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somepsychopomp · 5 months ago

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Come Home To Me pt. 1

i still feel so fucking insane right now. Today I drafted the first chapter of my Edling royal marriage fic where Ling is down insanely badly and wants to have Ed all to himself. i'd make up a better summary if my brain wasn't a withered husk rn but i did my best. This and future updates will probs be posted to my ao3.

Excerpt:

“Edward Elric,” Shen repeated, stroking his beard, “For what purpose must we seek him out?”

The Emperor’s smile widened. “I’m going to make him my Empress, of course.”

(word count: 4,442)

+++

Edward was glad to be returning to Resembool.

The day was beautiful, the sky clear and brilliant blue. The rolling fields passed by his train window as he ached for a hot meal at Granny’s table.

He was tired after a long stint of nonstop field world, and in heavy need of some deep cleaning on his automail, but couldn’t be happier. He had a suitcase stuffed full of research notes and plenty of good anecdotes to share. He didn’t yet know if he’d publish his findings, but he had someone looking forward to seeing them.

Ed had spent the last four months in the northeasternmost fringes of Amestris, basically living out in the desert with minimal contact with civilization. He wasn’t opposed to the hard work, though. Not when the potential knowledge was so tantalizing.

He functioned as the alchemical expert for a group of archaeologists from Central. They found fragments of Xerxesian architecture buried in the desert and with them, signs of alchemy. When Ed arrived at the site, it was little more than a bunch of holes dug into the heavy sand and some scraps of stone the archaeologists and their students found.

Ed turned an archaeological graveyard into an oasis. He found the proof that approximately nine centuries ago, Xerxes had a small outpost near what was now the border of Amestris. The older researchers on the team proposed it was a trading hub or colony. Ed had reason to believe it was some kind of remote lab, so experimental alchemy could be conducted safely away from the main populace of Xerxes.

He wasn’t going to stick around long enough to fight for his point, though. He’d seen what he’d wanted to see and learned what he set out to learn. He was going to be proven right, eventually. So it didn’t matter if he stuck around or not. Even though Ed had done his part and even though the majority team begged him to stay on, promising him additional pay, he knew it was time to come home.

Alphonse would already be waiting for him, after all. And it’d been almost ten months since they'd last seen each other.

Ed felt the little warm flurry in his chest grow with excitement. Yeah, they were both adults now, it felt natural for them to want to do their own things. And they did, planning their own trips in pursuit of their individual interests. But they were still brothers and he couldn’t wait to see Alphonse again.

Not that he’d ever admit it to Al’s face, but Ed still kept a beaten up copy of Alphonse’s first published research paper in the lining of his suitcase, ready to shove it into the face of anyone who dared to not call Alphonse Elric the greatest alchemist currently alive.

And admittedly, doing so made Ed feel painfully like the late Maes Hughes. Maybe he finally understood why a man would be possessed to carry documentation of his family everywhere he went.

But that was all behind him now. As all things came to an end, so did his voyage. The train pulled into the station and Ed jumped off the very second he was able to, hauling his heft suitcase in one arm as he ran for the waiting figure on the platform.

“Brother!”

Ed smiled. The two of them embraced and it really did feel like coming home.

“I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”

Alphonse laughed. He looked about the same as before their split. Still so tall, still so strongly built. A happy far cry from the emaciated body Ed pulled out of the gate. It was insane, how Alphonse looked so much like their dad now. And he imagined that when Al looked at him, he saw Hohenheim in Ed’s face, too. As much as Ed was loath to imagine it.

Al kept his hair short as well, while Ed’s had only gotten longer and longer. Alphonse noticed, of course he did, and waved around the end of Ed’s braid.

“Are you ever going to cut this thing?”

“Never.”

Trisha Elric had long hair, so Edward Elric had long hair. Though maybe at this point, his was longer than even hers had been. It was getting hard to remember now. In his faint and watercolored childhood memories, it didn’t matter how long his hair was because hers always seemed longer. He was sure if he looked at one of Granny’s old photos of her, he’d see differently.

Funny, how the mind played tricks like that.

Alphonse tried and failed to take Ed’s suitcase as they walked to the Rockbell household. Ed swatted his hand away.

“Just let me carry it, Al. It’s heavy.”

“That’s more reason why I should take it. You’ve lugged it across the countryside, why don’t you let yourself rest for once?”

Ed blew the stray hairs from his eyes. Maybe his bangs could do with a trim, at least. He’d have to see if Granny or Al would be willing to take up the scissors for him, Ed didn’t trust himself enough to make it look halfway decent.

The two of them chatted about nothing in particular, saving their best stories for when they could put their feet up and enjoy a drink together. Or at least that’s what Ed thought was happening, but he couldn’t help but notice Al was relaying details about minute town gossip with more enthusiasm than expected.

“Everything alright, Al?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

Ed shot him a sideways grin. “You’re a shit liar. What’s up?”

Al huffed and puffed but eventually, Ed needled the truth out of him.

“Well, we’ve got company, actually. They’ve been in town for a few days already. And once they found out I was picking you up from the train station, they insisted on seeing you today.”

“Huh?” Ed scoured his cramped head for any plan he might’ve missed. Did someone he know say they were coming to visit? He asked, “Who is it?”

Al smiled, mischievous in his own right. “You’ll see.”

That made Ed wonder if it was someone from the military. Probably not the newly-promoted Brigadier General Bastard, so maybe someone else?

When they arrived, he didn’t see an extra car outside. On the porch, Ed did his best to shake the sand out of his coat pockets and boots before stepping inside. Immediately, he was hit with the fusion scent of coffee and motor oil. Tension he didn’t even know he was carrying drained out of his body as Ed called out, “I’m back!”

No click-clack of mismatched paws came running in response. It was still hard to remember that Den wasn’t around to greet them at the door anymore.

Ed left his suitcase by the door as Al led him into the kitchen, where Granny was sitting at the table with a grouchy looking old man and a young woman with dark hair. They all turned to look at him and it felt like an electric current was sent through his entire body. No way…

“Lan Fan!”

She still had the same sharp, dark eyes that Ed remembered from when they were younger. She stood, her expression lighting up at the sight of Ed.

“Edward Elric!”

She bowed for him, which felt downright silly. They went so far back, after all. And if Lan Fan was here…

“What are you doing on this side of the desert? Where's Ling? Is he with you?”

The old man cleared his throat and stood. He looked like the kind of guy Ed could easily imagine in the upper echelons of the military or a Xingese court: gray hair and beard, humorless expression, one hand wrapped tight around the curved handle of an ornate, darkwood cane. He was wrapped in loose, emerald green robes while Lan Fan was dressed how Ed remembered her. All black.

“It is my obligation to accept questions and negotiations on the Emperor’s behalf,” the old man said. He spoke in an extremely thick Xingese accent, but enunciated his words with care. He shot Lan Fan a look, “Is it not?”

Ed’s mood soured slightly. Whoever the old fart was, he wasn’t interested.

And yet, the old man said, “I am His Majesty’s most senior adviser, Yao Shen. I was sent at His Majesty’s request to locate one Edward Elric and deliver a message.”

To me? Ed wondered.

The last time he spoke to Ling was when they were teenagers. The idea of trying to contact him again crossed Ed’s mind over the years, admittedly much more than once. After all, Alphonse kept in contact with Mei. He’d even made several trips across the desert to see her and study alkahestry in Xing.

But Ling just felt so different. He got crowned as Emperor when he was seventeen! And Ed remembered so well how news swept across Amestris of the child king in Xing, who apparently went on a sojourn through their country only a year prior to his coronation. Ed just had no idea how he could ever reach across the world to someone like that.

So he never did, as cowardly as it was. And seven whole years had gone by since they were a pair of teenagers fighting to save the world. Ed was twenty-two now and thought his chance to see Ling again, no matter how slim, was gone.

But now Ling’s closest and most loyal vassal was in his kitchen. With a weird old man to boot.

“Yes, yes. We’re all here for one reason or another,” a new voice said. Ed looked over to see Granny stirring a big pot on the stove. She said, “But all of that can wait. It’s supper time and my boys must be hungry.”

Lan Fan didn’t seem to be in any rush. And if she wasn’t treating this like it was urgent, it probably wasn’t. The five of them sat down at the table, where Ed got to eat a heaping bowl of Granny’s famous beef stew with fresh bread. For a few glorious minutes, he forgot he was being a poor host by not participating in the conversation while he stuffed his mouth.

Subsisting off of dry rations for four months left one starved for flavor.

Once he had some proper food in his belly, he finally took note of Lan Fan’s arm. It had the super polished look of someone who’d just seen a mechanic, not like Ed’s brushed metal limbs.

“You’ve been taking good care of your automail,” he said.

Lan Fan smiled. She held out her hand to let it catch in the light. “Your grandmother has been generous enough to do some maintenance on my arm these past few days.”

“Is that right?” Ed asked. He didn’t even bother to correct her, that Granny wasn’t related by blood. It still surprised him. Ed knew Granny was partially retired these days; she didn’t take on new clients anymore, just did repairs and cleanings.

He was glad she agreed to take a look at Lan Fan. Xing, as he was told, sorely lacked automail mechanics. Too bad Winry was up to her ears in work in Rush Valley, he knew she would’ve loved to ogle at a good arm.

Granny said, “As someone who’s seen my fair share of automail in all sorts of shapes and states, it’s my professional recommendation that you have yours examined by a mechanic at least once a year.”

“That is simply not possible, given her immense obligations,” Shen said.

Ed and Al shot each other a knowing look. Why on earth was Lan Fan traveling with this old fart?

“The Emperor sends for an Amestrian mechanic whenever my arm becomes too damaged to operate,” Lan Fan said, as simple as if she was commenting on the weather.

Ed stared at her, mouth agape. As someone who’d gotten into far too many fights to count over the course of his life, some of which ended up in his automail getting completely shattered, he wondered what kind of things Lan Fan had endured in recent years.

And by extension, what all that meant for Ling. Ling, who was not here but felt the need to send Lan Fan in his stead.

Lan Fan turned to Ed and Al. “Now, tales of your exploits have been reaching Xing for years, but it’s often impossible to tell what’s fiction and what’s fact. I would love to know what the Elric brothers have actually been doing since we last crossed paths.”

It was a little hard to tell if she was actually interested or just changing the subject. Ed didn’t press either way. Alphonse, either by using some secret telepathic power or just knowing how Ed operated, stopped him from running to get his copy of Al’s research. He instead gave a summarized version of his studies on combining alchemy and alkahestry.

As their bowls ran empty, Ed figured it was time to broach the subject of why they had guests at all.

“So what’s the message meant just for me?” he asked, bracing an elbow on the table.

Shen seemed unphased. “Unfortunately, it directly involves the security of our Emperor and must be delivered in private.”

“Oh?”

Ed turned to Lan Fan. Up until now, she seemed warm and inviting, a huge difference from her stoic self he first met. But even she shook her head.

“I must agree. It can only be given in complete secrecy.”

Ed resisted the urge to grin. Whatever it was, he could easily imagine Ling landed himself in some sort of trouble and needed help from the former Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed might’ve quit the military and lost his ability to do alchemy, but he was still a force to be reckoned with.

“Fine, then. I know where we can talk.”

Bidding Al and Granny a temporary goodbye, Ed led his two guests out of the house and up a dirt path. The sun was starting to set now, just touching the horizon and bathing everything in blinding gold. The air here was warm but not dry like the desert. It was damp and full of life.

Ed guided them up a hill as the ruins of his childhood home loomed ever larger. He didn’t stop when they reached the derelict structure, stepping over scorched wood beams and the old stone foundation, leading them into the heart of his family’s house.

“What is this place?” Lan Fan asked.

Ed stopped just short of the stone stairs that led to the basement. No one in Resembool came up here. Maybe they were too afraid to, maybe it was a sign of respect. He noticed that no signs of vandalism or graffiti cropped up over the years.

He put his hands in his coat pockets and said, “This was my home when I was a child. Now why don’t you answer me this, what did you come all this way to tell me?”

+++

The order from her Emperor to travel to Amestris without him was quite a shock to Lan Fan when she first received it. Not to mention His Imperial Majesty wanted her to guide Advisor Shen. He was so old, she honestly thought this could’ve been a ploy to have him perish in the desert to finally be rid of him.

The old man wasn’t happy about it either, even though he did his best to conceal it.

Alone in a private audience with the Emperor, he bowed profusely and repeatedly while asking, “A thousand pardons, my Emperor. But what exactly do you wish an old man like myself to achieve in Amestris?”

Shen was a spoiled member of the Yao clan’s lesser nobility who used to be a close personal friend of Ling’s father. He climbed considerable heights by constantly praising the last Emperor, only to now find himself serving a much younger man with no interest in keeping his father’s past friends wealthy.

It was rare that Lan Fan was ever out in the open too, but as her Emperor specifically wanted an audience with her as well, she stood side by side with the old adviser.

His Majesty smiled serenely at Shen. “Your task in Amestris is to seek out Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric. Lan Fan is to escort you, seeing as she’s one of the… maybe two or three Xingese citizens who actually knows what he looks like.”

If she could speak freely, Lan Fan might have protested as well. She could never leave her Lord vulnerable, even if he did have other guards and the entire Imperial army at his disposal now.

He cast his gaze upon her, expectant. She knew precisely why he wanted to find Edward Elric. She was perhaps the only person in the world who knew, who he trusted to know.

And she took that trust very seriously. It was not her place to approve or disapprove of his desires, only to see them fulfilled.

“Edward Elric,” Shen repeated, stroking his beard, “For what purpose must we seek him out?”

The Emperor’s smile widened. “I’m going to make him my Empress, of course.”

Lan Fan was staring straight ahead when he said so, arms on her knees as she knelt and awaited further instructions. But she would have loved to see Shen’s face if his startled, haggard coughing fit was anything to go by.

His Majesty’s smile grew terse. “Something the matter, Shen?”

“Oh, well… I- I cannot… my Lord…”

“You cannot what? Condone my decision? You object, is that it?”

“No, no! I would never, your Imperial Majesty!”

He grew silent as the Emperor stood, his silken robes falling around his powerful frame. He descended the steps of his throne and Shen once more pressed his forehead to the floor in subservience.

“Stand up.”

They both did so.

The Emperor produced his right hand from the length of his robes and pulled a golden ring from his finger. It was newly made, polished to a mirror shine.

“Shen, you will take this ring and guard it well. When you find Edward Elric, you will hold my ring up to his image. And when you do, remember which is more impressive.”

+++

Yao Shen only ever wanted to live comfortably. And for many decades, he did exactly that. He wore nice clothing of moderate detail, had multiple sons, kept his head low in court, and was rewarded with a lifetime of servility by being named a chief advisor in the imperial court. Now, however, he thought he might just reach his end. In a foreign land surrounded by alien peasants, no less.

Because his Emperor was correct. Edward Elric was more splendid than gold.

At first, he hadn’t been happy at all to make the trip across the desert. He bitterly cursed his ill fortune under his breath, knowing full well His Majesty’s dog was his sole traveling companion. Then it was a matter of locating the insignificant village that the famed Fullmetal Alchemist came from. And even then, they could not rest until they found Edward himself.

And when they did finally see him in person, Shen had not been very impressed. Edward Elric was clothed like a simple traveler, in plain garments and a rugged red coat. No silk, no gold, no silver. His boots were caked in dirt and his gloves were stained a reddish brown from the desert. His complexion was less than fair, his face tanned by the sun to a degree that most matchmakers would deem unacceptable.

Not to mention the fact that the boy referred to His Imperial Majesty, the Son of Heaven, by his given name! Had that mistake slipped anyone’s lips within Xing, they’d be executed.

But everything changed when he saw Edward Elric in the sunlight.

In the glow of the setting sun, Edward Elric looked like a lion. His long blond hair framed his face and reached his lower back. Shen was aware that it was common in Amestris for men to keep their hair short, as preposterous as it was. One’s body was a gift from their parents and to cut any part of it was to disrespect them. Edward Elric had very respectable long hair.

And his eyes. The palace menagerie kept a host of exotic animals, including actual lions. The Fullmetal Alchemist had the eyes of a fierce and unflinching warrior, so bright and piercing. It was clear he’d seen and won many battles, but he wasn’t a brute, either. No, his were a set of dangerously intelligent eyes.

It wasn’t necessary, Shen knew when he’d been defeated, but he could never deny an order from his Emperor. So he reached into his pocket and produced a small bundle of cloth. With trembling fingers, he unwrapped the golden ring entrusted to him and held it up to Edward Elric.

Both shined with a sort of blinding brilliance, as if the sun itself wished to pour all its warmth over the boy’s shoulders. He perfectly matched the descriptions of the Great Sage of the West, the founder of alkahestry. Any dignitary worth their salt would know what an auspicious sign this was… and that the young Emperor tragically chose his future concubine well. Very well.

+++

Ed blinked, going cross-eyed as something small was held in front of his face. He leaned back, seeing that it was a golden ring. Thick and heavy-looking, too.

“Uh…”

He moved to reach for the ring, unsure if that was what they wanted, but the old man simply tucked it back into his pocket. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for humoring an old man. Lan Fan, tell him.”

Was it just his imagination, or was she smiling ever so faintly?

She stepped forward and said, “His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Xing will be arriving in Amestris in three days for a diplomatic mission. He will be arriving in Central City to speak with your Fuhrer and parliament and is scheduled to remain in your country for fifteen days. While he is here, he wishes to see you again.”

Lan Fan produced a small package from a pouch in her belt and presented it with both hands. “He asked me to give you this gift as a token of his earnestness.”

Ling wanted to see him?

Lightheaded, Ed accepted the gift. It wasn’t heavy at all.

Lan Fan raised her brows. Open it.

So he undid the twine wrapping. It wasn’t what he expected, not that he had any idea what it could be. Ed held up the length of silk to the light. It was a long, thin strip of crimson cloth embroidered with gold. It was beautiful. He didn’t know what it could possibly be for, but he appreciated it. After all,

Ling remembers me…

“Tell me something,” Ed said, running his fingers over the cloth, amazing as how smooth it was, “How has he been, all these years?”

“He has been well, thank you for your concern,” Lan Fan said. “He is looking forward to having your company once more.”

+++

Once Shen was excused from the throne room and it was just the two of them, Ling didn’t feel like sending Lan Fan back to her post as his invisible hand. He needed a friend right now.

Sighing, he said, “It’s been a long time, Lan Fan.”

She nodded. “It has.”

Almost a decade had gone by since they last saw Edward Elric.

He thumbed at the hem of his robe, thinking. “What if I’m too late?”

“You must not lose hope, your Majesty. He is still not married. Even if there was someone standing in your way, what real threat could they pose to you?”

He nodded, thankful as ever for her steadfastness. Unlike his endless officials, servants, and his stupid siblings all vying for his favor, Lan Fan had earned it long ago. He respected her opinion far more than many of theirs, as well. And if she had faith in him, perhaps that was a good sign.

He wandered over to the windows behind his throne, whose light reflected off his gilded ceiling and his crimson pillars. The imperial palace sprawled before him, more wealthy than any other country he knew of.

What would Edward think of it all if he could see it now?

He was going to see it, Ling reminded himself. He’d waited long enough, now was the time to finally act.

The last time they saw each other was as children at the tender age of fifteen. Ling’s father held onto his throne for little over a year by no small miracle, but of all his brothers and sisters, it was him who was crowned successor before he was even an adult.

He spent the first few years of his reign cementing his rule and keeping his country stable as power changed hands. He protected the Chang clan from extinction, elevated his own, improved trade and relations to the east, and chose peace treaties over war declarations. Now he was turning his efforts into improving relations with the west.

The common folk such as his farmers and merchants loved him too, he made sure of it. Edward was born of common blood, after all. And he was famous across the world for his efforts to help those that could not help themselves.

If he could, he would send Lan Fan to seek out Edward alone. She’d do it in half the time if she didn’t have a bag of bones tethered to her. Even though Yao Shen was a member of their own clan, Ling never really liked him. He was slow to adapt and too haughty for his age. But he was also a valuable pawn. Given his seniority among palace staff, if Ling could convince him that Edward was worth more than his weight in gold, the rest of his courts would follow suit without any effort on Ling’s part at all.

Yes, convincing his people was the easy part. The least predictable element in all his plans was Edward himself. Unsurprising, but Ling wouldn’t have it any other way.

At the age of twenty-two, he felt so old yet still so impossibly young. He knew he had a whole life ahead of him yet, but could not find it in himself to wait a moment longer.

He closed his eyes and made a promise to himself. No going back from this point, no more waiting. He was going to have an Empress, this he knew since he was fifteen.

So no matter the cost, Yao Ling was going to have Edward Elric.

#fma #fmab #edward elric #ling yao #edling #homo alert uh oh #down bad ling #the outline for this fic is like 40 pages long now #someone help me #not edited #will do that later #Ed keeps his automail arm #but he doesn’t have his alchemy anymore

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what-gs-watching · 5 months ago

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“What good did love do, Doctor? When did it ever help?”

So I spent last week at my parent’s house finally pulling off the surprise birthday party I’d been planning for months for my mother and I was there for farrrrr too long and I ate waaaay too much and I only had six days from when I got home to get my head right and ready to start a new job after nine effing months of doing nothing.

I’m starting on Monday and I’m super anxious about it, and everyone is posting about what’s going on with Doctor Who so obviously I decided to let Ruby and 15 turn my brain off for a bit, it’s the least they can do. Maybe that was a mistake, because woooooof y’all. I’m devastated that the season is already over.

And as such, we def need to talk about both of these episodes at the same time.

The Legend of Ruby Sunday / Empire of Death

Wherein, The Doctor and Ruby show up to UNIT to finally ask about the old woman they keep running into on their adventures, and immediately very purposefully fall into a trap.

I have to say, as much as I love 15, baby boy has NOT been very observant this season. He’s caught up in having fun and showing his feelings and all of that is fantastic and beautiful but if this had been 10 or 11 they would have been mulling over this situation the entirety of the season and I probably wouldn’t feel so much like I just got whiplash.

Like, the internet has been telling me to think about this random ass lady, instead of seeing the Doctor trying to puzzle her out in his downtime. And that’s the first time I’ve really thought to myself, ‘this is incredibly unlike the doctor.’ But we’re going to let it slide, because he’s otherwise charmed the pants off of me.

There was a lot I was definitely about in these episodes, in no particular order -

OBVIOUSLY, the Rose / Ruby bonding. Absolutely adorable. They immediately gravitated to each other and I love that. It’s so sweet. And I’ll take ANY scrap of 14 I can get, but 15 asking ‘how’s your uncle?’ really made me greedy for more. Couldn’t my girl Rose given like, even the smallest cute little anecdote? Like ‘oh, he’s really into gardening right now…’ or something? Gimme like, even the littlest bit. I neeeed it. But fine.

15’s outfits. I’ve loved all of the stuff they’ve put him in all season but HELLO that leather jacket and the cozy sweater he had on in the mish mash TARDIS? Gorgeous. Beautiful. I want to buy it right now.

Also, the mish mash TARDIS itself, and the little kiss 15 gives it at one point. Love all the random throwbacks inside that little thing even if I don’t know most of them because no, I never went back and watched the original seasons, so sue me. I’m pretty sure I spotted 11’s little scanner tv thing though, and I love that. I miss Matt Smith.

And the Doctor lashing out and punching the wall and huffing and puffing and screaming and then Mel giving him a kick in the ass. I’m going to keep talking about how I love that 15 is actually okay with showing his feelings, but I do think he got too lost in them. We all been there, boo. But like, you heard that sick TARDIS sound (that’s going to haunt my dreams) and you were just like ‘oh I’ve heard that before’? BOY you are so distracted.

Anyway, I’m vaguely aware there’s background on Sutekh that I should probably google if I want to fully understand the situation, but I’m not gonna do it. I accept that it’s the god of death and the doctor fought it once and banished it to the time vortex, but I have to say, I find the rest of the storyline a little bit weird. It hitched a ride on the TARDIS and traveled with the Doctor for basically untold amounts of time and no one ever noticed? And it’s appearance is NOT related to 14 casting that salt at the end of the universe, even though it was pretty clear that the rest of the random god appearances were?

I guess I’m willing to accept all of that, but gang. Here’s the thing. After all of that time traveling around and watching the Doctor do what he does (and admittedly trying to sabotage him by planting harbingers? I guess? Wherever they went?) you’re still not going to kill him right off when you finally hatch your plot? You KNOW he gets out of things. You know he literally gets out of everything. You’ve watched him wiggle his way out of shit because his adversaries have given him an inch but you’re like ‘it’s fine, that won’t be me, because I REALLY need to know who this random human’s mother is?’

Nah. Nah nah nah. Like, maybe if you had really tried to kill him and he got out of it, I’d be like, ‘okay fine’ but that death cloud was half-assed and they beat it on like, a moped.

If we’re going with real scary gods that have literally the power of basically everything, I’m gonna want their actions to make sense.

I also have to admit that when the Doctor was monologuing about how the whole thing was his fault, when he said about all of the things he’s done “I thought it was fun”, I found myself thinking about how he really has been playing a game of his own devising and maybe he…shouldn’t. And it felt like maybe he thought that, too. Like, when is it gonna be enough for him?

The point is, It’s super sweet that Ruby got to figure her shit out, they got me I cried at all of that, but the whole thing did feel a little disjointed to me. Which is fine, because now I’m sitting here like, ‘yo I need more’ but there isn’t more, not for forever, and clearly that’s how they get you. The arch wasn’t a cliff hanger really but also it kind of was and I’m unsatisfied. Maybe that’s the point.

And I do now agree with Tumblr that the most interesting thing in all of this is how 14 and Donna reacted to the death cloud, and their reconstitution, and the realization that Rose was at UNIT during the entire thing - that’s going to occupy my brain for a really long time.

At the end of the day, eight episodes was not enough. But I’m SO endeared to 15 and I love the direction the show is going, haters can hate all they want but Doctor Who was always weird and it was always for outcasts and it’s beautiful and stupid and silly and wonderful. Wonderful and perfectly imperfect.

Friends, this season came at a time I really needed it. I'm thankful it helped me through my forced work hiatus, it's part of the tapestry that kept me going. And that's the good that love does. Doctor Who, I love you.

#what g's watching #doctor who #dw spoilers #legend of ruby sunday #empire of death #fifteenth doctor #ruby sunday #sutekh #rose noble #fourteenth doctor

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victorluvsalice · 10 months ago

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VITD Sims Lookbook: Alice

And finally, with Victor and Smiler done, we finish off with some looks for our lovely Cutter, Alice!

Alice gets straight into the custom content with one of her everyday outfits, wearing the blue swatches of the 1890s Working Girl set by @vintagesimstress! And unlike the last time I showed her in this outfit, this time she has the apron overlay to go with it. XD Looks good on her AND gives her the proper working-class vibes!

For bedtime, Alice gets a pretty nightgown -- and much like Smiler, while they're not era-appropriate, I had to give Alice the cute bunny slippers too. XD What, we know she likes white rabbits! If I remember correctly, that nightgown is a dress that comes with the Cottage Garden Fan Stuff Pack made by @plumbobteasociety -- I thought it looked nice as nightwear for her.

For that semi-formal party everyone's going to, Alice gets a Realm of Magic top and skirt that make her look at least somewhat respectable. While I think the outfit as a whole is a little pale, I really wanted to use that top on her -- I think she looks good in it. And the skirt ended up working with it pretty well (which is good, because it took me ages to find one that actually went with the top. Some of this shit is HARD to match, let me tell you!).

And for a formal occasion -- well, unlike the boy and the non-binary person, Alice doesn't need to rely on CC here. Get Famous provides a beautiful Victorian dress for her to swan around in! (Though I should probably download a few for her anyway, for variety's sake -- or at least a couple of hats that might go well with this outfit. Head looks a little naked here!) She looks ready for a day in Brightstone, doesn't she?

Okay, admittedly I didn't intend this outfit as an athletic outfit, just another everyday one (though I suppose Alice COULD wear it for working out). And this Cats & Dogs dress is probably a little too modern to fit the proper BITD vibes. But I really like it for the simple reason the patchwork skirt looks like something Alice made herself -- finding and saving up scraps of fabric so she could have something else to wear besides her iconic striped blouse and black skirt. And you can't deny, it DOES look good on her!

And finally, for those chilly days, Alice gets in on the cozy vibes with a cherries-and-flowers theme -- the sweater (and I believe the skirt) is from Cottage Living, while the hat is a recolor created by Plumbella (from "illegally downloading clothes for my sims," in this SimFileShare folder (as you might imagine, it's the one called "beret")). She looks pretty comfy -- and those boots were definitely made for stomping around the streets in the snow and rain.

And that's that! Hope you enjoyed this look at what my VITD characters would probably wear in their universe. Next time (after Valicertine's Day), we're back to the Chill Valicer save for store shenanigans and magic shenanigans! See you then!

#sims 4 #cas looks #fashion #alice liddell #valicer in the dark au #I do find it amusing that Alice's outfit selection has the most CC in it #but she DIDN'T need a CC Victorian dress thanks to Get Famous #but yeah probably should get her some more Victorian dresses at some point #the main problem is that most of them are upper class dresses and she is not an upper class person #but a few fancier formal options would be good #really like the 1890s working girl set for her though thank you Vintage Simstress #and the patchwork dress is very cute on her #though maybe if I could find a separated skirt I could pair it up with a more era-appropriate top #and you've probably guessed that cherries hat is one of my favorites for her #which is why I was shocked to discover I DIDN'T have the download link at hand while making the post #I knew it was a Plumbella creation but it took me a while to track down the video where she made it #and from the the SimFileShare link where she shared it #like sheesh what the hell me #but then again I think I downloaded it before keeping better records of what was in my game #just glad to have the link now yay #might do another one of these at some point #still thinking about doing that VITD-inspired save file #so I want to make sure they all have plenty of clothes :p #queued

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thiscatgoesmoo · 5 months ago

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You know, I came across this post a couple days ago and I mostly agreed at the time, but after thinking about it a bit more, I'm skeptical.

I think you're giving the author too much credit here. The house elves are a deeply weird plot device that the series treats far too casually. We are shown that they are fully sentient creatures who are magically enslaved to their 'masters' from birth to death. They are so objectified that Walburga Black, a member of elite magical society, felt comfortable decapitating her elderly elves and displaying their taxidermied heads prominently in her home where presumably a lot of people would be in and out. Perhaps this a reference to american slave owners making wallets and lampshades from the skin of their slaves???

Regardless, presenting something bad without making it clear that it is a bad thing is reckless. Media literacy is hard for a lot of people, and some of the best people you know just have terrible opinions. Not condemning bad opinions/behavior, especially when held by characters the story has framed as good, amounts treating their behavior/opinions as normal and perhaps acceptable. This is especially relevant considering where jk rowling's politics have ended up.

At the very least, the text could have made Harry deeply uncomfortable with accepting things made with house elf labor, or had him verbally tell the adults in his life that they're wrong to dismiss Hermione and the house elves situation at large.

I also completely disagree with this characterization of Hermione's activism. What could the elves possibly say to justify their own subjugation? They have literally known no other life, and were completely unwilling to engage with Hermione when she tried to discuss it with them. It is not paternalistic to say that slavery is bad and that everyone deserves to have agency in their life. If Hermione is a white savior, it is because jk rowling did not set up an elf to fight for the rights of their kind to be free. Making Hermione a house elf advocate in the Ministry wouldn't change that.

Let us be clear though, slavery is objectively immoral and has no cultural value whatsoever. Trying to argue that it is in the elves nature to serve is bioessentialist bullshit -which jk rowling is admittedly fond of- and ignores the intense socialization of the elves to this life as well as the massive difference in power between the main characters who believe this and the house elves they benefit from.

If Hermione's silly attempt at freeing elves with the knitware prevented even one elf from being born into bondage, it would have been a net good.

Considering house elves are bound by a magical enchantement, freeing them wouldn't even necessarily have to upend their lives. House elves wouldn't have to accept wages if they didn't want to. They could still willingly serve in households or at hogwarts, but they could not be beaten or compelled to act against their will. They could leave if they wanted to.

The fact that the lesson Hermione learns is that change is only possible through cooperation with the system is kind of a tragedy. The system owns the elves. Why would the powerful change anything with regards to their rights over their slaves?

Frankly, after the war everyone just fought, the system should be dead. Disband the wizengamot and set up democratic elections. Start from the ground up, and cement comprehensive protections/freedoms for all magical beings into the fabric of the new government. Its not enough to make Kingsley minister and have Potter/Weasley run the aurors. The system itself is the problem and they've been handed a golden opportunity to scrap it altogether and build a new one.

Also, maybe stop hiding the existence of magic from muggles. Yes, I know that is an international agreement but it's fucked up.

what do you make of house elves being better off left slaves because they wanted to be? it made me feel weird that there was a species MEANT to be slaves.

but that’s not canon at all.

a lot of people believed this throughout the series, including sympathetic and wise characters like Hagrid, but they were wrong. Rowling lets good people be wrong and doesn’t chastise them in the text for it. She doesn’t bother spoon feeding readers social justice, but the message that “even good people can condone awful things” is one of the strongest themes of the story. the house elf situation is a perfect example of why you can’t just read the surface text of Harry Potter and assume the author is speaking through the characters when they say slaves love being slaves and change the subject.

like, look at hermione’s SJW phase. the surface read on that? she tried to fix something that wasn’t broken, and she failed hilariously and gave up because nobody cared, even the elves.

except no. she was right about house elves. ideologically, she was seeing something Wizard culture was blind to, and she was 100% right.

but in her SJW phase, she wanted to fix this enormous and culturally accepted horror by trying to force the house elves to make choices that conformed to her notion of what was best for them.

she tried to free elves without their consent, she lectured them about their situation from her position of almost total ignorance, she ignored their wishes at every turn, and she tried to control their liberation and make it be on her terms, and it didn’t work. time and again, no one listened. humans didn’t really mind having slaves, it turns out, and because the house elves she met had never known anything but a world where their lot is servitude, why should they give a fuck about a 14 year old human child’s notion of social justice? she expected the world to change on the strength of her moral outrage, and she failed utterly

this storyline was not meant to impart the message that Hermione was wrong all along. it was meant to represent the vast chasm between meaning well and doing well. even very clever, kind people fuck up a whole lot, and there’s no one cleverer or more kind than Hermione Granger to demonstrate this point.

of course the house elves don’t want to be freed! they’d been abused, degraded and indoctrinated to see “freedom” as a threat. being good at servitude is the only value they’ve ever been permitted to hold since birth! a choice between this familiar, unhappy servitude and the shame of being cast out into the world with no skills, no friends, and no support system is not a choice most people could ever make.

Hermione was instructing victims to stop being victimized on her say-so, and she was offended when they didn’t jump at the chance to throw out what little safety they could count on in life in favor of a freedom that was basically meaningless to them.

She didn’t learn some shitty moral lesson about how house elves are better off as slaves. she learned that paternalism and a massive savior complex are terrible reasons to start a movement. she learned that putting the burden of changing systematic injustice on the oppressed and superimposing your own cultural beliefs on them with no regard for their own feelings is insulting and degrading.

she learned that absolutely everyone will tell you to fuck off if you pull condescending SJW shit on them, even if it’s in their best interests to do what you want them to do.

and Hermione took this lesson with her when she finished school. she became a House Elf advocate within the Ministry. She used her influence and power to enter the system and stop the fuckery from the human side instead of telling slaves to stop being so slavey and being annoyed when they stayed oppressed.

you think a genius like Hermione Granger couldn’t figure out with a little bit of experience that systemic change has to come from within the ranks of the powerful? man, not even.

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kyrodo · 6 months ago

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The loneliest star shines the brightest. I spend a lot of time musing over things I post, especially content I made or got commission'd, like gameplay art or music. I used to and still to some degree get upset or frustrated that I can't seem to get any views or recognition over virtually anything. The only exception so far has been the flute art by Hyrika. I lack the public speaking ability to want to be an interactive streamer or a YouTuber that actually talks to the audience but I also desire even a fraction of the amount of views a casual poster would often get.

But to some degree a lot of it is lone self admiration. A narcissistic appraisal of myself that I am always hoping anyone else would share with me. Because I see those small channels I've subscribed to that have anywhere between a few dozen to a 100+ views on some videos, hardly doing much more than I do and I can't even hit the triple digits on anything. I only ever get my feet wet when it comes to content creation but the lack of feedback sometimes leads me to doubt myself or wonder if I even made anything good.

And I always blame it on my social ineptitude. I hardly start conversations let alone continue them. I choke up whenever I get nervous and it happens so easily. I even had a hard time interacting with my own friend chat without getting a heart attack. At least until Discordant Discourse. At least until I started building my own circle instead of constantly relying on Red's. Especially given he's a 100x more antisocial than he used to be.

While I regret the actions I took going after a rando crush for my first attempt at outside interaction without Red's help, vrchat was my saving grace. No more days of being awkward and subtexting on Twitter, and my social attempts are successes far more often than not. Just tonight I got invited to yet another discord server within the same week.

That said I still get a bit frustrated when there's engagement on what other people show and next to nothing on mine, even in my groups. As many friends as I've made near and far, that part never seems to change. I am more upset at myself for caring about things that trivial but at least I am able to recognize as much. I didn't woo Choskey with things I've shown off. It was time we spent together having fun that did that.

But that is admittedly why my character's eyes shine so strongly. I simply seek attention. I seek admiration. I seek simple joys like people saying they like what I did or what I've been working on. And because of that I seek a cool flaming beauty in my own artistic self expression. I seeked it enough to cause drama when everything else fails. The amount of traffic I get is so close to non-existent that I always feel like I'm lacking whatever it is I need to make me likeable. So much so that whenever I got views on FA I always assumed it was because of my stalker and not actual people viewing my page or content. Because who else would actually give a shit. Since when do regular people care what I post. The pull of self-doubt often got me to do things like threaten to delete my account or put things in scraps.

I try to steer clear of that now. I find comfort in how easy it has been for me to make friends in vrchat. So much so that such things don't bother me nearly as much as they used to. But nothing stops me from wanting to shine as brightly as I can.

I no longer need to act out against my fate. Because I finally found a way around the challenges that matter.

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goboymusic · 2 years ago

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It’s Thursday. #Joker is one of my favorite films of all time. The only thing that I didn’t like about the ending is that Joker is still sort of a dunce, rather than the genius criminal mastermind that we know that character to be. All that I want to see from a sequel is the character’s transformation from a dunce to the genius criminal mastermind that we all expect. If @toddphilips can make the first film’s transformation believable, from unstable outcast with some intense neurological disorders to psychopathic clown idolized by the criminals of the city he inhabited, I have no doubt he could do the same with the 2nd transformation. Joker is off his meds for the first time in what, forever? Maybe his unmedicated mind could lead to clarity and foresight that he never knew he had.

Human vs #AI. Biology vs #technology. Last one standing. That’s “Fire on Metal.”

This is what I call a “screw-up song.” Some songs fall apart during the mixing phase because I’m simply unable to get certain segments of the song to sound good enough to release, no matter what I try. Oftentimes it has to do with the low quality of a particular recording, or I just don’t have the right voice for a particular vocal melody. “Garbage in, garbage out” kinda thing. Instead of scrapping the song entirely, the segments that aren’t working are removed, and the segments that are working are expanded upon, resulting in a perfectly releasable “screw-up song.” “Don’t (Song 121)” is the most recent of these types of songs.

The original chorus, which repeated the lyrics “stronger than the ocean, computer emotion,” wasn’t working out, so it was scrapped. This was a period of time where I was only spending a week on each song, so adding a few extra days to come up with a new chorus would have crossed the line.

This is GoBoy’s SUPER minimalistic phase, which was deliberately moved away from for GoBoy 5, and more so for GoBoy 6 and 7. Some will be turned off by the simplicity of GoBoy 4 songs.

“Nightcall” by Kavinsky teaches us that the verses of a song can be identical (essentially copied and pasted) and people won’t notice as long as they’re spaced far enough apart and the song is catchy enough. It took about 10 or so streams of “Nightcall” before I realized that the verses are identical. This idea of having identical verses (with maybe a tiny bit of variation) would be utilized for this song and more on GoBoy 4, 6 and 7, the most recent being “Don’t (Song 121)” (excerpts from post 56).

The only difference between the verses in “Fire on Metal” is the addition of a snare drum in the 2nd verse.

After dabbling in bubblegum pop for the 2nd half of GoBoy 3, my original plan was to focus on lyrically driven content for GoBoy 4. The release of ”Everything Will Be Okay (Song 69)” changed my mind, as the focus on dark lyrics impacted my mental state for months afterwards. Focusing on the dark elements of your own life for long enough can turn you into a neurotic mess (the original song “Everything Will Be Okay” had a 3rd verse the delved darker). My focus would shift to bubblegum pop from that point forward, which would impact this song. Music would be made for enjoyment and catchiness, not necessarily for conveying a message. I don’t regret this shift in focus… yet (excerpts from post 60).

In April, 2021, almost all of GoBoy 3, 4 and 5‘s songs were restructured to be under 3 minutes (preferably under 2m 30s), including this song. In an attempt to increase replay value in this streaming era, most of GoBoy’s songs are now purposely around 2m 20s (excerpts from post 38).

A bass boost was added to songs 37-99 in Nov, 2021, while I was stuck at home with covid. As a result, this song feels more powerful. The bass boost isn’t a simple plugin nonchalantly added to each song. It’s a process that took about 3.5 hours per song, or one whole month to complete all songs. Admittedly, I pushed the bass boost a little too far for some of them. The bass in some songs sounds like a freaking earthquake (unnecessarily pronounced low frequencies 20 - 50 Hz). Might dial that back someday. The bass boost was also applied to every song on GoBoy 6 and beyond (excerpt from post 37).

#GoBoy #Fire #Metal #65

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years ago

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Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes.

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven.

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something.

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating.

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated.

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?”

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances.

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals.

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.”

He huffs a little.

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead.

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge.

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates.

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well.

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human.

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!"

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes.

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head.

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.”

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now.

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open.

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut.

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.”

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #werewolf!jungkook #bts werewolf au #jungkook imagine #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanheadquarters #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

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lamentingwclf · 9 months ago

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It is admittedly possible he's being facetious about the weapon. But at the same time, he's 107, and has spent 90 years going from one fight to the next. He could argue that he's had enough curiosity to last three life times, but it would be a lie. Bucky does still rush head first into things he finds interesting - but weaponry is low on the list. There is one simple fact he's learned in his time being a living, thinking, being and from working an assembly line in a prisoner of war camp building things exactly like this: where there is one, there is more. This is not a prototype to be trusted with just any street goon that's going to find and pick a fight.

It looks standard issued. An every day carry. What it was lacking, likely, was a valid test subject. Bucky suspects that the goal of today was to see if it worked.

"They might." he concedes, "But only so the design doesn't fall into someone else's hands." He's abruptly stopped walking, and watching her face carefully. He might have been flippant, but he could tell it was still troubling her. Bucky holds out a hand for her to wait, and retraces their steps until he collects both parts of the rod and comes back. One half is presented to her, the other he starts tinkering with immediately, prodding at the small parts with the tip of a Vibranium finger. "It's not worth scrapping, some of the materials are cheap, which means it's been set for mass production."

After it slips, he realizes it was a thought he maybe should have kept to himself, and winces.

But he's walking again, towards the edge of the alley, "What never ceases to amaze me is that someone somewhere likely argued this to be a good thing - and they likely played on fear - " He does not say of her powers specifically, but it is a point that could be logically drawn. Men fear what they do not understand, and will always take a chance on a method of control, even if it's something that will hurt or have a negative outcome. " - to get approval and resources. We could probably track it, if you want to. There's bound to be some brand or mark that tells us who made it."

It is a decision he will leave entirely in her hands, and after walking another block, he sees a diner that's relatively empty and normal looking. He holds the door for her, following inside to the strong scent of coffee and maple syrup. It is all cracked turquoise vinyl and sticky plastic tables, with a record playing in the back playing some tune anyone would recognize, but him. Bucky leaves his jacket and gloves on when they slide into a booth towards the back, and his eyes are glued to the photos that line the wall, as if he could absorb them and take the memories from them.

The waitress is ignored, except to order coffee, and when she walks away, he puts the handle of the rod on the table and fishes for a small tool kit from the inside pocket of his jacket. This is a reflection of the inquisitiveness that is innate in Bucky Barnes. The desire to take things apart and put them back together until he knows how they work. That dragged him to science fairs, and created a voracious hunger of knowledge. It was tainted now, darker, because it wasn't simply just a desire to know anymore. But a way to combat, to soothe the mind. The more you knew, the less there was to be afraid of.

Finally, after a few moments, he sits back, arms folded, brow knit. "I don't like it." Code for, I don't understand it. "Unless the purpose is to shut down the nature pathways of energy flow in the body. I don't know how it would do it without permanent damage." Shaking his head, he puts everything back away or beside him on the booth, and pulls his forgotten beverage towards him.

Without the distraction, he's aware of the way their long legs knit together beneath the booth, and the bruising starting on her cheek. "What are you going to do," He asks suddenly, wanting to sate another curiosity. "When the fighting is done. Where are you going to go?"

Her lips came together, pressed together, as she tried to resist the amused smirk at his ‘bow’ - it was probably a failed effort. With a good natured roll of her eyes the witch glanced away before looking back with curiosity at the snap of the weapon. He didn’t want to take it? Didn’t people always want to investigate such things? To ‘improve’ on what came before or test true power. But to think he’d want to do such a thing was being unfair to him… and honestly, despite the weapon not having been used, there was a sense of relief to have it broken. Wanda’s power was something that did need explored but she was learning and investigating in her own way. It was scary it was powerful, but it made up part of who she was. A weapon like that was— not something she wished to think of.

She drove her mind away from thoughts of the scattered rod, unsure where the road would take her if she stayed on such a topic. It was gone, and she was grateful for his intervention in that matter.

Wanda arched one brow, not bothering to hide her smirk now. Constructive criticism was it? Let’s just where Bucky decided to go with that then. There was a soft huff of air, amusement building. …alright, so she couldn’t argue with that. “Time and place for everything, right?” Wanda gave a shrug, “I know where the line is. It’s just…” she paused as if searching for the word, “…interesting to push buttons? Seems we share that smart mouth trait though.” She was joking, mostly. Wanda had had to learn CONTROL when her powers came in to play. The destruction they could cause (had caused) was rather terrifying, and with her magic an innate part of her they were tied to her emotions. Control was key. However, it was tough when you were an emotional person, and Bucky might be partly joking with his words but it was true. Saying she had a smart mouth was putting it lightly, especially if she was annoyed.

But, hey, some things maybe needed to be said. Someone had to call people out on bullshit (though no one had said it had to her doing the calling out).

Still, joke or not, Wanda was grateful for how smoothly it was to fall into conversation with him. How comfortable it was. Bucky was still an enigma in many ways. It wasn’t a scientific curiosity - she was sure he’d experienced that clinical, cold intrigue from others before. Wanda had, too. People pushing them and pressing them for their own benefit. She wouldn’t deny wanting to learn more, but she had to admit to herself that it did often come from… from the sheer desire to be around him. She enjoyed his company, it was a simple as that.

No, it could probably be put even simpler. Wanda liked him.

She wasn’t going to put money on it, but considering everything, she thought he liked her. Still— she wasn’t going to call him out on anything. No. This was still nice. And she was enjoying learning more. Even if he often frustrated her incredibly - but she had found those closer to you tended to invoke stronger emotions at both ends of the scale. And the frustration was often born of concern.

His words caused her to roll her eyes once more and the start of a smile appearing, before she set off after him - and no, she wasn’t going to run to catch up. She glanced at one half of the weapon, the rod scattered on the ground and then quickened her pace a touch.

“If you’ve not already decided where to, I could do with something to eat or drink,” she piped up, almost sheepishly. Truthfully, the fight hadn’t been too bad but she was still pushing and learning the limits of her energy and stamina. Rest of any kind just seemed sensible, too, right? “I’m fine, just tired,” she added, falling into pace perhaps slightly behind him. A soft sigh, hand running through her hair - and a silent wish to herself she was better at doing this. Better with energy reserves, better at keeping up.

She glanced back, just briefly, then looked to him, “Broken or not, someone’s gonna come get that weapon. Aren’t they?” Okay. Maybe she’d not driven it as far from her mind as she had hoped. More than needing food or drink, what she wanted was just to be away.

#writteninscarlet #r : ll it's us against consensus #queue

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mysticsparklewings · 2 years ago

Photo

My Decadent Romance

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Happy 20th Birthday to My Chemical Romance’s I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love! 🥳

Also sorta Happy Birthday to the band, as it was their first album release. 🎉

AND Happy belated National Ice Cream Day, which was July 17th—Hence my dessert mashup.🍦

I did a similar thing for Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge’s Birthday in June, & while I didn’t plan to do it again, when I noticed the dates this month I couldn’t help myself.😋

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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I really hadn’t intended on following up on My Delectable Romance. It seemed very much like a one-time thing since it was, in my mind, unlikely that something like National Donut Day and a My Chemical Romance album anniversary would come mere days apart again. Yet here I am a month later. 😂 As it turns out, July 17th was National Ice Cream Day, and My Chemical Romance has another album anniversary (this time for their first: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love) today, July 23rd. Once again, exactly 5 days apart. 😃 I had so much fun last time I felt like I had to at least try and see where this one might take me. [And to be fair, yes, I did originally want to post this on Sunday but I finished it a little too late in the day so I held it back 'til today.] Fellow MCR fans can probably recognize without a word from me that this one was trickier. Bullets’ album cover is the most abstract among the main 4 they released, and quite possibly in their whole discography, too. The only 100% solid imagery is the silhouette of Harry Houdini dangling from his feet in the background (And yes, that is officially who/what that is if you were previously unaware like I was for quite a while after I became a fan!) The rest is a cacophony of maroons and yellow-orange. Still, even if I ended up hating what I came up with and scrapped the project, I wanted to give it a good honest try. And odd as it is, when I really stared at the official artwork, I could just make out a spot in the center where the shapes and colors could, in another universe, look like a hyperrealistic ice cream cone with a drizzle of chocolate syrup or hot fudge. I won’t deny for a second that if I hadn’t had the thought of ice cream in my head I never would have seen it and I’m 200% sure there is no hidden picture of ice cream there—This is simply the magic of the human psyche at play. But it was just what I needed, so I ran with it. 😉 I did my best to bring out what I saw, but admittedly even after significant tweaking, it’s still not 1:1 with what I could see in the original with my imagination. If I had another month to stare and tweak, maybe I could get closer, but that’s not the reality that we live in. 😅 So for the here and now, my hope is simply I managed to bring out what I could see enough that you Sparklers can see a definite ice cream cone and not just a blurry somehow-different-than-the-original mess. My process for this one was actually closer to what I did with Ghosts of Snow and Sun since I was using a mixture of faux oil and acrylic brushes in Procreate, doing lots of back and forth with the layers, etc. There was way more focus on blending here than there was with My Delectable Romance since my basis was more abstract. Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge’s cover still has abstract elements, but the main focus is definitely more graphic and solid in nature. Still, after I’d made decent headway on the ice cream center point, I could start on what I think is my favorite part of the final piece—That ice cream scooper where Houdini should be. 😂 I am so glad that idea popped into my head and I kept pushing until I found the right reference image because I think it ended up working so well! 😋 If you’re having trouble picturing it, this is the kind of ice cream scoop I was going for, as opposed to the simpler kind you’re more likely to have in your kitchen. I specifically wanted the more industrial feel since I thought it mimicked the texture and spirit of the Houdini silhouette better, even though the simple kind probably would’ve matched the general *shape* more closely. Though, contrary to the two points I just made: I actually brought back the sprinkle brush I originally used for Words that Kiss Day 19 where you can see it. Last time [My Delectable Romance, I mean] I used it to fill in the base background, and then just free-handed the clear visible sprinkles at the end. I’m not sure exactly why, but this time, early on I knew the sprinkles probably wouldn’t cut it for the background. Then when I got to the “topping” sprinkles [pun fully intended], I tried to free-hand a few, but it just felt wrong. So I tried the brush on a whim, and this time it feels right to me. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️ The text…Well, the visual style was pretty simple since I already had the right font installed from past MCR projects and I just needed to add a little extra grunge to the edges and a shadow to make it look closer to the official art. The issue there was just figuring out what the text should say. Last time it was easy because “Sweet Revenge” was already in the title and right on the money. “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love,” really can’t be twisted to relate to sweets or even food in general with the same ease. I went through a couple of other variations—“I Brought You My Bowl, You Brought Me A Scoop/Spoon” or “I Brought You My Hunger, You Brought Me a Cone.” The bowl variation I came up with before I’d started on the artwork proper and had scribbled a 2-minute sketch in one of my IRL books so I’d remember the idea, so before I figured out the final art would use a cone and not a bowl for the ice cream. The original line, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love,” has such a poignancy to it; The narrator has something volatile and dangerous, and they are given love as a response. It’s hard to convey the same message while talking about ice cream, so I settled on the classic stereotype of a person eating ice cream/sweets when they’re upset. You come to your friend or lover sad, they offer to take you out for ice cream, that sort of thing. This won out among my options since there’s a song on the album, Our Lady of Sorrows, and there was a demo version released for that song titled Knives/Sorrow. It's not "right on the money" in the same way, but it did feel like it was sitting right there. And I changed the second “brought” to “bought” for the simple reason that if you give someone ice cream in a cone, especially the pointy-end kind, it’s more likely you bought the whole thing—cone, ice cream and all—from a shop on the corner, as opposed to buying the cone and ice cream separately at a big box store and preparing it yourself. It’s a veeeeeeeery subtle implication of “small-time business with a lot of care into the final product,” and that’s definitely what MCR was back when Bullets was first released. To say they’ve come a long way since then is an understatement, and somehow they managed to add more care instead of taking it away like so many other bands do when they “make it.” Oh, and one more text/word-related thing: I learned when double-checking my spelling on the title that while “Decadent” is used to mean a rich, luxurious dessert, it also means “characterized by or reflecting a state of moral or cultural decline.” Until today, I only ever knew of the dessert usage, but I am fascinated by the duality the word apparently has, and I find it incredibly fitting for MCR. 😊

So, like last time we’re left with this art that is, at its core, very silly, but it was fun to make and I’m glad I listened to that little voice in my head pushing me to just try it. 👍 Will we see the other two albums is silly dessert forms like this? I don’t know. It really depends…Not necessarily on if other dessert-related days come out around their anniversaries, though that would be a particularly good motivator. I think the fact I got 2 almost in a row was lucky enough 😆. Rather now it hinges more on if I can think of two more dessert-ish ideas that would work for them both…and remember their release dates in time. 😅 Either way, I can tell you guys I’ve already got some other non-dessert-ish MCR art waiting in the wings for the right time. (August, if things go according to plan 😉) So hopefully that’ll be something for you to look forward to while I get back to…other things... 👀

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Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings

I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love and associated concepts © My Chemical Romance

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

#mychemicalromance #mcr #mychem #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #bullets #20yearsofbullets #national ice cream day #ice cream #parody #fanart #killjoys #mcrmy #photoshop #procreate #xxmysticwingsxx #mysticsparklewings #abstract #digital painting

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years ago

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love and revolution

Magnus was intently working on a bookshelf. It was made of a beautiful, dark mahogany and, upon the request of the customer, was going to have dozens of birds carved into the sides and edges. He began sanding the shelves with a fine grit sandpaper. For a while, the only sound in the Hammer and Tongs was the soft, repetitive noise of wood being worn down.

The calm monotony was broken when the front door creaked open. Magnus looked up and grinned at the entrant; Julia Waxman, loaded down with bags from various merchants in town, had returned, the last dregs of the late afternoon sun trailing in after her. The sharp bite in the air let everyone know winter was just around the corner.

Magnus quickly stood up to relieve Julia of her burden She smiled and handed him half the bags in her arms. As the pair got to work unloading the bags, Magnus frowned. Everything Julia had brought home was either small, poor quality, or about to turn.

“This is what everyone had. Season’s been tough for farming and everyone’s raising prices to keep up with Kalen’s tariffs,” Julia said before Magnus could comment. She inspected the hard loaf of bread she’d been able to grab.

Magnus shook his head. For nearly a year, Governor Kalen and his cronies had been enacting increasingly harsh laws, oppressive curfews, and predatory taxes; the citizens of Raven’s Roost all felt the firm pressure of Kalen’s fine leather boots on the neck of their economy and of their freedom.

“How is everyone doing?”

Julia shrugged. “They’re all doing as well as they can. The Silverstrings are worried because their wheat harvest was half as fruitful this year as it was last year and a good portion of what grew was seized by Kalen.”

“Lucatiel?”

“His wool has largely been commandeered by Kalen. He hopes to be able to shear another large batch before winter hits in earnest but he’s uncertain.”

“And Therala?”

“Her herd’s dwindling. Most of the calves from this past spring either died or –“

“Were taken by Kalen and his pals. Right. Jules, how does he keep getting away with this?”

Julia laughed sharply and started putting some of the dry goods in the storage closet in the back of the shop. “Magnus, that’s just how things have always been here. For a while, anyway.”

“But how’d he even get into power in the first place?” There was nothing but pure astonishment in his voice. In the five years he’d lived in Raven’s Roost, he’d never quite been able to comprehend how someone so ruthless could have gotten the trust of the town; his friends and neighbors were good, honest folks and good judges of character. It made no sense to Magnus.

She puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. “He helped form Raven’s Roost into a proper town. We used to be vulnerable to bandits and those who sought to cause pain. He was stern but that kept us in shape. He used to be better. Genuinely. Not good, not at all, but not like this. His policies were never quite this harsh. I suppose he’s gotten greedy.”

“It’s senseless for him to dig this deep this quickly. If it continues like this, I don’t know that the town is going to last much longer.”

Julia said nothing. She knew Magnus was right but what was to be done about it? The two continued to unpack and put away items in silence.

“Papa won’t talk to me about how business is going here. Said he doesn’t want me to worry about things. How are we doing?” Julia looked at Magnus seriously.

He hesitated. Steven had specifically asked him to not discuss the business with Julia but when he saw her in front of him, firm hands anxiously picking at a sliver on the table, he found it hard to deny her.

“We’ve done better. I’m sure you’re aware the craftsmen corridor has been hit pretty hard by all the tariffs. Not only can we hardly afford to replace the tools and materials we need but the rest of the town can’t exactly afford our wares. We get the occasional customers,” he gestured to the bookshelf he’d been working on. “But we’re not doing great.”

Julia nodded and looked down. “That’s not exactly reassuring. But thanks for telling me.”

“Of course. Just don’t tell your dad I said anything,” he said sheepishly.

“Deal,” she said, glancing back at him with a smile.

Magnus sat on a bench outside the Hammer and Tongs and stared up at the moons. His teeth were chattering quietly but he wasn’t quite ready to turn in for the night. Isaiah Erksine, Kalen’s right-hand man, had distributed yet another list of tariffs and regulations to all the shops in Raven’s Roost earlier in the day. They were unconscionable; taxes and levies on every single scrap of material you could think of. Harsher curfews that made it nearly impossible for those in the craftsmen corridor to do much else besides make goods that nobody could afford. It was like the very essence of life was slowly being choked out of the town. Or, at the very least, the spirit of its inhabitants.

Magnus’s ruminative spiral was broken when he felt a thick, scratchy blanket draped over his shoulders. He glanced up and smiled; Julia, dressed far more sensibly than Magnus, darted a hand back through the doorway. In a moment, Magnus’s hands were wrapped around a piping hot mug of mint tea. Admittedly, the drink was more water than tea, but he drank it appreciatively.

“You seem troubled,” Julia mused, sipping from her own chipped mug.

“I am, Julia.” He confirmed, scooting over to make room on the bench. Julia mulled it over for a minute before sitting down. Heat was radiating off her like a fire and it took everything in Magnus to not immediately wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Though he did scoot a little closer. You know, to keep warm.

“I’d like to think that we could go a single week without tax hikes but it’s seeming more and more like a pipe dream,” she said flatly. “I hate this. I’ve lived among these people for as long as I can remember. Raven’s Roost is my home. When I was a little girl, I always used to think dream about the day that I’d get to raise my own family here. It felt like such a safe and warm place. And now…” She glanced at Magnus before she looked to the sky. “Now most days I feel like things might be easier if I just go somewhere else. And I don’t want that. I want to stay. I want to want to stay. I just don’t know that there’s going to be anything to stay for if this keeps up.”

“I want there to be something here for you,” Magnus murmured quietly, looking at Julia’s profile in the moonlight.

“Magnus, believe me, I don’t want to leave my home. I don’t want to leave –“ She looked at Magnus from the corner of her eye. “I don’t want to leave the people here. I just don’t think I can keep living under Kalen.”

“What if we don’t have to?” The words escaped Magnus’s mouth before he could even make sense of them himself.

Julia lurched and turned to look at Magnus, bewildered. “I’m sorry?”

Magnus had a choice. He could have easily retracted his statement. He could have laughed it off. But instead of thinking it over for any amount of time, he doubled down. “What if we don’t have to keep living under Kalen? What if we could still live here, in Raven’s Roost, but without that tyrant?”

Julia looked around before scooting closer to Magnus, their wind-chapped noses nearly touching. “Are you suggesting…” she took a breath, as though to steel herself. “Are you suggesting a revolt?”

Magnus could barely focus on the question with Julia this close to him. “I-I think I am,” his voice was near silent.

Julia nodded. “Okay. How’re we going to do this?”

Watery winter light did its best to penetrate the frost coated windows of the Hammer and Tongs. Magnus was idly whittling a piece of scrap wood. There weren’t any orders to work on and Candlenights was right around the corner; he figured he could fashion something homemade for both Julia and Steven.

His pocketknife nearly went flying out of his hand when the door of the shop burst open, startling him out of his focus. Standing in the doorway was a young earth genasi he recognized from town. He looked frantic and near tears. Magnus set his project down.

“Hey, Allura, what’s the matter?” Magnus asked, inviting the young man inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Magnus, it’s my dad,” Allura choked out. He looked gaunt and miserable; Magnus thought back to a few months ago when the entire Mountaindeep family came into the Hammer and Tongs, jovially talking about commissioning a crib, as a new baby was on the way. Allura, a kid all of fifteen, had chattered to him for ten minutes about how excited he was to become a big brother. He looked decidedly less excited in that moment.

“What happened?”

“W-we couldn’t pay the tariffs. My dad has been charging everyone half price. H-he said he couldn’t hike the prices up, it wasn’t right. And we couldn’t… Kalen took him away!” he cried, bordering on hysterical.

“Allura, buddy, you gotta breathe, okay? What do you mean Kalen took him?” Magnus led him to a chair.

“H-he hauled him off to the prison and I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him and my m-mom’s giving birth soon and I can’t help with that, I don’t know how,” He managed to get out, hiccupping between every few words, too distraught to calm down.

“Julia!” Magnus called up the staircase in the back of the shop. He had to get this kid to stop crying so he could get the full story and Julia tended to have a calming presence on, well, everyone.

In a moment, she appeared at the bottom of the stairs and sent Magnus a confused look. He nodded towards the crying teenager as explanation.

Julia rushed over, knelt down, and took Allura’s face in her thick hands. “Hey, hon, can you breathe with me?” she cooed gently. And for a few minutes, the shop was silent, save for Julia counting breaths for Allura.

“Can we hear the story again, bud?” Magnus asked quietly after a few moments.

Allura nodded and sniffled. “You guys know that Kalen raised the tariffs. Again. Um. My dad decided to slash his prices, not raise them to keep up. Said he couldn’t. He’s a big follower of Helm and he said it wasn’t right to keep medicines behind a steep price. He just wanted to help people. But Kalen came collecting today and he took my dad. And it’s not just him. He took Mr. Anvilrock and Sevara Mountainwillow and a few other people. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to them,” he said, his voice small and scared.

Magnus and Julia exchanged a look. She sent him a nod and turned back to Allura. “Okay. Thank you for telling us. Do you think that you can do us a favor?”

Allura furrowed his brow but nodded cautiously.

“Go around to the others in the craftsmen corridor and tell them to meet at the Hammer and Tongs tomorrow night? Just tell them it’s really important that everyone come. And if Kalen or his buddies ask you about it, be as vague as you can.” Magnus said seriously.

“If you’re asked about it, say that I’m teaching everyone how to patch their own clothes since Masden had to close down shop. ” Julia offered.

“But what about the curfew?” Allura asked, voice meek and eyes rimmed with red.

Magnus thought for a moment. “Tell everyone that we might have a way to keep us from having to worry about curfew ever again. I just need everyone to trust me.”

“I think I can do that.” Allura said, rising from the chair.

Julia patted him on the shoulder and slipped a gold piece into his hand. Before he could protest, she held her hand up and shooed him out the door.

Magnus rubbed his face for a moment. “Something’s gotta give, Jules.”

Julia reached a tentative hand out to squeeze Magnus’s hand quickly. “After tomorrow, I think something will. I hope.”

“Can either of you tell me why three separate people assured me that they’d do their best to make it to the shop tonight when I stopped in town a little bit ago?” Steven asked from the kitchen table.

Julia avoided her father’s gaze, busying herself with prepping tea instead.

Magnus focused intently on cracking eggs without getting any bits of shell in the bowl. He quickly whisked them together and held off on adding any salt or pepper to the mixture before setting them in the skillet. That was a little tip he picked up from—he thought for a moment—well, from his moms, he supposed. Apparently kept the egg from getting tough or something. He wasn’t really sure what that meant but followed the rule without fail. Made for good eggs, anyway.

“Am I just meant to be okay with the two of you encouraging our friends and neighbors to break the law to come over for a late-night chat?” A stern edge crept into Steven’s voice.

“Steven, we just wanted to have a meeting with the other craftsmen.”

“About what? What’s so important that it requires possibly getting some good people thrown in jail?”

“People are already getting thrown in jail!” Magnus protested. “Allura Mountaindeep came crying in here yesterday. His dad’s in prison, along with a handful of others who couldn’t pay. I just…Steven, you don’t have to agree with what we’re doing but you have to understand. I can’t keep sitting by and watch the town and people I love be beaten down by some big bully.”

Magnus returned his gaze to the eggs. The silence in the kitchen was broken by the teakettle’s shrill whistle.

“We have a plan. And hell, after tonight, it might not even be anything. But Papa, aren’t you tired of struggling? You can be as stoic as you like but I know the truth. This isn’t the life we should all be living. We should be able to have some shred of hope for a future that could matter. A future that isn’t just toiling until we die.” Julia stared at her father as she moved the kettle from the flame.

Steven stared back for a moment before glancing back at Magnus. He let out a sigh. “We can have the meeting but everyone is out before moonrise.”

Magnus and Julia smiled wide.

“Deal.” Magnus said, dividing the eggs between the three plates.

A hush fell over the group of craftmakers who all crammed into the Hammer and Tongs. It was a tight fit but it appeared that most of the corridor had managed to make the meeting. The sun had long since set, leaving only the meekest dregs of light hanging in the sky; moonrise was due in less than an hour. Magnus knew he had to make the meeting quick.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard of the few imprisonments that have come about as a result of Kalen’s new tariffs.” Magnus began, bouncing his gaze across those gathered in the shop.

A grumble of acknowledgement reverberated through the dense crowd.

“And I’m sure you all know that any of us could be subject to the same treatment just for being at this meeting.”

More noises of agreement bubbled up in the crowd.

“Then I’ll make it quick and worth your risk. I hate seeing Raven’s Roost like this. I know in my bones it could be better if things were different. I hate seeing everyone beaten down by these laws. I hate seeing Kalen’s friends allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and never see any kind of repercussions for it. I’m sick of seeing people starving in the streets. Sick of seeing families torn apart because one of them had the audacity to be a kind person. I want Raven’s Roost to be a flourishing place.” He glanced over to Julia and pink stained his cheeks. “I want to be able to raise a family here. I want to want that. But as it stands, I don’t know that I can imagine a future for Raven’s Roost. I don’t know how many of us can last like this for much longer.”

“And what exactly are you proposing we do about it?” Hector Anvilrock, another metalworker in town, demanded.

“We’re proposing a revolution.” Magnus said simply.

The shop erupted in conversation. It began civil enough but quickly devolved into name calling and accusations of espionage and snitching. Magnus’s stomach dropped. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy sell but if this was any indication, he feared for the future of any kind of revolution.

“Enough!” Julia said, climbing onto a chair. She was already taller than Magnus and nearly as broad so the added height made her the single most imposing figure in the room, though her warm brown eyes added an air of compassion. “I understand it’s a scary thought. But do we really think it’s a better idea to just roll over and get kicked? Sure, Kalen has numbers and power and resources. But we actually have something worth fighting for. We have the most skilled craftspeople on the continent. We have conviction. And we have a goal.” She sighed and rubbed her hand down her face. “I understand if any of you are scared or apprehensive. I won’t make demands. I won’t beg. I want you all to join us but I won’t look down on you for not getting involved. I just want to know that we can trust you.”

She glanced over at Magnus who was watching her, stars in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and sent him a tiny nod.

“Well?” He asked, seeming to snap out of his daze. “Can we trust all of you?”

It felt like the entire show was holding its breath until Hector nodded. And then Allura. And then Therala. One by one, each person in attendance gave a silent pledge.

Magnus grinned, relief flooding his veins. This was only the first step, but they’d already hurdled over it with grace. He was certain they’d be able to make Raven’s Roost a safe place for all someday.

#taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #magnulia #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #tazb #reese writes #i believe in big buff julia burnsides supremacy #the adventure zone balance #also shout out to me for snatching the rest of these names from the dnd campaign i am currently in <3 #taz balance fic #fic

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smallpotatoknitwear · 3 years ago

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WIP blanket update 01/25/22

Happy new year, everyone!!! It’s my first post of 2022, and I’m so excited to share it!!! I haven’t posted a WIP update in about 2.5 months, so I’m so excited to share this update!!! It’s been a crazy few months; I started a new job at the end of November, and am also working part time at a local theatre—I’m currently costume designing my first professional theatrical production, which is literally insane!!!—but I’ve still been knitting and crocheting plenty!

Not pictured: Raised Squared Waffle, because I finished it; Scrap Triangle Quilt, because I haven’t been working on it; Leftover C2C because it’s on pause until I have more leftover yarn to add into it!

Granny Square Quilt

I literally cannot believe how close I am to finally finishing this blanket!!! It feels like I’ve been working on it for forever, even though it hasn’t even been two years yet—I only started this blanket around May of 2020. I’m hoping to finish it up in the next week or two, as I’m so close!!! I’ve actually made a few more squares since I took this picture, so I’m even closer than I was when I took this photo!!!

Total squares: 220/270

Armonika Blanket

I’m pleasantly surprised with how this blanket is working up, if I’m completely honest. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d like the Cherries Jubilee next to the Sweet and Sour, but I really like how they look next to each other! I have, however, decided that instead of going into Ballet Sorbet after the Cherries Jubilee, I’m going to go into Rainbow Jellies (from my Ten-Stitch blanket), then into Bumbleberry (Raised Squared Waffle), and ending with Ballet Sorbet. Overall, I really love it! It’s super squishy, thanks to the combination of knit and purl stitches, and the pattern has just enough going on to keep me interested without being too complicated! It’s also been a while since I’ve done much knitting, so it’s been really nice to get into that again!

Granny Stripe

It’s been a while since this blanket has popped up, and I admittedly haven’t been working very much on it lately. I think I’ve only done about a skein in a half, maybe two skeins, more of work since the last time I brought out this blanket, and it’s so wide you can barely tell that I’ve done any more work on it 😅 My goal at this point is to work on it as my go-to project about one week out of every month (more if I feel like it) and maybe try to finish it by the end of the year (unlikely, but I’m optimistic!!!)

Finally, we have a new addition to the roundup!!! I decided very last minute (a.k.a. on January 9th) to do a mood blanket for 2022, but I was too lazy and indecisive to decide on a color chart for the whole thing ahead of time. Instead, at the end of each day, I pick a color that feels appropriate to sum up my mood for the day, and do a row in that. That means there’s not much of a key, but pinks and yellows are good days, blues are good or neutral, greens and greys are neutral, and reds and oranges and browns are bad days. I’m doing rows of single crochets for Sunday-Friday, and a row including puff stitches for Saturdays. I did a chain of 200 (I meant to do 201, but miscounted) with a size I hook, and the puff stitch rows are *SC5, puff stitch* along until the last six stitches, which are all SCs. If I were to redo it/make another blanket like this, I’d chain 201 and SC6, puff stitch, then *SC5, puff stitch* along until the last six stitches, and SC those. I’m pretty proud that, so far, I’ve actually managed to keep up with this blanket! I’ve gotten behind a few days here and there, but always caught up within about three days. I really don’t want to get too far behind, because that seems like it would make it harder to find the right colors per day, so I’m really making an effort to keep up with it!

At this point, I’m not weaving in my ends, and instead leaving them as a fringe on each side that I’ll even out when the whole thing is finished. I have until the end of the month to change my mind and weave them in instead, but after January they’re staying as a fringe 😂 I’m using a size I hook and worsted weight yarn (primarily Loops & Threads Impeccable, with a few others thrown in; I will not be including a list), but I’ve also done a few rows with yarn held double to bring in sparkly yarn as another fun element.

#wip blankets #wip #blanket #blankets #afghan #crochet #knitting #armonika blanket #granny square quilt #granny square blanket #granny square #granny squares #granny stripe #mood blanket #mood blanket 2022 #2022 mood blanket

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hrpickens · 2 years ago

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i'll let you | fem!reader x din djarin

Chapter 2: the man and the child

18+ | Kalena encounters a mysterious new customer of Peli's services and his even more mysterious companion. Who is this man and does he pose a threat to her new life?

word count: 1514

chapter warnings: mention of guns/shooting, mention of knives

read on ao3

read chapter 1

a/n: reposted! i took it down to change some things. chapter 3 is already written and will be up in a day or two. i am starting the story out at the season 1 episode 5 timeline and will be referencing that for a little bit, fyi.

I was in the hangar's workshop, working on my recently assigned duty of scraping rust off some scrap parts Peli planned on selling in town, when I heard the sound of a starship landing in the bay. It jolted my attention away from the task; we hadn't had a single ship land in what felt like weeks, and I know Peli was hurting for the credits. My scraper tool clanged to the ground as I ran outside to greet whoever was landing.

Walking into the open air of the hangar, I noticed I wasn’t the only one aware of the new arrival. The pit droids were scrambling into position with their oil cans and toolboxes ready to assist. The ship had landed at this point and the gangway started to lower. A figure came walking down the ramp and, before I realized what was happening, I smelled the familiar scent of blaster fire. My old instincts sprang to life, and I bolted to find cover behind some storage crates. The droids went running for cover too, seemingly the targets of the firing.

After a moment of silence, I peeked out from behind my hiding spot to see what the cause of the blaster fire could be. It had come from the figure I saw on the ramp. Now that the smoke had cleared a bit, I managed to get a better look at him. It was a Mandalorian. I hadn’t seen a Mandalorian in quite some time, but the helmet was obviously that of one. He wore brown pants and undershirt, topped with what must be silver, beskar armor (his helmet made of the same material). Almost a complete set, but with one worn metal armor piece on his right thigh. A brown cape reached his mid-calf.

“Hey...Hey!” came the shrill voice of Peli, running down from her office. “You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” she warned. Peli was admittedly small, but her petite body was home to an infinite amount of rage should the need arise, and it often did. The Mandalorian, however, was not phased by her cruel tone in the slightest.

“Just keep them away from my ship” he ordered plainly. What the hell was this guy’s problem? He crash lands into our hangar, needing our help, and he thinks to introduce himself by shooting down the poor pit droids? Peli must have had the same thought, “Yeah? You think that’s a good idea, do ya?” she countered, taking in the damage of the ship.

The ship in question was definitely in dire need of repairs. Smoke billowed from its engines, and it was apparent it had just been in a shootout. Peli began inspecting the ship, a Razor Crest, muttering something about carbon scoring and a fuel leak. After her appraisal of the damage, the Mandalorian offered her a sizable 500 credits which shut her up pretty quickly. But she had a talent for squeezing the maximum number of credits out of someone and wouldn’t just stop there.

“Ha! That’s all you got? Well, what do you guys think?” she asked the droids, turning to see their reaction. Obviously, they didn’t have much of a response to her other than some scattered chatters and chirps. “That should at least cover the damage to the hangar…” she tried, looking up at him to see if he’d take the bait. Forgetting I was still a hidden observer of this conversation, I scoffed loudly at her obvious attempt to scam the Mandalorian of his credits. This drew the attention of the two of them and I gave up my hiding spot, walking out in the open to join them now.

“I’ll get you your money” he said reluctantly. “Just remember—"

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no droids. I heard ya. You don’t have to say it twice. ‘Sides, that’s what I got Kalena here for.” she said, waving her arm at me to come help. “Peli, I don’t know how much help I—”.

“Oh, please Kal, you’re the best mechanic I got!” she lied, giving me wide eyes that told me to shut up and play along. We both turned to look at the Mandalorian now, to gauge his response. But by the time our little banter was over, he had already slipped out of the bay.

“Jeez…womp rat.” Peli mumbled. - Luckily, in my short time working with Peli, we had seen a fuel leak or two and I had a general idea of where to start. Though I hadn’t gotten to do one on a starship of this size, the job itself was mostly the same from ship to ship.

I started by inspecting the damage to the fuel tank. The blaster marks proved my earlier suspicions correct; this ship had been in a shootout. Sealing the leak wouldn’t be a problem and I mindlessly got to work. The annoying part was not being able to use the droids to assist me. Not that I needed much of their help here anyway, but still. What was this dude’s issue with droids?

After I was sure the leak was repaired sufficiently, I examined the rest of the body of the ship. I couldn’t really find anything my small set of mechanic skills could handle, so I trudged over to Peli to ask her for her help. I found her at the Sabacc table with the three pit droids, it looked like they were all losing to her as usual.

“I’m in! And I am gonna raise you…three bolts…and…a motivator.” She exclaimed, pushing the bolts to the middle of the playing table.

“Peli, the fuel leak is sealed. I’m pretty much useless for anything else. Do you want to take a look at it and see what you can do?”

Before she could reply, a gurgling noise came from the opening of the ship. I whipped around to see what the noise was, hovering my hand over the dagger strapped to my side for emergencies. Unfortunately, my blaster was in my room and not on me. I heard Peli whisper to one of the pit droids for it to grab her blaster rifle. She nodded her head at me in the direction of the ship, silently asking me to take the lead and inspect the noise. I laughed under my breath at her. She was the one with the rifle, my dagger couldn’t do nearly as much damage. But, after all, I was the ex-mercenary. So, I did my duty and started creeping towards the ship.

A tiny creature emerged from inside the darkness of the ship. It was a little green thing with the largest ears I had ever seen on a being so small. It looked up at me with big black eyes and a tiny face. Whatever it was was wearing a tan coat and seemed unfazed by our presence. It continued to walk down the ramp, curious as to its new surroundings. I turned around to look puzzlingly at Peli, who was just as confused. I don’t think either of us had seen a creature like this before. Once it was at my feet, it lifted its arms towards me and made a cooing sound.

“Is it… a baby?” I asked aloud, crouching down to get a better look.

“That hot shot left a baby on that ship to fend for itself? He needs to learn a thing or two about how to care for a child properly.” Rambled Peli, scooping the kid up in her arms and bouncing it. The creature seemed happy with this and settled into her arms, cooing some more. Whatever it was, it had to be just a baby or a kid. It didn’t talk, but only made a few noises. Seemed like it just wanted some attention. Peli took the kid with her upstairs into her office and took a nap, giving up on the ship for now. With the fuel leak repaired, the biggest issue was resolved, and the rest would be up to Peli once she got around to it.

I wandered to the other side of the bay, inside to my room. As I plopped onto my bed and laid there, an influx of questions swam through my head. Who was this Mandalorian? Who did the child belong to? What business did he have to attend to so abruptly? The weapons and armor he carried were impressive, perhaps he was a hunter or a mercenary like I once was. That being said: who did he work for? Was he someone we could trust? He didn’t seem to recognize me which is good. If he really was a hunter, it’s safe to say there is most likely not a price on my head still or he would have snatched me right then and there.

I decided to retire my thoughts and take a nap myself, curling up under my wool blanket. Whoever the two of them were, time would tell, and I’d do my best to protect myself and Peli from any danger should the moment come.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! i promise my writing is going to get better as i go. like i said, chapter 3 is already written and will be up in a few days. it's double the character count of this chapter. as always any and all scenarios/prompts/ideas are welcome in the comments or my ask box so feel free to reach out! if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian #baby yoda #grogu #fanfiction #din djarin x reader #reader x din djarin #reader x the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #my works #fem!reader

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bonelessghoul · 3 years ago

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Until My Last Breath

requested by: @just-deka

summary: A heartrender in the rankings of the Crows and with an unspoken relationship with Kaz Brekker finds herself in trouble during a heist when there is a run in with the Dime Lions. When Kaz fights his way in to get her out of the mess it became, the two end up trapped and fighting for their lives. But in their last moments, the truth comes out.

note: LMAO THIS WAS THE BEST WAY I COULD SUM UP THE REQUEST, but I was genuinely panicking at the end of this hoping this turned out the way you wanted it to!! Hope you enjoy :)

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as they stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

The chandeliers spaced throughout the high ceiling of the Crow Club gave a vintage touch with its dim light, making the deep red curtains around the room seem darker and masking the daylight from the outdoors. But tucked away in the second story was Kaz Brekker’s office. It was his solace away from the clamor of the club that was only muffled from where he sat hunched over his desk.

The midday crowd was already filling the club to the brim from the booths to the game tables and every space in between.

But one figure slipped through it with ease, weaving in and out in a fresh white blouse, cinched in the middle and sleeves like balloons like an angel. It was like clockwork when you would find your way up the stairs to the office, bypassing the allure of the liquor and games Jesper engorged himself with. You were busy back in your room at the Slat, tinkering with new scraps of the latest mechanics you dug for, but like you said; your arrival was like clockwork.

Kaz, glancing at his pocket watch, stared as the thin needle of a hand rolled around the center point and as if on cue, he found YN breezing through the door with a breath of relief from squeezing through the crowd. His office smelled like remnants of firewood, the freshly brewed coffee he had filling the air. While the daylight was hidden in the club downstairs, a window was opened allowing a cool breeze and the cloudy skies to find their way into this massive space which also held a small bedroom.

As a Heartrender, you would never admit to the way Kaz’s heart would pick up whenever you were near.

“Morning.” you greeted, a handful of mail sent for him to the Slat in your hands as you crossed the space between the door and his desk.

Offering him the small stack and he took it, the shadows under his eyes seeming darker today. You were always up before the sun when your mind could not stop thinking of a new idea, and more often than not, you’d hear Kaz sneaking out in the early morning without a word.

“It’s afternoon.” he said, slyly glancing up at her as his gloved hand took the papers.

With your hands free, you sat yourself upon the very corner of his desk and looking down at the two cups of coffee still topped off with steam, one cup significantly lighter than the other. Smiling contently to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the mug and picked it up to your lips.

“Hope you got it right.”

Kaz glanced up once more as he sorted through the letters.

His eyes flickered over you for a moment, pausing from what he initially wanted to say and you could hear his heart beat in your ears as it skipped.

“Don’t worry, I made it sickening sweet.” Kaz mused, heaving a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

“Good, I’ll slip slowly and waste more time here then.” you chuckled lightly.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy sitting on his desk, sharing a cup of coffee and hearing him rant as he read the bills, the offers from others, imported goods, the bank statements, and everything else that came with the stress of running a club, not to mention an entire gang. There as a guilty pleasure as a Heartrender that involved enjoying just how flustered became down to a cellular level , but her relationship with Kaz was different; being a Heartrender taught her how much she could push and how to know when to stop pushing given his complicated boundaries.

Admittedly, as indifferent as she made herself seem when it came to Kaz, had he been the Heartrender you would have been in trouble if he could hear your heart. Every time you saw his face at the end of a job, whenever he’d look at you as you sat like you did now, and even every little bit of your unique intimacy sent your heart racing.

It seemed there were many ways to love someone that didn’t involve touching, you thought to yourself, watching Kaz’s brows furrow in the slightest with every word he read with a bittersweet smile. But it hurt when she couldn’t hold his hand or feel his comforting arms at the end of the day.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked, clearing your throat. “Things have been awfully quiet lately.”

Kaz smirked, snickering lightly to himself as he looked up at her.

“We don’t say the words quiet around here because next thing you know, it won’t be so quiet and our hands will be full with trouble.”

You raised your brows. “Well, is something coming our way?”

The look on his face confirmed it all. A simple job was offered to the Crows and a select few Dregs of his choosing (but Kaz would tell you to round up those best for it anyway), to steal a vintage piece of jewelry just brought to Ketterdam’s historic society display room. It was a job within a job, for the person requesting this jewelry and its unique elemental composition worth hundreds of thousands, it was the key to a bigger job after this which they hoped to secure.

“They have a pretty tight security system.” You sighed, holding up the blueprints he pulled out in front of you.

“Perhaps, you can figure it out in a more spacious area than the corner of my desk.” Kaz frowned, looking away as his chin rested in his palm. Then, only his eyes moved towards her. “I’m leaving the tight security system to you because you’re the only one who is creative enough to get by them. Inej scouted every entrance and found the source of the security system’s mechanics.”

It seemed easy, nothing you hadn’t come up with before, and an idea was already forming in your head to your excitement.

“Tinker around, get the ancient necklace, and a boat load of kruge.” You said simply, your voice only wavering in the slightest as your eyes narrowed at just how intricate the alarm system was.

Kaz stood up from his seat, taking the maps from her to wrap up and slide away in its casing.

“You should be on your way. Best to get a quick start so we can be in and out tonight.” Kaz said, handing her the cylinder casing for the blueprints.

“Oh, I’d sit here all day of you let me.” you grinned, earning an eye roll from him.

“Go.” Kaz pressed, his face more asserting now, trying to hide his own smirk.

But even as you strolled out the door, you could hear his heart rate jumping. Kaz’s eyes didn’t leave your figure on the way out, still staring out into space after the door shut. He leaned over his desk with his palms pressed into the wooden edge and his head dropped with a sigh.

Kaz Brekker was in trouble and his little Heartrender already knew.

There was a slightly calmer hour to be found at the Crow Club between the midday crowd leaving and night crowd slowly taking its place. In that time, you found yourself sitting at a booth and sinking into the curved red velvet seating.

You were sketching out a tool that will silence the alarm mechanisms that you had been reading up on for the past two hours. Time was running slow and your back began to ache from the position you barely moved from as you dug the lead into the parchment.

“Hey, YN! How’s it—”

“Jesper!”

Your hands frantically waved him off as his palm came down on your sprawled out pile of sketches and he jumped back, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, piling up the previous sketched of the tool you were designing, the exhaustion clear in your skiddish movements. “I have just been trying to wrap my head around this job tonight.”

Jesper smoothly slid into the booth, sitting next to you with eyes scanning over the maps. From behind, Inej approached them and slid into the booth from the other side and now, both Crows were perched upon her shoulders and looking at her work.

“The historical society in the Geldestraat is no playground.” Inej sighed.

“Oh, it’s a playground for sure, just one with little landmines at every step and Stadwatch at every corner. Then, it’s a race to the last swing on the swing set and that is our prize at the end of tonight.” Jesper ranted, his hands flailing as he spoke.

By the time he was done speaking, you and Inej stared at him, speechless.

“You must have been the child that was always bullied at playgrounds, weren’t you?” you muttered, turning your head back to the blueprints. “It’s one of the most complex, yet easiest security systems we’ve had to break into. If the necklace is on display in the spot you say it is, Inej, then this window here is our best bet.”

“Best bet for what?” Inej asked, looking at her quizzically.

Grinning, you held up the drawing of a box no bigger than your hand, the inner workings of your mind scribbled across the page.

“The window has about 5 seconds from the moment it’s opened all the way before it starts setting off an alarm which has a domino affect on the other alarms. It’s a system of bells and the window we’re going through is the start of the system. If I can forge this box to the right dimensions of the window and the string that is triggered from the window opening, then we will have a few minutes before it breaks, and the bells signal any Stadwatch in the area.”

Jesper scoffed. “Then don’t build a little tool that is going to break.”

Your hands ran over your face and instantly, you swatted at his shoulder.

“My work is impeccable, but that string is thin and ready to snap, it’s why they used it so that when the window opened, it would cut it and set off the bells.”

“Oh!” he said slowly, coming to the realization as his lips formed an o.

Even as you spoke of your plan as easily as floating down a stream, it was too good to be true. There were a dozen other factors you haven’t considered yet that made this all the more tricky. In theory, it sounded simple but getting through the window and setting up the tool in time was critical, not to mention getting to the lower level of the museum and back in time before the bells go off.

Leaning on your elbows, your shoulders sunk just a little as your mind continued to pour over the plan.

“I have to be efficient. I say we get a few minutes, give or take another fifteen minutes tops, to make it to the necklace and back without a single peep.”

Jesper glanced at Inej who was standing beside you now and looking it all over.

“Can you do that Inej?”

Immediately, the girl shook her head.

“I may be the most graceful here, but I’m surprisingly not the fastest.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the attention being shoved on you. While you wouldn’t admit it, you’ve already been thinking of it all afternoon and it left your stomach in knots.

“I’ve been walking through this all afternoon.” you sighed, a hint of defeat in your face. “Partially, I feel like taking our chances by taking these jewels in broad daylight.” you half joked.

Suddenly, your hearing focused in on a heart that almost had a third pound through his chest from the cane who always wore. That and his heartbeat both resounded through Kaz’s body with such strength, but, even when you expected him to be near, you didn’t expect him behind the booth sending the three of you with the Saints.

“We do not have the luxury of stealing things in broad daylight, YN.” Kaz said, startling everyone out of their own skin, looming over their shoulders until they he was in front of the table. “We got the jump on this before anyone else, there is no other time to do this but tonight so you all have to be ready.”

You looked up at him, slightly taken back at how high strung he was over this job, his own stressed soul infecting theirs. His eyes scanned over the three of them and then, fell on yours, but you were already looking at the hard lines in his face accentuated by his frown.

Nodding, you tore your eyes away from him and got back to work.

This job was going to break a sweat out in all of them before it even started.

“This one won’t explode, yes?” Kaz asked you.

Frowning at him, you waved the contraption you built in an hour Iin the air.

“Look, I know the last one did but this was a simple put together of a few different pieces. See, if you just-'

Kaz put his hand up with an exasperated look, signaling you to stop the demonstration you tried to put on by showing him the inside of your invention.

The two or you stood by one of the street level windows to the small brick building, it’s window panes and shutters painted black, and on this little side street there was no light that found its way here except the faint blue moon above their heads. Kaz had just unlocked the windows, and he stood there just inches away before he would open the window and you’d crawl in, having to be quick.

As you looked at him, you almost couldn’t distinguish who’s heart was racing faster.

Every time you tried to think of your path to the second story where the famous necklace was on display, your thoughts kept getting scrambled.

“Be fast, but not sloppy and get back here in one piece with that jewel in your hand.” Kaz said, his voice not missing a confident beat.

You nodded, smiling reassuringly and your hands nervously straightened the flaps of his wool jacket and you took a shaky breath.

“Got it. Open it up.”

With his cane, Kaz stepped towards the window and gave you one last look as you prepared to jump from the crate and through the opening. Even the first story was a bit of a height difference from the street, but you were quick and had the jumping skill set needed.

Kaz nodded at her and without a moment to waste, Kaz opened the window and you sprinted in, your foot pressing into the crate, pushing off of it and your hands clutching the windowsill to guide you in with ease. There was only a few seconds left and you leaped up to the top of the window, watching as the string that held together their alarm system was growing taught and with your heart pounding, your arm shot out to grab it before it snapped and finally, you could let out a breath or relief.

“Did it work?” Kaz asked, peaking his head through the window

Your tongue was peaking through your lips as you focused intently on wrapping the string in your contraption without moving it too much, settling it against the window secured in place like it were a second addition to big metal box against the wall that was the start it.

“YN!” he hissed.

You shushed him, beads of sweat forming at your temples, slowly leaning back as you released your invention that would keep the string in place, everything seemingly more quiet than normal.

That was good though, the silence being a sign that it was working.

Leaping down, you faced Kaz on the other side of the window and smiled at him, giving a wave of the hand in the form of a salute.

“See ya in a minute.”

Kaz grinned at you, but you turned and ran before you could hear him say a word.

The historical society was an old mansion, when they were a little smaller back in the day, converted into a museum. The hardwood floors and floral carpets were the original, the walls having been painted over a baby blue and hung with artwork that dated before Ketterdam was even recognized on the map. Everyone believed they were copies though.

You came out to the front entrance, a massive open space with a chandelier made of diamonds that sparkled and cast sharp little reflections around the room from the moon that shone in through the window above the tall double doors.

Holding your breath, you slowly looked around, not a single sound or movement to be made.

It was clear and you were set to take off up the stairs, careful not to place your hand along the railing. At the top of the stairs, it split into two hallways but you need not worry about which one to go down because the jewels were sitting in a small case, overlooking the home. They were meant to be in a room down the hall, having yet to be put on display, but it seems your job just got easier.

With a devious, proud grin across your lips, you looked at the ember colored jewels sat into the heavy golden necklace, and even you had to take a moment to admire it’s beauty as if there was a fire burning in each and every individual stone. But, you glanced at the pocket watch you had stolen from Kaz years ago and knew you only had a minute of assurance that the alarm wouldn’t go off before you had to run back

With gloved hands, you lifted the glass boxand plucked the jewel out from it.

In one swift move you placed the glass back and turned around, ready to bolt down the stairs, but two gunshots shattered your senses and while you couldn’t understand why at first, you were sent hurdling down the stairs with no control of your body.

Kaz was growing impatient standing in the alleyway, anxiously checking his watch, counting down the minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew that you knew that as well. Maybe they hid the necklace after the museum closed or maybe they haven’t even had the chance to put it out yet, but Kaz was not looking forward to having to jump to their plan B.

“Dammit, YN" he hissed, glancing through the window into the dark hallway.

But the sound of guns being fired sent him in a frenzy and without waiting a second, Kaz climbed through the window fearing the worst.

By the time you landed, rolling to a stop, the wind had been knocked out of you, pain started surging through your backside from your left hip to right shoulder blade, and left you dizzy and gasping for air. Still clutched in your hands was the necklace, and you tried to focus on how many heartbeats were in the room, but you couldn’t concentrate with the pain you were in.

“Lock her up, she’s a Heartrender.” said a man with a thick Kerch accent that sent her stomach in knots.

“No.” you painfully gasped, trying to bring your hands together.

But one boot came stomping down on the wrist that held the necklace and your screamed out in pain as your shattered bones grinded against. Suddenly, your numb fingers could no longer find the golden chain as it was taken from your hands in Pekka Rollins came into view.

“I’ll be taking that, darling. Thanks for doing the work for us!”

As Pekka stood over you, his shadowed face looking down at you with a horrid grin that made your blood boil. Your hand was shaking as you tried to bring them together, but he waved his finger in front of your face.

“Don’t even try it or a bullet will be put in your head the moment you even move a muscle.” he threatened.

At the sound of a cane smacking into a man’s skull, your head sharply turned as you lay on the ground, watching Kaz storm into the room and begin fighting the Dime Lions that charged at him.

“Kaz, no!” you cried out, your heart nearly lurching from your chest.

It was only moments before two of them seized Kaz, bringing him down on his knees. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched them relentlessly dig their fists into every part of his body, his head refusing to fall in defeat.

“What a surprise, Mr.Brekker.” Rollins taunted, strolling over to him. “I worried you might have been here before we were when your little Wraith hijacked our meeting with the buyer, but I figured, why not sit back and let you do the work for us?”

Kaz glared up at Pekka, his eyes flickering to you as you lay there, a gun pointed to your head at the hands of another Dime Lion and you watched his face drain of all its color.

“Not her.” Kaz said unconsciously, the words passing through his lips like he were thinking out loud.

That was their first mistake.

“I didn’t know the Dregs at a Heartrender in their rankings.” Pekka said, observing Kaz’s faulty eyes, glancing back at you with a smug grin. “That sounds a bit like cheating.” But then, he shrugged and his head rolled back to Kaz. “Bah, what do I care? She won’t make it much longer, but you? If you manage to crawl out of this mess, I might have a little more respect for ya.”

You didn’t know what mess Pekka Rollins was referring to, but your backside was already aching, blood seeping through your clothes now as you lay on the cold floor.

Kaz was writhing in their grips, bloody murder written across his face as he seemed to make his way out of one of their grasps and just as you thought he would have won, a gun shot rang through the air and made you jump.

Despite all the pain, you watched as Kaz crumpled to the ground and your body instantly shot up, wincing as Pekka kicked him in the face. But another shot resounded through the air, and you collapsed back on the ground with your hand still reaching for him, your leg now feeling useless as the bullet lodged itself in your calf. You watched as Kaz roll in his back, face contorted with pain.

The tears began to fall and you lay there, looking at him, waiting for his eyes to open and look back at you.

“Let’s leave, boys. Blow the place on the way out.”

That order sent a chill through your body and you helplessly watched them walk away.

“Kaz…” you weakly croaked out, watching him begin to prop himself up, one hand holding his stomach. “Kaz, we need to go.”

As you tried to shuffle towards him, every muscle in your body screaming with pain, you were only inches away from your fingertips reaching the lapels of his coat. Kaz looked at you, his eyes wide, but the moment he reached out for you, a blast shook the entire building and the last thing you saw was the walls crumbling down around you.

“YN!”

The voice was muffled, just barely heard over the ringing over your ears. Slowly, your eyes blinked open, and you couldn’t feel a thing as you watched the dark blue twilight sky above your head. It was almost peaceful, the sky lightening ever so lightly that you could make out the thick clouds that were almost black against the backdrop of the sky.

But then, the sharp scent of smoke that clouded your lungs and the irony taste of blood in your mouth took you away from your blissful moment and thrusted you into one of sheer panic as it crawled up your spine.

“YN!”

The ringing stopped and you could hear the cackling of flames and rubble grinding against each other now, turning your head to see Kaz.

Soot streaked his face; the panic you felt now visible in his widened eyes and the way his lips hung open like he was staring at a ghost. Your hands were merely inches from each other now and all around, the ceiling lay in shambles, the chandelier at your heads spreading its little diamonds across the space between you two. For a moment you wonder if that was what spared you two from the wood and stone that lay around you, but when you looked, you see that wood was piercing your thigh and the door lay over your ankle.

“Kaz.” you said shakily, looking back at him.

It was amazing how you couldn’t feel a thing, but that was probably good.

You two stared at each other, panting and clearly at a loss of what to do, except all you two could do was look at each other.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as you stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

“Don’t look at my like that, YN.” Kaz grunted, trying to pull himself up. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to die.”

The bruises scattered across his face and the blood that soaked through his shirt were clear as day, but he seemed unphased as he tried to move closer.

You faintly smirked at him, feeling a trickle of blood from the corner of your lip.

“I think only you could look like an angel even when a building exploded around us.”

Kaz saw you smile through the pain, and every effort to be strong he tried to put up was whisked away by the look on your face as his shoulders fell. He could have collapsed back to the floor, letting the sleep take him away, had it not been for the way you smiled at him. Of course, he was in pain too, but it was insurmountable to the pain caused by the sight before him. His heart raced, wondering just how he would manage to drag the two of you out of this as his own limbs grew weary and tired from trying to sit up.

“I think you should get a demo man, Jesper always wanted one.”

Kaz, exhaled, letting out a brief chuckle.

“Why should I when half of your inventions explode anyway? We’ll have plenty more to come.”

There was a tinge of fear to his voice, hidden by the hope that you would make it til morning, and you could hear it; he didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t let Pekka Rollins take someone else from him, even if it meant waiting until his last breath to take his life.

You rolled your eyes at him, the pain slowly starting to return as you gazed at the ceiling.

You kept your heart beating, your blood flowing, but you tried to pull yourself closer to Kaz only to sink back into the floor with defeat and suddenly, your chest started to rise and fall quicker. This couldn’t be it. You were stronger than this. You had to survive—if not for the Crows, but for him. Perhaps, you were being too hopeful after all.

“Kaz.” you croaked out, looking back at him with the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“YN, we will be okay.” he said, his voice stern as if he could read your mind.

Suddenly, when he was within reach, you clasped his gloved hand and forced as much life into him as you could, watching him become caught off guard as his heart began to race.

“No.” he pleads.

Kaz tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“You need to conserve your energy. We need to get out of here before the Stadwatch find us in the middle of this.”

“I’m saving you so you can save the both of us!” you argued, using his hand to pull yourself a little closer, both of you straining to bring yourselves together. But you paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “One of us needs to make it out of here tonight and I’m the only one who can make sure of it.”

Kaz finally pulls his hand away, and you watch him fight against everything that brought him down to sit up, leaning his back on the heavy chandelier and the remnants of the ceiling that supported it. He shut his eyes for a moment, and you watch the connection between you break as he becomes overly drained, still thinking desperately of a way out of this. As he sat there, you too fought against the pain coursing through every nerve of your body, the bullets lodged within you taunting your beaten soul as you tried to sit yourself up too. The cracked bones in your wrist made you gasp when you tried to put pressure on it, but you fought through it for one last push as you sat yourself up against the chandelier just a foot away with him.

“I cannot leave here alone. I can’t go back if you’re not with me.” Kaz said slowly, his head turning to you.

Now that you two were closer to each other, you could see just how hurt he was.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to grasp his hand again, but blood spattered through your lips as you coughed it up.

Black spots danced across your vision, and you slowly start to fall over.

Kaz’s breath hitched, and his arms moved before he could even think to do so, dragging you towards him.

The moment you felt his arms around you, you came back to your senses, looking up at him from where your head lay on his chest.

“Kaz, you don’t—”

“I-I have to.” He says, shuddering slightly.

Kaz’s mind could not seem to push away the suffocating feeling your touch brought, and he found himself looking away, trying to fight off the horrifying memories of the ocean swallowing him whole.

But he squeezed you tight, all flesh and bone still warm with life, trying to push out the gruesome images of his last memories with Jordie. You were alive in his arms, and he wouldn’t live to see the day you weren’t despite their odds right now.

For so long, you dreamed of the day Kaz could hold your hand, even let his knuckles brush by yours. But you never thought this is how it would go.

“It’s because I’m dying, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Kaz looks down at you, already accepting the defeat of the night, and he is almost too horrified to speak as your eyes seemed calmer now than from the second you finally regained consciousness.

“It’s because—”

He pauses, looking away from you and you hang on to every word.

The only thing he wanted to do was hold you, hating himself for never doing it sooner.

“It’s okay, Kaz.” you smile sadly. “There was going to be a day when I’d watch you all grow old and leave me, but if I don’t make it through this, at least I won’t have to watch that happen.”

There was a million things you could say, a million things you built up for years since the day you saw him. In all that time you never imagined it all coming down to this and you were just so tired, but you wanted to hear him say the words.

“But I want to hear you say it.” You said, your voice growing quiet.

No matter how much you tried to justify letting go, you didn’t want to. Your heart beat for him as you looked up at him and all you wanted to do was hear him say those words.

As your eyelids became heavy, you tried to focus on the way your heart beat alongside his, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could fight for the two of you, but his heart was already racing. You loved the sound of it, remembering every time you would hear it jump the moment you stepped into a room.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for me to hold you and tell you the words you want to hear.”

Kaz was fighting for his life and his urge to finally tell the truth about everything. The way he hated when you’d sit on his desk, play with his jacket when there was a slight hair out of place, and he hated how even now you were fighting to keep both of you alive. But there was the way he loved watching you outwit everyone of the Dregs when they played at the tables, the way he loved when you’d doze off in his office after a long day of working with your tools and so much more he hated himself for only paying attention to now.

“Are you going to make me do everything?” you ask, weakly smiling, hiding your face as your hot tears stained his chest.

You could feel him smile, and you could also feel your energy draining by the second.

“I love you, Kaz. Until my last breath.” you said, fearing this would be your last.

The words were on both of their minds, yet, Kaz couldn’t wrap his head around it and when you said it, his lips parted ever so slightly, staring ahead at the rubble as if that was the biggest shock to come of the night. Those words were foreign to him, they belonged to a shell of who he was and he couldn’t allow himself to accept it. His heart ached though, almost wanting to hear it again from your lips.

But then, when his heart suddenly slowed and he felt your hand leave his chest, Kaz looked down at you in a panic.

“YN…” he whispered urgently.

“I’m here.” you murmured; your eyes closed.

It felt so nice to shut them for a moment.

Kaz looked down at you, everything in him spinning, and he was ready to march you out of here now to get help but even then, as he tried to move, the pain in his body kept him grounded. Sighing in defeat, he smacked his head against the back of the chandelier and rubble he leaned upon, wanting to scream or yell and curse the world for making him so weak. His mind lingered back to the waters, Jordie’s molted and rotten skin at his fingertips, while he kicked back to the harbor swimming against all odds.

“I love you too, YN.” he said, the words cutting through the silence around them.

Deep down, he didn’t want to say the words out loud, knowing they might be the last he says to you. He yearned for more time to love you, to stroke the hair off your face as he did now as the corner of your lips turned upwards.

It made him forget to breathe as he frantically searched around, wondering if there was a way out.

But the exhaustion was tearing him apart and he looked down at you one last time, the smile off your face as your head rolled slightly.

It wasn’t long before his eyes closed too.

“I found them!”

The Dregs were scouring the rubble after they heard the explosion from the rendezvous point, Jesper and Inej running back after seeing that the two of you never made it.

When the pair heard one of the Dregs call out, the pair exchanged a worried look before pushing through the remnants of the mansion. They feared they would find your mangeled bodies waiting for them, but they skidded to a halt when they saw something else entirely.

Jesper’s face fell, as Inej’s hand clamped over her mouth, watching as Rotty checked their pulses, the man’s hands shaking as they checked.

“They’re still breathing!” Rotty shouted with relief. “Let’s move them out of here, they’re hurt pretty bad.”

But Inej and Jesper could not move just yet, staring with teary eyes from the overwhelming release of the weight on their shoulders. You sat curled up alongside Kaz, his arms wrapped around you, holding so tightly they could have swore he turned to stone.

There was no time to waste though, and they ran to you and Kaz to drag the two of you out to safety.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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