#a turning point

[flowerpottlady]

Happy Birthday Mummy

In honor of Lily’s birthday, I woke up with this little scene in my head - and could not rest until I had it written out. It’s just a little snippet of what will come in A Turning Point, and a very sweet little moment of James and Lily as husband and wife - and as parents!

Here it is!

Happy Birthday Mummy

“Lil?” James whispered into the darkness of their bedroom tentatively. He took in the small, still body in the center of their bed. Auburn hair gracefully falling toward one side, her porcelain features peaceful as her eyes scrunched in her sleep.

“Shh Harry, it’s alright mate.” James whispered again, to his red faced infant son - screaming in his arms. He took a small step forward opening the door wider, as he guiltily brought the wailing baby into the room where his wife slept.

“Lily - I’m so sorry to wake you love.” He said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his hand on her shoulder as she stirred slowly. “I was trying to let you sleep in - I’ve tried everything but he won’t take a bottle.”

“S’alright,” came her voice - thick with sleep - as she shifted slightly, sitting up and pulling up the bottom of one of his old Quidditch shirt that she had fallen asleep in.

Her eyes barely opened, as she stretched out her arms -her hands making grabbing motions - while her heart wrenched at the sound of the cries coming from her baby.

“Happy birthday Lily.” James said softly, placing Harry in her arms and pressing a tender kiss against her cheek.

“Mmm, thanks.” She whispered with a smile, her baby struggling for just a moment until he settled against her bare chest, latching on and cooing in content as he finally got what he had been needing for the last hour. “The joys of parenthood,” Lily laughed softly, cradling Harry against her, and sinking her back further into the pillows.

James then sat fully on the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and placing his chin on her shoulder - relishing the sight of his son’s sweet face, his dark hair sticking out in chaos. “You do this so perfectly.” He murmured into her neck.

“Hmm… what?”

“Being his Mum.”

Lily turned to face him, her eyes now fully opened, and twinkling brightly at him. “That’s sweet of you.” She responded, kissing him fully on his mouth before she turned away - chuckling slightly. “I should probably stop pumping though - there’s no point really. It’s just going to waste.”

“It makes sense - why would he want a glass bottle when he could have a boob in his face.”

“… and the sweetness is gone.” Lily laughed, rolling her eyes, and looking back down at the six month old. She could scarcely believe that the little person she carried inside of her for nine months was nearly half a year old. Every moment with him was precious; the way he lit up looking at her, how he craved her touch, the hair pulling, the baths, the feedings. Watching him learn to hold his head up - to sit, to roll. The way he laughed the sweetest little noise whenever he looked at James. All of this, being a mother and a wife, was magnificent, and she wouldn’t give up any of this - her husband or her son - for anything in the world.

“Did you want to do anything in particular for your birthday?” James questioned, interrupting her train of thought.

“Knowing you, I reckon you’ve got something wonderful planned.”

“Well, of course I do.” He said simply, “but it is your birthday, so we can work in whatever you wanted too.” - it was difficult to make plans, to make her day special knowing they couldn’t leave their home.

“Hmm… chess.” She said, “and it is my birthday so you have to let me win.”

“Obviously… I can make that happen.” James spoke mischievously, kissing her cheek sloppily. It never failed to surprise him, that after three and a half years together, how much he loved her. How lucky he was to have her in his life. And he vowed, years ago - he would always do whatever it took to keep her happy, to show her daily how much he loved her.

“I was planning on giving you breakfast in bed - I haven’t started making it though.” He admitted dejectedly, sighing and stretched out his fingers to smooth across Harry’s soft cheek. “Someone wanted his mummy.”

“That’s alright. I do love being wanted.” She reminded him, nursing her son was not something she would eagerly give up - even if it meant having to wake up before six in the morning on her birthday. “Thank you for trying though.”

“Always love.” He said, kissing her shoulder once more. “When he’s done, I’ll take him and you can go back to sleep.”

“Usually I’d refuse, but someone kept me up late last night.” She laughed, thinking back to their activities the night before. Both of them welcoming sex back into their lives - very happily.

James grinned then, “I’d say it was worth it.” He kissed her again, watching her nodding fiercely in agreement. “We can even have a repeat tonight if you are up for it.”

“I definitely am.”

“I love you.” He said, meaning every word. Just then, Harry detached from her, smacking the milk from his lips and cooing for attention.

“I love you too mate.” James smiled down at him, gladly taking Harry from Lily - placing him over his shoulder and patting his back gently until he released a loud burp.

Harry leaned back, staring at his father until a wide smile of recognition grew across his chubby cheeks. “Let’s say happy birthday mummy!” James whispered excitedly, turning Harry to look at Lily, holding his tiny hands out to her.

“Thank you Harry!” She bent down to kiss his soft head, “you make me feel so special.”

“You are love,” James said, “Harry and I will go start breakfast, you go back to sleep.”

“Harry can’t cook James. He only just started sitting up.”

“Don’t question our son’s talents in front of him.”

“Right - my mistake. Well, be careful with the stove then Harry.”

The baby in question, looked at her curiously, bouncing slightly- ready to get on with his day.

“We’ll be downstairs, Love.” James said, standing up and carefully balancing his son with one arm. He bent down one last time, hovering over Lily as he pressed yet another kiss to her cheek. His warm breath grazed against her ear while he whispered to her, “Happy Birthday Mummy.”

…

Read more of A Turning Point on ao3!

[cinlat]

Whiskey and Tihaar: Alderaan Part Two

Chapter One  |  Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).

This AU is purely self-indulgent. Most chapters will feature a mutual’s OC that they have graciously trusted me with. Everything about this universe is my excuse to play with Fynta and Aric in different roles and have them interact with all the original characters in this fandom that I’ve come to love. Thanks everyone!

Chapter Summary: Every time Fynta and Aric make a little headway, something reminds them that they have nothing in common. These two need a good mediator, and thankfully, one is on the way. Word Count: 5,522 Special guests: @tishinada​ Ucevi  @kunoichi-ume​ Noara

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House

"Well, that could have gone better." Fynta stared at the darkened archway where Aric had vanished. She still felt his fury and hated that she was the cause. Ironic since she'd spent their first couple of weeks together pushing the Cathar to his limits because. She'd wanted the measure of his temper. Now, she had it.

"He doesn't seem to like me," Nora mused from her position in the opposite entry. She'd held back, keeping Aric at bay while Fynta tried to convince them both not to kill one another. The Chiss hummed in thought, and Fynta silently cursed Ucevi for her secretiveness for once. She knew what was coming before Nora spoke. "He's not Sith, not with the way he wields the Force."

Slowly, Fynta turned to face her hostess. Red eyes widened, then snapped to Fynta. "Please tell me that you didn't bring a Jedi into one of my secret havens."

Though Nora's tone was sweet, the underlying threat was obvious. Fynta blew out a breath and tried to think of a reasonable excuse. "Technically, the Jedi brought me here."

Pale brows reached Nora's hairline, but it was her apprentice who spoke. "Did he defect?"

Noara was still in her early twenties, not yet granted the title of Lord of the Sith. She was strong in the Force, but with too gentle a heart to use it for evil. Thus, she was Darth Nemesis's studious assistant in the public eye. Only a chosen few knew that the girl had once been a Jedi Padawan.

Fynta shook her head. "No, he's still very much a pompous ass." She sighed. "But he's a vital part of my mission. Grandmother approved."

"Does this have anything to do with that information you wanted about Nox?" Nora asked with a wary side glance at her apprentice. Fynta opened her mouth to respond, but the Chiss raised one manicured hand. "Never mind, I don't need to know. So long as Ucevi deems it critical, I'll allow whatever this is." She waved that same hand past Fynta towards where Aric had gone. Judging by Nora's expression, she wasn't pleased with how well the Jedi knew the layout of her safehouse.

Dropping her hand, Nora turned to her apprentice. "Be a dear and activate the service droids. We'll stay only long enough to refuel and restock. Then, I feel as if it's best that we are in the eye of the public while Fynta and her Jedi complete their task."

"Yes, my lord." Noara waited for her master to turn away before leaning closer to Fynta. "Meet me on the blaster range in half an hour. I want to show you my birthday present."

Fynta grinned. She'd taught the youth to shoot once she'd recovered from her stay in Nox's reeducation cells. Noara had come a long way from the skinny child barely holding onto her sanity. Fynta hadn't planned to become someone's hero that day, but she'd never regretted her choice to steal Nox's newest pet. Ucevi had placed the girl with Nora shortly after, and Noara had flourished under that gentle tutelage.

"Deal." Fynta agreed, then she cursed and reached for Noara's arm as the girl turned to leave. "Make it an hour; I need to handle Aric first."

Noara's expression turned serious. "Be nice to him. It can't be easy being surrounded by your enemies. I don't need to know what you're up to, but I'm going to guess it is parsecs outside of his comfort zone. But, he's still here."

"Yeah." Fynta chuckled, then ruffled Noara's dark bangs like she used to. It was hard to see her as the adult that she'd become, rather than the adolescence Fynta had grown to care for. She widened her smile and made a hand gesture of honesty. "I'll be nice, promise." Rolling her eyes, Noara left to do her master's bidding while Fynta followed after Aric.

The walk to Aric's room seemed to be too long and too short at the same time. Fynta stood outside the door with her knuckles poised to knock but unable to make the connection. She had no idea what to say to mend the sort of hurt that she'd felt in Aric before he shut her out. Even now, Fynta could sense the Cathar's restlessness, but it paled in comparison to what they normally shared. He'd walled off his emotions so that Fynta only caught glimpses of what leaked around the seals.

Fynta shored up her defenses and rapped her knuckles against the door. No answer came. Sighing, she extended her senses to confirm that Aric was in the room, then knocked again. Fynta considered breaking the locking mechanism, but given his mood, she decided against it. "You know this door won't keep me out," Fynta called.

The threat worked as expected. Aric's door slid open, but he stood across the room with his arms folded and familiar scowl fixed in place. He'd donned his armor, everything but the trademark cloak. A strange heaviness rose in Fynta's chest at the sight of his chest plate and greaves. "What do you want," he growled, finding a spot above her head to stare at.

To apologize. At least, that's what Fynta meant to say, what came out was completely different. "To see if you're still sulking."

Aric snorted and looked out the window, maintaining a firm glare at the snowcapped scenery beyond. Nora's hideout was nestled into the side of a mountain, according to the schematic that Fynta had found when they arrived. She hadn't ventured into that frozen hellscape. Clouds covered the moon, throwing the room into shadow that left Ari's eyes glaring in the glass. Fynta opted for casual contempt and propped one butt cheek on Aric's bed. "You realize why I couldn't let you kill her, right? That's even if you got close enough to try. You've vastly underestimated that woman's power."

One side of Aric's mouth lifted in a lopsided sneer that revealed the tips of his canines. Fynta thought the expression was adorable, but managed to keep that thought to herself. When Aric didn't respond, she reached for him through the Force.

"Don't," Aric growled, taking a step away from Fynta as if that could weaken their connection. She felt a surge of panic, quickly tamped down, but present all the same. Aric's glare turned to his feet, and Fynta realized for the first time that he hadn't looked at her since she'd walked in. "Just—stay out of my head."

Fynta stood and took a step closer, noting the repeated spike in fear. It wasn't surprise or anxiety, but the raw terror of trapped prey, an emotion she'd become well acquainted with in her line of work. Fynta had never thought to inspire such feelings in the stoic Cathar, though. "What's wrong?"

When Fynta moved again, Aric snarled in earnest. The sound brought her up short. She'd heard him growl in many circumstances, most involving her, but none had ever felt threatening. Aric moved into a loose-limbed defensive stance. "You almost had me," he said, tone low and edged with malice. "You almost convinced me that there was more to the Empire than what the Order thought. But it was a lie. You're just like all the rest."

"I'm—" Fynta sputtered, red coloring her vision and rage boiling through her veins until lightning crackled between her fingers. She bared her teeth and jabbed one of the sparking digits at Aric, holding onto her control by bloodied nails. "You have no idea what you're talking about you self-righteous, pompous di'kutla utreekov."

Fynta had the short-lived satisfaction of seeing the Jedi's brows climb his forehead before she spun around and stormed from the room. She slammed the door hard enough that sparks sprung from the safety mechanisms. It might have jumped off its tracks, but she didn't care enough to look back.

Alderaan Private Residence of Darth Nemesis

Aric stared at the mangled wreckage of his door. Not only had Fynta's outburst short circuited the electrical system, but it had ripped part of the track out of the frame. Without the right tools, Aric wouldn't enjoy the false security of a locked door again.

Sighing, Aric nudged the leaning slab of metal and watched it groan outward. An almost hidden spark of light distracted him. When Aric looked up, the young woman from earlier stood in the hallway with a tray while her pale blue gaze focused on the carnage that had once been his door. "I take it the talk didn't go well?"

Aric snorted a laugh before he could stop himself, then sobered with the reminder that this woman was also a Sith. There was a familiar gentleness in her, though. "Who are you?"

"Oh, right." The woman wiped a hand on silk pants so green that they almost looked black, then extended it to Aric. "My name is Noara Starspark. I'm Nora's apprentice."

Cautiously, Aric accepted the greeting. When their hands touched, he felt the warmth of Tython in the back of his mind. It reminded him of a stream he liked to visit as a boy. A place covered by trees, where the breeze brought with it the crispness from higher in the mountains. "You're not Sith," Aric decided before his higher brain caught up with his instincts.

"Not really, no," Noara answered, then lifted the tray. "A gift from my master, may I?"

"Nothing stopping you." Aric kicked the door for effect.

Only after the shock wore off did Aric realize that Nora must be Darth Nemesis's given name. He kept the younger woman in sight while she went to one of the many tables around the room. Aric folded his arms. "Your master won't be mad that you call her Nora in front of me?"

The young woman waved a dismissive hand. "There are millions of Noras in the Empire, and her birth records are sealed. Good luck weeding her out." Noara set the tray on a dark wood table and removed the lid to show the half drank whiskey from his doomed game with Fynta and two glasses. "You seemed fond of this one."

Aric eyed the gift, wondering what sort of poison had been slipped into it. As if reading his thoughts, Noara smiled. "It's not tampered with. All I did was put the stopper in. When I was cleaning up, my master suggested bringing it to you. I'd hoped that Fynta would be here, but…" She trailed off and left the drink and glasses alone. "If there is anything else you need, please let us know. You are Nora's guest, and thus under her protection. We will leave first thing in the morning to avoid any further stress."

"You said not really," Aric ventured, picking up in the middle of his thoughts. When Noara's head tipped to the side, he reworded his question. "When I said you weren't Sith. What does that mean?"

A small, sad smile pulled at Noara's lips. "I was a Padawan. Nox killed my master and took me for his apprentice." Aric nodded, watching the branches of Darth Nox's control grow before his eyes. Fynta hadn't been exaggerating when she spoke of her former master's reach. "Fynta found me in one of his cells. I don't remember much about how we got out, only that my rescue is what sparked her resignation from Nox's service."

Aric unfolded his arms. There was a lot that Noara left out, but the idea that she and Fynta were so closely connected intrigued him. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen," Noara answered, then shrugged. "I think. I lost a lot of my earlier memories during Nox's intake process. It's why I wasn't returned to the Jedi; I couldn't remember where I was from until months later. By then, Nora had already accepted the position as my new master. They offered me the choice to return, but I preferred it here."

"In the Empire," Aric grumbled, reevaluating the ease with which he accepted Noara in his space.

Noara let out a delicate laugh. "No. I don't care about Empire versus Republic. I chose to stay with Nora because in the few months I lived with her, I learned more about the Force and my connection to it than in years on Tython. She encouraged me to explore, and—" Noara stopped and laughed again when Aric snorted. "Not like that. She taught me to find my way to meditate, to discover where my strength flourished. She was patient and kind."

"That's not the Darth Nemesis from our files," Aric admitted. Fynta had warned him that nothing was as it appeared in the Empire, their Sith included. Ucevi had been cordial and welcoming. Aric had to assume from her relationship with Fynta that the woman was higher ranking than she seemed. Could it be possible that Darth Nemesis was the same?

A kind smile made Noara look younger still. "It's all a disguise. Nora has a real chance to make things better for the Empire, but no one will back her if she appears weak. So, we leak stories to the news to bolster the sort of reputation the Empire expects from their Dark Council members."

"That's barbaric," Aric replied with a curled lip. The thought that someone would use murder and torture to bolster their societal standing made no sense. Then again, he'd never understood the way a Sith's mind worked, even now that he'd spend time with so many.

Shaking her head, Noara poured two glasses of whiskey and lifted hers in cheers. "That's politics." She took a sip, smacked her lips, then continued while examining the glass. "The senators in the Republic are no different, only the reverse. They pretend to be better than they really are. Nora, she just wants to get her foot in the door."

Aric downed his share of the whiskey, hating how much he enjoyed the burn. "What else can you tell me about these Sith?" He needed a better understanding of who to be vigilant around. Though Aric knew it was folly, he trusted the word of this once Padawan. Despite her upbringing in the Empire, he sensed no deceit in her.

Noara shrugged. "You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you." Aric lifted a brow, and the girl's smirk returned. "She cares about your opinion. And, whether you like it or not, she's adopted you. Welcome to the club."

With a final salute, Noara drained her glass and placed it upside down on the tray. "If Fynta says they are safe, then they are. Simple as that. Ucevi is a good woman. If you don't threaten her family or her network, you'll be fine. As for my master…" Noara trailed off. "Well, she regrets upsetting you. Fynta mentioned that you hunt Sith and Nora is on your list. For the sake of the Empire, forget about tonight and Darth Nemesis. We need her alive more than you can imagine."

Noara stepped away from the table, bowed the way a Padawan would to her master, then headed for the door. She paused to run a hand over the damaged wall, "I'll send a repair droid."

Then, the woman was gone, leaving Aric with more questions than he'd had before. He'd grown up with two simple truths: the Empire was the enemy, and Sith were evil. The picture Noara painted blurred those lines. And, every Sith that Aric had interacted with so far had been cordial despite knowing who and what he was.

Aric poured another glass of whiskey and swallowed it in a single gulp, letting the burn in his throat signify the fires of this new trial. He had made a promise to Fynta, one that he would keep on his honor as a Jedi. The galaxy would be a better place without Nox. After that, Aric couldn't promise anything.

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House Two Days Later

Aric only left his quarters late at night, when he was certain that he'd be left alone. He walked the silent halls, stopping to admire the snow outside. Fat white flakes drifted lazily onto statues of people he didn't recognize, lending them a ghostly quality.

Closing his eyes, Aric reached out and felt for Fynta. Her chaos was quiet, lulled into the almost peace of sleep. Darth Nemesis and Noara had left the morning following their disastrous introduction, as promised, with the latter stopping by to bid Aric farewell and wish him luck. In return, he had promised to consider the girl's request. Aric had been alone ever since.

Ucevi was scheduled to arrive in the early morning hours the next day. The closer the moment came, the more Aric regretted reaching out to her. When he had agreed to let the Sith Blood shield his mind, Fynta was still speaking to him. As it stood, he'd only caught glimpses of the woman as she drifted through the estate. Aric could find her if he wanted, but he wasn't ready for that conversation. Fynta had invaded his thoughts in a moment of vulnerability, and she'd wrested his control away. He couldn't forgive that so easily.

An alarm chirped, and Aric looked towards the east to catch the drive plume of a small ship. The panel next to him illuminated with a warning of an incoming vessel, then clicked to green when it recognized the access code. Aric's pulse leapt into a staccato when he realized that Ucevi was early.

In the back of Aric's mind, Fynta stirred. He hadn't realized that he was still connected to her, and quickly withdrew before she could accuse him of spying while she slept. He started for the hangar, then thought better of it and went to his room. Though wearing his armor wouldn't protect Aric from a mental attack should Ucevi decide to avenge Fynta's wounded pride, it made him feel better.

Aric had expected the women to go to bed. He knew that Fynta and Ucevi shared a past relationship, though could only speculate on its nature. Fynta hadn't fully admitted to it being romantic, but Aric had his suspicions. So, when someone knocked on his door less than an hour after Ucevi's arrival, Aric jumped.

The void behind Aric's door must have been Ucevi, because Fynta showed up as a mirror, rather than a lack of being, when she hid from him. Squaring his shoulders, Aric answered the door and found himself looking up into the golden eyes of a smiling Sith Lord. "Good evening, Master Jorgan. May I enter?"

Aric stepped back, surprised again by how large the woman was. His mind had made her smaller, stamping the standard female frame onto someone who was anything but. Still, Ucevi moved with a sinuous grace that made the black fabric of her flight armor shimmer in the light. Shaking himself, Aric poked his head into the hallway and found it empty. His chest squeezed, but Aric told himself it was for the best.

"How are you healing?" Ucevi asked, stopping to pour a glass of the whiskey that Noara had brought two nights before. She inhaled the fragrant alcohol with a satisfied sigh, then smiled at Aric. "You look better than when we last spoke."

"Autodoc says everything is good." Aric stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands flexing without anything to do. Eventually, he folded them into his robes. "My DNA is altered, but no signs of transformation. So far, I haven't noticed any significant changes."

Ucevi sipped her whiskey, then nodded. "That's good." She lifted the glass in Aric's direction. "And, we might be able to use that to our advantage. If Nox got a read on you while on Rishi, the rakghoul venom could have fundamentally altered you enough to hide you from his sight. In theory, at least."

"So, you're a specialist on rakghouls now?" The casual conversation eased some Aric's tension, enough that he could move further into the room, at least.

Ucevi shrugged one bare shoulder. Her flight suit left impressive biceps exposed, a trend that Aric had noticed that the Sith Blood employed often. He couldn't decide if it was an intimidation tactic, or because she was proud of her physique. He supposed both were possible. "I read over the thesis of a colleague. The man is a little too interested in rakghouls if you ask me, but his research is fascinating."

Aric spared one more look over his shoulder, expecting Fynta to walk in complaining about lost sleep, but not surprised when she didn't. Sighing, he turned back to the red woman. "As entertaining as this topic is, we should probably—"

"Of course." Ucevi drained her glass, then gestured at one of the plush chairs decorating Aric's room. "If you'll make yourself comfortable. This may take some time since your essence is unfamiliar to me."

Aric did as instructed, perching on the edge of the cushion. "What can I expect?"

Ucevi leaned one hip against the desk and folded her arms. "I'll start slow. It will be uncomfortable at first. I'll need to compartmentalize the various sections, if that helps. I'll see some of your memories, though I promise not to linger. You'll feel my presence, but there shouldn't be pain unless you fight me. If there is anywhere that I should avoid, it's best to tell me now. I will not be gathering intel, so any classified information should remain so."

The brow stalks above Ucevi's eyes pulled together. "This is an unprecedented event. If I encounter resistance, I'll move on unless you want me to push through, but those areas will remain vulnerable. Shielding isn't a blanket process, but a precise, almost surgical practice. It takes trust and time, both of which we are desperately short on. So, I'll ask one more time, are you sure about this?"

Aric wanted to say no. He wanted to walk out of the room, board Fynta's ship, and return to the Republic. Nothing had terrified him so much since his childhood fear of the dark. Now, Aric was inviting the darkness into his soul. Letting out a shaky breath, Aric met the woman's burning gaze. "This is the only way to keep those bastards out of my head, isn't it?"

"Not the only way," Ucevi admitted with a tilt of her head. "But, certainly the most expedient."

"Then, let's get on with it." Aric leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. "All of it." After all, he didn't sit on the council, and he didn't carry any of the Order's secrets. Aric had never been good at it.

After a few failed meditative breaths, Aric gave up and glared at the fireplace. It was impossible to relax while preparing to let a Sith in. He anticipated pain, because no matter how much he tried, Aric knew he would resist.

A wave of chaos rose in Aric's mind, and he jolted forward to see Fynta stalk into the room. Before he could think better of it, Aric was on his feet. "You came."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Fynta snapped, though the relief of Aric's greeting was palpable. It wasn't until that moment that he realized Fynta hadn't been avoiding him because she was angry, but because she thought he was.

Walking around the chair, Fynta put her hands on Aric's shoulders and pushed him back onto the cushions. When he was seated, she remained behind him. Her next words were directed at Ucevi. "Where do you want me?"

The Sith Blood looked between them, a single brow stalk raised. "There is fine." Aric wondered if Ucevi could sense the conflicting emotions rising within him, or his relief that Fynta had come. If so, she didn't comment on it. "So long as Master Jorgan is comfortable. I may need your help calming him until we've been properly introduced."

"That part sucks," Fynta muttered, squeezing Aric's shoulders. She added a playful wink. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you. Noara's words echoed in Aric's ears, and he nodded. Trust was not something that came easily to a Jedi. They were raised to see into people's hearts, and few of those were pure. Then, he'd met Fynta. While she would lie to someone's face to get what she wanted, her intentions were laid out for all who cared to look. Every act of evil was backed by the desire to do good. She was the enigma that he'd been taught to fear. And yet, Aric continuously placed his life in her hands.

Dipping his chin to Ucevi, Aric inhaled until his lungs burned, then let the air out in staggered breaths so that his pulse would slow. Ucevi set the desk chair in front of Aric and lowered herself into it. Her hand hovered above Aric's knee. "I'm going to touch you now. It solidifies our connection and keeps me grounded while I'm in your thoughts. Do I have your permission to begin?" Aric nodded, his focus torn by the warm hands on his shoulders and now his right leg. Ucevi hunched into a more comfortable position. "Now, I need you to enter a meditative state."

Aric glanced behind him to where Fynta stood. "How does she manage this with you?"

"Practice," Ucevi chuckled. "I take it you tried to teach her too?"

"She's a lost cause," Aric answered, letting the banter ease him into a calm mindset that would make meditation easier.

Fynta's hands tightened almost to the point of pain. "You're both assholes."

Ucevi's chuckle seemed to vibrate the air around them, and Aric realized that he'd already slipped into the first stage of meditation. It was like falling asleep, half in and out of consciousness. Sounds were louder, while the rest of the room muted to grey, then black as he went deeper.

Aric lingered in that calm place until he lost track of time, then a flash of green trees and babbling brooks shimmered into view. He stood with his master, overseeing the construction of the Twi'lek village that had barely survived another Flesh Raider attack. Aric wanted to track the culprits down, but his master denied his request. Anger filled him, quickly overshadowed by helplessness as a small boy dug through the burned rubble of his.

The oily sensation of the Dark Side brushed Aric's consciousness, and he was transported to a battlefield. Red filled his vision, and Aric threw his blade up in time to avoid being hewn in two. The Rattataki Sith bared pearly teeth in a snarl. His eyes were as red as the weapon he wielded, his teeth stained with blood. Aric pushed the man back, then Ucevi was there. In the chaos of the moment, all he saw was another Sith. He was outnumbered and desperate. Aric reached for the Force and found it denied to him.

Panic seized Aric. He'd felt this before, remembered the stab of electricity behind his eyes. The memory was barely a fragment of the pain Aric felt, and he cried out. "Focus, big guy." The words fluttered through his mind like leaves on an autumn breeze. Aric breathed the hot agony away, pouring all of his concentration into the target shaped tattoo that hovered before him. It inspired feelings of safety, and Aric clung to it.

"Fynta, back off, you're too close." A disembodied voice ground out. "Damn it, Aric you have to let go."

Aric's vision spiraled, specters overlapping so quickly that he couldn't make sense of them. The sting of a whip against his back. A child huddled in the corner of a tiny cell. The wrinkled skin of a Flesh Raider. A boulder looming in the distance. The shame in dark blue eyes as they looked away. Burning muscles, and the thin air of a mountain peak. Blood pouring through his fingers.

"Almost there," the voice rasped. There were familiar cadences in that strained sound that made Aric feel guilty, but he didn't know why.

"I'm still here," Fynta whispered. Her warmth enveloped Aric, acting as a buffer between him and the onslaught of anguish and rage. "Trust me."

With those final words, Aric surrendered to the gentle pressure of Fynta's touch, and the images faded. He blinked, revealing the solace of an eternal void, his hands entwined with hers.

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House

Aric inhaled as he came out of the trance, then slouched deeper into his chair. Fynta let go of the Jedi's shoulders and went to her old friend. Ucevi sagged against the desk, a sheen of sweat coating her face, neck, and chest. Fynta pushed back the dark strands of hair that had come loose from the Sith's pristine bun and steadied her. "Are you okay?"

When Ucevi's gaze met Fynta's, it burned with something just short of anger. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"You'd have killed each other." Fynta forced a smile and pretended that her stomach wasn't trying to empty itself. "Stubborn as an akk hound with a new bone, the both of you."

Ucevi wouldn't have stopped until she'd shielded Aric, and he would have shredded both of their minds trying to escape. It was in their natures, a nurturer and a warrior. Still, Ucevi shook her head. "I can't undo this."

"You couldn't have stopped it," Fynta countered, sitting back on her heels to give Uveci room to straighten. The woman's deep crimson skin had paled, and her hair hung limp with sweat.

Shaking her head, the Sith Blood pushed into a backward arch to stretch her muscles. "I could have barred your entrance, or—"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Fynta interrupted, but she placed her hand on the woman's knee to soften the sharpness of her tone. "Something happened on Rishi. A connection developed. All I did was replace a rope bridge with a permanent structure."

Ucevi leaned forward again, taking Fynta's chin in strong fingers so that she had no choice but to look into the Sith Blood's eyes. "A rope bridge can be burned. What you've done can't be broken. Even after death, his soul might cling to yours."

Jerking her chin free, Fynta shoved to her feet and stalked a few steps in each direction. Her gaze settled on Aric, who'd slumped into an uncomfortable looking position. "It's done." She ignored the rapid beating of her heart as she did anything that terrified her. Eventually, Fynta would need to face this issue, but it didn't have to be right now.

The soft expletive that Ucevi released made Fynta wince. She kept her back to the woman so that Ucevi wouldn't see the fear Fynta struggled to hide, but she knew it was futile when the Sith Blood sighed. "Help me get him onto the bed. He needs rest."

So do you, Fynta almost argued, but she joined Ucevi in pulling Aric from the chair and dragged his heavy ass to the plush mattress. Ucevi pulled the blankets back with a wave of her hand, then they deposited their Cathar burden more or less in the center of his bed. Ucevi studied him for a moment, then shook her head. "It seems rude to leave him in that uncomfortable armor, but I doubt he'd appreciate it if we removed it."

Fynta snorted a laugh and tugged the blankets over Aric. He was there, chasing fitful dreams in the back of Fynta's mind. If they weren't careful, these episodes of shared pasts could become a dangerous distraction.

When Fynta looked up, Ucevi was still staring down at the sleeping Jedi. "You'll need to be more careful about how you treat him."

"What do you mean?" Fynta didn't think that a Force bond affected someone's strength, but she didn't know much on the subject.

"No more casual flirting." Ucevi glanced up, and the reprimand was clear in the set of her jaw. "Any feelings from before will be amplified, and given a Cathar's nature, you could trick him into believing that you're his lifemate."

Fynta took an involuntary step away from the bed, which coaxed a rueful chuckle from her old friend. "Exactly. So, either submit to a lifetime of monogamy, or destroy all possibility of him becoming too attached to you. Those are your options."

"Fierfek." Fynta hugged her arms around her torso and glared at the prone Cathar. She hadn't considered that, nor the fact that she'd have to deny her nature to keep them from both making terrible choices. There was regret too, buried so deep that Fynta almost didn't recognize it. She liked Aric, and the thought of pushing him away when they'd come so far hurt in a way that Fynta couldn't describe.

"Fine," Fynta spat, then circled the bed and took Ucevi's arm. The Sith Blood didn't complain when Fynta pulled it over her shoulders, or when she angled them out of the room. For now, she'd take care of the Sith at her side. Later, Fynta would worry about the Jedi in her head.

[unsung-idiot]

don't show him modern technology; it won't end well

bonus under the cut:

[loopnoid]

claudeleine thru the eras

[alanaisalive]

Now that Eurovision is over, I want you all, especially the Americans, to take a good hard look at how the voting results turned out when people boycotted the event.

In the UK, the viewing figures were down about 2 million people compared to last year. Up to 2 million people made the conscious decision to not watch and not vote because of Israel's inclusion.

The final results of the public vote, Israel came in first place in the UK and got 12 points. Because the only people watching and voting were people who backed Israel or at least didn’t care one way or another.

This doesn't matter. It's a music contest. The boycott was still the right thing to do because it is just a show at the end of the day, and the viewing figures have more impact than the results.

But it is also a good object lesson to show you what happens if you boycott a vote over something that does matter. Choosing not to vote in, let's say, a presidential election will have similar results.

[tendermiasma]

The bigger they are the harder they fall 🥹🐟

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[problemnyatic]

when will we talk about the willful helplessness epidemic on here. So many people on this god forsaken website demand to have any and all things that exist outside their personal experiences directly, personally pre-chewed and spoonfed to them. And when you do, they'll then ask for you to swallow for them, too, because, you see, in THEIR experience..,

[pacipinka]

*taps mic* is this thing on? Yeah okay so every vampire in the vampire chronicles is turned at critical a moment in their lives and beyond just the body they are in when they are turned, their mentality stays at that standstill for their entire immortality, Lestat was turned against his will, he was clinging onto Magnus begging him to be freed, so he’s constantly seeking freedom and only finding loneliness and thus turning back to people again and again, however he can’t STAND being told what to do, since he desires agency in his life so desperately, Armand was turned after years and years of abuse and lack of control but such a desire for genuine love, by a man he ‘loved’ so wholly who he felt was barring his love from him, he needs control in his life, he needs a ‘master’ but he does not desire it, it does not fulfill him, he is trapped in a room but the door is unlocked! Louis was mourning his brother, he felt like an utter failure and so he’s always seeking family, seeking people he can care for, he can coddle, he can prove he is good too, but he loves people who either cannot stand coddeling and need a sense of looseness to live (Lestat) or people who grow out of coddling who prove to Louis he will always fail the people he loves (Claudia), Claudias turning, in many MANY ways mirrors lestats in that it was against her will, she was stolen from her home, and in her immortality she desires freedom but unlike Lestat does not have the agency/ form to get it, she will always be small, she will always be looked down on, even by Lestat who cannot deny how much she is just like him *taps mic* ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!! NONE OF THEM CAN BREAK THE CYCLE!!! TO BREAK IT WOULD BE TO UNDO THE VERY FIBER OF THEIR IMMORTAL SELVES!! THE CYCLE IS THE BLOOD THEY DRINK IT IS THE HEART IN THEIR CHEST AND IT ROLLS AND ROLLS DOWN THE MOUNTAINS AND VALLEYS OF THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND IT CAN NEVER BE STOPPED BECAUSE THEY WILL NEVER STOP LOVING EACH OTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!

[nickydraws]

Yeah, I'm normal about him

[spiderbitesandvampirevenom]

having to tap the "if an american place name sounds strange to you please google it and make sure you're not just mocking indigenous languages" sign again

[stil-lindigo]

an ex-zionist jewish man recently went a bit viral on tiktok for sharing exactly how he sees zionism tie israel to the jewish identity and his personal experience with breaking away from it - I think it’s a really great watch.

He also made a follow up talking specifically about how he learned to humanise Palestinians, and a really integral part of it was his school, which would often bring in Palestinian speakers who’d share their perspective (here’s a link to it).

[brainrotcharacters]

TW: Wolverine Badonkas

I laughed rewatching because like

[unsung-idiot]

way to ruin the mood

[sadfishkid]

green slime be upon ye

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞