence in his stomach. Thinks about where all of that would lead.

He straightens too.

His wince is probably identical to Max's, his neck aching and sore from the awkward position, and he knows that normally it would make Max smile, it would make them both crack a joke about it. But now Max is too busy trying to hide what he's feeling, wanting to calibrate it on whatever Daniel is feeling, to joke about old age or something, and Daniel hates it.

He grabs Max's arm, pretending he doesn't see Max's barely there flinch, pretending it doesn't send a new wave of hurt through him, and leads him out of the kitchen, to the couch. Max follows him quietly, trustingly, not even asking where they're going, what is happening. Daniel hates it.

He lays down on the couch, tugging Max on top of him. A part of him wishes they had done this last night, when they were close and aided by the dark, but he knows that, as much as he doesn't like it, this is probably better. He doesn't want to have this conversation more than once if possible, so it's better this way, something they'll both remember clearly.

Max is still tense on top of him, careful, but he relaxes a little as Daniel winds his arms around his waist, tugging him closer, the familiar weight of him on top of him comforting.

It's only when they're properly settled that he lets out a breath, and he forces himself to face this head on.

"What did they tell you to say?"

He's proud of how steady and neutral his voice sounds, the swirling mess of emotions inside him nowhere to be found.

For a long moment, Max doesn't answer. His hair is barely brushing against Daniel's chin, and he can feel where Max's chest is expanding as he breathes, pressing against him.

"I am not going to do it," Max finally says, voice quiet but sure. "I told them, I am not."

Daniel hums, not even tempted to doubt him.

"What did they say?" he asks again, wanting to know, wanting Max to tell him.

"That you knew." Ouch. "That you were not performing." Ouch. "That this was the best choice for the team, and I am excited to see what Liam can do." Ouch.

He's not surprised Max wouldn't say any of this, he's more surprised the PR team would even try to make him say this, but it still hurts to know that this is how they are going to spin the story.

"Excited, uh?" is all he manages to say, slightly choked.

Max pushes himself up on one elbow, struggling against Daniel's hold on his waist, to glare up at him, eyes steely and fierce and red rimmed.

"I am not going to do it," he repeats, forceful and sincere. "They are wrong and they are stupid, and I am not going to sit and lie and..."

He breaks off, pursing his lips and pressing them firmly together, eyes shiny. Daniel loves him so much it hurts.

"I know I can't tell the truth," Max says slowly with a grimace, voice breaking under all the feelings he's trying to keep at bay, "but I am not going to lie."

Daniel wants to kiss him again. He wants to tug him close and kiss him and get lost in each other and in love until everything outside the door doesn't matter anymore. He wants to push all this away until it isn't hurting either of them.

Instead, he gently pushes Max down on his chest again, one hand on his neck and one on the small of his back, and breathes.

"You told them that?" he asks.

Max's nod drags the fabric of his hoodie against his skin, bunching it up.

"I said, I will be polite and I will say nice things about Liam, and about Yuki and Checo, but I will not say that shit about you. I am not fixing this for them."

Daniel wonders what the Daniel of 10 years ago would have said, if he got told that in 10 years time Max would still be by his side, fiercely on his side.

"Thank you, Maxy," is all he can say, his feelings to messy and big to try and put them into words without spilling them all over the room, making clean up a bitch he doesn't want to deal with today.

Max nods again once, rough and too quick, dislodging the hand Daniel still has on his neck.

"They were not happy," he says, squirming a little until Daniel puts his hand back. "They told me there will be consequences," he snaps, slightly derisive, "so I told them I can do consequences too, and left."

Well, that explains the scolding.

"You left?" Daniel asks, not disbelieving, but still incredulous somehow.

"I didn't want to be there anymore," Max says, as if that explains it all. It probably does, for him.

For Daniel, it's yet another confirmation of which side Max is on. Not that he needed one more, but it's still nice to have. Nice to know that even in something like this, something this big and catastrophic, Max will choose him, over and over. The flood of love is back, and this time Daniel has to tip his head back and breathe, trying not to let it out through his eyes.

"How angry are they?" he asks, when he feels like his voice isn't tangled up in a knot in his throat anymore.

Max shrugs awkwardly, trapped between Daniel's body and Daniel's hands.

"Angry."

It makes Daniel snort despite himself, the sound slightly wet.

"Can't have everything their way, I guess."

He can imagine it, Max storming out of a meeting room, leaving behind a mix of perplexed and angry people, knowing they can't really punish him in any meaningful way that isn't making him do more sponsor events. It's a very satisfying thought.

And then Max takes a breath, pushes himself up on an elbow again, and decides to shift Daniel's world once again.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks. Then, probably because he sees Daniel starting to frown, he adds "not here. The team."

It knocks the breath straight out of Daniel's lungs.

He blinks, unable to process what Max has just said.

"You...what?" he stutters, shifting back a little, trying to look at Max's face better without straining his neck.

He's almost expecting Max to laugh, to take it back, to crack a joke. But Max is deadly serious, the same unshakeable firmness Daniel knows from years of debriefs and arguments on his face.

"I want to win," Max says, not taking his eyes away from Daniel's. "I want to race, and I want to win, for a little while longer. But I don't like what they have been doing, what they did to you. I don't like what the team has become. I don't like what the sport is becoming. So if you want me to leave, if it would help that I leave too, I will leave at the end of the year."

Daniel can't breathe. There's loyalty, and there's Max being loyal, and then there's this. He doesn't know what to do with any of this.

"You can't...I can't ask you to leave." His voice sounds distant to his own ears, so overwhelmed it doesn't even feel his.

"If you want me to, if it would make you hurt knowing I am still racing with them, if it would make you angry, or hate me..."

"I am not going to hate you," Daniel interrupts. He doesn't know many things right know, but he knows that. He's suddenly torn between wanting to tug Max close again and wanting to keep looking at him while they talk about this, and settles on bringing his hand up to Max's cheek, relishing in the way he immediately leans into it.

"I don't want you to stop racing because of me," he says, another thing he's sure of.

"I would, if you asked," Max tells him, easy and steady, as if it's not monumental. Max Verstappen, willing to stop racing, for him.

"I won't."

Max nods, then breaks eye contact, suddenly looking shakier, unsure.

"You can't..." he takes a breath, bottom lip jutting out. Daniel's heart is beating too fast in his chest. "You can't hate me for it. I asked, and you said no, you can't hate me for it, now."

Daniel gives in, pressing Max to his chest again, bending his head to press his lips against his hair.

"I won't," he promises, voice swollen and heavy. "I won't hate you, Max. I won't even be angry at you, not for this. It was never on you."

Something that Daniel hadn't even noticed seems to uncoil between Max's shoulders and he slumps against Daniel's chest with a shuddering sigh, arms coming around Daniel's waist to hold him tighter.

Daniel wonders for how long Max had been carrying the weight of this misplaced guilt, of this fear. Wonders how he hadn't seen it before.

"If you want to leave for you," he carefully says, giving himself time to properly word what he wants to say, thinking about retirement jokes, and about much more serious retirement conversations, "you are free to leave. I will not be angry about that either."

Max shivers as he nods.

"I don't know if I want to," he mumbles, half lost in Daniel's hoodie. His hair is soft against Daniel's lips.

"You don't have to decide right now," Daniel tells him, suddenly and strongly grateful they're having this conversation like this, and not through a phone. Or worse, not having it at all. "I am not going to be your WAG, but I am not going to be angry either."

There's many things Daniel has to work through, to figure out. The past few weeks have been hard, some days spent in bed, too sad and angry and betrayed to feel like getting up, others spent doing things, feeling like all of this is just the start o something better. He is still confused, and a bit lost, but this he knows. Max he knows.

"I love you," he says, because it's the easiest way he has to promise forever without saying it, the word too big for a moment like this.

"I love you too," Max says, easy and unwavering, as if he wasn't shaking in Daniel's arms a few moments ago, as if the words are a steady enough pillar to sustain the weight of the crumbling word around them.

And maybe they are. Maybe they are.

The conversation isn't over, he knows it. What Max has said is too big to just let it go like this, especially if he really is considering retirement. And he wants to know when Max has to go back, what the team has told him, what his punishment for leaving like this will be. But for now, Daniel presses his lips again Max's hair again and breathes out, feeling like they have pushed past something, undone a particularly nasty knot.

And for everything else they have time.

[myokk]

fast sketch for today💓💓

[pardonmydelays]

when i was 18 years old i was dating a boy who was treating me like a princess. he was absolutely perfect. before i graduated high school he told me he can't wait for me to lose touch with all of my friends so he can have all of me just for himself.

when i was 20 years old i was dating a boy i had a huge crush on back when we were teenagers. he didn't really care about my interests, only about his own. whenever i was feeling down he was telling me that i should be on meds cause i'm fucking crazy.

when i was 21 years old i was dating an older guy. he was smart, intelligent, we had a lot in common. he was trying to change a lot about me tho. he told me once that he will never be able to love me as much as i love him.

when i was 24 years old i was dating a boy i thought i was gonna marry. our relationship was super messy, but i loved him so much. he had huge problems with alcohol. during one of our last fights he told me i should kill myself.

i'm 28 years old and i have trust issues. i'm scared to talk to people, i'm scared to open up to someone cause i already know how it's going to end. and i'm only saying this now because i'm tired of people telling me that i should find myself a boyfriend.

[jimmyclueless]

whimpering shaking sobbing drops this sniffles runs away

[peridoxikal-redux]

I just have a lot of feelings about the Builder

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[meowsticmarvels]

i think i mightve talked abt this a bit in my longpost about how insane phi as a character is to me but yknow what i really wanna point out? all the nonary game shit she has to go through happens in really quick succession to her - she doesn't really get a proper "break" in between VLR and ZTD for her mentally. junpei and akane at least have about a year between the two, and sigma has 45 years (not that either of those situations were particularly good either though, looking at how sigma and junpei especially turned out, and sigma spent years WORKING on the AB game, just not participating in it). but for phi? she has a matter of DAYS in between the two. the time sigma spends she spends in cold sleep, so mentally to her, her consciousness goes from the events of VLR's phi end to DCOM almost instantly. dcom only ends up lasting for about 5 days, and even then the prologue states that phi/sigma/akane spent most of it worrying about radical-6 and the future + the flashback with diana shows phi is just so Tired after everything after just that. and then the decision game happens. my point is just that i cannot imagine being in a death game like that (not to mention everyone had radical-6, so she went from a body that Did have it to one that didn't, which i can imagine would probably a pretty weird experience considering one of its symptoms is messing up your perception of time. and also she was on the moon.), spending 5 days like god how did the apocalypse start i can't let it happen this time and then being in Another death game that is much more gruesome and violent. not to mention both of them in a way HAD to happen because of her (2074 nonary game bc it needed to train sigma and phi's SHIFTing abilities to a good enough degree and decision game one of the reasons was to ensure she and delta were born). in summary: i would fucking die at that point if i was phi dealing with that All At Once. in the span of a few days. and with the memories of my + others' deaths. what the fuck

[triglycercule]

eusgahhhhh goddddd the lazy urge to just beg the internet to mansplain killer's lore to me in baby talk so i can finally GET IT and then the other less appealing urge to actually do an analysis on him so i can form my own opinion and observations. fucj

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

christopher bell is a better man than me if i had to endure a fraction of what he did tonight i'd just customer service voice through the interviews and then immediately after tweet out every article on liberty university's controversies written in the past century.

[ghosttrolls]

im not even sure why i logged onto this account today i just did. hope thats cool. idk if ill be back tomorrow

[r0semultiverse]

I hope Jorge keeps the streams up until the next live stream like he did with the last Saga.

I had trouble getting into Epic: The Musical without the visual aid of the animatics as visuals help me absorb the material. I kinda wish he would upload each song with the lyrics and animatics in them instead of just the animatics by themselves without the full song, but maybe that’s just me. I’m an audio and visual gal otherwise I have trouble absorbing information. Besides the streams there’s no current way to watch the musical seamlessly with actual visuals and yet it is called a musical. A medium I’ve kinda expected to have visuals by this point, that was my one big criticism going into this series was “so it’s just songs? And I have to watch the script as I listen to know what’s happening? That’s hard to keep up with.”

Though if this is a consistent change going forward of having the full musical with visuals until the next iteration premiers, then great & honestly my only criticisms are a lack of trans voice actors (seemingly but I could be wrong) and a lack of fat characters in the animatics because Aphrodite was fat in her depictions throughout history in the very least. Which I’m not even sure if this counts as a criticism so much as an observation and something that gives me a bit of pause? Again, not series ruining, but just more an observation I guess?

That being said, I’m super excited for the Vengeance Saga tonight! Probably gonna stay up just to watch it! Sleep be damned I wanna see it as it comes out! 💜

Edit: Okay actually not risking tummy issues by napping and can’t stay awake any longer. If I have tummy issues I couldn’t even watch it as it premieres anyway because I’d be fighting for my life in the bathroom. ANYWAY DON’T GO ATTACKING ANYONE INVOLVED WITH THE PROJECT, I WAS JUST MAKING AN OBSERVATION.

[seariii]

:0