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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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caught in a twin courtship

note from kin: i��m going to be honest i only really wrote this because the title is fun to say, so it isn’t as cohesive as i normally would have wanted to make it

(this is an au where the twins aren’t separated by the unknown god! instead, just their world-hopping powers were stolen, and that’s why they’re journeying to find said god - to get their powers back so that they can go home. i’ve also excluded paimon since i kind of forgot about her while writing this haha)

(this doesn’t follow canon at all since reader and the twins just kind of start wandering about after the dvalin incident rather than heading straight for liyue oops)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, lumine, aether, diluc, venti, jean

pairing(s): aether/reader/lumine

warning(s): i don’t think so??

genre: fluff with a little bit sprinkling of angst

you first meet the twins in the aftermath of the stormterror battle. it isn’t a glamorous introduction by any means - it’s pretty unflattering, actually - but it definitely makes a powerful first impression.

the group - aether, lumine, venti, diluc, and jean - are on their way back to mondstadt city, making small talk here and there, but mostly just walking in silence.

then they hear a yell in the distance.

jean and lumine both drop into a battle stances, venti leaps to hide behind aether with a very unmanly squeak of fear… but diluc, who arguably should have been the most alerted by this occurrence, just gives a resigned sigh and pauses.

a split second later, a figure comes speeding up to the group. you barrel up to diluc and immediately punch him square in the stomach, yelling “why didn’t you tell me you were going after stormterror?!”

aether and venti both give matching gasps of horror at the blatant disrespect, but diluc only shakes his head and catches your fist as it goes for another blow, this one aimed at his chest, and chastises, “calm down, i left a note.”

“i left a note,” you mimic, an absolutely awful impression that has you sounding more like a mosquito than the darknight hero, “fat lot of use that is when you aren’t even telling me where you’re going!”

diluc evades another jab at his arm and firmly sets his hands on both your shoulders, effectively anchoring you to the ground. you contemplate swinging your feet at his knees and knocking him over, or maybe shocking him with your electro vision, but ultimately decide that you might as well try to preserve what little dignity you have left in front of those three people you’ve never met before

so you stop with a defeated sigh and turn to face said three people to introduce yourself

it turns out that you’re diluc’s cousin and he’s been having to baby-sit you for the last few years after your own parents left on a ‘business trip’ to snezhnaya that they’re still not back from

you’re pretty sure they’re dead, killed by the fatui, and you say as much during your introduction without even the slightest sign of distress, which is a little unsettling

lumine’s first thought is that you’re quite the interesting character, what with the casual way you treat diluc, and how you don’t seem to question whatever situation lead you to meet in the first place

aether’s first thought is holy shit, they’re cute

one twin greets you in return with a lot more enthusiasm than the other, and venti the bard wastes no time in asking whether you have access to good master diluc’s wine storage

(you’d be shocked by the audacity if you weren’t just as bad as him when it came to shamelessness)

strangely enough, the fact that aether likes you so much actually makes lumine more wary of you than she was initially

aether trusts too easily, and from experience, that usually leads to disaster - and your flippancy regarding your parents’ apparent probable deaths rather inclines her to think that you might be a very dangerous person indeed

the three of you don’t see each other for a couple of days after that - you and diluc leave for dawn winery together, while the twins depart with venti to wrap their whole situation up, and jean returns to her duties in mondstadt city

all this time, apparently unbeknownst to even himself, aether keeps finding ways to bring you up in the middle of conversation

you’d only spoken to him for a few minutes and somehow that as enough to get him absolutely fascinated

lumine would be lying if she said she wasn’t still curious about you as well, but it gets annoying after aether somehow manages to mention how ‘mysterious’ your black cloak is in the middle of a conversation about why mitachurls are able to randomly set their axes on fire

luckily for these two, they happen to run into you the very next day!

you’re in the middle of taking out a ruin guard stomping around the thousand winds temple - a ruin guard that the twins had been meaning to take down themselves, which is why they’re here in the first place

at first they move to help you, only to stop short and watch in awe as you plunge down at the ruin guard from atop one of the enormous pillars, your polearm held steady in your grasp as your entire body seems to spark and glow with a deep purple electro energy

the sharp blade of your polearm goes clean through the top of the ruin guard’s head and shatters its core, and it sinks to the ground with a massive thud that echoes around the temple ruins, massive wooden limbs twitching and jerking as the last of your vision’s energy disperses from it

aether and lumine are basically star-struck

from there you spot them and call them over for a conversation, show them how to take apart a ruin guard’s circuits to get at the good parts, and somehow end up agreeing to journey with them across teyvat in their search for an unknown god who stole their abilities to hop from world to world as well as their apparent true power that allows them to wield all seven elements at once

the details are a little lost on you, but what you’re hearing is that you get to go on a cool adventure with a cool gal and a cool lad, so you’re pretty much all for it

diluc isn’t too happy about you up and leaving without so much as two week’s notice (partially because he has literally no friends apart from you and he’d get lonely without his little cousin bothering him all the time) but you simply tell him to deal with it and go anyway

(you do give him a big hug and promise to visit, you’re not heartless)

from then on you, aether and lumine become a dynamic trio like no other

it’s actually pretty damn spooky how well the three of you end of working together

aether and lumine had long since formed a style of fighting that meant they made up for each other’s weak spots and could attack in perfect sync, but then you come along and somehow manage to make their already pretty flawless formation even better

is it witchcraft? they honestly don’t know

considering you fit so well into their battle strategies, it follows that you’d also slot perfectly into their every day life

lumine is cautious at first, wondering if your presence would disrupt her and her brother’s long since pre-established routines, but you fit in so naturally that it’s as if you were there all long

maybe it it’s this that makes both twins slowly start falling for you - the comfort of being beside you and the familiarity that you bring are things that they struggled to find, being trapped in a world far from their own with no way to get out, and they unknowingly latch onto you like drowning men clutching lifebuoys

aether is the most obvious about his feelings - he starts waking up earlier just because he knows you do, sitting beside you as you stoke a campfire and keep watch for any approaching monsters, making quiet conversation as lumine continues sleeping. he tells you stories about his adventures in other worlds, including an encounter with a rather bigoted individual who is the reason that he keeps his hair so long while lumine’s has been cut short

he even starts taking his hair out of its braid before he goes to sleep so that he can ask you to braid it for him when he wakes up

lumine is a lot more subtle

she finds excuses to stand closer to you when, deliberately brushing her fingers against yours when handing you something. she listens far more attentively to you when you speak than anyone else, and she smiles far more in your presence, hanging onto your every word and gazing at you so intensely that it’s almost unsettling

of course, the twins notice each other’s feelings pretty easily

at first neither acknowledges it - it’d be far too messy for both to accept that they’d both fallen in love with the same person, let alone actually admit this to each other

but it gets to the point where it just isn’t ignorable anymore, and finally the twins decide to talk

it’s about as civil and sensible as they could hope for with the subject at hand, and they eventually decide to talk to you about it

and so, we come to an ultimatum. what will your choice be?

if you reject both, it’ll be hard to continue adventuring with twins who can’t look in your direction. neither resent you, of course, but the atmosphere has become so stifling that they can’t even make eye contact

it’s as if an enormous gap has opened up between the three of you. the twins are avoiding each other as well, unsure of how to handle the fact that they’re both in love with the same person and have now both been rejected by that same person. if anything, they should be becoming closer out of solidarity, but it seems that they can’t stand to be in each other’s presence as much as they can’t stand to be in yours.

the three of you still work together as seamlessly in battle as you did before, but once the final monster has been cut down and your weapons are sheathed, that connection seems to disappear again.

it’s aether who finally breaks the stalemate. he starts trying to start conversations as the three of you sit awkwardly apart from each other around a fire, and while the first few attempts end in stony silence and an awkward cough on his part, eventually you begin replying with some semblance of the humour you used to

from there things only improve - the three of you come to a silent mutual agreement to leave this behind you, and soon you’re all laughing and joking as you used to

lumine and aether both know that they cannot force you to love either of them, and they respect your choice. if anything, they’re the ones in the wrong for springing something like this on you so suddenly, and they start to feel a little guilty that they were essentially pressuring you into making a choice that you were never obligated to make

so they return to treating you as a dear friend, just as before. things are different now, of course, but they can only be grateful that you continue to travel with them and stay by their side; this situation doesn’t make them love you any less, even if you don’t love them in the same way.

if you choose lumine, aether will be understanding. the twins have been each other’s only support for longer than they can remember, and as the older brother, he’s well used to giving things up for his sister.

he’ll still be friendly and amicable, but he won’t seek you out as much as he did before. he starts braiding his hair by himself again, and stays in bed as late as he can every morning so that he doesn’t have to be face to face with you. just because he’s accepted this doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

sometimes, when the sky grows dark and you and lumine have long since fallen asleep beside each other, he wonders to himself - why is it that he has to give everything to his sister? he’s given away so much, so why couldn’t the universe let him have this one thing?

but he knows, deep down, that this is nothing to do with the universe - you simply fell in love with someone that wasn’t him, his sister at that, and he’s struggling to come to terms with it.

he wants to hate you, hate lumine, hate the relationship that the two of you have formed, but he just can’t. he loves the both of you in different ways that are just as important as each other, and he can’t stand to lose either of you. he’d rather throw himself off of starsnatch cliff.

so he’ll smile and bear it, even if it’s a battle to keep himself from breaking down every time he sees the two of you lace your hands together, off in your own little word, so near and yet so far from him.

if you choose aether, lumine will become cold. at first, that is. she’s never been as empathetic as her brother, always holding grudges and developing dislike much more easily. it had taken a lot for her to open up to you in the first place, and now that you’ve rejected her, it’s going to take a while for her to return to the same camaderie with you that she had before.

lumine does not begrudge aether for being the one you chose. if anything, she’s glad - aether is always putting her first and himself second, and she’s happy that he has someone like you, who lights his eyes up in a way that she’s never seen before.

but our hearts often betray our mind, after all, and lumine can’t help but scowl and turn away every time she sees her brother wrap his arms around your waist or press a kiss to your cheek. despite her best efforts, all she can think is why? why did you have to choose him?

she can’t bring herself to hate you, though. as much as it feels like her heart is threatening to split down the middle when she sees you smile and is reminded of something that she cannot have, there is an equal joy in the fact that her brother can be with the person that he loves so dearly. if anything, the two of you deserve to be happy together.

lumine would never do anything that could take that away, and so she forces herself to accept it. it takes several days of tentative conversation and barely held back tears, but eventually the two of you seem to return to the way you were before - all friendly jabs and light-hearted banter and little jokes exchanged over crossed blades.

but lumine knows that your friendship can never be quite the same as it was before. she’ll forever be holding you at arm’s length, terrified to let you get too close lest you see how much your presence affects her. she can’t let you know how much she loves you because she will never be the one who links hands with you as you walk down a long, winding path, or the one who holds you close under a darkening sky filled with stars - because that person is aether, and she would sooner die before she takes her brother’s happiness away.

if you refuse to choose, the twins will be at a loss at what to do. they hadn’t considered this scenario - that you had somehow come to love both of them.

the confusion becomes joy soon enough, though. they realise what this means - they both love you, and you love both of them! isn’t this perfect?

neither are particularly thrilled at the concept of ‘sharing’ you with the other, so to speak, but in the end they both equally want each other to be happy as they want you to be, so the logical conclusion is that they both become your partners.

they’re not too sure how this should work, nor what sort of label to put on it, but they come to you tentatively with the idea anyway

to their joyous surprise, you agree!

and from then marks the point of no return…

aether is definitely the clingier of the two. once he realises that he’s allowed to show affection and be close to you for no particular reason, he won’t stop - it’s as if he absolutely has to be holding your hand or be standing or sitting as close to you as physically possible. he’s always buying you souvenirs at every place you stop by, scaling trees to pick apples for you when you mention a craving for fruit, presenting you little treasures that he’s found with all the pride of a golden retriever.

lumine is a more subdued kind of partner, preferring to demonstrate her feelings with little things like making your favourite food for dinner or bringing you sprigs of flowers that she’s secretly been collecting in order to present you with them. of course, that doesn’t mean she isn’t physically affectionate at all - she presses perhaps even closer to you than aether when you sleep beside her, and somehow her hand finds yours at every opportunity she has.

the twins clash every now and then, as siblings often do, except that you’re usually caught in the middle. their arguments are little more than playful squabbles, though - things like play-fighting over who gets to hug you first after a well-fought battle, or who gets to hold your hand on the way to the next village (you have to step in and remind them that you do, in fact, have two hands)

in conclusion: why choose one when you can have both and prevent the unchosen from having endless amounts of angst?

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin aether #genshin lumine #genshin traveller #aether x reader #lumine x reader #traveller x reader #fluff #love triangle #kinda??#just a little angst #as a treat #genshin diluc #genshin venti #unedited

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zaharya · 3 years ago

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Hey so you have ADHD and are in higher education, do you have any advice for an ADHD/autistic person going into college who struggles with motivation and studying? Also I figure it's worth a shot to ask but do you have any advice for handling autistic burnout caused overstimulation while not failing classes? Sorry if this is out of the blue but I'm really nervous and figured I'd ask

Phew, that's a rather big question, and I'm not sure it can be so easily answered 😅 These things depend heavily on your circumstances as well as individual factors, which obviously I know nothing about in your case. I also don't know that much about ASD, I'm afraid; certainly not enough to feel comfortable giving advice for it (sorry 😕).

I suppose I could give you the usual (and fundamentally true) speech about including buffer-times in your study schedules [ADHD time-tax; however long you estimate a task to take, multiply that by 3 or 4 (ideally 4 in the beginning), and that's how much time you actually plan for the task], setting partial deadlines with professors and supervisors, breaking down big assignments into small, manageable steps, make sure you get enough sleep, take breaks while studying etc. But I'm assuming you know all that.

Generally speaking, these struggles with motivation and studying with ADHD aren't usually very straightforward to combat. What works and what doesn't is highly individual; for example, in my case medication is an important factor, while that hardly matters for other people. I hate saying it but it's mostly something you have to figure out for yourself by trial and error. On top of that, most useful ADHD coping strategies tend to work for a while, then stop working, and at some point they suddenly work again. Don't dismay if a strategy that worked for you (idk, let's say Pomodoro timers) suddenly doesn't work anymore! Just switch to a different strategy for a while and try it again after a few weeks – at some point your brain will perceive it as new and shiny again, and it'll be helpful again. Personally, I just permanently cycle through strategies 😅

The few strategies that (more or less) continuously helped me throughout my uni career are almost exclusively things that involve other people somehow. For example body doubling to stay focused a little better, or having another person talk at when plan my assignments because talking it through helps me get my thoughts straight. So, I suppose my best advice is to build a solid support system; whether that consists of people you study with or other friends or family. Whoever you're comfortable with, actively seek support when you need it, even if that support is in passive form like just sitting with you while you work (aka body doubling). Also, if motivation is a problem, there's no shame in giving yourself external incentives! Reward yourself! The idea that motivation must be intrinsic is simply not viable for neurodivergents. We're just not wired that way, and that's fine; extrinsic motivation is just as well.

Otherwise, I'd recommend looking into what accommodations are available at your uni; more time on tests or extendable deadlines can make a big difference! Also, and I know that's really hard, if you notice that you're slipping in a course, contact your professor sooner rather than later. Perhaps I am overly optimistic, but in my experience, most profs are understanding enough and happy to help if you communicate openly with them (before the deadline is two days away). Of course, that won't always be possible, and sometimes you'll think "shit now it's already too late" – it's still better to message them immediately than after three days of berating yourself, which helps nobody.

... well that got longer than expected, I apologise 🙈 I wish I had a better answer for you, but I'm afraid my best advice is really just to find other neurodivergent people to connect with, for mutual support. Whether IRL or online, a solid support community can make a huge difference. (I took the liberty of peeking at your blog and saw that you're into Merlin; we have a Merlin Discord server that is overwhelmingly neurodivergent, if you'd like to join us? It's called The Merlin Library / @themerlinlibrary – we have a bunch of people who sometimes body double together on VC or help each other plan assignments etc. No pressure of course, just an offer!)

In any case, I wish you the best! 💜

#ask answered #ask #adhd #college #strategies

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duckprintspress · 4 years ago

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Devilish Details: Comma, Hyphen, or Neither?

As we do our final copyedit to catch any tiny errors that may have slipped through into the final version of Add Magic to Taste, I (@unforth, the Press's lead editor) have been reinforcing and formalizing my knowledge of how to use punctuation when dealing with the following sentence structure:

adjective1 adjective2 noun

Whether commas and/or hyphens are needed depends primarily on two factors:

Is adjective1 modifying adjective2, or are they both modifying the noun?

Are adjective1 and adjective2 coordinate or cumulative adjectives?

I'm not going to get in-depth on this post about what coordinate and cumulative adjectives are - there's already some great resources for that, such as this Writing Fundamentals Guide post and this article by Grammar Girl. Covering that as well as the below is too much for one post. Instead, this post will focus on strategies for telling the difference between three cases:

adjective1-adjective2 noun (Case 1)

adjective1, adjective2 noun (Case 2)

adjective1 adjective2 noun (Case 3)

For starters, carefully consider what the meaning of adjective1, adjective2, and noun is when they're used together. As in, what, specifically, is being described, and what is being established about it? You (as editor or writer!) need to know what you're actually trying to say before you can make sure it's written in a grammatically correct way. You also need to keep in mind the context of your story, because that might change your aimed-for meaning (for example, in one story, a box being wooden might be an incidental description, and in another, a box being wooden might be absolutely essential and noteworthy, and that could potentially influence the punctuation).

Once you know what you're trying to say ("I'm trying to say that the box is wooden and beautiful;" "I'm trying to say that the wooden box is beautiful;" "I'm trying to say that the beautiful box is made of wood;" etc.) analyze your options by taking your three words (adjective1, adjective2, and noun - though note that adjective2 may not look like an adjective - it's often a noun or verb that's functioning as an adjective, because it's modifying the noun) and consider iterations of them as sentences.

Does adjective1 + noun make sense and, if it does, does it also preserve the essential meaning of adjective1 + adjective2 + noun? Which is to say - is the only difference that, if adjective2 is removed, noun is described a little less, but the meaning is still clear and is what the writer intended? (If yes, see Cases 2 and 3 below; if no, see Case 1 below)

Are adjective1 and adjective2 in the same or different adjective "categories"? In English, adjectives make the most sense if they're used in an order determined by the category they fall into - you can read more about that in this Grammarly post. Different sources use different lists of "categories," and what "order" they go in can vary contextually, but they are essentially: opinion (beautiful, ugly), size (big, thin), age (three-years-old, ancient), condition (worn, new-made), shape (square, cylindrical), color (blue, whitish), origin/nationality/religion (Muslim, London-based), material (wooden, painted), purpose (archival, athletic). If adjective1 and adjective2 are in the same category (large, wide house; slippery, slick spill) then you should most likely refer to Case 2 below; if they're in different categories (slow rectangular train; beautiful archival paper) you should most likely refer to Case 3 below.)

Similarly, does adjective2 + noun make sense and, if it does, does it also preserve the essential meaning? (If yes, see Cases 2 and 3 below; if no, see Case 1 below)

If the sentence is reworded as "adjective1 and adjective2 noun" does it make sense and preserve the intended meaning? (If yes, see Case 2 below; if no, see Cases 1 and 3 below)

If the sentence is reworded as adjective2 adjective1 noun, does it make sense and preserve the intended meaning? (If yes, see Case 2 below; if no, see Cases 1 and 3 below)

Visualize your sentence as units - does each word function more-or-less "alone" or do they make most sense when imagined as couples, as in (adjective1 + adjective2) + noun makes the most sense (if yes, see Case 1 below), or adjective1 + (adjective2 + noun) makes the most sense (if yes, see Case 3 below)? (if neither makes more or less sense, see Case 2 below)

Try plugging your words into following examples - the one that makes sense and preserves meaning is almost certainly the one you want. Option 1: "the noun is adjective1 adjective2" (and doesn't make sense if a word is put between adjective1 and adjective2, in which case go to Case 1 below). Option 2: "the noun is adjective1 and adjective2" (in which case, go to Case 2 below). Option 3: "the adjective2 noun is adjective1" (in which case, go to Case 3 below). This can be especially helpful for figuring out if you're dealing with a case where context makes a difference the adjectives cumulative (because, as I said, sometimes "the box is wooden and beautiful," and "wooden" and "beautiful are equally meaningful - though they're in different adjective categories - and sometimes, "the wooden box is beautiful" (especially as compared to a different box made of another material) is more what you're aiming for - and that will affect the punctuation.)

All right - so far, so confusing, right? On to the specifics and examples!

Case 1: adjective1 is modifying adjective2, and combined, they make an adjectival phrase which modifies the noun - in which case, a hyphen is needed between adjective1 and adjective2.

Case 1 Example 1: his blue-green eyes. Explanation: the color of the eyes is a combination of blue and green; if you say "blue eyes" or "green eyes," neither conveys the same meaning/communicates the same color. Instead, blue and green are combining to BOTH, together, give significant information about the color of his eyes.

Case 1 Example 2: the load-bearing wall. Explanation: "the load wall" and "the bearing wall" and "the load and bearing wall" are all gibberish that in no way preserve the intended meaning. "Load" and "bearing" need to be coupled together and interpreted as a single adjective "unit."

Case 1 Example 3: the half-eaten muffin. Explanation: once again, consider our bullet list above - "the half muffin" could make sense but doesn't preserve the intended meaning (for example, it could have been cut in half instead of eaten). "The eaten muffin" sort of makes sense, but again doesn't preserve the meaning - the muffin is only partially eaten. The "half eaten muffin" is nothing - an "eaten muffin" isn't a thing - and "the half and eaten muffin" is obviously nothing - and "the eaten half muffin" changes the meaning, implying someone ate all of half a muffin - and there'd need to be a hyphen between half and muffin. Only with a hyphen does the sentence make sense AND convey this specific meaning.

Case 2: adjective1 and adjective2 are both equally modifying the noun, and all of the following sentence re-structuring examples lead to new phrases that make sense and preserve the intended meaning (if...with slightly less descriptive power): "adjective1 noun," "adjective2 noun," and "adjective1 and adjective2 noun." adjective1 and adjective2 are most likely to fit these pattern examples if they're in the same category, as described above. In this case, adjective1 and adjective2 are functioning as coordinate adjectives, and the correct phrasing will be: adjective1, adjective2 noun -> a comma is needed between adjective1 and adjective2.

Case 2 Example 1: the wide, open field. Explanation: "the wide field" - okay, we know a little less about the field, but it still makes sense. "The open field" - same. "The wide and open field" - it's a little clunky, but it also makes sense. "The open and wide field" - sounds slightly odd, because in English we like our adjectives in a certain order and if we change that order it makes (especially native speaker's) eyebrows twitch, but it does function as a sentence. "The field is wide and open" - also makes sense. They're also arguably in the same category (size). So, these are coordinate adjectives, and a comma is needed between them.

Case 2 Example 2: my pretty, erudite friend. Explanation: "my pretty friend," "my erudite friend," "my pretty and erudite friend," "my erudite and pretty friend," "my friend is pretty and erudite," all of these make perfect sense, so - comma! (also - same category - opinion)

Case 2 Example 3: the soft, fuzzy toy. Explanation: I could go over it a million times - why not try it your self? Break it down into adjective1 + noun, adjective2 + noun, adjective1 and adjective2 noun, adjective2 and adjective1 noun, the noun is adjective1 and adjective2...all good, right? Some may niggle at the ear because of English adjective order, but they all essentially work. (and again - category is descriptive opinion - so, same)

Note: As I keep saying, whether something is Case 2 or Case 3 can be contextually dependent. There is no hard-and-fast rule - even the examples above, which I tried to make clear and straightforward (the clear, straightforward examples?) could arguably have no comma, depending on context. This is "indefinite" enough, often, that no one is gonna come down on you if you don't do it right; if you're really not sure, it's probably better to err on the side of "no comma," Case 3. But, you can also keep in mind that the "weirder," "clunkier," "awkwarder," "more stilted" a sentence sounds when you put "and" between the adjectives, the more likely we are to need Case 3. And also, even with context, it's usually best to use Case 3 if the adjectives are in different categories.

Case 3: adjective2 is directly modifying noun, and adjective1 makes most sense considered as describing the "unit" made of "adjective2 noun." "adjective2 noun" still makes clear sense, but "adjective1 noun" is missing essential meaning that contextualizes the information being presented. "adjective1 and adjective2 noun" reads like gibberish, and "adjective2 adjective1 noun" similarly makes no sense. In this case, the adjectives are cumulative, and they should not get a comma between them.

Case 3 Example 1: the elderly American tourist. Explanation: "the elderly and American tourist" does vaguely make sense, but it loses essential meaning - we're not describing the tourist, we're describing the American tourist. Whether "American" is critical information will depend, somewhat, on context, but try changing the order - "the American elderly tourist" reads as wrong almost always - unless we're dealing with a case where there's a whole hoard of elderly tourists and we specifically mean the American one. From a category standpoint, they're also clearly in different categories - elderly is about age/description, American nationality. Thus, no comma should be used.

Case 3 Example 2: the wide road shoulder. Explanation: this one is more clear-cut than the previous, because essential meaning is lost when the order is changed or the middle word (which, yes, is a noun, but it's modifying/altering the meaning of shoulder) - without "road" there, "shoulder" means something completely different. "Road shoulder" makes sense alone, but "the road wide shoulder" is nonsense, as is "the wide and road shoulder." And, different categories - wide is size, whereas road describes purpose.

Case 3 Example 3: your orange knit sweater. Explanation: again, this is about establishing a category (the "knit sweater") that is then being described as orange. While, yes, "orange sweater" makes sense and could arguably cause this to fall into Case 2, "the knit orange sweater" reads oddly (again, unless we're differentiating one orange sweater from the others), as does "the orange and knit sweater." Further, for categories - color and material/means of making are again, clearly different, and so this is an instance where adjectives in different categories pile, and the entire unit of "knit sweater" is what is being described by "orange."

I know it's hard. Especially for non-native speakers, who may not have the exposure to the language to know "by ear" what "sounds weird," it can be hard to recognize the subtle differences. Sadly, this is an instance of grammar where "it just sounds right that way" is often a good way (especially for a native speaker) to gauge which Case is right. But, in general, if adjective2 + noun make a unit that would clearly distinguish noun from other forms of noun (the American tourist, the knit sweater, the peaked roof, etc.) then you probably want Case 3 and shouldn't use a comma.

In the end, there's no simple rules for this. It's complex, and there are tons of exceptions to the "rules," and even if you're super careful, some of these kinds of cases will likely slip through. Further, even if you do your best, and go with the most "technically correct" approach, you'll end up with things that look weird ("the bright-blue bird" is the most technically correct way to write it - bright is definitely modifying the color blue - but no one would actually write it this way because it reads "weird." Like, yes, the bird is not bright, which means the hyphen is "necessary" but...it's not actually.) So - consider what you mean, and what reads smoothly, and what you see other people doing, and do your best.

On the plus side - if you're an experienced writer/editor/reader, and you've read all this and you're still confused, your readers are in the same boat as you - hardly anyone who reads your edited work will know these rules well enough to even notice that you might have gotten one or two wrong.

So, don't stress about it much - this is definitely on the most pedantic end of technical copyediting grammar shenanigans - but hey, now you know!

Now, go write some words!

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#duck prints press #original content #writing advice #grammar #devilish details

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grasscrown · 4 years ago

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ok I'm on my break let's rubypost. so I've mentioned before about how one of the first to have a real strategy onscreen and is certainly the first to ask the winchesters to join The Plot, inviting them to scheme against lilith.

and she's interesting at this point bc ruby 1.0 is fairly inscrutable. it's fairly obvious to everyone that she has an agenda but we can't really figure out what it is, and the audience doesn't have enough information to deduce her actual motivations. but her strategy is pretty blunt. she withholds information until she decides they're ready to act on it, etc. 'hello, demon!' but she's the only real source of information or backup so they kind of grudgingly accept it

ruby 2.0 is trying to do an entirely different kind of manipulation, and she's BAD at it! her seduction of sam is almost comical-- like they don't have any chemistry onscreen at all until she like puts his hand on her tit and all of a sudden they're fucking. it's an absolutely insane scene. and this is partially bc the actress isn't very good at acting but like ok what if we made that a character trait instead

and like I'm in the middle of the magicians episode rn and for me this is the moment ruby first really fucks up, because she's begging sam to kill lilith because it would, like, help the world out so much. this should absolutely be a 'wait there's something else going on here. what do you actually want?' moment for sam but it's *not* bc he's SO easy to manipulate. she gets desperate and she gets sloppy but her gambit works again

and this blundering into success is like notable bc she is really good at playing the long game and getting herself to where she needs to be in order to take advantage of a situation. in very clever, patient and analytical ways! like she endured all sorts of hell at lilith's hands and somehow convinced her of her loyalty just so she could have the chance to have 5 seconds topside to improvise herself to a better position! she has to be a good strategist and a good liar. but she's such a bad manipulator! so like imo she makes much more sense as a fairly clinical tactician trying and sort of failing to be a femme fatale

anyway tl;dr I am rotating ruby around in my mind until the lazy and disparate writing choices come together and she congeals into a character I can become interested in

#post from my drafts I never actually finished #spn #ruby spn

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written-prose-things · 4 years ago

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5 Times Eun Sang saw Young Do after he'd gotten beaten up by his dad + 1 Time she beat his dad up

The Second Time: The Pair's History Project

One thing Young Do respects is being punctual. As the heir to a well-known hotel chain, he has to meet all sorts of businessmen and associates. Being punctual and respecting schedules allows Young Do to bring some semblance to his life even if it’s in the form of a weekly schedule.

The only meeting he procrastinates about ironically happens to be the one meeting that is a permanent fixture in his schedule.

He has to report to his father’s port facility every Thursday at 5 p.m.. But he has given up on dragging his feet and throwing tantrums, now that there isn’t anyone who can hold his father’s anger off. The smarting bruises are inevitable, he only has a superficial choice between getting beaten up on the mat or receiving unexpected blows throughout the week.

So when his father’s secretary pulls up outside the school, Young Do gets in and goes along willingly.

****

Eun Sang didn’t know herself to be an unrealistic optimist. She knew that her strategy to be a wallflower would not be successful in an elite school where she was going to be one of the few charity cases. However, she hadn’t expected the universe’s attempts to turn her into the roadside freakshow of the school. Everything that could have gone wrong did and then some more. She’d had to fend off advances from a well-meaning but condescending rich twerp only to fall into another’s company all thanks to her history teacher’s amazing idea of pairing her with Young Do for the semester’s projects.

The only silver lining was that her situation made Chan Young laugh more than he had since middle school.

Now, she was exactly where she had expected herself to be. As soon as the last bell had rung, Young Do had walked out of the classroom without handing her his half of the assignment. She’d scoured all the shady spots in the school that his clique haunted, but had turned up empty-handed. As she entered the basketball court, the last place on her list, she checked her watch.

She’d wasted 15 minutes on looking for Young Do and now she was late for her evening job. She rushed out of the school, hoping to make it to the bus stop as quickly as possible. Hopefully, tomorrow she’d be able to go through Young Do’s work and fix all his mistakes before the teacher asked for the submissions. She thanked the blatant favouritism of the city council, the footpaths in this district were smooth and freshly painted, unlike the foot-trodden paths near her old house.

She turned the corner to the bus stop 3 minutes quicker than expected. The stop was empty and the board showed that the next bus was only 5 minutes away.

Behind her, she heard the peculiar and easily recognisable voice of Myung Soo.

“Hey, new girl!!”

“What?”

Myung Soo was sitting inside a pretentious black car. His torso hung out of the partially open window. He beckoned her over with the hand that was holding a folder.

Eun Sang stepped out of the bus stop’s awning and walked towards him.

“Here you go.”

He foisted the folder off on her.

Eun Sang pushed it back, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Myung Soo shrugged, “Young Do just told me to give this to you. He said you’d know what to do with it. Cool?”

Myung Soo replied to his own question, “Cool.” and started to roll up his window.

Eun Sang banged her hand on the window, “Ya! Not cool! What-?”

These people were going to make her kill herself. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“Where is he?”

Myung Soo looked taken aback, “Who? Young Do?”

Eun Sang looked at him expectantly.

Myung Soo scrunched his nose, “He must be with his father right now. At the gym in Kim Tan’s district.”

Myung Soo’s expression of disgust made her uncomfortable. She’d give an arm to be able to spend quality time with her mother without having to worry about money.

Eun Sang nodded and opened the car’s door, “Okay. Drop me off there.”

Myung Soo moved back, allowing her to take a seat, “I’ll drop you somewhere else. You shouldn’t go and see him right now.”

Eun Sang glared at him, “I’ll do as I please.”

Myung Soo glared back, “No you won’t. Don’t pay him a visit at the gym.”

The thing about people who are perceived as flippant is that when they get upset, you can’t not take them seriously. Eun Sang surrenders.

“Okay. But I have to go that way anyway. I live in that district.”

Myung Soo nods, back to his usual self.

****

Eun Sang can feel Myung Soo’s eyes on her as she crosses the road. Unable to ignore him anymore, she turns around.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go looking for Young Do.”

Myung Soo smiles and rolls up his window. Eun Sang waits until his car has pulled out of the lane before crossing the road again.

The thing about being an invisible part of the huge courts rich people maintain is that Eun Sang can easily predict their habits and behaviours. So even though the district has thousands of gyms, Eun Sang can count on one hand the ones that Young Do is possibly a member of.

This is the third time Young Do has foisted off his work on her and she’s had it. She only takes an initiative to cross-check his work because it affects her grade. But being expected to do it compulsorily irritates her beyond measure.

Myung Soo can eat it. She’s going to find Young Do and throw his paper in his face.

She calls her boss and tells him a superficial sob story about not being able to come in today. He knows she’s lying, that much is clear. But he lets her off the hook for some reason. She cuts the call as quickly as possible. Looking a gift horse in the mouth isn’t something she can afford to do.

****

Eun Sang reconsiders her confidence. The sky is slowly turning black and she still hasn’t found Young Do in any of the elite gyms in the area.

It’s another moment when she feels like the universe has kicked her in the shins. She’d have been better off going to work and checking Young Do’s paper in her break.

She gives up on looking in the several other gyms in the area and begins to head home. The difference between the main roads of the district and the bylanes and back alleys is stark. She takes off her school coat and pulls on a sweatshirt. She replaces her phone and headphones for her keys, the former going back into her bag.

As she makes her way deeper into the maze of houses and shops, Eun Sang sees a figure walk out of the makeshift gym that the owner built in an old warehouse. She recognises his face easily even in the faint streetlight.

“Ya Young Do!”

He whips around quickly and makes a shushing motion. She walks up to him, ready to rip him a new one. But he beats her to it.

“What are you doing here? Have you been following me?”

“So what if I have? What are you doing here? Did you beat someone up again? Have you locked them inside?”

Eun Sang can’t help the way her voice rises as she asks questions. Getting in fights is one thing, but beating someone up and locking them up isn’t something that Young Do’s dad might be able to get him out of unless he really knows people in high places.

Young Do sighs and schools his expression before staring at her as if she’s the one at fault here, “That’s none of your business. Just- Why are you here?”

Eun Sang decides not to push it further and trusts his file back at him, “I’m not your homework machine. Do it on your own.”

Young Do nods, “Okay. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take this from you tomorrow. Just go now.” He pushes her away from him.

The door of the warehouse opens once again, with its typical creaking noise. An older man steps out.

If she saw this man walking on the street, she’d never know that he was Young Do’s father; but as Young Do instinctively cowers before him, it becomes obvious. And suddenly many things fall into place.

The man looks her up and down with a sneer.

“And who are you?”

Young Do answers for her, for which she’s thankful. She’ll happily follow his lead when it comes to answering explosive questions asked by opinionated and powerful men, “She’s a classmate.”

Young Do’s father gives him a withering look, “Do you answer for her?”

Young Do breaks away from his father’s stare, “No sir.”

For the first time, Eun Sang wishes she was still wearing her school blazer, but nonetheless, she adopts her best impression of an average girl from her school.

“I wish he’d speak for me. But I had just come to hand over the paper he forgot at school today.” Young Do looks surprised as if he had expected her to throw him under the bus.

Young Do’s father rolls his eyes, “How does it matter if he gets the file today or tomorrow, it isn’t like he cares about his studies. But anyway” he mimics a frown, “it’s good to see that there are people who care for him.”

The implication makes Eun Sang bristle and she knows from the look that Young Do throws her that she hasn’t hidden her feeling properly.

If his father notices her expression, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns towards his son, grabbing his neck in a way that resembles a wholesome action, but the emotion behind skews it, making her feel uncomfortable. In the quiet lane, she’s able to overhear Young Do’s father.

“I’ll leave you to it then. Lick your wounds and have fun with the girl. I’ll see you at the same time next week.”

With that, he stalks out of the lane. A moment later they hear the faint noise of a car pulling out. Eun Sang takes a deep breath.

Now she knows. Why Young Do hadn’t told her who he’d gotten in a fight with that day at the convenience store. Why Myung Soo didn’t want her to go looking for Young Do.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath trying to will away the guilt she’s feeling towards Young Do. It isn’t going to help either of them.

She opens her eyes and turns to look at Young Do. He beats her to it again.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Eun Sang rolls her eyes, “You’re not getting any either. I was just going to say that you can come to my place and we’ll patch you up.”

He raises his eyebrows, “How exactly is that not pity?”

Eun Sang shrugs, “I’m doing it for my own benefit. I need you to be in a good condition if we’re going to give our presentation tomorrow.”

With that, she turns around and starts walking back home, albeit at a slower pace so that he can keep up. It’s up to him to decide now.

He catches up quick enough, even though he’s breathing a little harder than she had expected. His dad really did do a number on him.

****

Eun Sang sits down in the middle of her room and opens the first aid box that her mother keeps in the corner of the kitchen.

Young Do’s still standing by the door.

“Come here and sit down. Unless you want to do it yourself.”

He doesn’t rally back with his usual smart remark, choosing instead to step into the room and sit down in front of her. Thankfully she doesn’t have to make another smart remark for him to take his shirt off.

The sight before her makes Eun Sang gasp out loud. Thankfully Young Do doesn’t take offence. She pulls out the cotton swabs and disinfectant, hoping to make quick work of what is obviously going to be a very painful experience.

She dabs the swab over a cut in Young Do’s back and he recoils violently.

“Sorry.”

He grunts in reply.

Eun Sang grabs his file and passes it to him, “Explain what you’ve written to me.”

“What?”

She wakes her hand at his back vaguely, “This is going to take some time, we should get some work done in the meantime.”

Hopefully, this distracts him from the pain a little bit.

He nods and flips the file open, “So the topic is had to cover was how languages have evolved in East Asia over the past few years and I was interested in exploring the differences in the effects of the various kinds of colonisation on the Korean language and how the different dialects emerged from this process...”

Eun Sang listens to him as she continues to work on his back.

Finally, she closes the first aid box and hands him his shirt back. She walks back into the room after putting the box back in its place.

“You sounded like you actually did some work on this project.”

Young Do huffs, “I always do.”

Eun Sang gives him a look, “Of course.” And she motions him to give her the file.

After perusing through his paper two times, she can’t help but hit him on the head with it lightly. Lightly.

“Ya!”

“No! You don’t get to yell at me. What the hell is this bullshit?”

Young Do actually looks offended, “seriously, you crazy woman, decide what you want to say. You just complimented me for it.”

“What you’ve written and what you’re saying sounds entirely different. Where’s the point about maritime trade and its effects in the paper?”

Young Do grabs the file and flips through it. He pushes it back at her just as quickly, pointing aggressively at a paragraph, “Right here.”

Eun Sang reads it thoroughly again, “No. This isn’t it. You used loads of examples when you were talking about it. Why are those written here?”

Young Do shrugs, “I was just using them to explain this to you. I don’t think the teacher needs me to explain that to him.”

Eun Sang barely manages to control herself and not hit him again.

“Just- Shut up. I’m going to help you write answers now. You really have no idea about how to write anything.”

With that, Eun Sang and Young Do begin their weekly tuitions. Young Do learns how to write better answers and Eun Sang gets a new friend.

#the heirs #choi young do #cha eun sang #young do x eun do #can you tell I've just binge-watched the show again?#the next part: i.e. the first time eun sang saw young do after he got beaten up will probably be posted next Saturday?#idk i have no sense of time or motivation #if i can't write it i'll just post the sparknotes version of it here.#thank you for taking out the time to read my unnecessary notes

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siennahrobek · 4 years ago

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Future Past

10 BBY

“Children are not taken from their families, Luke,” Ben explained patiently. Luke didn’t exactly remember how the conversation came up, really, but he didn’t mind where it was going. He loved hearing about the Jedi. It just made him more determined to become one himself, or, at least, as much as he could with the absence of the Order. They were on a planet side of fields of grass and an abundance of flowers and hadn’t been attacked in weeks. Using that calm time to visit a place, to relax on a planet they had settled down to pick flowers, meditate and talk. Luke loved it when they could just sit and meditate and talk. “They are adopted. If a Finder or Seeker does happen to find a child, they may ask for custody, explaining why and the like. More often than not, however, there were plenty of children given to the Jedi.”

“Why would parents give their kids away?” Luke asked, curiously, looking up at him with his head shifted to the side as he plucked a few blades of grass. Ben’s smile was so warm and nice, and he always had good feelings to send towards Luke and Luke always caught them whole-heartedly. “Don’t they love them?”

“They do, I imagine,” he agreed with a small nod as he bunched up a few of the smaller flowers with longer stems into a bouquet. “But being a parent is a bit about doing what you think is right for your child, even if it hurts. Many times, force sensitives can have a hard time with control without the proper training. Children like this are better raised in an environment with other force sensitives. Especially as a child, they can lash out when having intense emotions, sometimes even accidently hurting those around them.”

“Oh,” Luke sat back and glanced at his hands, studying them closely. He wondered, passively, if couldn’t really be a good jedi or if he would lash out because he wasn’t around more like him. Maybe Ben was enough? He would be enough, Luke determined stubbornly. Luke wouldn’t lose control; he would grow up strong and kind and good. “What about…if they don’t have any parents? Or…or if their parents don’t want them?”

“If they do not have parents, the Jedi will try to find any remaining family for their permission,” Ben continued, wrapping a long strong blade of grass around the stems of the flowers he had taken. “If there is none, a petition can be made to adopt the child. Sometimes a jedi may technically take a child if they are being endangered or the parent tries to harm them. A jedi will do that in any case, even if the child is not force sensitive.”

“Like me, when Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were…gone,” Luke pointed out, fiddling with his fingers, unable to meet his teacher’s gaze. He picked up a few of the flowers that he himself had picked and put them in a pile, carefully placing the stems away from the petals. They were beautiful, he thought, with so many colors and so soft to touch. “And you took me away.”

Ben nodded, although a bit sad, like the prospect of having to take Luke away was sad. It was a little, Luke thought. He did miss Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, sometimes he wished they were with him. But he was also glad he was with Ben. Being with Ben was better in some ways, learning how to control his feelings and abilities. He didn’t have nearly as many accidents anymore. But he still missed his aunt and uncle. They were gone, though, and Luke would have to accept that. It was okay, because they were everywhere now. “Yes. To protect you, I had to take you away,” Ben agreed.

“I’m glad you did, Ben.”

***

“Children are raised in what we called the Creche,” Ben started, Luke curled up into his side in his room. Normally Ben stayed outside on a pullout cot, as he claimed to want to give Luke space and a bit of privacy, but Luke had just awoken from a nightmare and nearly begged Ben to stay with him. It hadn’t taken much. He asked about children of the Jedi, after they were adopted from their biological parents. It was a random question, Luke hadn’t even really understood where it came from.

“What happens there?” Luke murmured, messing with a little block toy Ben had gotten him a few days prior.

“Well, they are raised all together,” Ben started, trying not to let his voice crack with emotion. “Everyone becomes brothers and sisters. My crechemates and I were friends for our entire lives, long after we had parted ways and found masters, becoming padawans.”

“Was it nice, in the creche?” he asked.

“Yes. We had a few adults of course, to help teach us and protect us, to love and care for us. We found a lot of love within those walls. The creche was one of the places most imbued with so much innocence, love and light. You never think anything truly bad can happen there.”

Luke knew something bad must have happened, especially since all the Jedi were gone. If not, he imagined Ben would be there right now. Perhaps it would make him happier and less lonely. He doesn’t say it, Luke thought it would make him even more sad, but Luke believed he would have been rather happy in the creche.

6 BBY

“Can you tell me more about Master Windu?” Luke asked eagerly, leaning forward across the table and nearly knocking over Ben’s cup of tea. He snatched it away as it precariously set on the edge of the cup. He let out a chuckle which just seemed to make Luke even more eager, biting his lip with his eyes pleading.

They were in hyperspace, far away from their jaunt with the Empire and the stormtroopers trying to follow them. If they were lucky, they could hide for a week before they finally caught up. Ben talked about visiting a planet, one full of water and colorful plants. Luke had wondered if they had an underwater garden and if they did, he would love to see it. Ben had just laughed shortly.

“What do you want to know?”

“You said he used a different lightsaber form? And you said you pranked him once with Master Vos and he never knew, what happened and you said he was a theater person, did he actually act or did he just like going to plays, can you tell me about his padawan, Master Billaba was she pretty she sounds like she would be pretty, you were friends with her right was it weird to be friends with both Master Windu and Master Billaba since they were master and padawan at one point did Master Billaba take another padawan, did Master Windu, was his lightsaber really purple why was it purple is there a reason for that do the different colors mean different things why is your saber blue what do you think my color would be if I got a saber-.”

Ben laughed out loud which eventually led Luke to stop talking in such a rush and ended his ramble. “You must calm down, little beacon,” he said, waving his hands in a gesture for the boy to slow down. “I cannot answer any of your questions if you do not allow me time to hear them and answer.”

Luke sat back down, a bit sheepish. “Sorry, Ben.”

“Now, Master Windu was an incredible duelist and a great friend,” Ben started with a fond smile. “And both he and his former padawan, Depa, were my friends. For different reasons, I suppose, but they were both great people and amazing jedi.”

Luke settled down, leaning down with his chin and arms resting on the table below him, his eyes never leaving Ben as he told him about his old friends.

4 BBY

“Aurek 5,” Luke called out. They were on their ship, in the middle of hyperspace with an old children’s game between them. Ben had explained the rules – it was fairly simple, and they had just spent hours going back and forth, trying to take down each other’s ships.

“Miss. Leth 7,” Ben responded, easily.

Luke scowled. “Hit. Qek 2.” Despite Ben’s amused smile, Luke placed a marker on part of one of his ships to indicate the partial destruction. “Why are we doing this? This isn’t a strategy game; it’s just a game of chance. Wouldn’t it be better to do something that would help with strategy and tactics?”

“Miss,” Ben replied. “Sometimes, little beacon, in a situation you are blind and can only work with what you have and what you cannot see. Besides, it can be fun if you let it. What has caught your interest on strategy and tactics? Wesk 1.”

“Hit,” Luke grumbled, lowering his head to stare. He studied his board and glowered. “Last night, you told a story about Commander Cody and the 212th. I think I can find wisdom in knowing some of the things you know, some of the things you learned in the Clone Wars,” Luke explained, eyes flitting over the board as he tried to figure out his next move. “Osk 10.”

“Miss,” came Ben’s answer. “You have an interest in war? Is there something you aren’t telling me, Luke? Jenth 6.”

“Miss,” Luke said, a bit relieved that he hadn’t hit his ship. It was close and if he had, it would have been destroyed and taken out of the game. “It’s not so much an interest in war, but I know about the rebellion. Maybe…. maybe some time we could help. Osk 2.”

“Miss. That would be mighty dangerous,” Ben replied, calmly. “We both garner a lot of attention from Vader and the Empire, it would put a lot more danger and pressure on the rebels. Jenth 7.”

“Miss,” Luke said, shifting his arms. “They’re not at war yet, not quite. But when they are, I think we can be of help. At least even just to occupy Vader so they can do missions or retreat. Aurek 2.”

“Miss. Is this interest in the rebellion or is this interest in finding and seeing Boil again?” Ben questioned, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Luke just sighed and rested his chin on his arms. “Wesk 3.”

“Hit,” Luke grumbled. “It’s not about Boil, not really. I just…I know you have been teaching me all you can, and I really appreciate it. I love it, more than you know, but I also know, without the Jedi Order, I can’t really be a Jedi.”

There was a brief silence. “What?”

“Krill 8,” Luke called.

“Luke, do you no longer wish to be a jedi?” Ben asked, masking his surprise. “It is alright if you no longer wish to continue your studies, I will not be offended. The way of life is not for everyone.”

“That’s not it,” Luke insisted, looking up. “I swear, I want to be a Jedi more than anything else. But… the Jedi Order is gone, there is nothing I can do, nothing I can be… a part of. I thought, maybe, if I can’t really be a jedi, I’m a decent pilot.”

“Your talents are not to be denied, for sure, young one. But being Jedi is not dependent on the survival or continuation of the Order,” Ben murmured, softly. He didn’t quite meet Luke’s eyes, but he didn’t mind. It was okay. Miss. “It is an attitude, a way of life, a philosophy and spirituality if you will.”

Ben has told him this before, Luke knew, but somehow, it did not always do a good job of convincing him.

“Am I any less of a Jedi because the Order no longer exists?”

The question had caught him off guard. “What? No, of course not. You are a jedi, that’s who you are.”

“And if you wish it, it can be you as well, but only if you want it,” Ben pointed out. “The Order is gone, yes, but the Jedi still remain. We are alive. There are not many of us left, but there are some.”

Luke nodded. “Okay, Ben. I believe you.”

“Krill 8 did you say?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow curiously at him.

The teenager nodded.

Ben’s smirk grew into a knowing smile. “Hit.”

4 BBY

Luke didn’t meet another Jedi until he was nearly sixteen. He wasn’t sure if Ahsoka Tano would have appreciated being called one when he did meet her, so just to be safe, he kept her off the list. And the person he met didn’t completely entertain his thoughts on what a Jedi was either, but, at least, the sight of him had made Ben quite happy, despite him bursting into tears.

They had been on a small, backwater plant that was mostly covered in thick forests, dotted with cities that stayed tight knit, possibly out of fear of what was in the forested areas. They had found a little place just outside of the domed areas, out of sight to practice lightsaber katas. Luke had learned the basics of the forms, the ones that he knew initiates had learned before they became padawans and then those learned in classes as padawans. He had excelled swiftly, and they found Luke was a rather quick learner, picking up movements when he had a good peace of mind. It had taken him some time to learn meditation, which in the end, had certainly helped his ability to learn and keep information as well as keep a sense of calm.

Picking up lightsaber forms was easier after learning meditation and learning to enjoy it. There wasn’t a lot to do on their little ship and Luke was determined. It wasn’t so much that learning it wasn’t hard, but in the end, Luke had realized what he had gained through it. His patience had grown exponentially. He had a sturdy sense of self, of empathy and self-reflection. Something that helped him with going over intense feelings, being able to think and work through those feelings before acting.

He wasn’t perfect at it, but he was a lot better than before.

Luke was strong and fierce, often having a bit of force behind his blows and leaning towards Shien and Djem So, his father’s style. His blows often ended up being choppy and powerful, but he could never match Ben’s steady and impenetrable defense of Soresu. Luke tried to have a focus on that too. Aside from Vader, there wasn’t anyone they really tended to fight with sabers and Luke knew he could never really overpower Vader – the man was practically a force of nature. Most of the people they fought against were stormtroopers and pirates and although their aim was rarely great, they used blasters rather than sabers. Soresu was an excellent defense and Luke was determined to make Ben proud, no matter how many times the man told him he need not follow his style.

Aratu was something Luke found some fun in, and Ben had been surprisingly good at it. The flourishes and jumps got Luke moving and kept him in shape. He often found himself laughing too hard when he and Ben sparred, and the youngster decided to work on this style. It was entertaining and enjoyable.

The training in hand-to-hand combat had been most helpful as well. Ben had taught him plenty, which often ended up helping him with his lightsaber sparring, but Boil had also taught him some things (as well as blaster care) and Luke found it handy. He wasn’t to bring out a saber, if he had his fathers on hand, unless it was absolutely necessary, instead having to lean on the blasters Ben could get alongside fighting with his hands.

Luke had nearly fell over the first time he had flipped Ben over.

The “good job” however just made Luke nearly scream inside.

They had been through several hours of steady katas which made Luke’s muscles certainly burn. Technically he knew that Ben’s favored form, that of defense and endurance, had helped Ben’s ability to go on for hours and hours, but sometimes Luke had no idea how he could just keep going and going and going.

Luke did actually fall over when Ben finally told him they could stop. He just barely had enough time to clip his father’s saber to his belt before literally flopping over in the grass of the clearing they were working in.

Ben had just stood over him with a chuckle. “Are you alright?”

“Totally,” Luke grinned, giving the older man two thumbs up. “I know how you do that, but I just don’t know how you do that.”

He laughed a little more. “I have had plenty of practice and experience, dear boy. How about some dinner, yes?”

Luke sat up in a scramble. “Really? Like, on planet? Sit down with plates and forks and napkins?”

This really got the amusement out of him as Ben helped him stand and continued to laugh. “Absolutely. My treat.”

The boy snickered. “It’s always your treat, old man,” he grinned. Grabbing their cloaks, Luke slipped his on and put his father’s saber in the bag Ben carried on him. Ben would let him carry it plenty and probably would have let him then, but it was more habit, to just put it away. Besides, the crystal didn’t really resonate with him.

He wished someday he would be able to find his own.

The two of them packed up what little they had and headed back into the domed city, going through a checkpoint once they got to the border to make sure they hadn’t picked up anything. The security teams didn’t reach into Ben’s bag enough to find the lightsaber and the examination was mostly for diseases or bugs. It was a bit slow, but they got through it with flying colors.

Cities on the planet weren’t particularly tall and didn’t reach into the sky as Luke had noticed on some other planets, but what it lacked in height, it made up in surface area. Miles upon miles were shops and homes, parks, schools and churches. Anything anyone could want under their white sun.

Luke and Ben didn’t have a lot of money, but they did a little window shopping on their way to find a good place to eat. Luke nearly spent an entire half hour browsing in a droid parts store.

“I’d like one someday,” Luke muttered to himself as he admired an old astromech. It was charging and powered down, but it was painted in a brilliant gold, tints of little blue stripes alongside. “Just a little one,” he murmured.

Ben was at his side, although Luke hadn’t noticed at first. “Nearly enough.”

Luke nearly jumped and glanced over at his guardian. “Huh?”

“I have nearly saved enough,” Ben replied, evenly, giving the boy an entertained side eye. “It isn’t much, you won’t be able to get a large droid, not even an astromech, as I don’t have enough and it probably wouldn’t fit well in our ship but, Luke, soon, I think we might be able to start looking for a droid for you. If that is something you would still like.”

A grin grew on the blonde’s face as he grinned wildly. “Are you serious?”

Ben nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh! OH! Yes! Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Luke cheered, practically bowling the older man over in a hug. Ben nearly didn’t have time to brace himself, but he somehow caught Luke anyways. He always caught Luke. “I can’t believe it!”

“We will have to talk about what kind,” Ben started prudently. “And we will have to go over proper care, not only for the droid’s sake but to make sure that if it is ever captured or lost, it cannot be traced back to us.”

“Of course, of course,” Luke nodded impatient and eager. “I don’t want anything big anyways. Maybe a little BD unit? They’re really fun and kind of cute, have you seen them run? And they are explorer class so they would be alright with any terrain we come with, tiny little things. I know they aren’t very common, but I think it would be a good choice,” he rambled. “I think we could find one.”

Ben smiled gently and took his hand, leading him out of the shop. “That does seem like a good choice. I think, if we research well enough and keep our ears and eyes open, we will be able to find one. But, for now, let’s get something to eat, shall we?”

His nod was enthusiastic as the teenager practically hopped a long. A droid! Finally! It was something that Luke really wanted for quite some time. He found them fascinating and some of them really adorable. It was another to talk to other than just Ben. He loved Ben, he didn’t want anyone to think otherwise, but it would be nice not to talk to someone like him sometimes, about some of the dumb and teenager stuff. Ben was a great listener but he was also a lot older than Luke; he didn’t actually want to listen to Luke’s dumb teenager stuff. Droids may not be like humans, but they could, generally, carry on with a conversation with their programming.

The droid talk ceased as the two of them finally got into the part of town that held more of the bars, pubs and restaurants. They had peeked into a few but eventually found one that wasn’t too expensive but wasn’t a palace of dirt either. The table they had gotten was out of the way and outside, something that was fine with the both of them. If something was to happen, they could easily cut and run.

Luke had never really sat down at a restaurant. They were on the run a lot and even if they got food from a restaurant, it was always take-out. Since they were always on the move. Ben would talk about his favorite diner back on Coruscant, before the downfall of the jedi and the republic. His friend, Dexter Jettster owned it, a former arms dealer and criminal he had befriended who had acted as his informant in multiple missions throughout his career as a jedi, as a knight and a general in the war.

Whenever Ben would have a nerfburger, Luke would ask how it held up to Dex’s.

Ben would just laugh and say no burger held up to Dex’s.

Luke didn’t remember precisely what they were talking about, but something happened, something shifted around them. A presence. Luke hadn’t known what it was but by the stiffness Ben quickly displayed and the look in his eye, he did.

“Impossible,” Ben whispered and glanced around.

“Hey there,” a low voice chuckled, near humorlessly.

The two of them swiveled around. Luke narrowed his eyes at the man before them. He was a Kiffar, if he wasn’t mistaken, with a yellow stripe over his nose and dreadlocks hanging around his shoulders, dark eyes staring at Ben as if he couldn’t believe it either. Luke glanced between the two.

“Quinlan,” Ben mumbled, shocked.

“Just…Vos for now,” the kiffar shrugged. “Can I sit down?”

Ben was practically in tears already and just stared at the man.

“Go ahead,” Luke answered for him.

The man sat down between them and studied Ben for a moment. “You did not age as well as I thought you would.”

“I…I…I spent almost ten years under the twin suns of Tatooine,” Ben confessed, his voice thick and barely coming out audibly with a hint of some kind of amusement. Luke was a little surprised how open and honest he was being. Rarely was Ben this straightforward, much less so entertained by a slight.

The kiffar – Vos – nodded. “That would do it. I can’t believe you’re alive. Well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised, you’ve always been pretty good at the whole surviving against all odds thing,” he chuckled but it was with very little actual humor. “Didn’t think you would take on a padawan, though,” he added, glancing at Luke, curiously. His smirk contained more humor than his chortle had a moment prior.

“He’s not…” Ben shook his head as his denial started, trying to get a hold of himself. Luke glanced away; he did not need to be reminded of what he was not. He knew all too well. “He’s not that. This is Luke. I am his guardian. I go by Ben these days.”

Vos glanced at Luke and looked him up and down and gave him a lopsided smile. “Nice to meet ya, kid.”

Luke gave him one in return. “You too, Master Vos!”

The kiffar just smiled at him before glancing curiously at Ben. “Not your padawan, huh?” Ben shot him a scowl, but Luke could feel the overwhelming happinessrelieflovethankyouin the air, directed towards the newcomer. Master Vos’s expression softened into something of an entertained and pleased smirk.

Those two had been friends, Luke knew it.

The realization kind of hit him like a sandstorm because if this person, Ben’s friend, named Vos, probably a jedi.... Luke’s eyes became saucers as he whipped around to stare at the newcomer. “Wait…are you…you’re Quinlan Vos?”

Master Vos laughed out loud and tried not to attract any attention. “Gotta be careful with the name, kiddo. That stuff can be dangerous in this galaxy. But, uh, you know of me?” “Of course!” Luke nearly cried, grinning madly. “Ben has told me all about his friends. We have a lot of time to spare so we have to fill that with something to do and Ben tells all the greatest stories! He can even get your voice down pretty good.”

The bust of laughter than came out of Master Vos made Luke’s heart swell and Ben look rather thoroughly embarrassed. “Oh man, I think I might love this kid. This…this is a good one, Obes, oh wow.”

Luke felt himself shine up brightly. This was amazing. This was -. “Luke,” Ben warned, putting a hand on his shoulder gently, ushering Luke out of his thoughts. “Be mindful of your feelings and your surroundings.”

Blushing with a bit of mortification, Luke wrapped his shields, trying to button them up tighter. “Sorry, Ben.”

Ben just nodded. “Why don’t you grab some desert for yourself and Vos,” he suggested, calmly, patting his shoulder lightly. “I think he could use a…pick me up.”

The blonde perked and nodded, eagerly. Dinner and desert? And they had gotten through with a long lightsaber practice and Ben was really ready to talk about getting a droid? And he got to meet another jedi?

This had to be the best day ever, even with his mistake.

Luke was off like a shot once Ben had handed over some money, leaving the two alone. It hadn’t taken long, although Luke tried to find an amazing place with some of the best deserts. He didn’t have a lot of experience when it came to the sweet things, especially choosing them, as they often didn’t have enough for such treats. But Luke had long heard of the incredible feel and flavor of ice cream. Ben had explained where it came from once, which Luke found only a bit odd but then again, it wasn’t that much different from Bantha milk, just kind of frozen. After finding a place that sold it, he got as much as he could, and the owner was kind enough to put it in a cooler for his travels. Luke couldn’t imagine he had gotten too far from where Ben and Master Vos were, but Ben always told him it was best to be prepared.

He slowed down as he neared their table again. They had moved even further from the other patrons, virtually out of sight. Luke hadn’t known what possessed him, perhaps it was the words he had caught before they could notice him, but he had stopped and hid behind the corner, listening in. He felt bad, he knew it was rude, but he didn’t really want to interrupt such an intense conversation either.

“This is Dooku’s assassination all over again,” Ben hissed under his breath. “You remember what happened last time? You tried to go after him, and you ended up falling to the dark side.”

“I know, I know,” Master Vos shook his head. “It’s a stupid idea. I just…I know what they say about what happened at the Temple. What really happened. Not that bull the propaganda and the government, and the Empire are spewing.”

“You’ve talked with Dex,” Ben murmured.

“Of course, I talked with Dex,” Master Vos replied, spinning one of his dreadlocks in his fingers. “He’s a friend to the Jedi, always has been. He helped a couple escape Coruscant. He knows Vader led the clones on the Temple.”

“The clones were brainwashed,” Ben muttered, near absentmindedly. “Luke and I came across a couple. Kix, almost seven years ago in a stasis pod on a droid ship. Cody and Boil, just a few years ago on Vader’s ship. We…we helped them. Or tried to.”

Quinlan’s shoulders sagged. “The Jedi dead and the clones brainwashed. It seems sometimes like we were the only ones who gave a damn about the galaxy and what did we all get? Genocide and slavery,” he shook his head and Luke could feel the anger seeping off of him. “I just…I thought if I could at least get Darth Vader out of the way, that would help just a bit. One less powerful force user for the galaxy.”

Ben frowned and shook his head. “That isn’t a good idea, Quin. He is much too powerful for you, much too powerful for either of us.”

Master Vos eyed Ben, carefully. “You know who he is,” he realized.

Luke’s breath caught in his throat. Ben didn’t say anything.

“Obes, who is he?” Master Vos quietly demanded. “If I know who he is, I can at least-.”

“At least what?” Ben snapped, just as hushed. “You’ll only get yourself killed or worse, Quin. There are barely any of us left, why would you want to throw yourself away like that?”

“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan assured, putting his gloved hand over Ben’s. Ben looked at it, a little startled. “He massacred the Temple, he brainwashed the clones, the clones that we loved and trusted, the ones that… the ones Aalya loved and trusted. Don’t you think we deserve to know at least who was behind it?”

Ben just looked pained. “You will only find anger and fury, Quin. The Emperor is the one behind this, Palpatine. He is the one to blame. He is the one who created the war, who created and brainwashed the clones. Blame him.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Vos even looked like he believed it. “Palpatine is top dog, he is the one to blame for everything,” Master Vos agreed, sincerely. “And…I know what it is like to be tortured and manipulated into the dark side. I’m not…disputing that. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Vader had been manipulated into it,” he offered. “I’m sorry, I just…I need to know.”

Neither Ben nor Luke realized what Master Vos was doing until it was too late. Master Vos’s other hand, the one that was suddenly not gloved had reached towards Ben’s lightsaber on his waist, just barely brushing against it with his skin.

A lot of things had happened at once.

Master Vos had frozen, his eyes glazed over and after an incredibly long moment, he fell over from the table with a small thud. They were out of the way from the other patrons, but Ben cursed under his breath – Mando’a maybe? – and dragged Master Vos further out of sight.

He let out another string of curses Luke didn’t recognize and laid Master Vos out on the ground “You idiot,” he hissed. “You know better than that. A lightsaber, of all things.”

Time and space seemed to stop and go completely silent. Luke was frozen in his spot, staring wide-eyed as Ben checked Master Vos’s pulse. He apparently hadn’t found what he was looking for and Ben started chest compressions, talking to the kiffar in a language Luke didn’t understand. Or maybe Luke just couldn’t hear it right, he couldn’t be sure. Nothing felt right.

It seemed like forever before Ben stopped completely and sat back. Luke didn’t hear anything at first but then the sound of Master Vos’s coughs reached his ears. Time started to move again. Space and sounded started to be able to be heard once more. Whatever had happened, Luke didn’t know what to make of it.

“You idiot,” Ben growled again but he helped Master Vos up to a sitting position and leaned him against the wall. Master Vos learned to breathe again.

He looked straight at Ben. Luke couldn’t see his eyes, but his posture was stiff and some terrible and sad feelings were emanating off of him. “Does Luke know his father turned into one of the galaxy’s worst genocidal maniacs?”

Luke forgot to breathe, and his brain just didn’t understand.

Ben swallowed. “What am I supposed to tell him Quin? That his father, my brother, is acting as a monster and has become a killer? That Anakin Skywalker – Darth Vader – is trying to kill him, that someday, we might have to kill him instead?”

Luke doesn’t hear anything after that. His hand indistinctively clutches the case of ice cream, and his mind goes blank. There is only thing he understands.

Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader.

Anakin Skywalker is Luke’s father.

Darth Vader is Luke’s father.

Luke’s father is trying to kill him and Ben.

He can’t breathe and suddenly, he found himself moving. He couldn’t stay there; he didn’t know what to do, what to say. His mind went so blank, and his feet were moving. They kept moving and moving, objects and places became blurs. Buildings meshed together; people became little blobs. The city became a mix of browns and greens, and things were crunching under his feet. He was in the woods, his brain barely realized.

Luke didn’t know where he stopped or how much time had passed since he had started running. All he knew was that his entire body was burning, his legs felt like they were going to just vaporize at any moment and his lungs just could not get any oxygen at all. They just burned.

Gasping for air, the teenager felt to the ground, his palms scrapping on fallen twigs and pebbles, his knees hitting hard. He had no idea where he was, and it didn’t really matter at the moment. Mind racing with everything and nothing at all, Luke leaned against a large tree in front of him, his hair tangling in parts of the bark and lightly sticky with sap. How…. how…

After some time, Luke finally managed to turn himself around, sitting against the trunk of the tree, trying so desperately to get control of his breathing. He just… he just couldn’t seem to get in air. Why couldn’t he breathe? Why couldn’t he breathe?

Anakin Skywalker is his father.

Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader.

Darth Vader…. Darth Vader is his father.

Oh Force, Darth Vader is his father.

One of the worst people in the entire galaxy was his father. The father than Ben told fond stories of. The father that was Ben’s brother, his best friend. The father who was a jedi, the ancient enemy of the Sith.

Which meant Ben lied.

Ben had never lied to him before.

Had he?

Luke had finally got a hold of his breathing, but it was still shallow and quick. He reached up, his fingers dashing against the skin on his face. They came back more than damp. He was crying. His whole face was quickly becoming blotchy and red, tears in a constant stream down his cheeks.

Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader was his father.

Luke let out a loud, choking sob, trying to swallow down any breath he could. Ben lied to him. His father wasn’t dead. It was worse, it was so much worse. Why had he lied? Did he not think he could handle it? Did Ben think that Luke would just gooff on his own? Did he think that Luke would leave him just because his father was alive? His father may be alive, but he was a monster and tried to kill the bothof them several times. He just…didn’t understand.

“Luke?” a voice echoed through the trees. The boy couldn’t see a thing through the tears and the choking sobs coupled with the whistle of the wind through the leaves and trees made it hard to hear, made everything muffled.

“Ben?” It was a shot in the dark, it could have been anyone and honestly Luke didn’t know if he really wanted to talk with Ben right now, he didn’t think he wanted Ben to see him like this but yet he still…he wanted Ben.

“Luke?” the voice shouted louder. “Luke? Luke?!”

The teenager just let out another choked sob, but a presence brushed up against his mind. And then, soon after, against his side.

“Goodness, Luke!” the voice was close now, right next to him. It sounded like Ben. Oh, he hoped it was Ben.

“It’s me, beacon,” the voice whispered, like an answered prayer. “It’s me, it’s Ben.” Relief flooded him and everything around him like nothing before and Luke blindly threw himself towards the voice. He hit something firm but soft and arms snaked around his torso tightly. “Goodness, Luke. You’ve been gone for hours. What happened?”

Luke just sobbed into his chest. How could he possibly explain to Ben what was happening? How did one tell their guardian that they knew they have been lying to them for years about something so prominent? Ben had told Luke all of the bestthings about his father. He told him that he was actually like his father. Did that mean Ben thought Luke was like Vader? Did he think that Luke would turn into a Sith, like his father before him?

He never would.

“I was just…” the words tumbled out of his mouth before Luke could really think about what to say and process them. “I was just feeling so much. I couldn’t…. I’m so sorry.”

“Ssshhhh,” Ben hushed, tucking his nose into Luke’s hair. “It’s alright. But if you are feeling too much, you need to find me. I can help you; I promise.”

He didn’t think that Ben could help with this, but he just nodded against the old soft robes that Ben had on, even trying to burrow within them like he used when he was small and a child. “I know, I’m sorry Ben. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, hope,” Ben murmured. “It’s alright.”

Present past

“Master Vos.”

Anakin’s greeting was mostly out of necessity and perceived respected than anything else. Quinlan knew this. Generally, the two of them got along fairly fine, at least for the most part. They used to get along better, when the young man was younger. Anakin tolerated Obi-Wan having friends, as long as he made it appear he would prefer Anakin’s company over theirs. Anakin liked to fancy himself as Obi-Wan’s family and to Hell with everyone else. Quinlan did admire the boy’s protectiveness, to an extent, as people had a habit of not being like that with Obi-Wan. But everyone had at least some idea that Anakin’s possessiveness was rather unhealthy.

It was difficult for anyone to try and make Anakin get help during a war.

Anakin thought he knew Obi-Wan best. It was a joke, really but vaguely amusing. Compared to a few others, Anakin barely knew Obi-Wan at all.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Quinlan plastered on a grin. He almost missed the days where Anakin’s protectiveness was cute and innocent, when he was a kid and he thought Obi-Wan was just amazing. He was, of course, but sometimes it seemed Anakin did a one-eighty on how he thought of his old master. Although still protective, it was far too much, and he often seemed to accuse the older man of all sorts of things. Quinlan wondered if Anakin was ever truly happy with his former master. Sometimes, it was not easy to tell. “Good to see you, wish it was under better circumstances,” he snickered.

The knight just hummed, uncharacteristically quiet. Things must be really dire if Skywalker didn’t have some kind of snarky comeback, especially for Quinlan. Instead, he turned briefly towards the crew. “Admiral, please bring us back to hyperspace. We need to assist General Tiin and General Krell.”

“Of course, General Skywalker.”

Anakin turned back towards Quinlan, but the latter was the one to speak up. “How bout we head down to the Medical Bay,” he suggested vaguely. “We have a moment before we get to the Umbara system.”

Mutely, the young General nodded and turned on his heel, off the bridge. Quinlan quickly followed. It was silence for several moments before Quinlan just couldn’t take it anymore and started a conversation. They should have probably talked anyways. “Alright, I know the bare basics,” Quinlan started, numbering things off on his fingers. “Obes is in a coma, not entirely sure why and he’s being stalked by a teenager?” Anakin nearly rolled his eyes and Quinlan couldn’t quite tell if he was amused or not. “Luke,” he answered. “Interesting kid, I guess. Won’t leave Obi-Wan’s side. He’s…claiming to be a time traveler.”

Quinlan paused and blinked, right, he forgot about that. Or did he? Did Master Windu mention that? Sometimes it seemed difficult to keep track of all the weird things that were happening during the course of this war. “Ah…that is a new one. Thought this would be more of an easier thing, like uh, drugs or psychosis or ghosts.”

“Helix looked him over and tested for drugs, nothing.”

“Crazy?”

“No unusual brain activity.”

“Ghosts then, perhaps,” Quinlan suggested. Ghosts were easy.

Anakin just shot him an unimpressed stare.

Okay so probably no ghosts then. “Alright, alright. Geez. Someone is serious today.”

“My master is in an unexplainable coma,” Anakin replied, pointedly, frustration leaking into his tone like sieve.

“Anakin,” Quinlan’s voice turned oddly soft as he stopped in the hall, turning to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Sometimes it was hard to see just how young Anakin was. He really should still be a padawan. Obi-Wan had always been so proud of Anakin as the day was long but even, he agreed the boy wasn’t really ready to be a knight. He lacked a lot of control and patience something that, if the boy just listened once in a while, he could learn. Obi-Wan was a good teacher with that. He was a good teacher in general, Quinlan thought. But it is hard to teach someone who thinks they already know everything best and doesn’t want to learn. Quinlan had been so incredibly lucky with Aalya. “Obi-Wan is going to be just fine. He has been through far worse.”

Anakin sighed, a little tension seeping from his shoulders as he looked away, Quinlan’s hand fell from his shoulder. “I’m dead in the future, Obi-Wan isn’t with the Jedi and on the run and apparently his grief is so bad it-,” he drifted off from his miniature ramble, shaking his head and the thought. He talked about it like it was unbelievable. “I’m…worried the Obi-Wan that wakes up won’t be the same one that I know.”

“He might not be,” it was a confession Quinlan didn’t like making. But people didn’t stay the same over time. Obi-Wan of this time wasn’t the same Obi-Wan Quinlan had grown up with. They were still friends, of course, but it was different. People changed. Kids changed. Times changed. Quinlan knew for sure that Anakin’s death would certainly change Obi-Wan drastically. They didn’t talk about it, Quinlan and Obi-Wan didn’t particularly care to talk about death with one another, especially their own, unless it was a quick, morbid joke, but Quinlan knew that Obi-Wan always thought he would die first. He wanted to die first, and he didn’t want to die alone. It was something that had scared Obi-Wan for a long time, probably still did. He would have nightmares – or visions, Quinlan thought – of being alone in a wasteland. It was a horrible thing to see, he imagined. “But one thing is for sure,” Quinlan continued, confidently. “He is going to be happy to see you. Obi-Wan loves you so much and if what this Luke said is true, he is going to be so grateful you are alive again,” he pointed out.

Anakin shifted uncomfortably. He was letting more feelings out, getting a little more comfortable with Quinlan’s presence. Quinlan didn’t know if the boy had even realized what was happening. Had it been so long since Anakin had been comfortable in others’ presences? Obi-Wan had always been so worried about Anakin, perhaps…. perhaps Quinlan could do something to help. “I…just want him to wake up,” Anakin confessed.

“He will,” Quinlan promised. He didn’t like make promises, especially not like that, but even he had to believe it. “And then he’s going to get so many hugs he will literally get sick off of them.”

Anakin laughed.

They walked again, this time in more comfortable silence. Apparently, it didn’t sit well with Anakin, as he continued to ask another question. “Do you…think you can tell if he is telling the truth? Luke? About the time travel?” Anakin inquired.

“Probably,” Quinlan shrugged as he passed a couple of troopers. They barely gave him a glance before quickly moving out of the way.

“Do you think you can help Obi-Wan? Wake him up?”

Quinlan caught his eyes. He hated how he kept being reminded of how young he is. He’s terrified, although Anakin had gotten pretty good at not showing it. To an extent, Quinlan can understand. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t been around each other in a while, especially with the differences in careers but they couldn’t stop being friends. It reminded him of their teenage years, getting into trouble, talking about the future and what they would do in service of the galaxy and the Order. He missed that.

Obi-Wan would do almost anything to help Quinlan’s former padawan, Quinlan could at least attempt to return the favor.

“Uh…less probably,” he confessed. He continued, trying to make things sound a bit less depressing. “It hasn’t even been a day, Skywalker,” he pointed out. “He’s been in a bacta tank longer than that.”

“At least when he was in a bacta tank, we knew what was wrong with him and how to fix it,” Anakin scowled, looking away.

“If nothing else, he could use a break, do you disagree?”

“Of course, not but…ugh…. this is really messed up. I just want him to wake up.”

“We all do, Skywalker. I’m sure even the kid wants him too.”

Anakin’s expression turned a little dark but in a way that was confused. Quinlan could imagine; this whole situation was rather confusing, most of all the kid.

“Something on your mind?” Quinlan inquired slowly.

“Just…something Luke said,” Anakin finally professed, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. “He claims to know Obi-Wan really well, know him for years in fact. We…we had this conversation about love.”

Okay, this was not really where Quinlan expected the discussion to be going. “What about love?” he asked, cautiously.

“He said Obi-Wan shows that he loves people with…acts, rather than just saying it,” Anakin pointed out, just was wary. Oh, that was a lot easier.

Quinlan nodded in agreement. “That’s true.”

Anakin glanced at him, surprised. “It is?”

Okay so maybe not that easy. Did Anakin not really know this? “Oh yeah, for sure,” Quinlan continued to nod. “When it comes to caring about people, Obes’ communicative skills have differed over the years. Pretty sure he got it from Jinn, really.”

“He did?”

“Right,” Quinlan shook his head, his dreadlocks falling over his shoulders. “I keep forgetting you didn’t know Qui-Gon.” Anakin made a bit of an offended noise, but Quinlan didn’t give him time to respond. “Jinn didn’t really tell anyone that he cared,” Quinlan started carefully. It was an understatement really, he rarely explained everything, rather just kind of throwing it all out into situations to figure things out. “It drove Obi-Wan crazy for a while. He never seemed to know if Jinn was happy with what he did or proud or loved him. Jinn and verbal communication just…did go hand in hand,” Quinlan shrugged. It had bugged him for years, sometimes it still did. It was easier to see, looking back on it, that at least Jinn cared some. “So, Obi-Wan just tried to be, well, perfect. He eventually did learn to speak Jinn’s not-really-communicative language and then, I think things were easier.”

“I never knew that,” Anakin murmured.

“Jinn is a bit of a tough subject sometimes,” Quinlan shrugged. “Not just with you, with most people really. I only know because he was practically my best friend during our padawanship. We spent a lot of time together.”

“So, was Qui-Gon like Obi-Wan? Luke said Obi-Wan shows love through acts of service, like doing small things for the people he cares about, like somehow those types of actions tell others that he…cares about them. Was Qui-Gon like that too?”

“Ah, not so much, I don’t think,” Quinlan winced. He never completely understood how Obi-Wan figured out that Jinn cared about him. “Honestly, I’m not really the best person to talk about the specifics. If Obes won’t say specifically, you’ll more likely to find out from Siri or Bant, he talked about those types of things with them,” he shrugged.

Anakin looked a little disappointed.

“People…express love in different ways,” Quinlan tried. This was not his wheelhouse, his chest told him to abort. “Like, uh… do you remember kitchen duties when you were a padawan?”

The wrinkles that appeared around Anakin’s nose were a good indication he did. “Yeah.”

“Well, I always volunteered for dishwashing duty,” Quinlan started. Please let this work.

“Why would you do that?”

“I liked feeling the plates and bowls, feeling what the person who used them was feeling, what they had gone through, the imprints they left behind,” he explained, steadily. It was a warm memory he didn’t mind sharing.

“Psychometry, yeah, okay.”

“The others hated it, Garen detested it with a passion, the entitled brat, and Luminara would just wrinkle her nose all funny-like at the hot water, she didn’t like her hands getting all pruny,” Quinlan explained with a bit of a smile, a fond expression at the memory. “But Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan was always there for dishwashing duty with me. I would volunteer, he would come, and we would stand side by side, washing dishes without gloves and he would listen to the stories I would tell, gathered from the silverware and bowls. It was a small thing, but Obi-Wan didn’t have to tell me that he cared, he showed it. That’s just how he does things. I’ve never really doubted how much he cared.”

This seemed to really make Anakin think harder. Quinlan just hoped he got his point across, that it was understandable. How Obi-Wan had actually taught this kid, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“I can’t say that I completely understand,” Anakin finally replied, a bit hesitant but not entirely closed off and stubborn. “I don’t really understand why he can’t just sayit,” he admitted. “But I guess, people do learn things and pick habits up from their teachers, it makes a little sense that he would do things similar to Qui-Gon.”

That…wasn’t really what Quinlan’s point was but it was a step in the right direction, he supposed. It was better than Anakin thinking Obi-Wan didn’t much love him just because he didn’t wear his heart out in the open.

Thankfully, they got to the medical bay hall and quickly up to the door that led to the room Obi-Wan was staying in. Anakin stopped. “Aren’t you coming in?” he asked, vaguely curious.

“The boy, Luke, doesn’t trust me much…” Anakin said with a bit of a lip curl. “As much as I am loathed to admit it, he might open up to you more if I’m not around. Besides, someone has to lead the reinforcements and try to help Cody with a plan for Umbara. It won’t be long until we reach the system and it…would be better to have a plan immediately.”

“Good thinking,” Quinlan replied, trying to sound easy.

When Quinlan entered the room, it was empty. He didn’t see any child lounging around or standing near Obi-Wan, but he did see Obi-Wan himself. He laid on the cot in front of him, a machine beeping slowly to indicate that he was alive and breathing decently. He was quiet and still, and Quinlan fell back on horrible moments in the years before, when he had seen his friend like this. He wasn’t half dead, Quinlan reminded himself.

Quinlan reached out, ready to brush his hand over the saber on the table. He wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to go to the source, perhaps the light saber would reveal enough. So many questions could be answered.

“I would be careful about doing that,” a young voice called out warily.

Quinlan jumped nearly feet in the air and twirled around, trying not to appear too ruffled. “Sneaky little kid, aren’t you?” he tried to joke. The boy was blonde, the kind of bright sunshiny color that Obi-Wan’s padawan used to have when he had just come to the Temple. His eyes were blue, narrowed a little in a mix of vague amusement and suspicion. It was an odd look. He had on some dark pants and a jacket where the collar sprung up around his neck. It reminded Quinlan a bit of how high Obi-Wan would make his robes, all neat around his neck and shoulders.

Luke maintained that peculiar amusement and wary expression. “I just used the lavatory.”

“Obes and his fancy words,” Quinlan muttered to himself, with a small smile. Obi-Wan, being such a diplomat and negotiator, had picked up more than a few phrases Quinlan had always thought of as fancy. If what was believed was true, that his friend had raised this boy, it wasn’t completely out of the question certain words would be picked up. Louder, he continued, trying to keep an easy smile, but it was rather broken. “Why not?”

“I’m not saying don’t,” Luke replied, with certain emphasis. “You obviously need to be convinced but be careful,” He looked like someone who knew exactly what he was talking about, specifically with Quinlan himself. Quinlan knew he hadn’t met him before but then again, if Luke was right and he was from the future, perhaps it just hadn’t happened yet. “You barely touched Ben’s lightsaber last time and your heart stopped,” he explained, calmly.

Quinlan swallowed. He hadn’t had a reaction like that in a long time, since before he mastered his psychometry. Even with the war going on, nothing he had done or touched had nearly killed him. Things must be pretty bad in the future for that to happen.

Did he believe him?

“You must be Luke,” he said instead.

“That’s me, Master Vos,” Luke nodded with a polite smile. “I would act really excited to see you again but your suspicion is rather poignant and so I will leave that until we can get better…reacquainted.”

Quinlan nearly wanted to laugh or cry or something. This sounded hilarious and ridiculous at the same time. This entire situation was certainly something else. He couldn’t wait for Obi-Wan to wake up, only to ask where had he found this boy? “Do you want to tell me who you are or would you rather me guess?” he asked.

“You did pretty well the first time I met you,” Luke paused with an amused smile but then shrugged, as if it didn’t matter than much. Quinlan had a feeling it mattered more than he was letting on. “Skywalker.”

That…both made a lot of sense and no sense at all. “You do look like him when he was very young,” Quinlan confessed, nearly choking on air. Another Skywalker, of course it was another Skywalker. Poor Obi-Wan couldn’t get away from them, could he? Quinlan was rather unsurprised. If Anakin was dead and had a child, it would make sense that Obi-Wan would look over and protect the boy, if nothing else. Even if it was out of obligation. Obi-Wan knew plenty about that. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Hopefully Quinlan could get some responses. “You give Obi-Wan a lot of Hell too?”

“I try not to, he’s had enough,” Luke replied, softening his voice.

“We can agree on that.”

“Touching me for psychometry won’t yield as many answers, I think,” Luke continued, calmly. “But I have a lot less baggage.” That did not fill Quinlan with any confidence.

“You’re still young.”

Luke’s nose wrinkled as he studied the older master. “I thought you were funnier.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Ben talked about you, he made you out to be funny.”

Quinlan’s heart stuttered a little bit. Did they continue to be friends? They had been a bit distant as of late. Quinlan had been meaning to rectify that, but everyone was so busy during the war, most of all Obi-Wan. He always tried to justify things that his friend was much too busy to be bothered by Quinlan trying to reconnect more. Was he dead in the future? But then again, Luke had said they had met before. He really needed some answers if he was going to be able to make choices moving forward. “Oh, I’m hilarious. A tad surprised, however, that Obi-Wan would tell you that,” he chuckled lightly. “He likes to act as if I’m not comical at all. Let’s just say I’m a bit suspicious… and worried about my friend.”

Luke’s gaze tempered into something Quinlan felt a little less concerned about. “I’m worried too,” he admitted, jumping up to sit on a nearby cot. “That he’ll wake up of this time and not know of me or the future. Or that he will have come back from the future, only to watch everything get destroyed again because I karked up.”

“Did you kark up?” Quinlan asked. He found that unlikely, as Luke had only been here for several hours, not even a full day.

“Not yet,” he tried but didn’t look completely certain. “I don’t think so. I hope I didn’t. Hope I won’t.”

“Well,” Quinlan shrugged and sat next to him. “I’m here to help. Whatever happens, whether Obi-Wan wakes up and remembers you or not, I will help you.”

Luke’s glance at him looked both slightly skeptical but mostly relieved and reassured. “I didn’t think you believed me yet.”

Quinlan didn’t realize he had believed him either. He shrugged, trying to play it off. “I don’t think you are crazy. I don’t get that feeling from you.”

With a brief pause, Luke hopped down from the cot and picked up Obi-Wan’s robe, which was lying over some unused medical equipment. He brought it over and got back up on the cot before holding it out. “You might want to start with this. The last time you touched Ben’s lightsaber, your heart stopped. I think…this might be better to begin with.”

He tugged off one of his gloves. “You said you have less baggage; would you mind me starting with you?”

The surprised look on the boy’s face smoothed into something calm and content. “Sure. I don’t mind. Just…maybe try not to kill anyone afterwards?”

Quinlan didn’t know what that meant but put a hand on Luke’s bare arm. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he came back.

“Oh,” he muttered flatly. “Now I understand why you told me to try not and kill anyone,” he grumbled as he pulled back. “Skywalker…he…wow.”

Luke glanced away. “Yeah, I didn’t take it too well the first time either. And I don’t know if we can save him or anything, but he hasn’t done it yet, at least not for you or the others. I would like to save him or try too at least. I’d like to know if the person Ben told him, he was existed or if Ben was just trying to conjure happy memories.”

“That beast…he’s Skywalker,” Quinlan shook his head. “Anakin told me that Obi-Wan’s grief was apparently great, but I didn’t realize… it probably would have been better if Skywalker had died.”

“Ben told me that,” Luke replied. “He told me that my father had died. I found out by accident, but I’m not sure if he was still in Vader somewhere or if Vader actually had killed Anakin Skywalker and just became someone else.”

Quinlan nodded. “I won’t kill him, for now. But one wrong move… I won’t let Obi-Wan go through that again.”

“It gets worse,” Luke confessed, clearly not wanting to admit what he was about to say. “I didn’t know it at the time, as when Ben talked about Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader, he talked about them like they were two different people. Vader had marched on the Jedi Temple.”

He didn’t know his heart could sink any further than this. Luke didn’t explain his statement, but the implication was pretty easy to interpret. Obi-Wan and Luke had been on the run, not with the Jedi. It was hard to be with the Jedi when there was no more Jedi.

The string of curses that came out of his mouth were impressive, Luke clearly didn’t understand all of them. Out of all the things Quinlan had guessed, this had not even sort of made the list. It was unimaginable. He couldn’t even wrap his head around such a thing. But Luke’s next question caught Quinlan so off guard, he nearly fell off the cot he was sitting on.

“Have you gone on your mission to assassinate Dooku yet?” Luke asked, abruptly.

Quinlan twisted his head around and stared at him, more confused than he had been in a long time. Assassination? “What?” he scoffed. “No! What? Why…no! No, I haven’t been sent to assassinate the leader of the Separatists. I don’t even know if I could.”

Luke sighed in relief and took Quinlan’s hands, careful not to make skin contact. He stared straight into his eyes, wholly and completely serious. “Do not to do it,” he ordered. If nothing else, Quinlan felt the need to listen to him. The Force whispered nonsensical things in his ear, not quite distracting, but rather highlighting what Luke was telling him. “Do not go anywhere near him, no matter how close you think you can get. It does not end well. Do you understand?”

Quinlan didn’t even realize words came out at first. “Does he kill me?”

Luke shook his head vehemently. “No. Worse.”

There was really only one thing that could be worse, and Quinlan felt nearly sick. “Oh,” he exhaled out. “That is…not good. Did…did you see that? Or did Obi-Wan tell you? Do you know what happened?”

“You and Ben talked about it when I first met you,” he said. “I didn’t understand a lot of it, but you clearly didn’t stay in the Dark Side-.”

“I came back?” his voice sounded more like an echo.

“I think so,” Luke shrugged. “He was really happy to see you before. I think you liked me too, but it was hard to tell, we didn’t get a lot of time together.”

Before Quinlan could continue the conversation, his commlink beeped. As he answered, a communications officer spoke up through. “General, sir. We will be approaching the Umbara System within minutes. Your presence is requested on the bridge.”

“Copy that,” Quinlan responded before turning it off. “I probably will have a lot more questions but right now, that will have to wait.”

Luke nodded. “A battle?”

“Uh yes…we got detoured. We are hoping it won’t be too long. They just need a little backup. Look,” Quinlan pressed. “We are about go into battle,” he started slowly. “And I need to help Commander Cody. So, I need you to stay with Obi-Wan. If something happens and we need to evacuate, either I will send someone or come myself to get you.”

“I won’t be a problem,” Luke promised innocently.

Quinlan shot him a wary stare. “Stay. Here. Yeah.”

Luke just smiled and nodded.

***

Luke waited less than ten minutes before he moved. He tightened up his clothes so nothing would be flapping in the wind, retied up his boots and took off the cloak, setting it near Ben’s bed. “I’m really sorry, Ben. I know I said I wouldn’t leave you…but I’m pretty sure they’re going to need me out there and I think it would be best for me to help. I will make you proud,” he insisted, curling his hands over Ben’s saber. “You aren’t here and awake to protect your men this time around so it is up to me. Hope you don’t mind me borrowing this. Please, please wake up soon.”

He didn’t wait any longer and ran out of the medical bay, for the first time, leaving Ben behind.

Finding a hiding spot on the gunship was…. not easy. And Luke was quickly discovered. He had gathered a few things, a set of armor, a blaster and tried to blend in. Luckily for him, they were in a hurry and already making their way down to the surface and so by the time he was noticed, it was far too late.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Even though every one of the clones technically sounded the same, Luke just knew it was Waxer who had discovered him. Luke had thought he was doing a fairly good job hiding. But then again, Waxer probably knew his men pretty well. He didn’t ask how he knew but Luke took off the helmet, his eyes darkening into something gleaning with determination and confidence. “I’m coming with you,” he declared.

“You’re a little short for a clone trooper, kid,” Waxer answered his unasked question. Luke could completely see Waxer and Boil as friends, even if it wasn’t completely obvious to a lot of others. “And you are not doing anything.”

“Yes, I am,” he insisted.

“I know for a fact you are supposed to be in the medical bay by General Kenobi’s side,” Waxer pointed out, shaking his head. “Look, kiddo. We love you but you have no idea what you are getting yourself into.”

Luke’s unimpressed look ended up being, well, rather impressive. “I’ve been on the run since I was eight,” he shot back, emphatically. “Chased by an Empire with tons of soldiers trying to kill me. In droves. You know what they say about experience.”

Even Luke knew he was being cheeky.

“You have nothing to prove, kid,” Waxer offered, his voice suddenly serious and quiet. It was a bit of whiplash for Luke but his shoulders hardened and he abruptly became unable to meet Waxer’s eyes.

“Contrary,” Luke’s voice was even quieter, to the point that Waxer was probably the only one who could currently hear him. “I have everything to prove.”

Waxer just sighed and shook his head.

Before he could speak, Luke looked up at him, eyes narrowed and determined. This was a bit more personal, he supposed. “Boil won’t lose you again, not if I can help it.”

Waxer’s eyes tempered into something sympathetic and kind once he had gotten over his brief glance of surprise. He realized that he must have been dead in the future, especially if he wasn’t with Boil. Luke seemed to know him pretty well, which meant his brother talked about him. Waxer had no idea how he would work without Boil, it seemed unimaginable. He always thought they would die together. He did even have an inkling on how Boil would act if Waxer had gone marching on without him. “Kid, soldiers die in war. It’s a fact,” Waxer said, calmly. “You can’t stop me from dying.”

“No,” he agreed, but his fists curled up into one another. “But I can lessen the odds and help protect you. Please, Waxer, let me do this. I won’t slow you down. I won’t get in your war. Nothing has to change with your plans. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Waxer sighed and ruffled his hair, affectionately, shaking his head. He obviously didn’t like this, and he certainly thought there would be consequences but there was little he could do now. “Too late, kiddo.”

“Do you have a weapon?”

Luke brandished the hilt of Ben’s lightsaber with a smirk. “I know how to use this.”

“I have no doubt,” Waxer replied. “General Kenobi does this style called Soresu. It’s apparently-.”

“The ultimate defense form,” Luke finished with a smirk. Waxer must talk about Jedi things with Ben. It was nice that some of the men were interested in that sort of thing. Ben loved to teach. “I’m aware. And quite adequate. I will try to keep with that style as much as I can. I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“Sir!” one of the other soldiers called out, apprehensively. “This is…highly against protocol,” he choked out.

Waxer just shook his head. He wasn’t going to get rid of Luke. Even if he physically could, the boy would never leave them alone. And now they were well on their way down to the surface. “As far as I’m concerned, Luke here is General Kenobi’s new padawan which makes him your commander,” he pointed out.

“I won’t make any choices,” he vowed, looking around at the whole squad. “I’m just here to help, an extra body. You don’t have to protect me or anything.”

The clones glanced at each other, uncertainly.

“I’m just here to make sure as many of you come out of this alive as I can. Ben isn’t awake this time around to help so it is up to me.”

He didn’t tell him the other reason. Boil had never told him specifically what planet or campaign that Waxer had been on when he had died but Luke had a few clues. One. It was a dark and gloomy planet. Check. Luke had looked it up on a terminal. There were few planets darker or gloomier or grosser. Two. There was a traitor general. Possibly, General Krell was the only general on the ground as of currently, so he would be the main suspect if this was it. Luke hadn’t been able to do much research about him but he definitely got an uneasy feeling about this. Three. There was an act of friendly fire. Part of the 501stwas down there and part of the 212th as well. They were coming from different directions. With the natural darkness of the planet and no large amount of deception or confusion necessary, it could easily turn into a case of friendly fire.

Luke didn’t know if this was the planet where Waxer died the first time. But he knew somethingbad was going to happen here. The Force was practically blaring like a megaphone. Luke would do his part.

“Do you mind if I keep some of the armor?” Luke asked.

They all just stared at him.

“Uh yeah,” Waxer choked out. “Of course.” Then he paused and realized what Luke had said. “Wait. Some?”

Immediately, Luke took off a few of the pieces. He hadn’t planned on keeping all of them, they would hinder his movements significantly, but he kept the greaves, vambraces and pauldrons. They could only watch as he set the extra pieces in the corners.

“Not gonna wear all of it?” one of the troopers asked.

“Can’t move easy,” Luke shrugged. “It was a disguise.”

Waxer just shook his head with a vaguely amused smile. “You Jedi.”

The gunship rocked as an explosion went off near enough that the pilot had to swerve, and the sound blasted through his ears. Waxer and another trooper tried to shelter him as best they could, protectiveness and care emanating from them in strong waves.

“Please wake up,” Luke whispered quietly into the air, as they got closer and closer to the planet’s surface. He was nearly inaudible, no one could hear him, but he wasn’t talking to the troopers. It was some kind of prayer to the Force, something, anything, to beg it for assistance. For him. For Ben. “Please wake up, Ben. I could really use you soon. I can’t do this alone.”

#revolving suns art #revolving suns au #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #quinlan vos #anakin skywalker #waxer #clone trooper waxer #luke skywalker #protective luke skywalker #obi-wan kenobi raises luke skywalker #planet umbara #umbara arc #time travel #fix it #it's coming okay

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cheeriecherry · 4 years ago

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Hello!! I read your adhd head cannon and it was so amazing I wanted to request more please! (If you don't mind of course). Please can I request head cannons for Todoroki, Midoriya and Shinsou with a SO with adhd? 🥰

Hecc yeah you can! As an avid adhd-haver, im gonna pour so much of my own experience into this, you have no idea lol

TODOROKI SHOUTO

-He doesn’t know what adhd is, hands down.

-And honestly, he’s probably not going to notice your symptoms and habits until after you start dating.

-He probably just figured that you’re a more energetic person than most, more chatty and more excitable.

-It’s not until you guys are curled up on the couch together watching a movie that he’s like ‘are you okay? You’re fidgeting a lot’. Upon which time you’ll have to tell him you have adhd...and maybe explain what exactly it is.

-He’s pretty chill about it, doesn’t think you’re weird or anything, or judge you for it. To him, it’s just a Thing, y’know? It’s a part of you, and he likes you.

-If you’re having a bad time, and you tell him ‘it’s the adhd’ he’ll be kind of surprised, because he still doesn’t know the depths of what it does. He probably didn’t know it could have such negative effects, too.

-That’s probably when he’ll start doing a little googling, asking basic questions to the internet about how adhd impacts people, and eventually he gets down to the really specific personal experiences that people have posted about.

-It’s a learning curve for him, but he starts to pay more attention to you and your stress, and give you more credit when you’re able to work through things that might set you off. He’s not patronizing about it, but he gives you light praise after classes and when you work with him to finish you homework.

-You’ll have to direct him on how to comfort you when you’re overwhelmed, since it can vary so much from person to person...and he’s not really the best at giving comfort anyways (at least not in the beginning). He’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’ll get you whatever you need, but you’ll have to ask him for it.

-He gets better at it once he starts learning your tells, and what methods calm you down, but he’ll still ask you if something is okay for him to do (like hugging you, or turning on/off some music, shutting the window, etc).

-TL;DR he knows 0 things but he’s more than willing to learn, if it’s for your sake. He wants to know more about you, and your life, and the things you go through, and he’ll stick around to help you as best he can. Just be patient with him.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

-He might not know much about adhd, but he is, out of everyone, the most willing to lean about it. Arguably he’s got a few common symptoms of it himself, but he’ll probably never connect the dots.

-He’s observant and makes note of lots of small things, so even before you start dating he knows you struggle with things. Paying attention, sitting still, getting things done. He’ll offer to help you with homework if you need it, or he’ll volunteer to train with you if you need to burn some energy.

-Partially because it seems to help you a bit if you have someone else to do things with and keep you motivated, but also partly because he just wants to spend time with you.

-He’s definitely a friend before he’s your boyfriend, so you probably tell him about your adhd before you’re together. And he does what he can to help, but it’s not until after you’re a couple that he really goes ham.

-Spends several hours reading every article and account he can find about adhd, every scientific paper, every medical website, every personal story. Like he does with heroes, he’s really into learning whatever he can, to the point where his knowledge becomes more extensive than most.

-Ngl though, the first time he actually witnesses you having some kind of stimulus-induced panic, every single tidbit of information exits his head. Every coping strategy, every calming procedure, every breathing exercise. No thoughts, head empty.

-It’s something you both laugh about after, when he admits that he actually did a lot of research but he panicked when the moment came. You think it’s sweet how far he was willing to go for you, to know more about you.

-From then on out, he pays more attention to you than to the things he’s read on the internet. He learns about your tells, and your habits, and the things that you struggle with.

-His favourite part of your adhd is when you’re excited about something and you info dump to him. He’s just so genuinely interested in what you have to say, and he admires the passion you have as you speak.

-He also thinks your excited fidgeting is cute, the way you can barely contain yourself when you’re looking forward to something.

-Plus, he thinks you’re a tough opponent during training. Once you’ve honed your skills a little, your reflexes are fast and your thoughts come quicker than most others’. You’re creative and inventive, after having to work around so many obstacles in your life already.

-TL;DR he goes out of his way to learn about you, and loves you as you are. He might not always know how to help you, but he’ll always try. He respects you and admires you, as both a person and as a hero.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

-Weirdly enough, he’s probably the one who knows the most about adhd. Like, more than the average person, and beyond the stereotypes.

-He picks up on your habits pretty early on, but he doesn’t say anything. Partly because it doesn’t concern him so it’s none of his business, and partly because he doesn’t want to be rude (you’re also just another obstacle for him, in the beginning, before he lets himself have friends)

-Ngl, he probably thinks you can get kind of annoying, before you start dating. But in that same thought, he doesn’t understand why he cares so much. Like, why can’t he just tune you out like he does everyone else? Everyone else gets restless sometimes, everyone else can be kind of loud, so why is he so focused on you???

-It’s because he likes you, but that’s besides the point.

-Once you guys end up together, he still doesn’t say anything, but now it’s more because he figures that you know that he knows. You don’t really make an effort to hide any of your habits, and he’ll take the time to step in and offer you help if you need it, so.

-But after you’ve had a bad day, and you’re breaking down and your emotions are out of control, you finally cry to him and admit that you have adhd, as if it’s some bad and terrible thing.

-He’s kind of just like ‘...I know??’ and you’re like ‘//surprised pikachu’

-But it makes sense, he always knows when you’re getting overwhelmed with something, and he tries to break your homework up into sections so it’s not too much at once, and he always takes you on walks at weird times of the day. You had no idea that he did those things because he noticed you were getting stressed or restless.

-He’s also really good at tight, comforting hugs. you’ll...probably have to ask him for them, but after he turns a little bit pink in the face, he opens his arms and tucks you up safely. If his sweater is big enough, sometimes he’ll let you squirm into it and he’ll hold you like that.

-He’s just chill about the whole thing, and he’s probably the most in tune with you and adaptable to your needs. He doesn’t make a big fuss about it, because it’s just a thing that needs to be constantly dealt with. He doesn’t judge you for it, and after getting close to you he stops being annoyed.

-Though he was never really annoyed because of your adhd, he was annoyed because he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

-TL;DR he’s the most adaptable out of everyone, and he helps you out in little ways that can reduce your stress and energy before you explode. In the event that you do bubble over, he’s good at comfort and good at finding quiet soft places to whisk you away to while you settle down. He cares about your wellbeing, but he’s not over the top when it comes to offering you help. He makes it seeming kind and compassionate, rather than patronizing, and you know that his actions speak loudly of his love for you.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #hay-leeeah

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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

Text

An Art of Balance #1

A/N: I can’t believe I’m doing this, welcome to my fanfiction comeback after more than ten years. Jesus Christ, I’m nervous af. Feel free to comment and correct me (not my first language, sorry if sth is wrong), I’d be super happy for someone to beta me in fact! As the quidditch timelines are kind of messed up, I put Skye and MC in the same year, ignoring the fact that they are not supposed to know each other initially. Orion and McNully are one year above them. Enjoy!

Word Count: ~ 2.800

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“What I dream of is an art of balance.”- Henri Matisse

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

It was a hot day. It was, in fact, far too hot for this time of the year. The sun was blazing down relentlessly on Kings Cross Station, its windows shining in the glaring sunlight. It was not only hot, the air was also muggy as well. Lizzie Jameson fidgeted in her clothes as she pushed her cart through the dense mass of students and parents saying their goodbyes, looking for familiar faces to begin her ride to Hogwarts for her fifth year with.

“Do try to stay out of trouble this time, will you, dear?”

Her mother was walking closely behind her, eager to give her daughter last minute advice on how to behave properly for once. Lizzie rolled her eyes at the huge grey cat towering above her trunk in its cage, only listening half-heartedly.

“Sure, Mum, I’ll try my best… it’s not like I’m asking for trouble, you know?”

She heard the soft laugh of her mother and turned around to see her smiling fondly at her.

“I’m not so sure of that one.”

She opened her arms and Lizzie gave her a hug.

“Oi, Jameson! Over here!”

She looked up and saw a familiar head of black and blue hair waving through the crowd. Lizzie let go of her mother.

“Mum, there’s Skye over there, waiting for me.”

“It’s alright, dear. Go on ahead.”

Her mum gave her another quick hug and slightly pushed her away. “Just promise me to try. Be good, study and write sometime!”

Lizzie just laughed, barely listening anymore, waved and made her way over to Skye, who was standing beside her father in a thick mass of flustered students admiring the Quidditch star. He broke into a smile as he saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t Elizabeth Jameson, the second best chaser Hufflepuff has seen in a while!” Ethan Parkin, famous chaser of the Wigton Wanderers, gave her a slap on the back. “Are you ready for another shot at the Quidditch cup, Lizzie? I already gave Skye a detailed briefing on how to- “.

“It’s alright, dad,” Skye piped in, “I can recite your strategies in my sleep, we’ll be good.” She grinned at Lizzy. “Let’s go find a seat and some of the others. I can’t wait to tell you what stunts I’ve been trying out over summer break!”

The Hogwarts Express was slowly running out of Kings Cross station when Skye and Lizzie finally had a chance to look for a place to seat. Having been on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team for several years now, they had gained quite the popularity with their house mates.

Exhausted from greeting what felt like the whole of their house, they finally found the department they had been looking for. Inside sat the rest of their little Quidditch gang, their fellow chaser and team captain Orion Amari and the not-so-impartial commentator Murphy McNully. McNully was excitedly telling Orion what seemed to be the new statistics he had come up with during summer break, while Orion was sitting cross-legged on his seat with his eyes closed and a zoned-out smile on his face. When they entered, he opened his eyes and smiled warmly at the sight of them.

“Ah, there you are! I knew there was a 77% chance of you coming here to join us, we kept seats for you!” McNully shouted excitedly.

“What are the other 23%?”, Lizzie wanted to know.

“You might have run into Penny Haywood or Rowan Khanna first. I think the chances of Rowan actually enjoying our company are at about 16 %. At best. So, I figured she wouldn’t want to sit with us. Which means, if she would have met you first, she would have asked you to sit with her, which you would of course have agreed to, as she is you best friend because you met her back in Diagon Alley before your first year and- “.

“Shut up, McNully.” Skye rolled her eyes at him and looked over to Lizzie. “It’s true though, she doesn’t really seem to like us that much.”

Lizzie shrugged. “No idea really, she actually really enjoys Quidditch. I guess she is just more of the watching type. Or reading about it, for that matter. But don’t you worry about her.”

Lizzie laid back in her seat next to Murphy, enjoying the cool air that was streaming from the partially open window into the stuffed cabin. She leaned forward again, putting her feet on the seat opposite of her and looked at her friends. “So, what have you guys been up to this summer? Ready for a brand-new year, brand-new season?”

Skye’s face immediately lit up with excitement. “You bet I am! Wait ‘til you see the tricks my dad taught me! We will stomp Ravenclaw into the dust in no time, just you wait!”

McNully only shook his head next to her. “Winning against Ravenclaw only makes up 30 % of what it takes to win the Cup, Skye. There are still Gryffindor and Slytherin to beat as well.”

Skye tilted her head, looking at him questioningly. “That’d make 90 %, what’s with the missing 10 %? Luck or what?”

McNully laughed. “I don’t believe in luck. No, it’s way better than that! We’re talking team compositions, daily form, weather conditions, bludger flight path velocity…” He gazed dreamily into the distance. “I could go on forever.”

Skye shook her head. “Don’t. Besides, all that stuff doesn’t help you win a match if you can’t hold yourself on a broom when you need to.

“But it can!”, McNully retorted, “There are so many factors influencing that as well. Just think about the grip factor on the broom handle, or centrifugal powers during turns or- “

Leaving them to their discussion, Lizzie got up and sat down next to her team captain. Watching them bicker back and forth, she couldn’t help but smile fondly. “They will never find middle ground, will they?”

Orion watched them thoughtfully. “Why would they? All the different beliefs we have are but representations of the many sides of Quidditch.”

Lizzie looked at him, processing what he just had said. “I guess you’re right.” She smiled. “How has your summer been?”

He shrugged. “I’ve let myself flow wherever the universe destined me to go.”

Lizzy shook her head at his answer, nebulous as ever. “And have you flown any interesting place in particular?”

“I did spend a lot of time surrounded by nature, reconnecting with myself, finding the balance to focus on what’s to come.”

Lizzie grinned. “So, wandering about in the woods, is that it?”

Orion chuckled softly. She had a way of breaking down his words. “Yes, you could put it that way.”

They chatted on about hiking and the trails Lizzie’s parents had taken her to this summer for a while before they fell into a comfortable silence, watching the trees outside rush by and listening to Skye’s and McNully’s bickering.

Lizzie jerked awake when the door to their department banged open and a whirlwind of blond hair burst in. Judging by the golden light outside, she must have slept for almost the entire ride.

“Lizzie, Skye! It’s so good so to see you all, I’ve been looking for you since we left London.”

Penny Haywood smiled her radiant smile at them, letting herself fall into the seat next to Lizzie. Lizzie rubbed her eyes, brain still foggy from her nap. “The train is only so long, and we’ve almost arrived, what have you been doing for so long?”

Penny giggled. “Oh, you know, catching up here and there, saying hello to people… There is SO much stuff I have to tell you later!”

Lizzy grinned at her. “Lots of juicy gossip?”

Penny laughed out loud. “You bet!” She lowered her voice. “Did you know that Billingsley apparently blew up his pumpkin pastry earlier, right in Merula Snyde’s face? And rumour has it, Tonks and Tulip have declared a prank war for this year!”

Lizzy shot an annoyed glance at Skye, who had started talking considerably louder, waving her hands in McNully’s face when Penny had entered. “No, I didn’t know that,” she replied. “Sounds like we’re in for quite a ride.”

“As always with these two.” Penny turned towards the cage where the ears of Lizzies cat had jerked up upon her entering. “Aw, hello Mousey, my sweet darling, have you missed me?” The grey cat purred, rubbing her head against Penny’s outstretched hand through the bars of her carrier.

Skye snorted. “Are you talking to that little devil over there? I swear, if that fur ball so much as touches my quills this year, I’ll make a hat out of her!”

Ignoring her, Penny rubbed Mouse’s chin. “We have no idea who she is talking about, right, Mousey? Such a good girl you are!” She suddenly looked up, waving at someone passing by their carriage. Lizzie followed her gaze just to see whoever she had been waving at quickly picking up their pace. But not quick enough for her to not recognise the familiar face.

She got up off her seat and stepped out into the hallway. “Hey, Rowan! Hey, wait up!” Rowan Khanna, her best friend since the beginning of her Hogwarts journey together, stopped dead in her tracks and turned.

“Oh… hey, Liz… sorry, didn’t see you. How’s things going?”

Lizzie frowned. She’d imagined Rowan being excited to see her, hugging her and asking about her summer, like she always did. She opened her mouth to speak when Penny, who had followed her, spoke up.

“Hello Rowan, how are you? Congratulations again on becoming a prefect, first step to being Head Girl managed!”

Rowan said nothing, looking sheepishly at Lizzie, whose gaze had dropped to the shiny yellow and black prefect badge sitting on the chest of Rowan’s robes.

“Wow, Rowan congrats! You really deserve that,” Lizzie exclaimed. She’d had no idea her best friend had been being chosen as one of Hufflepuff’s new prefects.

Rowan’s cheek blushed a little. “Yeah, well thanks, I guess. See you guys at the station.”

She awkwardly waved goodbye and hurried off. Penny arched her eyebrows. “What was that about? She was rather weird, wasn’t she?”

Lizzie didn’t answer, still staring after her friend. She remembered what Penny had said. “You knew about her becoming prefect?” she asked.

Penny looked at her bewildered. “Of course, she wrote to me as soon as she learned. Didn’t she tell you?”

Lizzie shook her head. “No, not a word. We didn’t write a lot this summer, in fact. I thought she would have told me something that important to her.”

Penny shrugged. “Don’t worry, maybe your letters were just badly timed or something.” They stepped back into their cabin and Penny dropped into her seat. “Do you know who else was chosen?”

“I only know Charlie is a prefect now, he told me as soon as the owl arrived.”

Penny smiled a very innocent smile at her. “Charlie Weasley instantly sent you a letter when he learned he was appointed prefect?”

Lizzie shot her a glance. “Stop looking at me like that. Yes, he did, because we happen to be friends. Just friends, alright? No baseless assumptions before the new term has even started!”

Penny just grinned, prompting Lizzie to roll her eyes. “Actually, I had thought they would choose you, Penny. Top notch grades, loved by everyone, barely getting into trouble, sounds like an ideal prefect.”

“Not since she started hanging with us,” Skye chuckled. “Penny’s been to too many pre- and post-match parties for the teachers’ liking, I guess.”

A light laugh escaped Penny’s throat. “Busted! But how could I say no to celebrating victory with the Skye Parkin?”

Skye said nothing and looked out of the window for a moment. “More celebrating defeat when it comes to last year.” Her attention shifted over to Orion. “Seriously though, do you have a plan for this year? Like, we finished last year in not the best state and we need a new beater as well.”

Lizzie went pale at that. “Merlin forbid, you won’t have me play beater again, will you?”

Orion looked at her calmly. “As you know, to me all positions are equal, merging into one another to form one complete team.”

Skye grabbed hold of Lizzie’s arm possessively. “Oh no, no, no, Amari, don’t you dare taking her from me again. That season with her as beater was mediocre at best. We want to have a shot at the Cup, we need her as our third chaser.”

“Don’t fear Skye. While I think Lizzie made a formidable beater, I agree with you. She’s evolved into a true chaser. No, we will hold try outs to see if a new calling arises in one of our fellow housemates.”

Satisfied with his answer, Skye let go of Lizzie, who was peering out of the window.

“I am really glad to hear that.” She pulled Skye to her feet.

“Come on, girls, we’re almost there, let’s get changed.” She grabbed the bag with her school robes inside and waited impatiently until Skye had dug up hers out of the chaos that was her trunk.

***

They had nearly arrived at Hogsmeade Station when Skye, Penny and Lizzie returned.

Orion was clasping his robe over his sweater, feeling uncomfortable. He hated wearing his school uniform, he always felt confined in them. He was already looking forward to changing into his loose shirt and coat again.

He touched his tie, looking at McNully questioningly. “Good?”

His friend grinned at him. “Not as good-looking as me, but good enough, I guess.”

He pointed to Orion’s neck. “You forgot your necklace, though.”

Orion ran his hand over the round pendant he always wore around his neck, tucking it down his shirt. “No, I didn’t. I am not taking it off if I don’t have to.”

“I know.” McNully waved a hand at him. “I’ve never seen you without it, except when you’re playing Quidditch, which is because all pieces of jewellery have to be removed for safety reasons, since we became friends, which was in our first year, of course, when you took the bed next to me in the dorm and we started chatting and…”

He actually managed to stop himself. “What I want to say, I know you don’t like taking it off.”

The door opened and Penny, Skye, and Lizzie re-entered the cabin. Skye wasn’t looking too happy to be wearing a skirt and robes instead of her signature house sweater and jacket. Orion saw her touching her tie in the same uncomfortable way he had just done.

“Ugh, I hate this uniform so much, it’s just so uncomfortable,” she complained promptly. “I really don’t see why we have to change for, what, two hours, before going back to the Common Rooms and getting out of these. We’ll be wearing them enough during the year.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes at her before reaching for her cat snoozing in her cage. “Can you just stop complaining, please? It’s not like you can change it.”

“Yes, but I can make a point about not liking it.”

“They just want everyone to look proper when the new students walk into the Great Hall for the first time.” Penny casually brushed some dirt off Skye’s shoulder, who shut up immediately.

“Speaking about looking proper, Lizzie, you should really brush out your hair, I don’t think Professor Sprout would appreciate you walking in with hair that messy.”

Lizzy touched her hair she still had tied up in a bun, now worse for wear from the heat and the wind coming from the window. “Oh, I forgot about that.” She pulled her hair band out, shaking out her light brown curls, brushing through them with her fingers as a makeshift brush. “Better?”

Penny looked at her dubiously. “Not much, but it’ll do, I think.” She ran her fingers through a strand of Lizzie’s hair. “I do have to say though, that new length suits you so well, Liz, I’m glad you listened to me and chopped it off.”

Orion watched Lizzie tucking her hair behind her ear. Penny was right, it suited her a lot. Until the end of last year, Lizzie’s long hair had almost come down to her waist. Not being the tallest, it had always made her look younger than she was, almost drowning her.

Now it ended just below her shoulders, the shorter length allowing it to curl stronger than before. She looked much more grown up like that, more feminine. As they were leaving the train, McNully, who was pushing his wheelchair in front of him, shot him a side glance.

“Lizzie looks changed, doesn’t she?”

Orion wondered if he had seen him looking. On second thought, of course he had.

“Is it important how we look on the outside when all that matters is our inside?” he evaded his question nebulously. For once, McNully didn’t reply, following the girls up to the carriages waiting for them.

#harry potter #hogwarts mystery #hphm #orion amari #orion amari x mc #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #penny haywood #rowan khanna #quidditch #elizabeth jameson #lizzie jameson #art of balance #the quidditch squad #quidditch squad

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mandoinevarro · 5 years ago

Text

Cara’s Restless Week

Words: 4k

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, vaginal intercourse, masturbation, voyeurism, choking, cuckolding? Not sure :/

a/n: I’m once again ignoring baby yoda. He’s at a sleepover at Omera’s, also he and all children go deaf at night, don’t worry about them.

Cara Dune can’t sleep.

The night is still and warm, and the steady rhythm of drizzle batting against the roof of her shelter would’ve been enough to lull her to sleep under any other circumstances. Even the crickets outside seem to have fallen into a uniform, soothing symphony.

And yet, Cara can’t sleep.

She’s no stranger to restless nights—Maker, she’s no stranger to restless weeks, but she never thought she’d have bedtime troubles inside a comfortable bungalow in Sorgan, days after they’ve driven away the threats to the peaceful community. She tosses and turns on her cot, presses a straw pillow against her face, tries counting blurgs, but it’s no use. No matter what Cara does, she can’t stop hearing the choked moans coming from the cabin next to hers. She kicks the covers away and stumps around in circles inside her cramped hut.

It’s not like it came as a surprise to her.

She suspected something was brewing under the surface from the first day she met the Mandalorian. Settling things with him was easy enough after they learnt that no, he didn’t have a fob on her, and no she wasn’t after a green baby growing wings out of his head. She smiled when the pretty woman feeding broth to said kid giggled at her description.

Cara’s first impression of you was pleasant enough; you smiled easily and contributed every now and then with your own sharp observations, not to mention how much the shock trooper liked the feeling between her legs every time your breasts bounced with each hearty laugh. She even thought of making a move, but stopped the lewd come-on from tumbling past her teeth once she noticed the way your gaze followed your Mandalorian’s every move. Inside some buried corner in the back of her mind, Cara recognized the look. If not something deeper (because softer passions are hard to nurture in this harsh galaxy), it was—at the very least—a look of profound longing. And, although those gentle sentiments had abandoned Cara somewhere in the blur of her past, she’d lived enough to know that glimpse in your pupils whenever he’d get too close to you was there to stay.

The drizzle turns into rain. Instead of drowning them, the loud pebbling clatter of fat droplets only gives the mewls a vibration and solidity that they lacked before. She steps out of the lodge, hoping the pouring water will clear her mind and send her back to bed. But—like if you were purposefully working to lengthen her insomnia— as soon as her head pokes out, the whimpers that hit her are noisier and clearer, and she immediately goes back inside. She sits on a stool, impatiently grabs at her trimmed hair, searches her warrior’s brain for a solution.

She kept her distance that afternoon and thought she’d never see either of you again, and hadn’t at all expected the leather hand that dropped a pouch of credits at her feet in the dark Sorgan woods.

A little action and some pocket money were a good bargain, so Cara took the job. She promised herself, though, to keep her cravings for you at bay. It wasn’t very hard at first. Everyone in the community spent weeks doing little but prepare for the impending attack of the raiders. Cara and the Mandalorian trained the villagers, planned the defense strategy, went over the plan over and over again, helped dig ditches, and neither of them had much time to think about you.

It wasn’t until after their victory—after the Imperial AT-ST was destroyed and, with it, the invaders’ oppressive grip on the fishing village—that they both allowed themselves to occupy their heads on something—or rather, someone—a lot more pleasant.

By that point, Cara had gotten pretty good at reading Mando’s body language. Gestures that she’d once thought were signs of indifference or trained stoicism picked up completely different meanings. She remarked how his spine would relax and he’d lose a few inches whenever he’d see his son playing with the village’s children. She took note of the way his helmet would tilt to the side and his modulated voice would drag a little at the end on the rare occasion he made a joke. She was next to him on the afternoon his dark visor fixated on you when, in front of a particularly orange sunset, the last beams of light melted over your glowing figure, painting your skin and hair with changing colors. She definitely didn’t miss the sore sigh that fractured at the sight before it even left the helmet.

Cara cements her legs on the ground for stability and cracks her knuckles once, twice, until the joints go mushy and they stop clicking.

She can tell you’re trying to hush your sounds as best as you can. She can tell because every time a notably loud whine defies your restraint, it is instantly muffled by a hand or some other utensil you’ve learned you need after your long nights of pleasure.

It’s been going on for a couple of days now, and Cara is starting to find it fucking insufferable. She honestly doesn’t know what’s worse: the sleepless nights or the mornings that follow. For the uninitiated, your morning greetings and seemingly innocent small talk would be polite, but unremarkable. Cara, though, knows better. She’s there for every conspiring smile, every brush of his gloves against your hips. She even catches some of the furtive whispers and caresses you exchange sometimes, when you think nobody’s looking. How you blush when he crowds you with his superior stature; how he sneaks out of your tent at dawn.

And, it’s not like Cara is jealous of Mando. Although you’re nice and easy to talk to, she knows that her feelings for you are purely physical, and she’s spent enough time around you both to know that whatever is going on between you two had been ballooning for a pretty long time until it inevitably burst. If anything, she’s relieved that, after such a torturous period of mutual pining, you’ve finally found an outlet for your affection. She’s happy for her friends. But she can’t fucking sleep.

The relentless moaning starts bending the humid air into clearer shapes. You’re talking to each other. Against all her instincts, Cara drops to the floor in all fours and crawls closer to barrier of her lodging. She presses her ear to the scratchy wall. The sounds are swallowed, and she only makes out an attuned voice that says, “…wanted…from…first day…”

What she can hear loud and clear is a wet, squelching noise that goes to the beat of the dropping rain. The warrior feels like an anvil drops on her chest and slumps on the floor.

If she’s being honest, it’s not even the lack of rest that’s really bothering her—although it does contribute to her daily grumpiness. The reason she finds it unbearable to sit through the rich sounds of your consummated lust night after night is that she knows exactly what she’s missing.

Because she’s been to almost every system and fought every fight. She’s witnessed the destruction of planets and their birth. She’s slept on empty deserts, under the watchful eye of their celestial vault. She’s cheated death. But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing she’s found on her long voyages across the galaxy that compares to the electric current that shocks her nerve endings when someone’s flesh presses against hers. Nothing like having someone strip down bare and let her learn them, inside and out.

So, Cara sits and listens, sits and listens, sits and listens…, until—stubborn, willful woman that she is—she decides that enough is enough.

She stands and struts outside with heavy steps like she’s battlebound, lets the rain—now a storm—drench her skin and underclothes, lets her boots sink in mud. She stops at the entrance of your tent, where the cries are loudest and barely concealed by the rainfall. Her plan is to come in quickly, averting her gaze, and sternly tell you two to keep it down or find another place to fuck. She pushes the flap of the entrance open.

Neither of you see her. How could you, when your nude back is facing her, and Mando, on his underarmor and beneath you, has his helmet thrown back against the floor, probably staring directly at the way your breasts bob gently with your leisurely up-and-down movements.

Cara stays at the entrance, partially hidden by the shadows that the oil lamp beside you can’t reach. She really does try to move. She wills her legs to step forward and make her presence known, but a wave of heat hits her hard when she sees the low, orange light embrace your lower back and drop to your ass with your languid movements. She tells her head to turn around, but her limbs have rebelled against her and remain frozen in front of the show.

Defeated, she stands in the gloom. The mythic warrior Carasynthia Dune helplessly stares at the lovers, pathetically wet and overcome with the desire to simply witness.

A part of her doesn’t care about the morality of it. Not when she sees your trembling thighs rock particularly hard over the Mandalorian, which draws a strangled sob from you and a low grumble from him, both of which can probably be heard three huts over. He quickly lifts one of the gloved hands holding your hips and presses it against your gaping mouth, like he wasn’t the one who moaned the loudest. Still, his grip does nothing to hide the obscene sound of your cunt taking his veins and ridges inside, your juices blending with his.

She’s entranced by the way your fists are clamped on his undershirt and whines seem to knot in your throat as he brings a hand to your back drawing soothing circles. You’re both so laughably bad at keeping quiet.

I could stay here, she thinks after a moment, here in the dark, where they won’t see me.

The hair on the nape of the neck stands up.

You look so elated, doing your best to pleasure each other. Neither of you speak, but you seem to be communicating through grunts, erotic movements, and caresses that carry more meaning than Cara could decipher. It looks like you’re confessing something unspeakable to each other.

Cara whimpers. It’s only a tiny syllable, but it apparently draws the Mandalorian’s attention, because the helmet rolls to side and focuses on the spot where shadows camouflage her. She freezes.

He grabs your thighs tightly and groans, “Fuck—C-cara?”

You immediately stop moving and remove your hands from his chest in indignation. “What?”

“N-no, no. I mean…” He points towards the general area where she’s hiding. Your upper body follows his finger.

Cara hasn’t blushed from embarrassment in years, so she’s confused when she feels blood stab at her cheeks. For a fleeting moment, she thinks that if she’s just very quiet and stays very still, you’ll go back to your motions and wave off the feeling that someone’s watching. It’s stupid and Cara knows it. Cursing herself, she steps out of the shadows, slickness sticking to her inner thighs with the shifting of her legs.

Her voice is dusty when she speaks, looking down at the floor like a child caught awake after bedtime. “I…I’m sorry I just—” The rain outside rings in her ears. She cracks her knuckles nervously and shifts her weight from leg to leg, thinking of a way to get out of it. “You were being too fucking loud. Stars, I’m sure they can hear you in Nevarro. You’ll have bounty hunters find you in no time if you keep this shit up.” Her words and tone are aggressive, but her eyes tell a different story, as they remain fixated on your heaving chest.

Neither of you move. Between the partial darkness and the helmet, she can’t really bring herself to try to read what Mando’s thinking. You, on the other hand, just look confused…and then, when you draw a line from the woman’s gaze to your naked chest, something else crosses your features. Not anger, not shame—something soft. Compassion, maybe?

Cara doesn’t stay to find out. She drags her feet across the floor to see herself out, as you turn to Mando and seem to tell him something in that secret, silent language of yours. He squeezes your thighs. Her name on your airy voice makes her stop.

“Cara,” you start, “w-would you—um—would you like to stay?”

The mercenary is sure she’s starting to hallucinate shit in an attempt to keep some of her dignity, until she indulges in one final look back and sees you with your arm extended, inviting her to join you.

She doesn’t notice when her legs come to life and drag her towards the couple, nor when her joints bend and sink to your level, kneeling and petrified. It’s only when your fingers brush her inner wrist and she pulls it back instinctively that she comes back to her senses.

Mando’s thumbs are drawing circles below your breasts. “Give her time.”

“You can touch me,” you tell the statue in front of you, but quickly add, “if you want. Or you can—” the bounty hunter must be cramping under your weight, because he repositions his hips, which makes him grunt and cuts you off, “—or you can only watch if you prefer. It’s okay.”

With a smile, you turn your attention back to the man trapped between your legs and resume your grinding. Whether you do it to put up a show for your guest, she’s not sure, but your rocking is stronger this time around, making sure you sink to the hilt and then pull almost completely out, before falling back down. Cara’s holding her breath. Maker, why is she acting like a fucking virgin? Her hands roll into fists when you throw your head back and pull a lustful wail from your insides.

Mando isn’t doing any better when he locks his fingers firmly on the curve of your ass and pants out, “You—you really enjoy the extra attention, don’t—don’t you?”

You exhale through your mouth with a smile and turn to stare straight into Cara’s eyes. “Maybe I d-do.”

It’s the playful glint your eyes and the way you sigh out the last word that make Cara think that a challenge was masked behind the simple statement. It snaps her back into reality.

Okay, then.

While your hunter caresses your backside, two strong hands grab your ribs and lift you a few inches, before bringing you down hard on the girthy phallus that splits you open. You and Mando both cry out at the suddenness of the satisfaction that burns a hole in your insides.

“Maybe Mando stands for your attitude,” Cara tells you as she pinches your right nipple and her face gets close to the other one, “but I don’t.” She traps your left breast in her hot mouth and nibbles at the peak. The Mandalorian—still trapped under—tries thrusting harder, and you grind down faster, short, high whimpers leaving your reddened lips. In the back of Cara’s mind, she feels bad for their generous Sorgan hosts, because there’s no way the whole village hasn’t woken up for the noise. The storm rages more violently, but—somehow—the thunder outside serves as a vessel for your frenzied moans and amplifies them.

Mando grabs two handfuls of your lower cheeks and pushes you further towards his chest, which forces Cara to lean back on her elbows. In the new position, your tits slap around her face and, even though she tries to pull them to her mouth, your whole body is being manhandled too swiftly by the Mandalorian for her to get a hold of you.

Annoyed, Cara places a heavy open palm on your sternum and pushes you back. “Fuck, keep still.” You lean back with no resistance, too limp with pleasure to put up a fight. She climbs back on you and sucks bruises on your collarbone, until her gaze falls on the union where the base of Mando’s sex ends and yours begins. She sees the creamy cum piling down there and—although she can’t tell which one of you is responsible for it—she scoops some with her fingers and uses it to massage it up and down your tense clit.

The muscles of your face cramp and your usual lovely expression contorts into a desperate frown. Her fingers collect more moisture and move faster against your bud, earning her a low purr, but it’s Mando’s head that turns to face her.

“Don’t s-stop,” he forces out, “y-you—th-that…’s m-making her t-tight.” He lets a shaky gasp out through the modulator. “You’re making her s-so fuck-fucking tight.” His member pushes against the snugness of your cunt as he tries to bury himself as deeply as your swollen walls will let him.

Cara complies and pulls the hood of your clit up. The direct pressure makes you jump and lose your balance, but the man below you catches your arms and holds you steady over him. You’re a mess, trembling and sobbing at the ceiling, so the Mandalorian lets go of one of your arms and brings his gloved palm to the back of your neck, working it so that you’re looking down at him. His hips are shaking with anticipation, but he still slows down and his thumb circles the soft skin of your neck. Cara lifts her attention from your soaked folds when she notices you’ve both stopped moving.

If her sleepless nights are any indication, you’ve only been having sex for about a week, but the way he holds you and calms you down tugs at something uncomfortable in Cara. It’s like he has you memorized already. He knows exactly how to touch you and how much you can take. He knows—much to his own detriment—when to stop.

Your breathing falls back to its normal pace and you’re starting to move again when she removes her fingers. You both groan in protest, but Cara just leans back out of the reach of the lamp’s flame and watches your bodies bathe in warm light. Panting, she sees you hold on to each other and comes to terms with the fact that she doesn’t belong wedged between your bodies, where you share something unknown to her. The realization isn’t as devastating as she thought it would be, and she figures it’s better to leave your carnal diversions between you two.

A helmet and a face stare expectantly, much like Rebel troops once focused on her awaiting orders.

Still, she muses with a light grin, that doesn’t mean I can’t teach them anything.

She scoots closer to your cot, and stops where only half of her body is covered in light. Surprisingly, Mando doesn’t pull away when she grabs his hand and guides it towards your upper body.

“You two really have a volume problem,” she quips as she beckons you closer and wraps his hand around your delicate neck. She signals the hunter to squeeze, but he turns to you first in a wordless question. You nod, and Cara’s fingers leave his when he clasps them on the sides of your neck. You sigh.

She then takes your hand and guides it to the base of your lover’s manhood. You mimic the squeeze on your neck. Mando gasps.

The former Rebel leader pulls back to admire her work and—once she’s satisfies with it—leans back on her elbows and slithers a hand inside her pants. The couple is still fixed in position, waiting for an instruction.

“Go ahead,” Cara allows, as she pushes her underwear to the side and mixes the leftover cum on her fingers with her own.

She can tell you’re already exhausted, but you still make an effort to lift your dripping pussy and bear down until your lips hit your palm. She sees your knuckles go white as they clutch harder around Mando’s base. He does the same to your neck, still testing and careful. It’s not until a potentially loud whine threatens to leave you that he intuitively squeezes harder to stop it from touching the damp air. The stronger hold on you makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. It doesn’t take either of you very long to fall into a frantic and vulgar pace, much different from the leisurely one you were working with at the start of the night.

Cara knows you’re teased and tired of waiting and doesn’t expect you to last much longer, so she skips any foreplay with herself and goes straight for her own sensitive button, swiping it with a roughness that she didn’t dare apply on yours. The sensation makes her her legs shake. She goes harder. Within seconds, she’s breathless, just as desperate as you two to reach her release.

“Fuck—fuck her harder,” she orders the Mandalorian when a calloused finger draws quick circles around her clit.

You’re basically bouncing on him now, but the disciplined man still manages to obey. His grip on your neck turns to steel, as he clasps his free fingers on the fat of your backside and slams you down to meet his thrusts. Your mouth gapes open and, if not for the gloved fingers around you, Cara’s sure your screams would make the walls tremble. The lamp—almost out of oil—shines on the plump tears of satisfaction that slide down your cheeks and fall on your partner’s shirt.

Finally, an invisible force seems to shove you forwards into Mando’s chest. You’re still convulsing on top of him when he brings both hands to your lower back to fuck himself into you with all the stamina left in his system. Unfortunately, there’s nobody to grasp his throat when it spits out a long groan. Cara sees his arousal seep out of you.

She gives you a moment to breathe, then stands and rounds the collapsed bodies, kneeling in front of your legs. She taps your thigh, hoping you haven’t passed out yet.

“Open your legs for me, sweetheart. Let me see.” But you don’t respond, so Mando uses his remaining energy to push your legs apart for Cara’s enjoyment. His hands drop with a stump on your back, and she’s startled by the raucous snores that leave the helmet.

She shakes her head and mumbles to herself, “Maker, they can’t even sleep quietly.”

Her digits go back inside her underwear while she absorbs the way your pussy flutters and twitches around nothing, dripping with your cum and your beau’s seed. The sight and her fingers are enough to summon a strong but quiet orgasm from her. Her walls are still clenching and she’s trying to control her breathing when the oil lamp finally dies out.

Once again, Cara Dune is engulfed in darkness. This time around, though, her eyes have learned to adjust to it; she can make out the outline of your conjoined bodies. Tasting her fingers, she stands and walks to the exit.

Her arm is lifting the cloth that acts as a door when she glances back over her shoulder. You’re sleeping noisily, but peacefully, lost in each other. She wonders if she could ever allow herself to be that vulnerable with someone else.

Someday, she reflects, someday.

Outside the tent, Cara’s surprised she’s not met with a monsoon. She didn’t even notice when the rain stopped. She shrugs and continues on her short way to her hut, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep.

The sun is coming up on the horizon.

#the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x you #cara dune #cara dune x reader #cara dune x you #smut #pedro pascal #gina carano #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you

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harry-sussex · 4 years ago

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This:

I don't doubt that the vision I've always had of him is at least partially curated - that's the nature of being a public figure. William and Kate aren't 100% the personalities they have in public, I'm sure - granted, none of us are. But I flat out refuse to believe that it was all fake

I also believe he is genuinely like Diana in his childish love and openness, and the way crowds respond to him is also real, which is why it is more baffling and sad that he now appears to be this vindictive, petty person.

I wonder if his PR people don’t know how to take advantage of his qualities and charm and instead he is creating this narrative of suffering that doesn’t sit well with the majority of us commoners without a mansion or a trust fund in this endless pandemic.

You would think those PR agents know how to extract the best qualities of their clients and turn it into positive public image. I want to scream at them that they are not giving him the right advice. He really is the wrong spokesperson for racism and that interview was a big mistake. Sorry. Just my opinion.

Or do you think they give him advice and he doesn’t listen?

The crowds used to adore when he was nothing but an overgrown, goofy kid who happened to be a prince who wore his heart on his sleeve, whose openness and softness and spunk made him different from literally everyone else in the family. He was their wildcard - there was no telling when he'd break off to go make a baby laugh, or kiss an old lady's cheek, or give someone a giant bear hug. Sure, it could have been a curated image, but I refuse to believe he's talented enough an actor to have made a false persona stick for 20 years. Whether or not he really was that bright light or if this vindictive, petty persona was always hiding there is completely irrelevant. They saw one thing, they now see another, and it's a tough pill to swallow.

I can't tell if the PR team just outright sucks, if Harry doesn't listen, or if they're just a team of "yes men" who let the boss do whatever he wants because he's signing the check. He has wonderful qualities and they should be pushing those at the forefront of his public image so that people want to love him again, want to believe him and root for him and his wife. The longer this current strategy lasts, the less likely the public is willing to root for him. Once he loses that, it'll be hard - if not outright impossible - for him to get it back.

I really agree that they are not giving him the right advice. He needs something so different from what he's getting - and that's coming from someone who wants to see him succeed.

I maintain that the interview could have been done tactfully but it wasn't, and tbh a lot of people would have had a lot more sympathy if they pulled it from its original broadcast date and made it wait because Philip was ill. They're just not doing anything right and none of the strategy makes any sense whatsoever. Who let them air an interview complaining about their personal struggles (no matter how legitimate they are) while HM's 99-year-old consort - Harry's beloved grandfather - was recovering from major surgery and on death's doorstep? It's not like they couldn't put two and two together... the public didn't know anything but it's not like Harry didn't get a phone call that said "hey, Grandpa's in the hospital, he's coming home, we have no idea if, when, or how he will recover." Anyone who gets that phone call would and should have pulled the broadcast immediately. To me, that's all on their PR team (and maybe team Oprah too). I don't think Harry could make that call, but that's why he has people who are getting paid millions of dollars to make. him. look. good.

He's not the right person to speak on racism, especially since he hasn't outright acknowledged and apologized for his past indiscretions, no matter who his wife is. She can speak on it - who are we to tell a biracial woman what she can and can't do in this regard? - but he really needs to shut up until he can acknowledge his own past - the Nazi incident, the slurs, the fact that his privilege and position in this life was borne of an institution built on the backs of people of color.

He's getting bad, bad, BAD advice. What a waste of money, sure, but more importantly (to me), what a waste of a wonderful, wonderful man, an asset to this world, a future ally and advocate, a philanthropist and a humanitarian. A beautiful person who could shine and help others shine given the right tools. They're wasting it, they're wasting the magic of Prince Harry, and he deserves better.

#ask #minitafan #prince harry #duke of sussex #phmemoir

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brujahinaskirt · 5 years ago

Text

@missn11 says:

Ask and ye shall receive, fellow neonate! <3 Bear with me, because I’m about to hammer out 2000 words very quickly...

This massive rant by its topic nature is sort of Nines-critical, so lemme start by saying that, in my own way, I love Rodriguez. (I was partially self-burning in the shitpost that ignited this rant because I SEVERELY exaggerated Nines’s canonical shadiness levels in my ancient fanfiction, and for no other reason than because I was a teenage edgelord. I am appropriately embarrassed, but only by my excess and melodrama, not by Troika’s characterization. I think the writing behind VTMB’s Nines is superb.)

When it comes to Bloodlines, I think he’s one of the most psychologically interesting profiles in the game. In fact, I could never get into LA by Night because they so de-toothed Troika’s vision of him. Not to say LA by Night’s Nines was a poorly-developed character in his own right, ‘cause he wasn’t at all, but “my” Nines will always be unapologetically and only Troika’s: boiling angry, viciously pragmatic, a survivor who doesn’t let anyone too close lest they see through him, whose over-the-top confident façade cracks a little more every time his back’s against the wall. Troika’s Nines is the epitome of greater VTM’s “fallen rebel” archetype, and even though we don’t get to see it on all playthoughs, that makes it even better and more believable.

But as with all characterization in Bloodlines, we have to read between the lines and between our own play styles a bit to piece the truth of the puzzle together...

Besides the direct evidence Troika gives us—i.e. the music cues, which are a bit overbearing if I’m honest (sorry, Troika! ilu); the absence of Nines in Rosa’s prophecy re: people you can trust; and the overt warnings Camarilla-aligned characters give us about him—the biggest red flag about Rodriguez, imo? It’s twofold:

the way the characters he surrounds himself with talk about him and the type of vampire he chooses to fill his den. Namely: Nines exclusively recruits angry, spurned, mistreated people who are younger and far less experienced than he is

those messy, ugly, fleeting moments where you see his toughguy everyman personality crack

So! Starting with point one:

THE PERSONALITY CULT ITSELF

We can’t deny that Nines does not surround himself with peers. He surrounds himself with followers—people who don’t challenge him in any way, who are fanatically loyal, who openly profess their worship of him and their conviction he could never/would never do anything wrong. If you listen to how Damsel and Skelter talk about him, it’s with frightening adulation, often repeating Nines’s lines word-for-word without truly understanding the argumentation behind them. (Damsel’s the main offender here with her “IT’S A PYRAMID SCHEME… it just makes sense, you know? It just makes sense!” And then, of course, she gets pissed and refuses to speak to you when you push her into elaborating.)

Nines has clearly made himself much more than just a friend-figure or a Sire-figure to them. He’s utterly and completely mythologized by the LA Anarchs, held up next to other politically mythologized names like George Washington and Ho Chi Minh. His followers love him… but there’s a pecking order, and like good body shields, they believe their lives don’t matter as much as he matters. And they love that, too. They want to die for Nines. They’re not just willing to or resigned to it; they’re eager to die. Damsel will volunteer this information the first time you meet her. She just can’t wait to prove herself by taking a bullet for goddamn Nines Rodriguez. It’s literally how she introduces herself to new people.

And yet Nines deliberately withholds his attention and time from his followers. He uses his attention as a reward, as incentive. He rations some care and reassurance and help—makes you feel good and gives you reason to crave his attention—and then he pushes you away, back into his adoring ranks until the next “two minutes” you earn from him in which you’re special enough for such an exceptional, important, cool guy to talk to. That’s a classic manipulation tactic, and a classic personality cult tell.

And Troika is so damn fuckin’ brilliant about it because they don’t stop at showing us that an Anarch-aligned fledgling might feel this way—no, they make the PLAYER also feel this way. On our first playthrough of Bloodlines, we’re desperate to talk to Nines. We want the reward. “Let me finish the plaguebearer quests… let me run to the Elizabeth Dane… I hope Nines talks to me again now! Quick, to the Last Round! Maybe if I say the right thing to make him like me, he’ll give me another free EXPERIENCE POINT!” (iirc he’s one of two characters who will do so, and the only one who gives multiple points.)

But at the end of the day, Nines is indisputably the leader of the Anarchs, and even fledgling figures that out. (“Sounds like you’re the Prince of the Anarchs.”) He’s very much the Baron of Downtown LA, even if he won’t use that language. As for the grating day-to-day management and leadership stuff that might make him somewhat unpopular among the Anarchs, though? He fobs all that stuff off on Damsel!

Damsel, his Minion No. 1—whom a lot of players will hate on their early playthroughs, because she assigns tough missions with little to no reward. Damsel, who has no real power role in the Anarchs and functions only to serve Nines. You help Damsel, and you do Nines’s work—i.e. you do the work of the Barony of LA—and he doesn’t even have to take the admiration hit by having to ask you himself.

There’s only one non-follower of note around Nines. It’s Jack, and by his own words, he’s not one of Nines’s people; he disparages them, in fact. And we’ll notice that Jack—who is stronger, older, and wiser than Nines—very much doesn’t talk about Nines the same way Nines’s followers do. While Jack doesn’t directly insult him and occasionally defends him, Jack also has a downright shocking response to the announcement of the Blood Hunt. When fledgling desperately asks what they can do to help Nines—Jack says, word-for-word: I could give a damn.

Something ain’t quite right about this place.

Moving right along:

NINES IS A FAKE ALPHA MALE WHO KNOWS HE’S GOING TO DIE

Part of why Nines is so attractive to someone scared and weak like our fledgling (or Skelter or Damsel) is that he seems utterly fucking untouchable—like nothing scares him, and that must be reassuring when two of your age-old enemies are moving into town. But Nines’s tough, cool, Devil-may-care persona outs itself as a protective shell, too… and this is another thing I think Troika handled so subtly and so well.

You’ll notice that even Nines’s voice is dramatically different in a couple different situations: when Ming Xiao is borrowing his body, when he’s afraid, and when he’s distracted or deeply disturbed. (A successful Malkavian mind read will really slam a crack in his coolguy persona. For a second, the nonchalance shatters and he childishly screams SHUT UP!)

But whether you Malk him or not: In those isolated moments, the Coolguy Nines Rodriguez we normally see frays. Physically, even! His accent loses its burr (that ballsy rural American everyman accent), shoots up to a higher register—and reveals a much softer voice than the one he uses in front of other people. No wonder; part of Nines’s charisma comes from his performance of masculine confidence, and even if it’s not a toxically patriarchal masculinity in the way we often picture it, the fact this performance cracks at all shows it’s not his genuine self. He’s acting. In the way a lot of toughguy men do—but for Nines, whose survival depends upon attraction now, he’s acting toughguy for his very life.

I think those little fray-under-pressure moments are the “real” Nines, or as close as we’re going to get: scared, desperate, worn-down, and very aware of his doom.

Now, all that said…

BLATANT FALLEN REBEL CONCEPT APOLOGISM

I don’t think we can quite throw Rodriguez into the same Mean Monster Morality Dungeon for Evil Vampires as other Big Bads in LA. This is where motivation comes into play, at least for me. We know Nines can be merciless and violent, and he doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own soldiers (namely, um, US!) to protect his holdings. But he does seem to have a twinge of genuine anger over injustices wrought upon “little people” (look no further than Nocturne)—one that seems like it stems from a sense of right v. wrong rather than sheer pragmatism. This stands in stark opposition to the rationed pacificism of characters like LaCroix, who simply doesn’t want the headache of cleaning up a pile of dead humans on his nightly to-do list.

Nines also, of course, just doesn’t have the same kind of disaster reach other Bloodlines Big Bads do in how much harm he can cause. When LaCroix gets up to some bullshit, he crashes the national economy. Nines, like, crashes a car into a corporate office window or takes over a street or something. Can’t really compare the two when it comes to the scale of damage done.

And even Nines Rodriguez is, for all his strategy, still an honestly angry person. Not all of him is fake—what’s troubling about him is what he’s willing to sacrifice and do to satiate his anger-passion. It’s the standard Brujah emotional-moral struggle. Even though I agree with much of what he says about bloodsucking late capitalist vampires (tbh he seems to hate vampires in general!), one wonders if it’s not partially the anger-passion that’s warped him into the façade of a noble leader he’s become. It’s not a pure anger anymore; he’s weaponized it in selfish, unhealthy, destructive ways.

But if he’s a fallen rebel—and since he is still apparently capable of some genuine anger and sadness—then we can infer he wasn’t always like this. He fell, and narratively, that’s key to understanding Clan Brujah. Maybe he fell in a way all of us angry rebel-types risk falling if we let our hatred of the bloodsuckers in real life outgrow and consume our care for the real-world little people.

I think we also have to appreciate that—as far as we know—the shady shit Nines does, he primarily does to prolong his power. But for a threatened Anarch like Nines, power doesn’t mean expansion or accumulation as it might for an ascending Ventrue; it primarily means survival. The Camarilla and Kuei-jin incursions into LA have numbered his days, and he can’t possibly have any delusions about this, no matter how much he swaggers. So he does what he can do with the skills and limited resources he has. He corrupts vulnerable, angry, abused people by giving them the appearance of friendship, family, and hope they can become stronger—much like effective gang leaders do.

If he’s morally nastier than other power-players like LaCroix in some way, imo, it’s here. It’s the intimacy with which he manipulates the people around him. LaCroix may lie to you; Strauss may withhold information from you; Ming Xiao may double-cross you. But none of them ask that you love them. That’s not their goal; that’s not how they operate. None of them expect or encourage anyone to happily die for them of their own free will. If they get you killed, you’ll die resenting them—resenting that you had to die, at all.

But when you die for people like Nines Rodriguez, you do it willingly, if only because you believed he cared somehow and that he’d fight tooth-and-nail for you, too. You believed that you were a member of his little outcast family—or that you would be, if you just proved yourself a little bit more. If you just fought a little harder. If you were just a little happier about having the chance to die for the cause. Maybe if you die for Nines, then Nines will love you, too.

I don’t think he does. I don’t think he will. If he’s a true fallen rebel archetype, I don’t know if he can anymore.

That’s enough Anarchs for now! I’m gonna peace out with some copy/pasted lyrics from the theme song of Nines’s den: the ballad of the charming and vengeful Lecher Bitch. Stay sharp, my little Bloodlines fanatics!

Tell me your story Don't worry, I've been there Crown me your savior Don't worry, I'll be there

[Chorus] I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay I'm diggin' all the way All the way down I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay Gonna rip you every way On the way down again [Bridge] Don't belong lording above me Won't be hard to pull you underground It won't be long 'til you love me And I'll be coming at your back To break it down

#vtmb #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #nines rodriguez #tune in next week for my 5 page essay on why Wong Ho is the only nice person in Bloodlines!#not really #but maybe really #in conclusion nines ain't shit [drops mic]#[is mauled by damsel]

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dappercritter · 4 years ago

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Invader Zim: Taller Tales of Terror - The First Fic That Wasn’t

This was going to be my first fanfiction that I ever published, but things came up and I found other story ideas and fandoms to get into. However, because there’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story untold and forgotten.

So like a writer jilted by a big name studio working on a big superhero movie that went terribly wrong after they left, I’m going to share it with you good folks to see if you still think there’s hope for it in some capacity. If so maybe I’ll choose to revive it in some capacity, or one of you kind folks can adopt it. Whatever you think of the once untold tale I’m about tell you, I hope you enjoy it.

The fic would have been either a mini-series/anthology or a movie-esque sequel—or two—to Enter the Florpus.

It would have followed the stranger further misadventures the kids would go on as teenagers, all of which have at least something to do with getting taller, literally or metaphorically.

Although I'd do my best to recreate the series' darkly comic tone, there'd be more to the story than just that. I'd like to do a sort of character study with my fanfics and explore what they would do as they got older, how they would change if they could change, if they'd mature and try to connect with each other more, or if they really do just hate each other. It'd be like a coming-of-age story but done in the style of Invader Zim.

But don’t be fooled, folks! It's not going to be one of those big dramatic fanfics with high stakes (nor any smut) thrown in. At it's core it's still just a fun, dumb, mildly disturbed "What if?" sort of fic. There would be a bit more emphasis on character and plot than normal, because I do love me a good character-driven plot, but still plenty of room for (what I hoped would feel like) the usual weird dumb creepy fun that original series excelled at.

The story is set in basically the same continuity (or at least the closest thing to a continuity that can exist in Invader Zim) as the show and comics. The only difference is that the Battle of Meekrob actually happened—but not really.

Long backstory short, there was a big showdown between the Irken Armada and the Meekrob-allied Resisty, but Zim and Dib missed it because a food fight got them stuck in detention. Zim tried to get Skoodge (who was rooming with him at the time because the scrapped Season 2 episodes were sorta canon here) to cover for him until her got there, while Dib tried to get Gaz to take Tak’s ship to provide support against the Irken. By the time they got out, however, the battle was over, Gaz blew the whole thing off to get a new game, Skoodge and some other Invader became the war hero Zim always aspired to be, and The Almighty Tallest decided to cancel Operation Impending Doom 2 because after the big exciting space battle they felt like they couldn’t top anything after that. Suffice to say, Zim took it pretty hard. Dib however would have seen this as something of a win since Zim still failed in a sense. Albeit it was a very anticlimactic win, even to him.

The actual story would have taken place about 5 years after the Battle of Meekrob, where Zim, Dib, and Gaz have made it to high school (or “hi-skool” as this is the Invader Zim universe, after all). Setting wise, things haven't changed much but the characters have made a few surprising or not-so-surprising developments. The most important of all, so important that it would be the focus of the entire story, in fact! would have been Zim developing a brand-new disguise utilizing an exoskeleton, based partially on the Almighty Tallest, in attempt to make him look like a normal teenager AND impress superiors. Naturally, things go horribly yet amusingly wrong for everyone involved.

Now just where and what has everyone been up to/going through in those five years? Here’s a rundown:

-Zim spent those 5 years obsessing over his crushing failure, begging the Tallest to give him another chance, which they refused every time. Being stuck on a planet of smelly, stupid, and increasingly annoying creatures for so long without any real victories has left him bitter and frantic with more shmoopiness than usual. Even the little "VICTORY FOR ZIM!" moments he used to have got harder and harder to come by. By the time he reached high school, he was so messed up he didn’t realize his classmates had all had growth spurts until Dib easily overpowered him in one of their petty fights and points it out to the whole school. Thus, leading to the new exoskeleton and subsequent schemes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Tallest while looking normal in the eyes of his human classmates. Unfortunately, due to his desperation and general lack of understanding about the human body, the exoskeleton comes out looking like a lanky robotic nightmare with clawed fingers that jerks around like a big cybernetic marionette.

-Dib meanwhile has been doing slightly better. He and his paranormal research are still looked down upon, but he's persevered through the hope that someday he'll prove he's right. After (indirectly) stopping Zim from joining the Battle of Meekrob, Dib got a small confidence boost, thinking of it as a big step to exposing for Zim real now that he’s effectively trapped on Earth with him now. Although, following a rather blunt intervention from his family, he's started thinking about what he’ll do with himself once Zim is gone. He still hates his guts and he's still hellbent on beating him, but he's also started getting out more and trying to socialize more—however awkward his attempts may be. That he's also gotten taller and his head isn't quite as big compared to the rest of his body has been good for his self-esteem too. But make no mistake—when he's not going for runs, working shifts at his dad’s lab, or looking into a “totally normal” science major, he's toiling away on improving his array of anti-Zim strategies and defenses.

-Gaz is doing pretty good but she is totally done with Zim and Dib's junk. Although she's still her old apathetic self, she's doing everything in her power to broaden her horizons so she doesn't end up in the same, stupid rut that they ended up in. She would have gotten into indie art and game development; although her work is still fairly obscure, it's quickly gaining attention for it's macabre, edgy, punishing and geeky nature. (Imagine the works of Jhonen Vasquez, Toby Fox, Hidetaka Miyazaki, and Hideki Kamiya mashed together.) She also participates in e-sports tournaments on occasion, if only because crushing countless so-called “gamers” brings her amusement. Her psychic powers have also gotten stronger with her age, and she likes to experiment with them whenever she can—usually when somebody really annoys her. She's doing fine in the story until, after a run-in with a certain unkillable spoiled brat at an e-sports tournament, sends her over the edge and she trashes the place in a Carrie-esque episode. This gets her sent to anger management therapy, and now she's trying to find a way out to avoid sitting through an endless slog of "sappy" sessions.

-Gir would still be insane.

-Minimoose would still be the ultimate techno-lifeform Minimoose.

-Zim's Computer is still tired.

-Prof. Membrane is still the greatest and most powerful scientist who ever lived but he’s also trying to make time for his family more and mentoring Dib to be the successor to his legacy he always thinks he was meant to be. That is if is experimental new immortality machine doesn’t work out. May or may not have to fend off Clembrane whenever he comes to visit.

-The Almighty Tallest are still living content, tyrannical lives. They didn't take canceling Operation Impending Doom 2 very hard because, as it turns out, they just got bored with it after a while. (Of course, Zim's repeated interference didn't help keep their spirits up either). However, they'd come up with the perfect plan to obtain absolute control of the universe AND get the feeling back: by making Operation Impending Doom 3 a thing and setting up a huge hype campaign for it. Thing go pretty well for them until Zim calls them and tells them about his new exosuit. They believe that Zim is trying to make himself look like a Tallest so he can lead a rebellion against them and get revenge for treating him like garbage. (He's not, obviously, but they're too dumb and paranoid to realize this.) So, they pretend that they're ok with it and let him carry on his merry way while they figure out how to dispose of him without making him look like a martyr figure of some sort, thus giving the other Irkens they mistreated any ideas.

-Tak would show up again in the second half and this is where it gets spoiler-y. She would come to Earth on the Tallest’s orders with a squad consisting of a reformatted Mimi, rogue SIR units, as well as Tenn and Skoodge who she had recruited to aid in her vendetta against Zim. She would subsequently reveal that after drifting through space in an escape pod, she crashed landed on Meekrob just as the battle was about to begin, and using the element of surprise, rescued Tenn from captivity and assisted Skoodge and the Tallest in devising a battle strategy so brilliant that it crushed the Resisty and Meekrob’s alliance and earned her the status of Irken Elite. She grew comfortable in her new position but could never get over her fear that Zim would eventually ruin it all again, so she waited and prepared for the day she would strike back. I don’t know how or if she would adopt an updated disguise (perhaps a hologram of her older humansona projected over her, Tenn, and Skoodge standing on top of her shoulders?) or hide in the shadows while Tenn, Skoodge, Mimi and the berserk SIR squad did her dirty work.

-Skoodge would have gone from aspiring to be Zim’s friend to being his worst enemy after Tak turned him to her side by digging into his past with him, making him realize how little his supposed old friend cared about him. Despite this he still keeps an unusually cheerful disposition—even repeatedly apologizing to Zim whenever he attacks him—and acts as the heart of Tak’s squad. He thinks of them as his real friends, so he always goes out of his way to help them out or keep the energy up. Even though Tak looks down on him because of his size, she appreciates his gullibility and unquestioning loyalty. Tenn just thinks he’s nice, especially since he’s good at keeping the SIRs in check.

-Tenn has recovered from the traumatic escapades she endured on Meekrob at the hands of the rogue SIR units and imprisonment under the enemy, returning to her usual competant Invader self—something Tak values quite a bit in an armada largely composed of egomaniacs and morons. Tenn values Tak’s companionship even more, viewing her as a conquering hero who not only won the most important battle of Irken history, but also, her heart. …Not she’ll ever act on her feelings. That would inconveniance the mission! (Although Skoodge has picked up on this and gladly supports her, thinking they’d make an adorable couple.) After investation revealed that Zim was supposed to receive the rogue SIR units instead of her while he trashed the Megadoomer that was rightfully assigned to her, she bought into Tak’s view that Zim’s very existence was a threat to all Irkenkind, gladly assisting her efforts to eradicate him.

-Mimi and the rogue SIR units have been reprogrammed to be less insane and follow orders again thanks to Tak and Skoodge’s efforts. However, Tak also had a berserk mode installed specfically for eradicating targets with optimal, brutal efficiency. Mimi still tends to glitch though. In addition to Mimi retaining her cat holo-disguise, the berserker SIRs would gain new disguises resembling either feral cats or rabid teacup poodles. (I hadn’t decided yet.) Tenn still gets anxious around them.

-Gretchen might show up again and would possibly get to reconnect with Dib, maybe even finally be honest with him about her feelings for him when she surprises him with her surprising new position at Membrane Labs: the janitor.

-Keef will… er, uh… actually, don’t get your hopes up.

Well, I think that’s everyone important. Okay back to the plot now!

So, right up front, the biggest part of the plot as well as the biggest reason why I got uncomfortable with the whole thing was there wiould be some romance in here between a few couples and that it would have figured into the plot. The most significant of all: ZAGR (a.k.a. Zim and Gaz Relationship). But I wanted to make it feel organic and even sweet without sacrificing the feel of sardonic madness but also keeping it in the wholesome zone.

I always felt like Zim and Gaz were a natural fit for each other (like quite a few other people, admittedly) because I always felt like their personalities were a good fit and they could have a lot in common. The story would follow them as they unexpectedly developed a romantic friendship, bonding over their resentment of the Earth and humanity, their absent family members, a love of technology of questionable intent, and subjugating those who anger them. It would all start with Gaz agreeing to help Zim improve his suit and his unassuming human act just to get back at Dib for annoying her. At first they’d be acting entirely out of spite and necessity, but as they spent more time together, they’d start to enjoy each other’s company more.

Gaz would be the first develop feelings, since she voluntarily rejected the concept of love instead of being programmed to reject it like Zim, as she slowly realizes how much they have in common—much to her horror. Zim would take more time but when he begins to understand how he feels about and just what these DISGUST feelings are, he’d handle it just as poorly. (e.g. I pictured a scene where Zim has such a hard time admitting his feelings for Gaz that he ends up vomiting black goo like he’s possessed or something. For comedy of course.) But they’d both start to open up to each other in the end, if only because they’re the only two people in the universe they can stand. Gaz would try to help him overcome his anxiety and stop caring as much about what humans think of him, while he would be someone that she can actually relate to.

Dib, however, would take sincerest offense to it. He’d be totally freaking out, nearly diving off the deep end to put his plans to defeat Zim into action and expose him before he could be exposed. He’d also make a point of demanding what Gaz could see in a monster like him, even reminding her of everything that Zim had done. Probably in an exchange like this:

DIB: He stole our organs! He tried to crush the planet with Mars! He kidnapped me and threatened to turn me inside out! He tricked me into helping him teleport Earth into outer space so his rulers could destroy it! He turned me into bologna, Gaz! (*holding back tears*) BOLOGNE!

GAZ: I thought you got over that.

DIB: Well, physically I did, yes, but not mentally.

Gir would be pretty on board with it though.

The other biggest plot of the series would have been Tak’s return and the reveal of her and the Tallest’s master plan to destroy Zim once and for all: kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 by placing Zim on trial, executing him, and completing Tak’s plan to turn the planet Earth into a snack bowl for the Tallest (which she still insists is a good plan, she just never got to complete it) big enough to feed them while they watch the conquest of the rest of the universe in style. Zim and the Membranes get through to her and her squad, and possibly the other Irkens, by turning them against the Tallest to stop the Irkens once and for all. Maybe.

Finally to wrap this little nightmare up, here’s a vague outline of the stories I had planned for this wannabe whopper:

-A Whole New Nightmare – Following an amusing prologue about how Zim and Dib ended up missing the battle of Meekrob, Zim finally realizes that his natural Irken height threatens to expose his façade to all the classmates who have reached proper adolescent human height. He creates his exosuit then proceeds to cause a scene when he calls the Tallest and goes to hi-skool. Meanwhile, Gaz bugs Dib about still wasting his time bullying Zim. Zim then challenges Dib to a contest of normalcy: a series of challenges that are just overhyped normal teenage things like loitering, hanging out with friends, and finally a dance-off. Whoever loses has to admit they’re a complete weirdo and admit they’re most embarrassing secret. Dib wins the first round, but after he blows off Gaz to hang out with the other kids, she and Zim strike up a nice conversation and he wins the second round. The final dance-off ends in a draw when Zim and Dib both end up looking like total dorks. The story ends with Dib and Zim standing up for themselves against their judgemental peers, but Zim ends up overtaking his big speech and convincing his classmates to completely forget about his bizarre new appearance.

-Gaz the Befriended - Zim and Gaz make a deal: Gaz helps him fine tune his suit while posing as his "NORMAL HUMAN!" friend, and in return he helps her figure out how to control her powers while posing as her friend so she won't have to go to anger management counselling. While they do drive each other nuts, they eventually learn they have a lot in common and start acting like real friends. Dib grows suspicious of their "friendship," sets out to uncover the truth.

-They Follow - Dib goes on social media to share his findings on Zim with the world in an attempt to verify all his evidence via wisdom of the crowd. Zim finds out and retaliates by joining social media as well to make himself look like a hard luck case in an effort to gain sympathy from the (basically ignorant) public. As their war of words escalate and their follower bases grow, they end up starting a flame war that threatens to destroy society itself.

-Star Dib - Hoping to find some real help, Dib sends a message to outer space looking for reinforcements. He ends up with what remains of the Resisty, who dissolved after their crushing defeat on The Battle of Meekrob. Taking pity on them, he volunteers to become their new leader. Shenanigans ensue on a galactic level.

-C for Conspiracy - Dib stumbles across a mysterious conspiracy involving Earth tech being backwards compatible with alien tech. He wants to take it on himself, but realizes that he might actually need Zim’s help. So he has to swallow his pride and ask him for help, and as if that weren’t enough he has to put up with his and Gir’s (who tagged along) antics.

-Night of the Living Prom-goers - Prom night comes along and all the hormonally-imbalanced kids are ready to go, except for Zim, Dib, and Gaz. Until Gaz works up the nerve to ask Zim out, which he actually accepts. While Gaz prepares for her perfect tolerable evening, Dib desperately tries to convince her that Zim’s up to something while trying uncover his true motives, only for her to snap at him and challenge his views on Zim. Little do either of them know, Zim plans to use the prom as an experiment to harness Gaz’s power for his own ends. But at the same time, he ponders whether his friendship with Gaz is just a means to an end or something more. Either way it will be a night they will never forget. Or survive! Probably.

-The Return of Tak’s Revenge Rises - Tak finally returns to take her revenge on Zim and the Membrane siblings. Striking them when they least expect with the aid of an upgraded MiMi, a squad of berserk SIR units, and two fellow invaders Zim had wronged in the past.

-Doomed Together - Following Tak’s strike, the Almighty Tallest kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 with a mission of utmost importance: sending in the Irken Armada to ensure Zim is destroyed once for all so they can finally proceed with absolute universal domination. Now, Gaz, Dib, and some unlikely allies must come up with a plan to save their even more unlikely new friend and the rest of the universe from the most fearsome force in the universe! It’s basically the grand finale.

And that is all there is, or was, to Taller Tales of Terror. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever revisit it, what with all the other stuff on my plate right now, but I’m glad to have finally shared the story of my first fanfic with y’all.

So, tell me, my filthy monkey maggot mutual friends. After all that horrible rambling, what did you think?

14 notes · View notes

unknowncountrygirl · 4 years ago

Text

The New Chaser Pt.3

After practice, Murphy raced down to the tent. Some of the team were leaving to headed back to the castle, but he didn't see a silver haired beauty, so hopefully she was either waiting for him or still getting cleaned and dressed.

Once inside the tent for the Gryffindor team, he set up his things near the large chalkboard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two girls come around from the changing rooms, laughing. He turned fully and saw Iris with the Gryffindor Keeper chatting happily, she was a very outgoing person and he admired that about her.

Her long hair was pulled up into a high ballerina bun, showing off her neck and her delicate clavicles that were peeking out from her white t shirt. Murphy had never particularly ever thought of a white t shirt and jeans as being anything spectacular but on Iris it made his teenage libido soar.

“I'll see you tomorrow!” Iris waved goodbye to the Keeper and her eyes turned to him as she slid a dusty pink jacket over her shoulders, and Murphy had never hated a piece of clothing more.

“There's an 87.6% chance that what I'm about to teach you will up your odds of making the team by 33.7% so-”

“I've barely arrived-”

“But we've got a lot to cover!” Murphy blurted out quickly as he flicked his wand at the chalkboard, drawing and schematics coming to life before his eyes. Iris's eyes bulged a little.

“What is that!” She asked excitedly.

“Quidditch strategy!”

“No, I meant the charm!”

“Oh, my mum taught me the Blackboard writing spell when I was seven.” He told her, warmth swelling in his chest thats he seemed to be impressed. “Now the thing to remember about the Thimblerig Shuffle is-”

“The Thimblerig shuffle?”

“It's the Quidditch strategy I invented.” She had a look on her face that told him she was a little lost and he needed to guide her back. “You know, Thimblerig? The shell game? First you put a pea under one of the three nut shells, then there's a bit of a sleight of hand as you quickly shuffle the shells, then whoever is playing guesses where the pea is at, and then you lift up the shell they guessed, then uh oh, no pea? You shuffle the shells again-”

“Ok, but what does Thimblerig got to do with Quidditch?” She decided that they were going to be there a while and sat down on the bench near him and he could smell either her perfume or her soap, Magnolia flowers.

“Take shell game theory, throw in a dash of the Porskoff Ploy, add a splash of a surprise and you've got the Thimblerig shuffle. I'll break it down move by move-

“I think you should.”

“But pay close attention.”

“I am paying attention.” She asserted.

“Because there's a lot to explain and I talk quite fast, about 2.3 times as fast as most wizards and -”

“Yes, I know, I can hardly get in a word before-”

“Ready? Brilliant! Here we go!” He had to talk quick. Truthfully because around this girl, for whatever reason, made him nervous and that made him talk even more quickly then he normally does.

Actually he knew the reason, she was pretty, she was fantastic at Quidditch, she was full of charisma, and she was a genuinely good person from the little time they had spent together. He had never really had crushes before, except for one little girl in his hometown for the summer, but he could tell by his sweaty palms, nervous chattering, and high heart rate that this was the tentative beginnings of a crush.

“It's a simple strategy when you look at it.” He explained as he animated the chalk drawings on the board.

“Do you think it's something we could pull off at practice?” She inquired, studying the chalkboard, her blue eyes never turning away. “So I fly to center, left, right, then center, right, left... Right?”

“Yep! You're an excellent audience!” He smiled, “the hardest thing is going to be passing the Quaffle back and forth as you shuffle with the other chasers.” They spent the better part of an hour going over the strategy, with Iris asking all the right questions in his mind, getting into the knitty gritty of the Thimblerig shuffle. “That's the Thimblerig Shuffle.” “I definitely got... some of it.” She admitted hesitantly.

“Then let's review. This will be your last chance to get it down before you try it out at practice later.”

“If leaning the Thimblerig shuffle is the key to getting Orion Amari to give me a tryout, I'm all in.” She told him as she stood up and stretched.

“I like your style, Iris! Alright, first, the chasers start flying in a triangular Hawkshead Attacking formation, then the center chaser drops back so all three are in a row. Then the Chasers start shuffling the shells in a game of Thimblerig while passing the Quaffle among them. Then as the other team gets distracted trying to follow the Quaffle, a chaser flies up to set up the Porskoff Ploy. But then, just as the other team realizes the Quaffle is to be dropped to the Chaser flying directly below, it's revealed that the other Chaser is the 'shell' with the 'pea'. The chaser with the quaffle is open to score when no one is looking at him. It's a fake out, a ploy within a ploy. A masterpiece disguised as a maneuver-”

“And a challenge for anyone to remember.”

“So we'll put you to the test. You have a friendly tomorrow against Hufflepuff. Show you know the Thimblerig shuffle and you'll be one step closer to Orion giving you a Chaser tryout.”

“Sounds like a solid plan, if I can pull it off.” Iris told him, placing her hands on her hips.

“Stop by my commentary box before the friendly, yeah?”

“Ok, I can do that.” She nodded, giving him a smile.

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Iris flew up to the commentators box bright and early before the friendly.

“Hi, I'm here and-”

“Now let's see how much you remember about the Thimblerig shuffle.”

“Not even a hello? Do you talk about anything other than Quidditch and game strategy?” She asked, feeling slightly perturbed.

“You're the one who needs to ramp up on the Quidditch strategy if you want to get a tryout.”

“Yes, but-” She started, but he cut her off.

“So, how sure are you that you remember my strategy?”

“About 50%, you can quiz me if you like.”

“Of course I want to quiz you! I'll take any chance to hear myself talk.” He only partially joked.

“Sometimes you're impossible Murphy.” She shook her head.

“That's exactly what my mum says.” He grinned, “so, before you attempt the Thimblerig shuffle, tell me in what shape is the Hawkshead Attack Formation.”

“Triangular.” She stated matter of factly.

“Yes! I knew I'd be a brilliant strategy coach to you!” He cheered. “Next question, knowing what Quidditch move is a key component of the Thimblerig shuffle?”

“The Porskoff Ploy is key.”

“Right again! I knew we'd uncover your inner strategist. The friendly is starting soon, so next question-”

“Wait, if I'm to try this strategy at practice now, perhaps I should take a moment to clear my head.”

“And do what in the meantime, quiz me?” He asked, chuckling.

“Why not?” She smiled.

“About Quidditch? You won't stump me.”

“How about questions about you. You're always either coaching me or commentating at me, Murphy.”

“I told you, my friends call me McNully.”

“And I'm telling you, how can I call you a friend if I know nothing about you?” She asked from where she was hovering on her broom, swinging her feet back and forth.

“What do you want to know? My favorite color? Yellow. Favorite food? Roast and veg. Favorite spell? The one I cast on the blackboard. Favorite witch or wizard? My mum. Any pets? My kneazle. Kneil. How do I get my hair to look this good? Magic. Was it my dream to play Quidditch? No, always announcing. See? Now you're one step closer to being on a last name basis with me.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled slyly. “Guess we'll figure out soon if I'm closer to a Quidditch tryout in a few minutes. Have I learned enough strategy to at least get an introduction to Orion, if not a recommendation?”

“You, um... Kind of sort of... Already know him.”

“What?”

Orion flies by conveniently.

“That's Orion.”

“The random mate who's been filling in for Skye at practice?” She shrieked.

“The third Chaser who is captain of our team. I'd already talked you up to Orion even before I dumped my Quidditch playbooks on you.”

“And you never said so! Why?” Her voice rose even higher in pitch.

“Number one, your strategic instincts do need work. Number two, you may not have stuck around to learn the Thimblerig shuffle. I've been wanting to see it attempted in a match, if only to adjust my calculations.” He admitted truthfully.

“I don't know whether to thank you for helping me or be cross for how you went about it.”

“Can you decide after you try the Thimblerig shuffle? Your friendly is about to start. Good luck out there, Iris. I'm 77.7% sure you've got this!”

“Only 77.7%?”

“83.4%...? Perhaps 89.9%?”

“Where are you getting these calculations?” She turned on her broom to head to the pitch.

“99.9% sure, all right? Go! Just go!” He yelled after her.

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She was pissed, and flew by his commentators box as fast as she could, causing paper to fly and for him to drop the microphone.

“What was that all about?!”

“You released those freaking Pixies to pester me while I was trying to balance on my stupid broom!”

“Yes. I already confessed via owl. But it was Orion's idea!” He confessed. “First Orion asked if I knew where we could borrow a lot of Pixies. I asked him how many Pixies is a lot of Pixies: a dozen pixies, or a hundred pixies, or a thousand pixies? Then Orion asked how many pixies did I think was a lot of pixies? Then I asked what are the lot of pixies for, because then I'd know how many pixies is too many pixies. Then Orion asked why I-”

“Skip ahead, Murphy!” Iris shouted, visibly irritated.

“Right, by the time I get through my commentary, Chaser tryouts will be finished.”

“What? Chaser tryouts? When!”

“Today, of course. If Orion's testing you like he's been, it's a good sign he'll be giving you a close look-”

“But Murphy, Orion hasn't asked me to try out for the team!” She blurted out quickly, shock in her eyes.

“Are you sure? 100% sure?”

“Yes! I've tried to talk to him about Quidditch tryouts each time we meet, but all we do is... Balance. It's unnerving!”

“Then it's time I teach you a new strategy.”

“I've no time to learn another Thimblerig shuffle, Murphy.”

“Which you pulled off brilliantly by the way. But I haver a different kind of strategy in mind.”

“And what's that?”

“Talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, until you wear him out. Don't let him get a word in edgewise.” He told her simply.

“Really?” She inquired, not knowing how the heck that would even work.

“Yes! Exhaust him with your Quidditch confidence! Be shrill and tout your skill! TALK SO LOUDLY HE'LL WANT TO CAST AN EAR-SHRIVELLING CURSE UPON HIMSELF!”

“All right, all right, I hear you.” She waved her hand at him.

“Good, now all you've got to do is make Orion hear you. Don't let him throw you off your mission with all of his 'mental focus' nonsense.”

“Nonsense? I thought the two of you got one fine.”

“We do. He trusts my scouting, and I trust his... Captain-ing?” He scratched his chin, “what do you think of Orion so far?” Iris shrugged her shoulder in an offhanded way.

“I find Orion intriguing. I've not met anyone quite like him at Hogwarts.”

Jealousy got the better of him and he quipped, “Some say I'm intriguing too, Just so you know. Usually it's my mum, but others say so too.”

“Your mum must be a fascinating witch, Murphy.”

“I certainly think so, but enough about my mum, you've got to go and talk yourself into getting a Quidditch tryout-and quickly!”

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In the tent after one last practice before the tryouts, which he had heard Iris scored her tryout, he found Iris and Skye talking to one another. Iris looked like she was positively glowing.

“So my advice about talking and talking and talking yourself into the tryout worked!” He exclaimed, coming up behind Iris, she jumped a little but relaxed when she saw it was him. “First, I saw you talking to Orion from my box, then I saw him saying something back, then I heard you yell 'FINALLY! I'M TRYING OUT FOR THE QUIDDITCH TEAM'! And then-”

“Shut up!” One of the fellow aspiring players shouted at McNully.

“What's this? We've got Pince trying out for Chaser now?” He huffed.

“Don't take it personally, everyone is just trying to focus on tryouts, Murphy.”

“Best they get used to the sound of my voice then, right?” He gave her a wink and a grin, he was genuinely happy for her. “Speaking of tryouts, how ready do you feel?”

“55% ready. That's over half.”

“More than half a sandwich means that someone still took a healthy bite out of your sandwich. 55%, dreadful.”

“Murphy!”

“SHHHHHH!”

“Fun bunch, this lot.” He rolled his eyes after glaring at the girl who dared speak to Iris in such a way. “Perhaps this is all part of their strategy to outwit you on the pitch, make you think they're nervous. Don't get outstrategised during the tryout, Iris. Remember, strategy is all that matters.”

“Thank you Murphy, I'll try not to let you down.” She told him in a kind way that made his heart beat just a little faster. Like you could let me down, his mind thought with a goofy grin on his face.

“Odds are you won't. I've done the calculations.” He smiled and was about to give her a pep talk, when Orion walked up.

“McNully, would you allow me a moment with Iris Rosewood?” He said in his dreamy voice.

“Sure, good luck, Iris.” He left her to chat with Orion, and went to find the best spot for the tryouts.

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The tryouts could not have went better, Murphy watched Iris use her brute strength, her strategy, and focus all equally in the sky and had out shown every other player in his opinion. He knew that Orion would need to mull it over and that night in the dorms he decided to give him the third degree.

“What a tryout!” He announced loudly as he rolled into his and Orion's shared dorm. “Good players, all of them, but I think we both know who was the star.”

“All stars burn bright, McNully.”Orion stated from his place where he was meditating on his bed. “Which star are you referring?”

“The Iris star. You know the one that made the rest of the players look like ants?” Murphy was not in the mood to deal with Orion's antics. “She outscored the rest of the people at tryouts by 66%, outflew and out maneuvered 76%, and at one point got a bludger to crash into the stands instead of her! What more do you want from her Orion? Balance on her broom in a tutu while reciting Shakespeare and catch the snitch while winning Miss Hogwarts?”

“The next Chaser must be like an orb, all encircling, always ready to move forward-”

“What does that even mean?!” Murphy asked exasperated. Just as he was about to go on a tirade, the door flew open.

“What's up my bitches!” Skye shouted. “I need to talk about those tryouts, and what number you intend to give Iris when she joins the team.”

“The question should be if the team wishes for Iris to join-”

“YES!” Both Murphy and Skye shouted.

“Are you even thinking about anyone else?” Murphy stated more then questioned.

“The path has already been chosen, now we must navigate this new trail.”

“What are you smoking, Amari?” Skye asked. “If the new path isn't Iris, I'm going to blow a gasket, understand that?”

“You are both interrupting my meditation, the longer I am unable to meditate, the longer it will be for the answers you seek.”

Skye and Murphy looked at one another, gave each other the I'm not poking the bear expression, and decided to sit and wait.

It felt like hours, which was really just about 30 minutes, before Orion muttered anything other than hums.

“I see a white glow-”

“It's Iris.” Both Skye and Murphy quipped quickly, then looked at each other through narrowed eyes.

“I see fire-”

“It's Iris.” They stated in unison again.

“I see a flying bird-”

“It's Iris.” Again, both Murphy and Skye stated. Finally the girl got up and said loudly,

“We all know Iris is the next Chaser, so fuck it, I'm sending her an owl to meet me.”

#hphm #hphm murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully #hphm Quidditch #hphm jacobs sibling

3 notes · View notes