#I’ve seen Rebels a lot

[carcassarkis]

Big Idea

Been rewatching Star Wars with my grandma (she’s only seen ANH until now) and had an idea I kind of like.

So you know how, in TFA, it is established that the stormtroopers of the First Order were taken as children for brainwashing purposes?? I propose that the same goes for half the officers there. Several volunteers, of course, but many of the extreme loyalists are part of this group of people conditioned into being members. And any kids of those who are part of the Order would be inducted into the group, too.

Here’s where the idea changes the sequels a bit (read: a lot):

Ben Solo was one of those who were taken and brainwashed. He would not be called Kylo Ren; in fact, he’d probably have some number like the troopers did. It’d be easy to make into a name though, like Finn. And, as a Force user, he’d have a different numbering system than those used for troopers or officers. He’d probably have something (hypothetically) like KR-00.

In this scenario, he’d have been given to Luke for Jedi training, as is canon. Then BOOM some terrible entity (Snoke) reaches his nasty little fingers out one night and takes little Benny boy right out from under the nose of the last Jedi. He’s probably like 8 or 9, idk. To cover his tracks, Snoke burns the school to the ground. Luke and a few students manage to survive, but seeing as there is no Ben, Han and Leia lose their shit.

They distance themselves from Luke, seeing as he got their kid killed (or so they think). Luke, along with the select few survivors of the fire, try to rebuild elsewhere. They vanish.

Several years pass (like 15 idk stop asking bro) and, in that time, the First Order has become an immediate threat to the New Republic. One of the most notable threats is their masked, Force-wielding attack dog. Someone with clear training and skill in the art of swordsmanship and wielding of a lightsaber, who has (seemingly) deliberately teamed up with this terrorist group/cult to destroy the New Republic.

The Resistance refers to this person as the Knight due to their armor and fighting capabilities.

The Knight has a reputation to keep. A brutal and bloody one. They’re Snoke’s right-hand (in a Palpatine-Vader way) and are expected to act as such. No one knows what they look like. They’re a perfect anonymous figure. They could go undercover and no one would know.

So, when word gets out that a Force-user claiming to be a Jedi has appeared, the Knight starts to track them down. Luke Skywalker is a valuable man, dead or alive. A First Order battalion is sent out to the planet this was reported on, which brings the Resistance to doing the same.

Which is how we begin our scene on Jakku…with the Knight, a stormtrooper, a pilot, and a Jedi.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Ok buddies I’ve dipped out on my rebels rewatch for like two weeks but BACK INTO IT! Rise & Grind, time for The Call!

[lulu2992]

I’m done writing the story of how I decoded the secret inscription on Atticus Noble’s Bone Staff... among other things and hidden messages! I’ve split that into 4 parts, and the first one is coming later today :)

These past few weeks, I’ve also tried to find the unreleased Far Cry 5 in-game “Encyclopedia” (I’m not sure what it was going to be called) in oasisstrings and reconstruct it, so those 6+1 posts are coming soon too!

[arolesbianism]

Glory my bestie Glory

[evandorepart2]

really funny how my nan (who ive never met but talked with a few times) REALLY doesnt want me going to this one school and instead to the smaller school near her which has about 260 kids and according to her ‘a boy on the cheerleading team and no one cares’. ❤️❤️

[lilac-sweet]

I’ve seen a lot of posts discussing whether Solas and Mythal’s relationship was romantic in nature, or it was some kind of mother/son deal, but I think the answer is a lot simpler and staring us all in the face: Solas was Mythal’s dog.

So a lot has been said about how toxic Mythal and Solas’ relationship was, and I’m not gonna get into all that. What I will say, is that I believe the relationship’s power imbalance may have become gradually bigger after Solas took physical form at Mythal’s behest.

When Solas said: “I will always follow where you go”, we should take note of the word “follow”. Solas did not lead with the other Evanuris; he followed Mythal and had her markings on his face. Much like how Ghilan’nain followed Andruil, yet their relationship was romantic, and Ghilan’nain quickly agreed to take on a leadership role when offered. Solas did not. We don’t know whether he was never offered one or that he simply had no desire to lead (both might be true), but the disparity between Mythal and Solas’ positions were noted by those around them, and was interpreted (we hear it from Elgar’nan) as Solas being Mythal’s “lapdog”. This interpretation seemed to be the general consensus- proven by the many dog-like statues in Mythal’s temple, and Solas symbolically becoming known as a canine.

We don’t know how Solas felt being compared to a dog - perhaps the comparison seemed flattering/ less condescending in the beginning: we know that there are strong bonds between people and their animals in dragon age: Davrin and Assan, Kell and Hafter, and the general lore about Marbari dogs. “Turlum” is a powerful thing (as we see with Davrin and Assan) and may have been exactly how they felt about each other.

When we explore the lighthouse we come across a piano and a codex entry called “memories of a duet”:

the relief of private achievement, away from well-meant misunderstanding and mindless worship; an unspoken joy in the center of rising, perfect echoes.

Finally, a beloved memory surfaces. A smiling glance, meeting at a crescendo; a shared moment of understanding; seeing completely, and being wholly seen.

This entry seems to sum up their relationship quite well: “away from well-meant misunderstanding” (could refer to a romantic interpretation of their relationship), and “seeing completely, and being wholly seen.” (Turlum)

Whatever the relationship had started as, the power imbalance seems to have reached a peak around the time the Evanuris decided they wanted to lead their people as gods. We don’t know whether there actually was a power difference between the Evanuris and the rest of the elves when they were all spirits: my guess is there was one, but not a huge one: perhaps the difference between a normal person and a mage. When the Evanuris decided they were gods, they made a hard line in the sand: separating themselves from their people, and separating Mythal from Solas. This is also where the “lapdog” comment from Elgar’nan seems incredibly condescending.

The markings on his face no longer symbolize devotion, but ownership. He burns them off and instead of a dog becomes a wolf (using the allegory of Elgar’nan). An obvious metaphor here is that the markings symbolize a dog collar.

He frees the elves but becomes an unwilling symbol himself, thus separating him from his people after already having been separated from the Evanuris. The man literally becomes a lone wolf.

However, Mythal and Solas’ love for each other continues, and is obviously still strong when Solas asks Mythal to run away with him (at this point he must feel desperately lonely). What happens to Solas when Mythal dies can only be imagined: there’s a reason why Assan follows Davrin in death.

For the first time in his physical life he is truly alone and has to figure out who he is without Mythal. The only role he has ever known away from her, is the rebel leader. He doubles down on his efforts to stop the Evanuris and destroys the world of the elves in the process. His grief and regret over Mythal and the home of the elves chart his course from when he wakes up until inquisition.

With a friendly inquisitor and especially a romanced Lavellan he finds a new role, or rather, he rediscovers himself before Mythal: a spirit of wisdom. For the first time in a long time he also finds a companion: someone he can rely on. Someone who eases that lonely ache he must have felt for millennia.

There are many cool aspects of the Crestwood scene (romanced Lavellan), but the one I want to highlight is Solas’ reaction to the vallaslin: when he decides to tell her the truth of who he was/is, but chickens out the last second. He panics and the fact that he immediately jumps to the vallaslin says something about how tied it is to him psychologically. He doesn’t force Lavellan to get rid of it, but he certainly does his very best to convince her. It is the moment Solas truly sees Lavellan as his mirror image and his equal. She is another lone wolf, mindlessly worshipped and ostracized, but she still wears that damn collar.

I am convinced Solas knows rationally that the vallaslin no longer means what it once meant - Lavellan can even insist the Dalish have reclaimed it, and he still tries to convince her to get rid of it, because to HIM it symbolizes enslavement and it is a painful reminder of his own ties to Mythal (it is an even stronger parallel if the inquisitor drinks from the well and has Mythal’s markings).

This is also the difference between Mythal and Lavellan: one is the master (with every connotation) the other another wolf.

In conclusion: Mythal and Solas had the relationship of a master and their dog: a relationship that many with pets themselves can relate to, both in the aspect of devotion, companionship, and in the power imbalance. In a way the “mother” interpretation isn’t far off - it just so happens that Solas is a fur baby.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

Wrestling lore is really funny to explain to non-wrestling people, mainly because you have to suspend your disbelief much more than you would do for stuff like anime or superhero fiction. Think of it like this; it’s normal for a shonen anime protagonist or a superhero to demonstrate they have superpowers usually because it’s established early on. That also goes for other parts of the lore, such as the world-building, the MacGuffins, and the history of that world.

But in wrestling, characters and storylines change all the time and are ongoing (I’ve seen the term “longform storytelling” used). So you end up with HUGE leaps in logic, such as:

1) There’s a supernatural being from hell who temporarily became a biker gang member, and then went back to being a supernatural being from hell

2) There’s a male model who gave out grooming tips who eventually evolved into Captain America/Homelander.

3) Triple H committed burglary on camera. He invaded Randy Orton’s home, beat him up, destroyed some of his property, and then threw Orton out the window. But it’s all fine because he’s the good guy, so he’s still employed by the WWE.

4) Dominik Mysterio is beefing with his dad, who literally fought for child custody of him in a wrestling match. Keep that in mind anytime you see Dominik not getting along with Rey.

5) Edge got sent to hell, but is okay now.

6) CM Punk was once a cult leader, but stopped doing that after he lost his hair. Then he became the opposite, as in he turned into an anti-authority rebel.

7) A lot of wrestlers, such as Sheamus and Shawn Spears, apparently used to work at WWE as background staff/security guards.

8) Real life famous music artist Bad Bunny is part of the lore and he actually beat a world champion (Damian Priest) in a match. And I don’t mean Bad Bunny is playing a character. In the WWE lore, Bad Bunny is playing himself.

(Feel free to add on any other leaps in logic from pro-wrestling)

[senseandaccountability]

"I'm me again"

Yes well this is me getting a little sappy - again - about the spirits/demon thing as a metaphor for the human experience, must be Friday. 

(Yes, this is about Solas.)

Last night my Ingellvar was tending to the graves with Emmrich and she said “demons” and immediately corrected herself, because of course she meant spirits but people outside Nevarra so easily call them demons and Emmrich, one of the kindest and most insightful people in the entire DA verse, would of course never do that. Because he sees them all as spirits. Some of them may be twisted, embittered, furious and cruel but to him they are still, at heart, the same being as their more positive virtues. You are always you, as Solas tells Cole. 

Which is also what Solas argues for all of DAI.

Which is also what Solas personal quest actively shows us in DAI.

His friend, broken and twisted by the mages' bindings, dies a spirit of Wisdom, thanking him and telling him not to be sad. “I’m me again.”

Which is also a very strong theme in Solas entire arc. 

But it’s really not just Solas, or the elves. The eternal struggle of spirits is a reflection of the human soul and what it means to be human. What parts of you does the world let you cultivate, what parts are hidden and twisted in the dark, what virtues would you be remembered for if you died tomorrow? What sort of person have you become? What person could you be? DA is crammed with these themes.

Since the spirit reveal/confirmation, I’ve seen a lot of very detailed and very cool discussions about the specifics of spirit virtues and demon characteristics and that’s some good shit right there, but you can also be lazy like me and very much just read it as various aspects of human nature interacting with each other. We’re all so many things over our lifetime, to different people, in different contexts. We all carry such endless capacity for goodness and gentleness and we’re all so very capable of hurting each other.

In the codex entries we see Solas try over and over and over again to appeal to the better nature of the Evanuris. He is described as brilliant and wise, he is pulled out of the Fade specifically for his wisdom and he tries to get them to reflect that, to listen to his concerns, to use their powers differently. Why don’t you make creatures that can protect the People, he asks Ghilan’nain. Why do you need to push your power further, he asks Elgar’nan, the people are already submitting to your rule, why must you shackle them? War may have twisted him up already but there’s nothing he says that isn’t extremely valid and wise about the Evanuris’ approach to ruling.

But as we learn from the Spirit of Command in Crestwood in DAI, wisdom is considered a soft virtue in a world of war and hierarchy and his reasoning falls flat or gets interpreted as fear or insubordination. Unheard and undervalued, his wisdom grows sour and prideful. He isn’t wrong, he knows he isn't, and he will show them. You are not gods, I will make you see that you are not gods. I will humble you until you understand that I am right. 

This is a profoundly human experience.

The ancient elven empire ultimately falls to its own greed and hierarchies and lack of boundaries - all of which Solas pointed out, all of which he and his rebels opposed. But the Evanuris didn’t listen, they were caught in a power scheme where only individual power matters and everyone else becomes pawns. How ironic then that their empire falls to its own foolish pride and boundless cruelty against the Titans, the first children of the earth. They hurt themselves by hurting them. They wound the fabric that binds them all together. 

Solas as a character is an open, ongoing conflict between "spirit" and "demon" aspects, between light and dark, between identifying as a solitary creature or part of the whole. It’s never more visible than during the final act of DAV where he is at once Solas, standing with the Shadow Dragons against the blight. And also Fen’Harel, scheming to get there in the first place, treating people in his way like dehumanized pawns to reach his final destination, a goal that can be argued to be entirely tainted with pride at this point, a way to soothe his conscience and need to be right more than it’s a way to save the world. And he’s the Dread Wolf, physically embodying the struggle against the corrupt powers since he, unlike the Evanuris, doesn’t believe in binding creatures to fight his battles. It’s significant that while he fights alone, he cannot do it without help from Rook. Elgar’nan directs all of the blight at the Dread Wolf and it takes a sacrifice from the team to free him from its grasp. It’s a battle orchestrated by a god. 

And Solas, powerful as he may be, is not a god. 

That is why it’s so lovely to me that the ending isn’t just a matter between Solas and his conscience or between Solas and Rook or Solas and Lavellan. Because we are not single entities. We are not islands. That’s why we need each other, because we respond to each other, we affect each other, we abuse and love each other and we cannot really understand in which ways until we connect. We use each other to remind us of who we are, or who we could be. Every Benevolence needs a Wisdom, every Command needs a Compassion, every one of us needs someone else in some way, shape or form. We are not meant to be solitary. We all share Solas' deepest fear of dying alone. We all share Solas’ ongoing conflict with the better and worse parts of our nature. We all reflect each other. The ending brings in the past, the present and the person that knows Solas not as a god but as a person.

We are shattered fragments of a greater whole and it was, as Morrigan points out, Solas’s love for and loyalty to his people that set him on this course long ago. And he broke the world. He broke his people. He couldn’t save them, all the horrible things that he has done and he still couldn’t save them. Ultimately and emotionally to him, this isn’t about wisdom or pride or good or evil or any such dichotomy, this is about grief and regret and broken humanity.

That is why it’s so powerful to me that a romanced or friendly Lavellan is so kind to him in DAV. They approach him carefully, they kneel down beside him to make a connection, they are understanding and compassionate and it may not be what he deserves on some grand justice scale of things, but it is without question what he needs. Pride and regret and grief need compassion, hope and benevolence much more than it needs to be proven wrong or challenged, kindness breaks the cycle.

They reach out to him not the way one would reach out to a god, but to a person. Because that’s what Solas needs to be reminded of - his humanity. That’s what their love and friendship has always reminded him of, that's what the Inquisition taught him - that the world is worth caring about because broken as it may be, it is also full of people. 

And people matter. They might not matter to the Dread Wolf, but they have always mattered to Solas.

That's what the good ending represents.

"I'm me again." 

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations-19

I notice Earth suns tend to have a very bullying type of humor. Very harsh dry humor that’s borderline offensive is their style. Sometimes it’s hard to know if they’re joking or serious especially Capricorn’s 😭

Aries men are surprisingly not as hot headed as people would expect. It actually takes a lot before they really yell at you. Usually only if u insult something they’re passionate in. The women are a lot more hot headed & easily set off imo

Mercury Rx people usually struggle with speech or reading problems. I notice it can result in having a stutter or a lisp, dyslexia or just very bad social anxiety. In extreme cases I’ve seen selective mutism. I also notice they have a very intense relationship with books & reading, it’s either they absolutely love reading or it’s really challenging for them in some way. A lot started off in their earlier years finding reading challenging then ended up loving reading as they grew. It’s like a mental exercise for them.

Saturn RX people always make bad choices lol. They always choose the path that will lead to the most hardship just for the fun of it or the excitement (which it’s normally not fun for too long) they usually grew up having a hard time with authority. Could of had very authoritative parents that were too hard on them which caused them to rebel. In this lifetime they are here to learn the value of HARD-work because in past lives these people were usually really irresponsible & put fun and pleasure over building their futures. These people will face so much disappointment until they surrender their rebel lifestyle. Deep down they do want to mature & be better but many believe they aren’t good enough. Once they reach this maturity however their life will do a 360.

Venus in the 1st house people can act very unpleasant when they are getting ignored or the attention isn’t fully on them. They value people liking them & fitting in so when they feel like they aren’t vibing with anyone they go into this deep self pity downer attitude. Their self esteem and happiness is determined by how many people accept them.

Venus in the 3rd house people have relationships that look more like friendships. Their partnerships are more playful & light then deep and intense. They usually end up dating their best friend. Could lack in the physical realm however in some cases.

Venus in the 7th house people usually have a lot of crushes. Most of them however never turn into anything deeper. It’s surprisingly hard for these people to fall in love. They can also lead a lot of people on because of their multiple crushes. Not easy to keep these people attention.

Moon in Caps are really afraid of rejection. They will act they hate you even if they’re in love with you to avoid showing their vulnerable side. Their coldness can ruin a lot of relationships that they actually really wanted.

Mercury in Pisces people can never stay on topic while speaking 😂 they have this habit of going off topic then completing forgetting why they were even telling the story in the first place. They also disassociate like a mf. They can be staring dead in your eyes for hours and not hear a word you’re saying lol.

If you try to argue with a Mars in the 3rd house you will never win. These people are natural born lawyers. They come with all the receipts 👀

Cancer placements tend to have really round faces. Like the moon.

Pisces placements are really wise and really childish at the same time. They all have this naive childish aura around them where you assume they don’t understand much but then when you really get to know them they will talk to you like your listening to an Alan Watts lecture 😂

Mercury in the 12th house I believe is the most introverted mercury placement. Even with a more extroverted mercury sign there’s still this deep reserve to them. These are usually those kids in class that you never heard speak once then they finally speak u think “holy shit they do know how to talk” lol. I notice they choose to stay quiet because people ignore them anyways. Like people will ask them to be more open and talk more & when they actually try they are usually brushed off.. it’s really not fair, and they know this all too well.

Aquarius Venus 🤝 having their friends catch feelings for them

Uranus/Venus aspects are usually apart of the LGBTQ community.

[kiapet2]

Alright, it’s less than a week since the Owl House finale aired and as expected I’ve already seen two direct comparisons to Steven Universe’s ending and several more vague-blogs, because one of this site’s hobbies is using other queer shows to put down Steven Universe. So let’s do this, then. Let’s compare the endings of Owl House and Steven Universe, and what each is ultimately trying to say.

Steven Universe and the Owl House are both shows that deal heavily with the clash of individualism and self-expression vs. socially-mandated conformity, and both shows’ final villains ultimately embody this conflict. One major difference, however, is that Owl House approaches this from the perspective of legal/societal structures, while Steven Universe approaches it from the perspective of family structures.

Steven Universe has always been about family--and particularly the ways traumas and biases are passed down through a family--and it has always heavily used the language of metaphor to discuss these topics. The Diamonds are the ultimate extension of this theme, something a lot of bad-faith (or just bad) takes on the ending miss; they interpret the diamonds in their literal capacity as dictators, rather than the way Steven Universe always portrays them, which is as matriarchs, i.e. the heads of a family who dictate and control all the family’s other members. This metaphor becomes more and more blatant until it outright becomes text, with the Diamonds turning out to be Steven’s literal family members, with whom his part of the family is estranged because of their previous controlling behavior.

In accordance with this theme, we ultimately find out that the Diamonds’ toxic ideology, with its rigid standards of perfection, are not only something they enforce on the gems below them, but also on themselves. They are suffering from the system in their own ways, unable to live up to the standards they themselves created. And who among us hasn’t known someone like that? A parent or grandparent who grew up under a cruel, oppressive worldview, and instead of rebelling against it internalized it--who turned around and said “I dealt with this, and so can you”? And so the ending of Steven Universe is the Diamonds realizing exactly how toxic the rigid ideology they’ve spent their lives perpetuating really is, and confronting the fact that their adherence to this ideology is what destroyed their relationship with Pink, and that the only way they’re going to have a relationship with Steven is if they’re willing to commit to changing both themselves, and the family structure they’ve enforced for so long.

Emperor Belos, in contrast, is not suffering from the structures he created, because his rules were never meant to apply to him. He sees the witches (and demons, and so-on) as lesser beings, evil beings, who exist to be controlled, and ultimately, exterminated. And every element of the society he built--the schools, the government, the police force, the religion--he intentionally constructed to keep these lesser beings under his control. The real-world allegory isn’t hard to see, here. And because what Belos represents in the story is, in fact, a fascist leader, the story shows that he can’t be reasoned with in any way that matters, and instead he is ultimately ground into paste beneath the boots of the people he sought to destroy. Different themes, different endings.

Now the usual argument that comes up here is as follows: but the Steven Universe ending isn’t as realistic! Not everyone is going to change, not everyone is going to be able to be reasoned with. Not every older, conservative family member is eventually going to accept you for who you are. And while that is true, ultimately SU isn’t meant to be realistic; it’s meant to be a power fantasy. Rebecca Sugar has come out and said before that they wrote a world in which there was good in everyone, because that’s the way she wishes the world could be. That’s the world they want to be able to believe in. And I am never going to begrudge a person, much less a queer person, for finding healing in writing that kind of world.

But you know what else is unrealistic? What else is ultimately just a fantasy? Grinding your government’s fascist leader into paste under your boot, then taking over and remaking society into something that accepts everyone. Sadly, Trump is not likely to get his ass beat any time soon. And more generally, punching fascists, while ideologically sound, is something most people are not going to get to do, due to real-world consequences such as “getting beat up by the fascist’s angry friends” and “being arrested for assault”. And even if you did depose one leader, our very society is set up in a way that perpetuates all manner of injustices, and systemic change is a complex and lengthy process that almost certainly won’t be completed in our lifetimes. But it’s fun to imagine we could, isn’t it?

Both endings are power fantasies. Both show the way they want the world to be, rather than the way it is. They are very different power fantasies, which fill very different--and at times conflicting--needs. And in situations like that, internet culture really likes to pick one to be the right fantasy, the right way to look at the world. 

But the truth is, both fantasies are needed! Some people need stories about your queerphobic relatives finally realizing the error of their ways and taking the necessary steps to accept and reconcile with you. And some people need stories where you get to grind fascist bastards beneath the heel of your boot. It’s okay if you prefer one type of fantasy over the other! But in the end, both are valuable, and both are important. 

And isn’t it wonderful, for us to have such a diversity of great queer stories? That we can explore both of these deep, conflicting needs? Let’s appreciate each of these fantastic works for what it was meant to be, rather than trying to pit them against each other or make them conform to a single, “best” way to tell a story.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (3)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Just keep letting me cook ok?

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy.

_________________________

Sevika pushed open the door to Jinx’s lair with more force than usual, the heavy thud echoing in the dimly lit space. Jinx sat cross-legged on her worktable, absently tinkering with a small device, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.

“Got news,” Sevika said, her voice unusually strained as she moved deeper into the room.

“Unless it’s about the moon exploding or Enforcers turning into frogs, I don’t care,” Jinx muttered, not looking up.

Sevika didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she paced, her metal arm twitching slightly. When Jinx finally glanced up, she frowned at the tension rolling off the older woman.

“It’s about Isha,” Sevika said, her voice low.

Jinx froze, her hands stilling on the device. Her eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“She’s been taken. The Enforcers got her during the rally.”

Jinx’s face hardened, her fingers curling tightly around the small contraption in her hands. “And you just let them take her?”

“Wasn’t a matter of letting them, Jinx. It was chaos,” Sevika snapped, then sighed heavily. “But there’s more. A lot more.”

Sevika moved toward the balcony, nodding for Jinx to follow. With a huff of annoyance, Jinx slipped off the table, trailing after her. Stepping outside, Sevika leaned against the railing, nodding toward the empty courtyard below.

“Down there,” Sevika began, her eyes narrowing. “She’s been at it for the last twenty minutes.”

Jinx followed her gaze to see you in the courtyard, the remnants of your rage etched into the ground. Shattered crates and barrels littered the space, and you were pacing furiously, shouting into the void. With a guttural scream, you grabbed a heavy metal pipe from the ground and hurled it across the yard like it weighed nothing, the force causing it to embed itself into a distant wall.

“Damn,” Jinx muttered, her brows lifting.

“She went feral during the rally,” Sevika said, her tone grave. “I’m talking tearing through Embessa’s most advanced Enforcers. She ripped the armor off one like it was paper, Jinx. She’s got strength I’ve never seen—speed, too. But it wasn’t just that.” Sevika turned to face Jinx fully. “Her eyes. They sparked. Purple. Like—”

“Shimmer,” Jinx finished, her voice quiet but sharp.

Sevika nodded. “She’s got control… mostly. But when she loses it, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. She’s a weapon, Jinx. A dangerous one. But right now, she’s losing it, and if we don’t get her calmed down, someone else is gonna try and stop her—and we know how that ends.”

Jinx’s gaze lingered on you, something flickering in her expression—curiosity, concern, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. “That’s her,” Jinx murmured, almost to herself.

Sevika frowned. “Her who?”

Jinx leaned on the railing, watching as you threw another heavy object clear across the courtyard with a shout. “The one I saw. She’s the key, Sevika.”

“The key to what?” Sevika asked, skeptical.

Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, her lips twisted into a smirk that didn’t quite hide her unease. “Doesn’t matter. She’s ours now. We’ll figure it out.”

Sevika glanced at her sideways. “Okay, great. But how exactly do we calm her down? Look at her.”

As if on cue, an unlucky soldier who had wandered into the courtyard to reason with you ended up hurtling through the air, slamming into the wall beside Jinx. The soldier slid down with a groan, leaving a visible dent in the concrete.

Jinx didn’t flinch, though her eyes flicked back to you. She sighed dramatically. “Guess it’s my turn.”

Sevika raised a brow. “You sure about that? She might throw you next.”

Jinx shrugged, already heading for the staircase. “I’m good at dodging.”

When she reached the courtyard, you were pacing, your fists clenching and unclenching as your breath came in ragged gasps. Your eyes flashed purple again, and Jinx felt her stomach twist. Still, she kept her usual banter in place.

“Y’know, if you keep throwing things, there’s not gonna be much left of this place. And I just cleaned up,” she teased, her voice light.

You didn’t respond, barely even acknowledging her. She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head as she watched you.

“Hey,” she tried again, her tone softening just slightly. “Look at me.”

Still nothing. Jinx hesitated, her fingers twitching before she finally stepped forward, grabbing your face with both hands.

You froze at the sudden contact, your wide eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of you moved. Jinx’s breath caught in her throat as she stared into your eyes, the faint purple spark flickering like lightning in a storm.

Déjà vu washed over her, an overwhelming sense of familiarity she couldn’t place. Her grip on your face tightened slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s you…”

Your eyes flickered back to their normal gray, and your expression crumpled. The rage drained from you all at once, replaced by a deep, aching guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Isha.”

Jinx stared at you, stunned by the vulnerability in your voice. Her hands slipped from your face, and before she could think better of it, she pulled you into a tight hug.

You stiffened in her arms, the gesture so unexpected it left you speechless. Jinx swallowed hard, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she whispered, “We’re gonna get her back. All of us. You hear me?”

You nodded against her shoulder, the faintest tremor in your movements. For once, you didn’t have a sarcastic comeback, just a quiet, shaky breath as the weight of her words settled over you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Jinx tinkered with her weapons at her workbench, the steady clink and scrape of metal echoing in her lair. Across the room, you stood silently in front of Isha’s pillow fort, the light from her colored lamps casting a soft, almost melancholic glow over your face. Jinx watched you out of the corner of her eye, her hands slowing on the tools.

You leaned down, pulling off your long-sleeve shirt, revealing the toned muscles of your arms and back. Tattoos, intricate and vibrant, ran along your skin, telling stories of battles, losses, and survival. You stood in just a black muscle shirt, your chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as you stared at the fort.

“What did you mean?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Jinx looked up, confused. “Mean about what?”

“What you said out there. About it being me,” you clarified, your voice steady but low.

Jinx froze for a moment, her tools hovering mid-air. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her mind flickering with flashes of a distant past. A kid. A memory she couldn’t fully grasp.

“It’s… nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… a feeling.”

You turned away from the fort and approached her workbench, your sharp eyes scanning the arsenal. She held out a rifle to you, but you waved it off with a small shake of your head. Instead, your attention fell on a set of knives, their blades painted with vivid, chaotic colors.

“These’ll do,” you muttered, grabbing them and securing them in your belt. You pulled a black bandana from your pocket and tied it around your neck, adjusting it to hide the tattoos along your throat.

You turned back to Jinx, your expression calm but determined. “Let’s go save the kid,” you said simply, your voice carrying a cool confidence that made her pause.

Jinx blinked, momentarily stunned by the weight of your words and the effortless power in your demeanor. She swallowed, trying to mask the strange feeling bubbling in her chest, but the voices in her head were already stirring.

“Look at her… she’s too strong for you.”

“You’re getting soft, Jinx. Don’t let her change you.”

“She’s doing it already—you feel it, don’t you?”

Jinx clenched her fists, her breathing quickening. She slammed her tools onto the bench, her knuckles whitening.

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting nervously.

“She’s not like the others.”

“You’re changing, Powder. And it’s because of her.”

The voices swirled, and for a moment, Jinx’s head throbbed with the chaos. Then, a new voice, softer and steadier, broke through the din.

“She’s helping you, Jinx. She’s pulling you back.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, and her breathing hitched. She looked up just as you paused at the door, your hand on the frame. You glanced back at her, your gray eyes calm but piercing.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice cutting through the noise in her head like a blade.

The voices fell silent, replaced by an eerie calm. Jinx blinked, her lips quirking into her usual smirk to hide the vulnerability that had threatened to surface. “You’re really bossy, y’know that?” she teased, grabbing her gear.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” you shot back, your tone light but edged with sincerity.

Jinx chuckled as she moved to join you, her usual bravado settling back into place. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” she quipped, brushing past you.

Together, you descended the stairs, where Sevika was waiting with her arms crossed. Her mechanical arm whirred faintly as she raised an unimpressed brow at the two of you.

“Finally,” Sevika muttered, eyeing you both. “We’ve got a port waiting. Let’s move.”

The three of you headed out into the depths of the Undercity, weaving through the dark alleys and tunnels toward the transportation point. The faint hum of the city buzzed in the background, a stark contrast to the tense silence that hung between you all.

Jinx fell into step beside you, her teasing mask slipping just enough for a flicker of something softer to show through. You caught her glance but didn’t comment, the quiet resolve in your expression saying everything that needed to be said.

For the first time in a long time, Jinx felt a sliver of certainty—a steadying presence in the chaos. It was unnerving, but she couldn’t deny it. Something about you was different, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that scared her or gave her hope.

 ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

        Caitlyn sat on the floor of her quarters, surrounded by a sea of papers, record books, and scattered files. A glass of whiskey rested beside her, the amber liquid half-gone as she sipped distractedly. Her usually meticulous living room was in disarray, evidence of her relentless search for answers. The soft glow of a single lamp cast her shadow against the wall, and her tired eyes scanned through the faded ink of yet another report.

The door opened, and Vi stepped in. She paused at the sight before her, crossing her arms with a raised brow. “What the hell, Cupcake? Did a tornado hit in here, or are you just redecorating?”

Caitlyn barely looked up, her focus pinned on a file. “Vi,” she muttered, her voice weary, “I’m busy.”

Vi stepped further into the room, crouching beside the mess. “Yeah, I can see that. What’s all this about? You’re running yourself ragged. What’s got you so wound up?”

Caitlyn hesitated, setting the paper down and rubbing her temples. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but the weight on her chest was unbearable. “I… I can’t stop thinking about her,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly.

Vi’s brows knit together. “Her?”

“Y/n,” Caitlyn whispered, the name laced with something deep, raw. She closed her eyes as the floodgates began to open. “There’s something about her, Vi. Something I can’t explain. From the moment I saw her…”

Vi leaned back, tilting her head. “Go on,” she urged gently.

Caitlyn opened her eyes, her gaze distant. “Her eyes,” she started, voice thick with emotion. “They’re like windows to a world I can’t even begin to fathom. They hold stories—pain, loss, strength—that I desperately want to know. When she looks at you, it’s like she’s offering you a piece of herself, but only just enough to make you crave the rest.”

Vi watched silently as Caitlyn poured out her heart, something she rarely did.

“And her smile,” Caitlyn continued, her lips quirking in a small, bittersweet way. “It’s not like anyone else’s. It’s small, fleeting, but it holds so much power. It’s… tranquil, almost. Like for a second, everything’s okay in the world when she lets it slip.”

She paused, her hands clenching. “Her body… it’s like a temple, Vi. Not just because of her strength or the tattoos that tell a story of their own, but because it’s been through so much. It’s endured battles—some you can see and some you can’t—and yet it stands tall. She stands tall.” Caitlyn’s voice grew softer. “I feel her on a deeper level, and I can’t explain it. It’s like we’re connected somehow, but it’s not enough. I can’t just let her go down this path. She deserves better. She is better.”

She let out a frustrated breath, leaning forward and cradling her head in her hands. “But I don’t know how to reach her. I don’t even know where she is.”

Vi let the silence hang for a moment before letting out a low whistle. “Damn, Cait,” she said, her tone softer than usual. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Caitlyn glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“This isn’t just some passing thing,” Vi said with a knowing smile. “This is love at first sight, Cupcake. You’re drawn to her, and you don’t even realize how deep it goes. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

Caitlyn shook her head, her cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s not love, Vi. I just… I care about her. I don’t want to see her get lost in this madness.”

Vi snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. But you know what? If you care about her this much, I’m in. Whatever you need, I’ll help you find her.”

Caitlyn blinked, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. “Really?”

Vi nodded, her face growing serious. “Yeah. And I think I’ve got a lead. Someone told me they saw her at the rally. You know, the one with all the blue smoke and chaos.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, her heart racing. “She was there?”

“Yeah,” Vi said grimly. “And she already got her hands on Rictus.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “Rictus? The enforcer commander? Why would she go after him?”

Vi hesitated before continuing, her voice low. “There was a little girl with her. Word is, something went down—Rictus overstepped. Hurt the kid. And she… lost it.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught as she pieced the puzzle together. She frantically searched through her scattered papers, pulling out reports of the rally, witness statements, and a picture of the blue smoke marking the chaos.

“She snapped because of the child,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice shaking. “She wasn’t acting out of malice… she was protecting someone.”

Vi nodded. “That’s what it sounds like. But Cait, if she’s spiraling, we need to get to her fast. Before this gets worse.”

Caitlyn’s resolve hardened as she looked up at Vi, her sapphire eyes blazing with determination. “Then let’s find her. Together.”

Vi leaned against the doorframe of Caitlyn’s quarters, watching her frantically sift through the scattered papers. “Alright, we know she was at the rally, but where would she go after that? She’s not exactly subtle, Cait.”

Caitlyn stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If Rictus got away, he’d want revenge. He’d know she wouldn’t just walk away quietly.” She paused, realization dawning on her. “What if she’s been taken?”

Vi frowned. “Taken where?”

“To Stillwater Hold,” Caitlyn said, her voice sharp with urgency. “If she’s been captured, they’d take her there for interrogation.”

Vi nodded, her expression serious. “Then we don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Caitlyn didn’t wait. She threw on her enforcer uniform, clipped her rifle to her back, and stormed out of her quarters, Vi following closely behind.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The chaos of the Stillwater break unfolded in a blur of fire and steel. Alarms blared through the corridors, and shouts echoed as Jinx, Sevika, and you tore through the facility to free Isha. After a fierce fight and tense moments, the little girl was finally in your hands.

Jinx grabbed Isha’s hand, tugging her toward the exit, but stopped when she noticed you lingering behind. “What are you doing?” Jinx hissed. “Take her and get out of here!”

You looked down at the child, then at Sevika, who stood at the edge of the chaos. Your gray eyes locked on Jinx, steady and unwavering. “Sevika can take her,” you said calmly.

Jinx’s jaw tightened. “Are you insane?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk as you glanced back at her. “You don’t need me running off. Someone has to make sure your ego doesn’t inflate too much from a dramatic last stand. Besides…” You stepped closer, voice low and teasing. “Dying alone is so cliché.”

Jinx blinked, her lips parting in surprise before a small, begrudging grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

“I’ve heard,” you said, turning back toward the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching.

The clash with Warwick was nothing short of brutal. The monstrous figure moved with terrifying speed and strength, overwhelming even the combined efforts of Jinx and you.

You moved like a blur, your knives a whirlwind of flashing steel. But Warwick’s sheer power knocked you back, slamming you against a wall. You groaned, dazed but refusing to stay down.

Jinx fired round after round, her explosive devices lighting up the darkened room, but Warwick was relentless. He swatted her weapon aside and lunged at her, pinning her against the wall. His massive claws hovered dangerously close to her throat.

Just as Jinx’s breath hitched, you slid beneath Warwick’s massive frame, your voice tearing through the room in an animalistic growl. “Get. Off. Her!”

Your gray eyes sparked with an otherworldly purple light, burning with an intensity that froze Warwick in place. He turned, his snarling mouth faltering as his glowing eyes locked onto yours.

“Spark…” he whispered, his voice guttural and filled with something almost human.

Jinx stiffened at the sound of the name, her eyes darting between Warwick and you.

The name struck you like a lightning bolt, sending a sharp pain through your head. Your vision blurred, and the purple light flickered before you collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Jinx’s chest tightened as she stared at your unmoving form. Panic threatened to claw its way out of her throat, but she forced herself to act. “Damn it,” she muttered, crouching down and hauling you onto her shoulder.

She darted through the shadows, avoiding enforcers and other dangers as she dragged you to safety. Eventually, she found a small, abandoned safe house nestled in the rooftops.

Once inside, Jinx carefully laid you on a worn mattress. She sat beside you, panting and trembling as she looked over the wounds on your face and legs. Blood streaked your tattoos, the intricate designs disrupted by cuts and bruises. Jinx grabbed a damp cloth and began cleaning the wounds with surprising tenderness.

Her eyes traced over the tattoos that covered your arms and back. At first glance, they seemed like abstract patterns, but as Jinx looked closer, she realized they formed a map—a map of the Undercity. Her breath hitched at the realization. “What the hell…” she whispered.

Your face, despite the bruises, was peaceful in unconsciousness. Jinx’s fingers moved almost instinctively, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

The voices in her head returned, louder this time.

“Why are you even helping her? She’s nothing.”

“She’s everything, isn’t she? Look at her.”

“Shut up. You’re getting attached. You know what happens when you get attached.”

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing unsteady. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…”

The softer voice returned, calm and steady. “She’s changing you. She’s helping you.”

Jinx opened her eyes, her trembling hand tracing along your jawline. The voices quieted, leaving her in a strange, almost serene silence. Her fingers moved mindlessly, tracing your features as if committing them to memory.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”

Your chest rose and fell with each steady breath, offering no answer.

Jinx sighed, pulling her hand back and leaning against the wall. She glanced at the knives you had insisted on carrying, their colorful blades gleaming faintly in the dim light.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx felt… calm. But that calm brought with it a vulnerability she didn’t know how to handle.

“You’re gonna make me soft,” she muttered, her lips twitching into a faint, rueful smile as she continued to keep watch.

Jinx left you reluctantly, her expression a mixture of determination and hesitation as she glanced at your unconscious form one last time. She had to deal with Warwick and get Isha to safety, but this wasn’t over. There was someone else who needed to see what Vander had become. Someone who would understand. She’d find Vi, and they’d confront this together.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A day later, you found yourself limping through the polished streets of Piltover, your body aching from the fight, your mind clouded by exhaustion and anger. You weren’t sure why you came back to the family workshop—maybe to grab a few tools, maybe just out of habit—but the sight of the place brought a sinking feeling to your gut.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed. The familiar hum of machines filled the space, the smell of metal and oil hitting you like a punch to the chest.

But luck wasn’t on your side.

“Well, look who it is,” your father’s voice boomed from across the room, dripping with disdain. You froze mid-step, turning to see both of your parents standing behind the counter.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here,” your mother added, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was cold, the kind of look that had cut you to the core since you were a child.

“I just need a few things,” you muttered, keeping your gaze on the floor as you limped toward the shelves.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to stroll in here like nothing happened,” your father barked, stepping out from behind the counter. “You’re a disgrace. A failure. Everything we warned you about came true. The Undercity turned you into a monster.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to tune them out. But their words kept coming, sharp and relentless.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” your mother hissed. “We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us? Running off to the filth down below? You don’t even belong—”

“Stop it,” you snapped, your voice low but trembling with barely contained fury.

“You don’t even belong to us!” your father spat suddenly, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. “You’re not even our blood.”

The room spun. Your vision blurred, and a sharp, familiar pain erupted behind your eyes. The purple spark flickered in your irises, your breathing heavy and uneven.

“What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cold and trembling.

Before you could do something you might regret, warm arms wrapped around you tightly, grounding you in place. The scent of lilac and gunpowder filled your senses, and you instantly knew who it was.

Caitlyn.

Her presence melted the rage inside you, and you let yourself sag against her, burying your face in her shoulder. You hugged her back, gripping her as if she might disappear.

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn whispered, her hands moving to your face to tilt it up toward her. Her blue eyes searched yours, full of worry and something deeper.

You nodded but avoided her gaze, your voice quiet. “I’m fine.” You didn’t trust yourself to say more, didn’t trust yourself to let her in.

Your parents stormed out of the workshop, still spewing venom. “You don’t deserve someone like her!” your mother yelled. “She doesn’t even know what you are!”

Caitlyn stepped between you and your parents, her head held high. Her voice was calm but laced with authority. “I suggest you stop talking.”

They froze at her tone.

“You might think you know her, but you clearly don’t,” Caitlyn said, her voice icy and cutting. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever realize. And if you dare speak to her like this again, you’ll be dealing with me—and the enforcers.”

The sight of the enforcers behind Caitlyn was enough to send your parents retreating inside without another word. Caitlyn turned back to you, her hand gently wrapping around your wrist. “Come on,” she said softly.

Instead of letting her lead you to her quarters, you took her to the rooftop where you often found solace. You stood there silently as you changed, pulling on a clean shirt and adjusting your knives. Caitlyn stood in the corner, watching you with a mix of admiration and worry.

The tension in the air was palpable.

When you turned to her, Caitlyn stepped forward and held you close, her arms wrapping around you with a softness that made your breath hitch. For a moment, neither of you moved. The proximity, the heat of her body against yours—it was overwhelming.

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her face inches from yours. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, her eyes lingered on yours. The tension between you grew unbearable, and for a split second, you thought she might kiss you.

But you pulled back, the memory of Jinx flashing across your mind. You couldn’t explain it, but it was enough to make you take a step away.

Caitlyn’s face fell, but she recovered quickly. “I need you to stay,” she said, her voice trembling with urgency. “With me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I need to leave. This place—it’s suffocating.”

She grabbed your arm, her grip firm but gentle. “You’re better than this,” she pleaded. “You’re good, even if you don’t see it. You have a choice.”

You snapped, her words cutting deeper than they should have. “Good? Piltover treats the Undercity like dirt. You talk about being better, but look around, Caitlyn. This city isn’t better—it’s rotten. Just like the people who run it.”

She stepped back, stunned. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth,” you shot back.

Caitlyn’s voice rose, the hurt evident. “You don’t belong there, but you don’t belong here, either. You’re an outsider, and you know it!”

Her words sliced through you. Your face twisted in pain before you pulled away from her grasp. “I thought you were different,” you said coldly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn’s hand reached for yours, but you yanked it away, your heart aching as you turned and walked into the night, leaving her standing there with regret and sorrow etched across her face.

_______________

Aht aht ! Its slight AU, let me cook im marinating the chicken right now- it will all come together (I was so invested writing this and it is everywhere but you all gon see what im seeing once it start cooking- im talking about sizzling with the spices then you gonna look at me like 'ahhhhh i smell it- i see it') so sit there and look pretty while i cook this up <3

[anonymous-dentist]

I’ve seen a lot of people genuinely and sincerely wondering why the Federation can’t heal Empanada back up to two lives using the Egg Hospital, and that just means that the Federation Propaganda is working.

So let me explain how the Eggs work within the lore of the QSMP:

The Eggs, in the beginning, were supposed to be a one or two week event. The parents with the happiest egg would get a prize. The parents with dead eggs would be punished.

Within Lore, these original eggs- Dapper, Leo, Chayanne, Ramon, Tilin, Flippa, Bobby, and Trump(et)- were the children of a “dragon mother” who had flown away from the island after the islanders blew up the wall. Tallulah was a later addition, but she is “biologically” (we’ll come back to the quotation marks in a second) related to the og eggs. So is Pomme, who had been stuck under the adoption center for over a month waiting to be adopted. Our outliers are Richarlyson- who wasn’t even supposed to exist yet, Sunny, Empanada, and Pepito.

And then there are the other Eggs. The dead ones. Like “Hope”, the egg the Federation left to die in the middle of nowhere waiting to be adopted. Or Egg A1, the egg ElQuackity was experimenting on that burned to death. Or the several dead eggs mentioned in the Maze Book, the ones who would be Sunny and Empanada and Pepito’s siblings if those three really are the three surviving eggs from the Maze Book.

You see, the Eggs aren’t real. They’re artificial. We’ve known this since May/June when SOFIA analyzed “Richarlyson’s placenta” (don’t ask) and found, wow! The Eggs are essentially artificial, inorganic lifeforms. And then we see ElQ experimenting on A1, and then we hear about the Maze Experiment, and then we find out about Egg Island and how the Federation technically owns it, and we realize, oh. Huh.

The Eggs have never met their supposed dragon mother. That’s because she doesn’t exist. The Eggs were created solely for the purpose of the experiment the islanders are unwillingly part of. They’re tools, and the Federation doesn’t care about them.

The Eggs, to the Federation, are more or less expendable. The Feds’ primary focus is the islanders and keeping them under control. The Eggs still being alive now is only because the Feds quickly realized that their test subjects would fucking lose it if the Eggs were taken away like they were supposed to have been.

But if the Eggs happen to die on their own, so be it. That’s fine. They’re kids, they’re fragile.

Tilin and Flippa and Trump and Bobby are all dead, and it’s been shown that the Feds could have brought them back permanently by putting them in the hospital they canonically have, or by bringing them back “by magic” like how Sapo Peta revived Flippa after the trial. This is why Cellbit infiltrated the Feds in the first place and it’s a HUGE part of why he hates them now! He knows that they could keep every egg safe and alive, but they choose not to because, again, the eggs are expendable!

If the Federation had their way, the Eggs wouldn’t have been retrieved at all when they disappeared. But the islanders started going berserk and rebelling and the Feds went “Oh, shit”, and thus the Eggs’ return was made a priority.

The Eggs are a form of control, and everybody even remotely questioning the Federation knows it. Keeping the Eggs around and alive serves to keep the islanders in line. If they rebel, the Eggs could die. This is why the Eggs were brought back in the first place, and it’s why the parents of dead eggs and those without eggs in the first place were the ones assigned to Sunny, Empanada, and Pepito. Those people couldn’t be controlled, but now they can be. People like Tubbo won’t mess with Cucurucho anymore because they don’t want their kids dead; it’s why Cellbit only started lashing out after Richarlyson had been gone for almost two months.

So… why don’t they just keep the Eggs alive?

Easy. Because the Eggs are expendable. Them living is the easiest option, but them dying isn’t really a huge issue. People like Jaiden have been easy enough to manipulate after losing their egg. Grieving parents so far haven’t had huge explosive reactions (except for Maxo, who very notably did have a huge explosive reaction.) Slime and Mariana fell into depressive states, Jaiden became easier to manipulate, Quackity was able to be kidnapped and brainwashed. Roier and Maxo kept their illegal rebellious activities under wraps, and neither really made any big huge moves against the Feds (again, outside of the nuke.)

If the Eggs die naturally, it’s fine. It’s the parents’ faults for letting their child die- just look at how nobody blamed the Federation for permanently taking Bobby away, but people both on the server and off blamed Roier for “getting him killed”, or how Mariana is the scapegoat for the Federation not bringing Flippa back to life when they easily could’ve done so.

Eggs dying naturally turns islander aggression inwards… with the exceptions of Cellbit, Roier, and Maxo, and now Bagi and Mousey. The Feds don’t want anyone getting angry at them, they want the islanders to get angry at themselves. That way, nobody can organize against them.

So the Feds won’t reverse a life lost. They won’t revive a dead egg. They don’t need to. The Eggs aren’t the experiment here. They aren’t important.

[saphronethaleph]

Applied Maya

“Your overconfidence is your weakness,” Luke said, calmly.

“Your faith in your friends is yours,” the Emperor replied.

Vader shook his head. “It is pointless to resist, my son.”

“It is pointless to control the galaxy,” Luke retorted. “I’ve learned things about the Force that mean I understand that now."

He waved his hand, and Vader tensed, but it turned out to be for emphasis instead of telekinesis. “The Force is everywhere. In everything. There’s… a level of reality which is far beyond what we care about. It’s around us, everywhere. Even in us.”

“What are you talking about?” the Emperor asked, thrown off his argument about how everything was futile.

“The Force,” Luke explained. “And… us. And everything, because the Force is everything. And we’re the Force. We’re… luminous beings, and our bodies are only crude matter that outlines them and gives our spirits somewhere to be.”

“What are you on about?” the Emperor demanded. “Vader! What is he on about? Is this some kind of Jedi nonsense?”

“It is possible,” Vader mused. “But I do not recall hearing it before.”

“I can explain more, if you’d like,” Luke said, earnestly. “The way that it works is that there’s more than one layer of existence, and this is a layer of reality but compared to the Force it’s just an illusion. Which means that – yes, you should do everything you can to make things better in this world, but – no, this world isn’t all there is, and you aren’t your body. Your body is just an approximation.”

He looked at his hand. “I lost this on Cloud City and… it didn’t make me any less of me. I’m still me, because I’m not my body, I’m the one who lives inside it. And the Force is like proof of that.”

That drew a blank look from the Emperor, and what would probably have been a blank look from Vader.

“Elaborate,” Vader requested.

“Well, we all know that the laws of physics exist, right?” Luke asked. “They define exactly how things work. How things fall, or they don’t. How orbits work. And yet, I can stretch out my hand and pull something into it. Which means the laws of physics aren’t laws, they’re just very persistent illusions.”

“I believe the interaction is mediated by midichlorians,” Vader said. “They are like mitochondria for the Force.”

“So?” Luke replied. “That simply means that part of how we are outside physical reality can be measured. I’ve heard the explanations, I’ve seen it – all that the explanation really does is put it into words, and give it a framework.”

He made another expansive gesture.

“This is trite nonsense,” Palpatine said. “Your friends on the Sanctuary Moon will not survive.”

“And if that happened, I would be sad,” Luke said. “Of course I would. But I came here willing to die, because death is not all that there is.”

Palpatine glowered at Vader.

“This one is broken,” he said. “Do you have another possible new apprentice for me?”

“The supply is a bit low, my Master,” Vader said.

“And I know about your rebel fleet,” the Emperor went on. “They will be ambushed by my fleet, just as an entire legion of my best troops is waiting for your friends.”

“That’s a shame,” Luke said. “But it’s not the same as something being unrecoverably bad.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...what?” he said. “You make no sense.”

“You can think of it like a shadow,” Luke said. “Or a hologram. It looks real, but it’s not the most real thing. It’s illusion, just a very persistent illusion which is why so many are taken in by it.”

“This doesn’t sound very empirically sourced,” Vader muttered. “Did you come up with all this yourself? If not, who taught you?”

“Yoda,” Luke replied, and both the Emperor and Vader flinched slightly.

“Yoda’s alive?” Vader asked, sounding horrified and fascinated.

“Not since… about three days ago, I think?” Luke answered. “I could be off by a day or two on that, I spent a lot of it in hyperspace.”

The Emperor tried very hard to stifle a sigh of relief, and didn’t quite manage it.

“You know Yoda?” Vader said. “You met Yoda?”

“Yes,” Luke agreed. “I was there with him at the end. Obi-Wan told me where he was living.”

“What?” Vader asked, now sounding baffled. “...how?”

It was his turn to wave his hand to make a gesture. “Because I remember Cloud City, and you were reasonably talented, but you seemed self taught. You did not fight like you’d had two and a half years of Ataru lectures from the death gremlin… there weren’t nearly enough backflips for it.”

“...oh, I see,” Luke said. “No, Obi-Wan told me on Hoth.”

“On… Hoth,” Vader repeated, slowly. “He’d been dead for several years at that point. Hadn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke confirmed, readily. “He’s a ghost. He’s still around.”

The younger Skywalker shrugged. “Kind of proves what I was saying, right? Death isn’t the end of existence. A person lives on after the death of their body. They become one with the Force, and the Force is one with them, but they still exist.”

Vader was silent for a long time.

“...huh,” he said, eventually.

“Anyway, as I was saying – Father – Your Highness,” Luke went on. “I don’t fear death because death is the loss of the crude flesh, which is just a cloak for our true selves, who are luminous beings of light. To ask others to accept suffering of the flesh is unfair, because they feel it as real, but I understand it for the illusion that it is and so I’m willing to suffer and die for my beliefs – in a very real sense, it doesn’t mean as much to me as it would to anyone else. Because I know the truth.”

“This is all the ramblings of a senile madman, translated through the mouth of a naive boy,” the Emperor said. “What kind of proof could you possibly have?”

“...what, apart from the fact that I communicated with my dead mentor, and he gave me information that I did not know before?” Luke asked, curious. “That was sufficient for me to accept it when Yoda told me, but there’s also the extent to which understanding the illusive nature of reality amplifies my understanding of what the Force truly is.”

“I have to admit, it would explain why Obi-Wan vanished,” Vader mused, sounding like he was talking to himself more than the others.

“You don’t know about the Force,” the Emperor said, snidely. “Certainly your understanding is not as deep as mine!”

Luke examined him.

“You actually believe that,” he said. “But you think what I’m saying is nonsense?”

“If you understood the Force better, you would not be my prisoner!” the Emperor retorted.

“I’m not,” Luke said. “That’s an illusion as well.”

“You cannot just declare anything you don’t like to be an illusion!” Palpatine raged.

“I can if it is,” Luke replied, still calmly, and reached out his hand. His lightsaber slapped into it, then he let go and it floated back across the room to where Palpatine had put it.

He shrugged. “I’m here because I want to save my father. I surrendered because I thought that would be the best way to do it. I’m standing here on a battle station I fully expect to be blown up, because I am committed to saving my father. From you. That’s why I’m here, and it has nothing to do with you having any power over me. You don’t.”

The Emperor attempted to prove Luke wrong by electrocuting him, which lasted about ten seconds until Vader threw him out the window.

The air, on the other artificial hand, stayed put.

“You might be right, son,” Vader said, sounding scientifically fascinated as the room didn’t depressurise. “Accepting this really is helping me understand and use the Force.”

“I’m glad to have helped,” Luke replied, reminding himself that electrical burns were also illusions no matter how persistent they were. “What do we do now?”

“Leave the room, probably,” Vader suggested. “Then we can see about deciding whether we want to keep this station or destroy it.”

He made a curious noise with his respirator. “Are the Empire’s succession laws real or an illusion? I am fairly sure I could abdicate in your favour if you would like.”

“Mon Mothma would be better, I think,” Luke said, after some consideration. “Or Lando. Lando might work.”

[beastofbrden]

four times you and James were accidentally caught carrying pieces of each other + one time you did it on purpose| J.P

boyfriend!james potter x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: 3.773 content: fluff, "secret" relationship warnings: reader has hair long enough to wear ribbons, not proofread notes: i love love love 4+1 fics and this is my first attempt at writing one. p.s girls when james potter can't be their boyfriend😫 i listened to littlest things while writing this :)

1.

- Hi, Jamie - you went to give him a quick kiss hello when you met at the hallway. When you distanced yourself, he pouted.

- Another one - he begged. You did as told, but when you distanced yourself a second time, he sighed in exasperation - Come here, will ya?

He held your face with his strong hands as he kissed you for a long moment. Your heart went crazy on your chest with the familiar taste of his lips and the warmth of his palms. When the kiss ended, he pulled away slowly, but kept his hands on your face, delicately brushing a few rebel strands of hair away.

- I’ll take this as you’ve missed me? - you teased, your eyes glimmering in the way they only do when you’re around James.

- Are you teasing me, missy? - he faked an overdramatic expression of offense.- And me here, thinking that you’ve missed me too, after such a long time we’ve been apart!

- We’ve had one separate class, drama queen. - you rolled your eyes at him.

- Well for me, it was a lot. But if you don’t miss your boyfriend, that’s fine… - He faked a hiccup and cleaned an imaginary tear from his eye.

- I’ve seen you this morning - you lowered your voice into a knowing whisper - Remember?

He dropped the act at the mention of the earlier morning and smirked in that cheeky way that made your heart beat two times faster.

- How could I forget…- He reached to snake his arms around your waist.

- Shh! James, stop. I think I’ve heard someone - You stepped away from him. You had heard talking somewhere around the corner of the empty hallway you were both in. You and James kept a distance as a group of third years passed by. They giggled when they recognized James Potter, the Quidditch captain, and your boyfriend, being the tease he was, waved at them, making them almost faint.

- They would miss me if i was their boyfriend, y’know - He said, and just like you predicted, he was wearing that pompous smirk he had when these things happened.

- You’ve eaten a little clown for breakfast today? - You rolled your eyes at him.

- No need to get that jealous of your competition, Y/N. - You crossed your arms and frowned. He laughed, placing his arms around you. - Even though you don’t miss me, you’re my favorite girl. 

- Even though you’re a smug prick, I did miss you. A lot.

- A lot? But it was just one class… - He mocked your previous words in a high pitched tone.

- It was one class too many  - Your heart turned into mush as you looked into his eyes, not being able to keep yourself from kissing him again.

Just a month before, being with him like this was just a beautiful, distant daydream in your head. You both were pining and longing for each other, handling what you both thought was an unrequited love for your best friend. Now, you and James were into that honeymoon phase of the relationship where you just couldn’t keep your hands (or your mouths) off from each other. That was logistically complicated, since you had decided to go slow and keep things a bit more private. You were just discovering the sweetness of finally belonging to one another, and you had the opinion that the gossip that would obviously arise from your relationship would take away some of that joy. So, for now, you were happy keeping it just between you two and the Marauders.

- What class do we have now? 

- Hmmm...Charms? Yeah, I think so. I’ll meet you there, I gotta give McGonagall some papers. 

- Alrighty - you agreed, getting on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. - Don’t take too long.

- I think we both know I can’t stay away from you too long - he smiled.

James walked the hallways in that strut that he liked to deny having. Everyone was already inside the classrooms to resume the classes after lunch. He knocked on McGonagall’s door.

- Turn to page 278 to read about Vero Verto - James heard the professor’s voice getting closer to the door as she instructed the first year students she was teaching. - Silently.

- Good morning, Minnie. - He greeted McGonagall with a smile.

- Hm, good morning, Potter - He adored McGonagall, and he knew she liked him too, specially for bringing Gryffindor multiple Quidditch championships, but the professor was never one to smile loosely. However, the way she was scanning his face through her half moon glasses, her eyebrows furrowing even more than usual, made him uneasy.

- I just passed by to bring my homework, and… -

- What is that on your face, Potter? - She questioned abruptly. Her question caught the students’ attention, and all eyes turned to James. The room erupted with laughter. 

- Silence! - She commanded, her harsh tone making them quiet down, settling for muffled giggles and whispers.

- On my face? - James touched his cheek.

- Yes, Potter. There is a lipstick stain on your cheek.

He felt the blood draining from his face: Y/N’s lipstick must have stained his skin when she kissed him.

- Ah, that’s nothing, Minnie - he brushed his cheek aggressively. The rubbing must have only smeared the lipstick, because the class bursted into an even louder fit of giggles, this time followed by kissing sounds. - The girls these days, y'know…

The professor grabbed the papers he was carrying.

- Go clean yourself, Potter. - She eyed him suspiciously before closing the door with a bang.

2.

- I think she’ll eventually forgive you, Marls. There’s no way she would break up with you for such a silly thing.

- I don’t know, Y/N, she seemed really hurt this morning…

You gave Marlene a side hug, hoping to give her some solace. You had been comforting her since lunch, when she came to tell you about the fight she had had with Dorcas.

- Give her some time, yeah? I’m absolutely sure she’ll come around. I mean, she’s head over heels in love with you.

- You think so? - she looked up at you with hope in her red, puffy eyes

- I know so - You reassured her with a smile.

It was a windy afternoon, and a sudden intense breeze rushed through the castle’s yard, where you were walking with Marlene towards the Astronomy tower. Your scarf, loosely hanging around your neck, got carried by the wind.

- Ah, crap! - You started chasing it as it flew. Marlene started helping you, and after jogging a bit, she was able to fetch it.

- Here - she handed it to you. 

When you went to grab it, her eyes seemed to notice something in the end of the scarf. A sudden rush of panic flooded you as you noticed what it was: James’ initials.

You both had left his dorm in a hurry this morning (as usual), because he made you late (as usual). You two lost track of time, and before you noticed, there was only ten minutes left for you to get ready, get something for breakfast and get to Flitwick’s class. You had gathered your uniform where you had left it ready the night before, but you must’ve grabbed his scarf instead of yours, somehow.

- Is this…? - Marlene’s hand brushed the yellow embroidered J.F.P. At first, she looked confused, but when recognition downed on her, she squinted her eyes at you with a smirk - Is this James’?

Marlene had always teased you about James, making fun of how oblivious you were to his obvious crush on you. She was one of your best friends, and you could tell her the true reason why you were with James' scarf, and she would surely be over the moon for you. You were tired of hiding your relationship, but since you hadn’t talked to James, you'd have to lie, again.

Now, you couldn’t deny it was James’ scarf, because there weren’t many James Fleamont Potters around Hogwarts, so it would be, theoretically, only half a lie.

- Yeah - You tried to conceal the sudden high pitch of your voice, granted for when you lied  - It’s James’. He lent me his this morning, since, you know, it’s windy and I lost mine, uh… at the lake. It fell and I think the squid got it. You know how sneaky that little guy is, always fetching things. Anyways, thanks, Marls!

You laughed awkwardly and got the scarf away from her hands. As you tied it safely around your neck, you smelled a strong whiff of James’ scent. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed that you had gotten his scarf, maybe because you were already used to his scent, spending all the time wrapped around him. It would’ve been a plausible lie if you hadn’t gotten nervous and thrown all that squid nonsense in there. You felt like a kid getting caught eating ice cream before dinner. Your face burned when Marlene said in a casual tone, while clearly holding in a laugh:

- I could swear that I saw your scarf on your neck last night….

3. 

- Potter!

James lifted his head from his parchment as Frank Longbottom called out his name. You and him had been doing Potions homework in the common room, your legs resting on his lap under the table.

- I lost my prefect badge and I’m on patrol tonight. Can you lend me yours, just for tonight? 

- Yeah, sure! It’s in my dorm.

You lifted your legs to allow him to get up, and he winked at you as he and Frank headed upstairs

- The room’s a mess, thanks to Sirius, but I remember I put it somewhere around… here… - James started looking on his desk for the bronze badge. Sirius, being the hurricane he was, had thrown a bunch of his things over James’ desk, so it would take some digging. - Sit down, this might take awhile.

James dug through socks, blouses, but secretly thanked Sirius for the mess: that way, it was easier to discreetly push your things into a drawer so Frank wouldn’t see. A brownish glimmer caught James’ eye.

- Ah, found it! - James turned around holding the badge victoriously.

Frank was analyzing a plushie. Not just any plushie: the teddy bear you had given James the week before. ‘It looks just like you, Jamie” you had said, while giggling “It’s cuddly”. It was a brown bear holding a heart. You enchanted it so he would sing a sappy love song every time James squeezed its belly and even sprayed a bit of your perfume on it. James had absolutely loved the gift, just as he did everything else you gave him, so much that he kept it placed safely on his bed, where Frank had seen it. Then, for  James’ absolute panic, Frank pressed its belly., and the bear started belting:

And they called it puppy love, just because we're seventeen…

James snatched the bear away from Frank.

- Silencio! 

When he looked back at Frank, he raised an amused eyebrow.

- That’s… Sirius gave it to me - Why that was the first thing that came to James’ mind, he had no idea. But he would have to run with it.

- A plushie? - Frank chuckled.

- Yeah, you know the guy. Does anything for a laugh.

- Even enchanting it to sing?

- Er, he… - James searched his mind for something - He goes to great lengths. 

- I see, he sprayed perfume on it and all.

- Impressive lengths, really.

James gave Frank his best innocent smile. Truth was, he was tired of doing this, hiding things between you. He had been for weeks now, but he was afraid bringing it up would make you feel pressured. Frank was a really nice guy, and he was madly in love with his girlfriend, Alice, so he would surely be happy for you two, but since James hadn’t had the guts to discuss you two’s arrangement, he would need Frank to believe him, even if it was clear he was finding it all very amusing, and not buying any of it.

- I find this perfume a little familiar… Like I know someone who uses it… Probably Y/N - Frank put his finger on his chin, pretending to think while sniffing the air - But I think I’m mixing things up. Anyway, thanks for the badge, puppy love.

4. 

- It says we need to add… -  Mary leaned into her textbook to read the instructions while you laborly stirred your laughing potion  - billywig sting?

- Only sting? Are you sure? I remember it being billywig sting slime!

- I wrote down only “sting”, but I probably messed up. 

- If we add the right one, it’ll be the laughing potion. If we add the wrong one, it’ll end up a floating potion. I just can’t remember which is which!

- Maybe we should take a look at your book. Where is it?

- Yeah, sure. It’s in my bag - You cleaned a few drops of sweat from your forehead.

Mary leaned down to search for it.

- Got it!

She placed the book between you two and started browsing through, looking for the right page for the laughing potion while you attentively observed the suspicious blue tone of your potion. 

- “For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Y/N”. Signed, James.

You turned to Mary in sheer terror. 

If you had to determine James’ love languages, it would easily be physical touch and words of affirmation. But lately, he had taken a liking to gift giving. Between paper rings, notes, letters, origamis, even silly stick drawings he did of you two, you had quite an extensive collection sitting in a tea box on your bedside table. He couldn’t help it: the silly gifts kept you smiling the whole day through. For James, drawing stick figures or writing little poems was a very small price to pay for your smile, the one thing that lit his whole world up like sunlight. He gave you this specific one, with a customized version of a piece of ‘“Annabel Lee” yesterday, and you had forgotten to add it to your extensive collection after coming by your dorm.

You dropped the spoon you were stirring the potion with. There was no denying this. James was a clown, he always had been, but one thing he never joked around with was other people’s feelings. Everyone knew that. He wouldn’t have written you this if he didn’t mean it.

- Aww, that’s so sweet - Mary smiled at the paper.

- Mary… 

- Y/N, hey, relax, alright? - She stopped smiling when she saw your eyes widen. - We all know it.

They all know it?

- Everyone sees the way you look at each other. And the people talk. Particularly, I’ve only heard people saying that you two are adorable, and some other people saying that they envy you or they envy James. It’s fine, I promise. 

- But I… we tried…

- I know you tried. But listen: ever since I first met you, whenever you and James are in a room together, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world, and we are all watching. So when you started to sneak around, poorly, may I add, leaving the dorm late at night, going around with his clothes, happier than I’ve ever seen, it wasn’t hard to add things up. Also, you guys suck at keeping things secret.

You two shared a laugh. Your long forgotten laughing/floating potion bubbled in the wrongest shade of green.

- I know. But we really tried our best.

She gave you a soft smile.

- Y/N, when two people are this much in love, there’s no hiding it. 

+1

You were laying down at James’ bed. It was a warm, sunny sunday morning that basked the whole dorm room in golden. James was standing by his chest of drawers, shuffling through his clothes to find his uniform for the Quidditch match that would start after breakfast. You watched the muscles on his back, the curves of his shoulder, the nape of his neck, his rebel dark hair. All the freckles on his skin that marked your favorite places to kiss.

- I can feel you looking at me, y’know. And I’m shy. - He turned his face to look at you. The movement gave you a view of his dark eyes, his glasses, the curve of his lips as he grinned, his straight nose.

- It’s not my fault you are beautiful. - You sighed.

- I’m beautiful? - He opened a genuine smile, one that showed his dimples.

- Yes.

In two long strides, he reached the bed. He sat down by your side, and his eyes scanned you lovingly, making you blush under his gaze. 

- I’ll only take your word for it only cause you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.- he whispered before kissing the tip of your nose.

You two looked at each other a bit longer. The sunlight that creeped into the room made his eyes look like warm dripping honey. James was never one to be sheepish, but you could tell by the soft tint his cheeks that you looking at him like he hung the stars on the sky made him shy.

- C’mon, sleepy girl, or we’ll be late. And I can’t play without my lucky charm, yeah?

You didn’t move, and neither did him, despite his words. You leaned in, getting closer to him.

- I want to give you something, Jamie.

- Your heart? I’ll take it.

- You already have it. It’s something else. Close your eyes.

He did as told. He was so beautiful that it made you dizzy. His eyes, his mouth, his hands, his skin. Every part of him felt like home. Unable to help yourself, you kissed his lips chastely and he hummed with satisfaction.

- Is that it? - He peeked.

- No. Keep them closed.

You reached for his bedside table where you had placed the ribbon you always wore on your hair the night before. These ribbons were your trademark, and you wore them every single day. You cut up a piece with a scissor you had brought for this purpose.

You softly grabbed James’ warm hand. You placed the satiny strip around his wrist, and with a touch of your wand, turned it into a compact ribbon bracelet.

- Open.

He immediately looked down at his wrist, and his eyes instantly flooded with emotion.

- Wear it for the game, okay? For luck. And after that, too, if you’d like.

- Y/N… these are your ribbons. Everyone knows…

- I want them to know. You are the best thing that’s ever been mine, and the rest of the world should know.

James stayed silent, fiddling with his new bracelet. Panic started creeping into your chest: it hadn’t occurred to you that maybe James wasn’t ready, but it probably should. What if that was too much for him? What if…

- I get it if you’re not ready, by the way, I just… You know - You tried chuckling to lighten up the mood, but it came out humorless.

- What? No! Of course I want that!

- I don’t want you to feel pressured…

James touched your thighs, urging you to look up at him.

- Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk about this with you for a while. I was just thinking that you are so… delicate. I’m much more… flashy.

You frowned your brows in confusion.

- What do you mean?

James opened a mischievous grin.

- It’s your turn to close your eyes.

Blindly, you listened closely to the creaking of the bed as James rose, his steps walking to the drawer, his muffled laugh. 

- You ready? Open.

The sight before your eyes made you wish you had a camera to keep this exact moment forever. James was standing there, with open arms, and a white t-shirt that read: I <3 MY GIRLFRIEND. 

- This is my way of going public. Ya like it?

You burst out laughing.

- You didn’t!

- You’re shocked now? Wait until you see… this.

When he turned around, you got a look at the back of the t-shirt, where there was a photo of you. Your hands flew to your mouth in blissful shock.

- James!

- So, did ya like it?

James had the biggest, brightest proud smile on his face. You jumped into his arms, still laughing.

- I… loved… it! - You kissed his face repeatedly between words. - I want a matching one, though.

- I’ll arrange it. Do you think McGonagall would let me use this as a game uniform? 

- Maybe, since she will be too shocked to even answer.

- I don’t think so, after she caught me with a kiss stain on my face.

- What? When? You didn’t tell me that!

- Oh, trust me, I will. But later, cause right now I have a shirt and a girlfriend to show off.

[bigfatbimbo]

FIDDLEFIRD PROMPT FIDDLEFORD PROMPT

Mister country boy meeting a goth/rebel kind of reader and he is just putty but very embarrassed about it

Golden reviver boy and black cat gn

My P.U.N.K. Girl

warnings — SFW, just fluff, young!fiddleford, college fiddleford implied, gn reader

summary —Fiddleford x Alternative!reader headcanons

<𝟑 Imagine a small town country bumpkin who barely left the farm seeing a goth or punk person for the first time.

<𝟑 Your first meeting wasn’t even a meeting, because he was looking at you from a distance and ran into a pole.

<𝟑 Maybe you finally call him out on his staring, by marching at him very confused, and almost angrily. Presumably in the 70s, most states you got were with fowl intent.

“Why are you always doing that?” You ask, “Staring at me like I have a third head.”

His eyes widened. “Why I— I reckon your most striking person i’ve ever seen,” then he blushed and shrank back into himself, “If I may say so myself, [ma’am/sir].”

Your tone softened, “oh.”

<𝟑 He’d be so smitten with his alternative partner, thinking you’re breathtaking in every way.

<𝟑 The way you decorate yourself is just as fascinating to him as the politics of it all which, being as sheltered as him, he knew little about before you.

<𝟑 He doesn’t understand a lot of it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think you’re beautiful.

<𝟑 Imagine getting him all dolled up like you one time, after hours of persistence.

“I don’t know ‘bout this, darling, I think i’m better off—“ He’d try to say before you turn his chair around to face the mirror.

You shush him. “What about now?” He looked at himself and studied his face and clothes.

“Imagine me in this old getup— I look ridiculous!” He’d almost laugh.

You release a giddy giggle, “You look amazing!”

<𝟑 These movements are very rooted in politics, so imagine dragging him to a protest. He would probably feel incredibly out of place, poor thing.

<𝟑 He’d be so blushy around you, he just thinks your so breathtaking and bold, it’s hard not to get weak in the knees when your here.

<𝟑 If you have a punk or goth band that goes with your subculture, he’d be at every show! Despite how loud it is, and even if he’s swamped in work.

<𝟑 Picture him in the back, stopping his twiddling with his mechanics to look up at you, being utterly yourself. Perfect.

[tyquu]

hi op! i love how your drew ezra, luke and mando in your style💗 i dont know if youve watched the ahsoka show but its been more than a decade since we've seen ezra bridger and when we see him again he grew his hair and beard out and even grew a lot taller! he's actually as tall as mando or han now there must have been something in that planet he was trapped in that made him shoot up 🤭

Gwahh thank you Anon! <33

I’ve seen two episodes of Ahsoka, I really need to finish it 😭 I’m just finding it a bit hard to to sit through atm. I’ve seen clips and stuff though so I have a pretty good idea of what happens!

I have seen bits of Eman as Ezra (he’s absolutely perfect for the role bwt! Love how he plays him!) and I can’t believe he’s so tall! Ezra was always a little shorter in my head (maybe like, 5,7 or something idk, however tall Hera is)

Cause I haven’t finished Ahsoka, whenever I’m drawing older Ezra I usually picture the sorta fanon interpretation I made up after watching rebels. I’m a die hard lover of Ezra joining the CDF temporarily. Thrawn and Ezra in Wild Space adventures the beloved. Maybe I’ll do a proper design for him one day.

Anyways, here’s two doodles of older Ezra cause I love him a lot and he’s my special guy.