#ah intergalactic politics

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 63

“It's fine,” Danni said. He raised his hands. “Really. Relax a little, sis, I'm not as stupid as this nova thinks. I can think just fine.”

Lumen's color warmed again with a quiet radio drone. Nyota wasn't sure what expression that might be. He had never done it before. 

“I can make my own decisions.” Danni offered his hands again, one each to Lumen and Nyota. “Ma sent me here to kill you. I think bring back her big grey head were the lovely dramatic words. Yes, dramatic is genetic. But Lis defends you, so that would make her sad, and what kind of brother would I be, making my dear little sister cry?” 

Hadley buried her face in a pillow. “Danni,” she hissed, “I am going to kill you slowly. Why did you lead us on? You bastard.”

Danni just laughed until he coughed and had to press a hand over his ribs to ease the pain again. “Because I had to be sure.” The tease vanished, though his smile didn't. “This Novakid defends her too. Hard to brainwash them, no brains, not wired like us primates, right? Even if she had gotten you, he might have been a tell. And these.” He pressed a little against the bruises where Nyota had hit him. “If your Captain had been aiming to kill, I wouldn't be talking to you now. Quite the arm on her.” 

Hadley's head shot up. “You let her hit you?!” 

“I'm not that stupid.” Danni's smile became a grimace. “Just misjudged when you flicked those lights on. Could have been bad... But you didn't hit to kill, even at some stranger in your ship.” He offered his hands a little more emphatically. “I think I can trust that.” 

Nyota took his hand. Lumen followed suit after a moment. “Fair enough,” she said, and she meant it. Danni also reminded her of Isobu, in the strangest of ways. So open and frank, and quick to trust for the strangest things. She liked that. “Just don't make a habit of it, for your sister's sake.” 

“Yer an idjit,” Lumen told him plainly, “but I guess Captain likes ya.” 

Danni's grimace faded back into the grin that Nyota strongly suspected was just his resting expression. “Hey, I'll take it.” 

“But will Ma?” Hadley asked. She put the pillow back. “She won't like you making your own calls.” 

“Isn't she always on our case about growing up and taking charge?” Danni countered. He shrugged, the family resemblance more obvious in that gesture than ever. “It'll be fine. I can at least buy you some time to soften her up, make sure she won't sent Ivo next time.”

Hadley's eyes went wide. 

Danni nodded. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly. But I'm sure we can make this work.” 

Nyota caught a recent memory, her talk with Lana at the Ark steps. Had Lana guessed...? No, she would have warned much more clearly if she had. Still. “I'll meet her myself," Nyota said. "Let her decide.” 

Danni started to laugh, realized she was dead-serious, and broke off with a long whistle. “Damn! You are crazy. I thought Lis was exaggerating.” He leaned forward. “You did hear me, right? Ma sent me to knock you off. You want to walk into the viper's den?” 

Lumen shook his head hard. “Captain, don't like agreein' with him but that ain't-” 

“Reina Hadley won't take just their word, will she?” Nyota said over his protest. “She has to see for herself. Buy me some time, Danni. I have my own matters to handle first. But I will meet her myself.”

Danni smacked his own forehead. “Lis, talk sense into this crazy lady? ...Lis?”

"No, she's right," Hadley said slowly, to the dismay of both men. “Ma won't listen long. Even if she likes it, and she won't. You're flipping on her call, Dan. She's gotta save face, see? But this?” Hadley grinned at them in a close imitation of Nyota's fiercest fanged smiles. “It takes guts to walk into a bandit queen's lair. She's gonna love it.” 

Danni sighed and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how much work this will give me?” 

Hadley just laughed at him. “Suck it up. It'll be good for you.” 

“Alright, alright, fine," Danni conceded, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll help pull your strings. Just don't complain when Ma grounds you for this.” 

Hadley snorted. “I came home with a big tame poptop last time she tried that.”

Danni sighed again. “That's what I'm afraid of.” He stood up, dusted himself off properly, and returned his ice pack to Lumen. “Well, my dears, it has been a pleasure, and I dare say I will be as grey as the lady here before this is done.” He turned toward Nyota and flicked her a surprisingly sharp approximation of a salute. “Do as you need, ma’am. Just don’t leave me hanging too long.”

[dellalyra]

𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

pixie says: this is my first foray into writing for genshin but neuvilette is too pretty to ignore and if you notice i am writing for another tall man with white hair no you didn’t.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine was an elusive man. Aloof, serious, logical. The air of grace and elegance that flowed from his body and being put the most beautiful of swans to shame. The way he carried himself with such poise and dignity, made it clear why he was so very respected throughout Fontaine. His air of unattainability was echoed by the ever polite, kind-yet-distant way he interacted with others. That, and the obvious - that level of otherworldly beauty. It was what first struck the traveller upon meeting Neuvilette - such beautiful features, graceful and sharp like the man himself. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow with those odd blue horns (it became quite clear to the traveller that they were horns - since there was no way in Celestia that the Iudex was not the Hydro Dragon).

Yet - that day, at the grave of Navia’s father - it was clear as day that there was a deep, painful, lingering sadness in those beautiful eyes.

Lumine hoped he wasn’t alone.

The life of a dragon can be a lonely one.

An invite to dinner had arrived for Paimon and Lumine, from Navia - a thank you for their help during the trial. Following the etiquette she had been picking up on in each nation, it was customary to bring a gift to the host in Fontaine which lead her to wandering the streets in search of a florist. Lumine may have been very adept at gathering flowers and plants - however floristry arrangements were never a skill an intergalactic traveler and the sword of Teyvat had ever picked up on.

The pale blue front of the flower shop was immaculately painted and decorated with gilded lettering ‘la gueule de loup’ - which according to Paimon meant Snapdragon.

What an odd name, she hadn’t seen a single snapdragon in Fontaine.

“Bonsoir! If you need any assistance, please let me know!” A cheerful voice echoed from the door behind the cream counter.

“Hello! We would like to buy a bouquet please!” Paimon responded - ever the duo’s spokesperson.

At that, a woman in a pale pink apron came around the corner. Hair haphazardly pulled up atop her head secured with a pencil and a dark blue ribbon - a cream, soft blouse tucked into a dark blue layered skirt atop white stockings and navy and gold boots, a n embroidered blazer sat atop a chair which matched the woman’s skirt. She smiled brightly at the pair in front of her - and Lumine’s breath hitched when the shining tone of her eyes caught the evening sunlight, an otherworldly quality to her aura.

“A bouquet? Well, good thing you’re in a flower shop! I might have some flowers we could piece together!” She said, giggling as she gestured to the sea of flowers engulfing the store.

Paimon smiled and laughed and Lumine followed suit.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lumine and Paimon - I was hoping I would get to run into you soon.” She said as she collected a basket to gather her supplies.

“You know us?” Paimon asks.

“Sweetheart, I think everyone in Teyvat knows you. The brave and beautiful outlander and her clever guide. However, my husband was in attendance at the most recent magic show and trial - so I became privy to all of the inside scoop.” She smiled.

“You did not attend? I thought all of Fontaine was there.” Lumine spoke up.

“Ah, I tend to not get involved with the trials, I am delivered a rundown of the days events in the evenings. Yet I have been to several of the twins magic shows, such fantastic entertainment! I do love them so. Such gentle children, too, Lyney and Lynette.” The woman’s eyes lit up and an air of an excited child permeated her face. Lumine quirked a brow at the woman calling the twins ‘children’ for she looked no older than 25.

“Now! What’s the occasion?” Hands placed on her hips, the woman smiled at the travellers.

“Miss Navia asked us to dinner this evening, and we’ve been told a gift is a Fontainian custom.” Paimon speaks.

“Ah! Well, for Miss Navia you will need some clematis - her favourites. Edelweiss for courage, which you have both shown in the past few weeks. Hydrangeas for understanding - blue, I think. Iris for trust. Nasturtiums for victory. Rosemary for scent and also for remembrance of her dearest father, with some added sweet pea as a thank for you a lovely time.” The woman says, mostly to herself as she wanders the store - quickly picking up bunches of flowers from the jars in which they lay. Paimon and Lumine’s eyes were wide as if the woman spoke in tongues.

“Wow! I didn’t even know flowers could mean all that! Lyney only told us a few! You sure know your stuff, Mrs. Florist!” Paimon squealed, amazed.

The woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Y/N is fine, sweethearts. A book could be told in flowers alone. Flowers are nothing but truth, they exist for beauty and healing - and I admire them greatly.”

“You knew Miss Navia’s father?” Lumine asks, gentle voice contrasting Paimon’s outburst.

“I knew him well. A very good man, loyal endlessly and thought of Navia as his entire world. A life taken too soon in protection of his child - I lay flowers on his grave every month, mortal lives are so fragile - they must be treated with respect, no matter the circumstances.” She says, hands deftly manoeuvring the flowers into a piece of sponge.

Lumine quirked a brow.

“Mortal?”

“A state in which neither of us reside, Miss Lumine.” The woman responds with a wink and a smile.

It was logical that Lumine was not mortal, yet the explanation of this woman before her also not being so seemed to make many things far more understandable.

Just then, a patter of footsteps outside the store came trotting in through the front door.

“Mama!” A small voice called.

“Liath! Hello, sweetling!” The woman pauses her arranging and comes around the counter and leans down. Lumine spins and expects to see a child - perhaps with the florists hair.

What she didn’t expect was a Melusine.

“Papa wishes to know if you’d like to have a picnic together this evening, when he is finished at the Palais.” She asks, picking a small rose and placing it in her mother’s hair.

“Tell him that sounds wonderful, I am closing the shop soon and I meet him at the office. Thank you, Liath. Come here, let me fix your ribbon.” Y/N smiles and adjust the ribbon on the lapel of the melusine’s lapel.

“Thank you, mama. Bye bye!” She says, kissing her on the cheek and skipping out the door.

“Mama?” Lumine asks.

“Ah - not biologically. Yet, my and my husband’s nature has led us to a parental standing with the melusine’s. They are all our children, regardless of what soil they grew from.” She says, wrapping up the bouquet in a swathe of blue ribbons. Lumine wonders if by nature, did she mean they were both parental figures by nature or something to do with her not-mortal being. Perhaps her husband also was not human.

Lumine decided to press on the matter no more. Everyone deserved their privacy, after all.

“Et, voila! One bouquet for Miss Navia.” Y/N says, handing the bouquet to the traveler.

“How much do we owe you?” Lumine smiles, the bouquet truly was something exquisite, a talented woman indeed.

“Nonsense, lovely. You have done Fontaine a great service, consider this a small thank you. Miss Lumine, please take these peony roses also - they are a symbol of happiness, which you make me as I have heard you show great kindness to all of my children, for which I am so very grateful. For you, Madame Paimon, some purple Iris - meaning respect and intelligence for the Outlander’s clever guide.” She hands them all of the flowers, and winks at Lumine when she addresses Paimon, knowing that such words would fill the floating pixie with glee. True enough, Paimon squeals and dives to hug the woman who chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“Thank you so so much, Miss Y/N! We love them so much - Lumine, you could put it in your hair with your Inteyvat! I’ll put mine under my tiara, then we can match!” Lumine smiles and does as suggested.

“May I ask where you are meeting Miss Navia?” Y/N asks.

“Café Lucerne, however I’m not quite sure where that is.” Lumine responds.

“Ah! Well then I can walk you, if you wish?”

Just as she speaks, the door opens with a jungle of the bell as Lumine secured the flower in her hair she sees Y/N smile and walk around the counter.

“Hello, mon ange. I thought I was meeting you at the Palais.” Ah, must be her husband, Lumine thinks and she sees Paimon turn and freeze.

“Mon trésor, I am taking you on a picnic so it is only right that I collect you myself.” The deep rumble of a voice makes Lumine freeze too.

“YOUR HUSBAND IS MONSIEUR NEUVILETTE?!” Comes a squeal from Paimon.

Lumine spins on her heel and sees the owner of the familiar voice. Y/N’s hand is pressed to the far taller man’s cheek in a tender display of affection she would not have associated with the Chief Justice.

The gentle smile on the man’s face as he looks at his wife with such love is one she figures the melusine’s learned from him.

“Miss Lumine, Miss Paimon. A pleasure to see you. I see you have met the Madame Neuvilette.” He nods his head toward them.

“MADAME NEUVILETTE?!” Paimon seems on the verge of a meltdown at this information.

“Indeed. Apologies, I got so caught up in making such a wonderful bouquet I didn’t even introduce myself properly. Do forgive my lack of manners.” She says, turning and removing her apron as she begins to shut down the store for the evening.

Everything clicked into place just then.

The wife of the hydro dragon would hardly be a mortal woman. She mentioned the Palais, his attendance at both the magic show and the trial and of course the melusine’s would view the hydro dragon as their father.

The logical side of it all did little to curb the shock of seeing the intimidating Ludex and Hydro Dragon of Fontaine, the man who had taken out Childe with a simple slap being so gentle and enamoured in the face of his wife.

They way they looked at each other - that level of love had been a rare delight to find across her journey. Perhaps in how Zhongli spoke of Guizhong or Cyno and Tighnari - or how that certain someone looked at her and she at them…

“Neuv, we must show Lumine and Paimon to Café Lucerne on our way to our picnic.” Y/N says, ushering them all from the store before locking the door behind her.

The walk was short, as pleasantries were exchanged and Paimon and Y/N did most of the talking in the wake of the quiet counterparts.

“And here we are! I do hope you have a wonderful evening. My regards to Miss Navia. Do come and visit again soon, I would love to exchange tales of adventures!” Y/N smiles, before pressing a kiss to each cheek of the two outlanders.

“Indeed, the melusine’s speak very highly of you both - you must forgive the children if they become over zealous.” Neuvilette adds with a fond smile.

“Au revoir, enjoy your meal!” Y/N says, grasping her husbands arm and smiling at him. Lumine looks at them walk away toward the aquabus station entrance.

She could not quite believe her eyes when she sees the hydro dragon press a large pale hand to the smooth, undisturbed lower belly of his wife.

The sunset brightened ever so slightly.

Fontaine surely was full of surprises.

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

66.7512 meters episode!!!

i think i broke his heart! oh well!!!! ÑLKÑLK ruby y are u so happy about this all the time skfljdks1 (waiting for the karmic writing where someone breaks *her* heart....). tbh also very doctor-like. they are *so* unhinged

i was looking for some Spin-off foreshadowing in this war between land and sea business but best i've got is that... it will probably be set in wales ksdlfj

nuclear war is hilarious. fiften u are not all right.

That's the most bizarre "circle" ive ever seen. if anything is the orthogonal projection of a geodesic dome.

"A pee around the back"…….. dr pee foreshadowing

AESOP #1: children, when u are doing "off the road tourism", don't disturb sacred sites

susan twist's "thing" is just gonna be: "take revenge from being killed so many times". like she's just red-shirting all over the place (maybe it's gonna be a bit of meta commentary of the high body count of this show? that it's all for our sadistic pleasure but doesn't always have real significance skfldj)

I guess inflation is a recurring theme this season?

liminal spaaaace

"and then there's the blood""w-what blood?" i laughed ngl sksksk

the different color fonts in iplayer are a bit distracting tbh…...

ah yes. welsh racism...

hmmm… runy sitting in the chair... to wait in front of the tardis... "The one who waits?"

Thats' what men do skdksk love me some "Intergalactic fuck boy" subtext being voice and made text

Poor ruby ):

it's about the [metaphor for being stigmatized]!!!

Ohh the doctor was the first to disappear by the curse, maybe?

"even ur real mother didnt want u" Bro this monster is so mean wtf Kate!!!

AGAINST HIM, SOMETIMES!!!!!!!!! Antagonist kate be coming!!!

"well, that's classified"

This timeline might be suspended along ur event???

WE INVENT THE RULES AND MAKE THEM WORK!!! THEMES!! YOU HAVE TO COUNT EVERY GRAIN OF SALT!!! IT'S THE GAME THEME CONNECTING TO THE SUPERSTITION THEME!!!!!!!!

theeeemes

the more unit gets competent the more sinister they become

her going "cheers!" to her personal satan. i love u ruby

FUCK YEAH. ICON. GO KILL THE PRIME.MINISTER

...only guys in ruby's little montage ]: im heartbroken T.T rip the x5 times wlw companions streak dream it seems

"except the bed thing that was u" narrator voice: it wasnt

"Which is what?" KILL THE PM KILL THE PM DO IT ICON

Rtd connected to the universe skskdk oh beautiful synergy

[also literally how Y&Y starts... ]

"No more" feels loaded/intentional here, considering how it's been used before as an Important Phrase is War's arc.

the emo advisor guy intrigues me

Ruby having to solve this whole thing + cold war vibes.... mmm very ace coded

[lol @ soc dem / liberal writers being so scared of "populism" and "the dumbness of crowds". peak soc dem / liberal] [what is a "political allegory story" by a soc dem without the punchline being that "I think The People are really fucking Stupid actually"] [i do enjoy the side point of british politicians being so desperate for relevancy that they fire nuclear missiles for the fun of it. yeah… that tracks]

[lol becoming independent from nato being a bad thing. lol #"fucklybia!!"#signed:thisepisode]

the directing is very fun in this

Ruby get on your feets and make it happen

She's gonna say u forgot to say hi to this lady

ruby's asking to be shot again sksks

Iris u say…........ eyes emoji

[ok but also. lol not to go " ah, peak liberal again!" but lol. this resolution is peak liberal [ie. fundamentally antidemocratic, a few 1% technocrats (obvs, privileged and from the global north) with the answers "know what's best"]. this lad may have been crazy but they voted for him for a reason that "the system" wasnt providing.but in typical soc dem fashion they can't ever fight the fascists on The Real Deal ie. strength of a proposed political project + material gains resulted from those political projects + committing to real system change, so they have to scramble for antidemocratic solutions like [timey wimey prisons] to ""fight facism""" (ie not fighting it at all and by proxy, just making the fucking cockroaches stronger each "election cycle" because they can't fight them in a meaningful, political sense) bc the people are just too stupid!!! and this is why democracy was a mistake!!!!!!! ... sigh rtd. oh well good thing i didn't expect more on this front tbh sdlkjfdsd in that sense the s1-s4 rewatch prepared me well lol]

clara vibes in this ep in a lot of moments (old!ruby, sort of "mausoleum tardis", etc)

"i didnt travel with him long..." "but it felt like a lifetime" became literal…

"Everyone has abandoned me my whole life" T_T

AESOP #2: kids u are never alone <3 u always have ur inner demons :) and the unrelenting spectra of death~

There's always something a bit unsatisfying about self closing paradoxes... kinda like "oh it was all a dream so it didnt matter". but i think in this one it was crunchy enough with other things that i think it was balanced.

Very turn left-y ending! CONCLUSIONS!! people kept saying in the press this episode was gonna be "super scary" tbh i just found it.... profoundly sad sdxkljflkfj ruby's life just *screams* "missing the important bits by focusing on the unimportant" and "obsessing over things that don't matter" and "companion becomes detached from real life to the point they become super unhinged and callous" ("im sorry i couldn't help you marti")

(c+p some stuff i put on a discord): tbh i rolled my eyes at the political stuff but i don't think im even mad about it this time lol (too tired irl to get properly angry at doctor who these days ig)

anyway i dont think the political stuff is what it was really "about". i found this story very moving on what it was (imo) rlly about: ruby's fear and experience of being abandoned and also the general "fear of approaching death"

and obvs a bit of other emotional beats that are more specific to doctor who's long running stories: like the doctor "always does this" ie leaves everyone of his friends behind and there's the lingering tragedy that this will happen, as well, to ruby inevitably, then also both ruby and the doc becoming 'detached' from real life (ruby basically never investing anything in those relationships w/ those guys bc she was 'absorbed' by this mystery /clearly a parallel to her being absorbed by her parental origin) and also how tourists cant watch where they step / the doctor and co arent always respectful to the 'silly traditions' of the places they visit (tbh excellent bc to overcome my "this show has the white man's burden' engraved in its dna" meta... the show is gonna have to keep making story like and like Demons of Punjab for at least 3 more decades lol) (basically tldr i think it fumbled the politics stuff but it was rlly crunchy where it mattered. also, ....... i think this pretty much confirms that ruby isn't her own mother / the person who let herself at the door step in Christmas, right??? like rtd had said was the short story he had concocted years ago, and was the insp for this... but he kinda used up that trick here… so it must be something/someone else, right?) (another thing: ruby going "i used to be able to make it snow" made smth click....... ---> if ruby's whole focus rn seems to be about "the mystery", and this quest seems to be not only something she *needs* but also something that like... means joy and adventure, and traveling with the doctor... when she finds out the Truth,,, that probably means all the whimsy in her life will go away? (so she may come to a point where she Doesn't want to know Actually (which would be very "thirteen regretting throwing away the watch" realness mirror again)

[sassmouthsimmer-writteninstars]

Chapter : THIS IS FOR YOU : 41 — Not a Fan 🐍

[This chapter repost is a continuation of the story on my main Simstagram account @ SassmouthSimmer ]

[Roosevelt]: “Dr. Livius Lizgard**!? A threat to humanity!? HA! You cannot be serious?!

Then why will he be back in charge of running our government's space program and the National Science Foundation? Who chose this position for him? Surely this isn't your decision.”

** [ For reference on the mention of Livius — they are a character who was first revealed in the chapter called ‘STRANGE NEGOTIATIONS’ over on my Origin Simstagram @ sass.berry.origin story. ]

[Gyra]: “Come now, you realize who chose Livius and where his loyalty remains. This decision is beyond my control — for now. His allegiance stands with my Father. Yet he fears my presence, so this will be your card to play against him.”

[Roosevelt]: [ sarcastic tone ] “So there are cards to play. Who knew I was such a gambling man? Well, that's great. I get to work with that creep of a supervisor instead of you. I'm thrilled.”

[Gyra]: “HA! I can hear the enthusiasm and appreciation in your voice.” [ amused laughter ]

[Roosevelt]: “I remember what my parents said about him. ‘A snake in the grass — watch where ya step.’ You never mentioned his species — what IS he?”

[Gyra]: “He is a Saurian from the constellational realm of Draco. Father found him as a hatchling, so he remains loyal to us in servitude. He is merely a pawn to my Father’s bidding and our political leverage against his kind for intergalactic peace.”

[Roosevelt]: “Ah. So the rumors ARE true. There are lizard people among us. How unsettlingly disturbing. I wished I never asked about him. Yet it makes sense given what you told me before about your people harboring and relocating the offspring of other species.”

[Gyra]: “Speaking of which, congratulations again on your offspring. I must say I'm envious to your news. Yet, I am exceedingly happy for you and the future of your legacy. You do realize I have the ability to inform you both of its identity — yet I sense you are already aware.”

[Roosevelt]: “What!? How’d you — Oh, that's right. How could I forget your ability?

Listen, I’m not sure how I managed to tap into the family ‘gift’ but I had a ‘vision’. Don't mention any of it to Dhara, I'd prefer her to be surprised about the baby during the ultrasound.”

[Roosevelt]: “Although, You shouldn't be envious. Despite your illness, you are currently experiencing an exciting life transition. I spoke with Maiz earlier, and she said she’ll be leaving for Sixam soon. Does she know?”

[Gyra]: “I'm impressed. No. I'm preparing for her arrival; we’ll have that discussion by then. First, I must propose. Of course, simply asking her is insufficient, in Diego’s opinion. He reminded me of that today. However, I want it to be a memorable moment for us.”

[Roosevelt]: “Yeah, well… Diego doesn't know Maiz like he thinks he does. Maiz would prefer low-key, so she'll be thrilled as long as you ask her. It's YOU — she wants you — not some pomp and circumstance of public display. She's down to Earth and different than her parent's high-bar expectations. You know this, man.”

CHARACTERS:

HRH CROWN PRINCE GYRA BOTOLPH — Human alias: GARY BOSTON

ROOSEVELT RENÉ BERRY MCDOWELL

⚠️ Friendly Reminder to Readers – If you are easily triggered by anything in this story, please don’t read or follow. Please review the Disclaimers in this account’s Simstagram highlights as well as those listed on this blog. 

This is the main story taking place in the future of my #notsoberrychallenge inspired SCI-FI SERIES. If you’d want to know about its Origin story, you can read it on my origin Simstagram account – @ sass.berry.origin or the current blog version located here:

[ https://www.tumblr.com/sassmouthsimmer-scifioriginstory ]

Source: https://www.instagram.com/p/C7wNRgfxx-V/?igsh=OHJ0ODkzdnVwdmg3

[elektra-world]

Infatuation Part 1

Mentions LJ from heroes (@hysteria-entertainment) and Tan (@ravebys)

This took place before the intergalactic festival.

With Tans absence, Kay had been feeling unusually down. He didn't explain why he'd be going away for a bit and she found herself worrying incessantly about his well being. The only way she could distract herself from the nagging anxiety was to practice.

A lot.

She wasn't clingy or super needy by any means, but after him disappearing once before and getting into a bit of a pickle, and especially when he had been struggling with his past demons, it definitely left her feeling restless and concerned.

The dance instructor had told her that her presence during rehearsals was lacking, which was unusual for her. She wasn't really sure why she had been slipping up but the Maknae was determined to fix her mistakes so that she could deliver the best possible for the fans and her Unnies.

"Agh, my hip is so sore." She whines, rubbing it as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was so focused on herself that she hadn't heard a person slip into the dance studio - she only realized when she felt a playful jab at her side and practically jumped out of her skin, yelping in surprise. "Ah! Oppa, don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" She says with a laugh.

Jaehwan chuckles, giving her his usual cocky smile before apologizing. "I'm sorry. You just looked so adorable pouting at yourself in the mirror. I wanted to make you laugh. Why are you so sad, Miss cutie-pie?" He teases.

She cranes her neck back to look up at him, her eyebrows pinching together as she pouts again. "I've not been doing so well during practice lately. I'm usually very good, Oppa. I don't want to bring the groups quality down. I've never had this issue and it...stinks." She huffs like a child, frustration building.

Jaehwan was fascinated by her. She was just his type: small, cute, cheerful, and self-assured. His group members teased him daily about his infatuation with her. When the girls joined Hysteria, he thought he'd finally get the chance to make his move once and for all.

Then, she had ever so politely and cutely informed him that she had a boyfriend and he felt a new determination. He had convinced himself she deserved better and that he was obviously the better choice. Was he cocky?

Hell yes.

Jaehwan shook his head and smiles warmly, "isn't your boyfriend one of the best idol performers? Yet he's left you alone and not even offering some guidance?"

Kay looked at him, confused before frowning. "He is away. He's having a tough time right now, Oppa. It's for the best." She says softly.

She missed him like crazy but was confident it was for the better right now for the sake of himself.

Jaehwan just snickered and took a step back, glancing at their reflections on the mirror. "I can help you, if you want. No harm, no foul." He held his hands up, smiling. He was good at blocking out distractions when performing and it was clear Kay needed a bit of guidance in that area right now.

Kay couldn't help but smile back. His determination was amusing to say the least. Then she remembered LJs previous statement and her eyes narrow at him, "You know, Tannie isn't my babysitter. He's extremely talented but so am I. It's not his responsibility to guide me every second, especially when he has inner struggle. I'd never burden him like that." She adds as she reached behind her head to tighten her ponytail.

Jaehwan took that as an opportunity to get closer to her. "You're right. I'm sorry. My offer still stands, though, if you find yourself in a rut and need some help." He gave her a charming smile and turned to head for the door.

"Oppa! Wait!" Kay stops him, exhaling loudly. "I'll accept your help for now because I need to do better. The festival and our comeback is in a couple of weeks and I really cannot continue like this." She was beginning to get mad at herself for how much she had been messing up. She also wanted to do good for Tan and make him proud, too.

Jaehwan had a smug smile on his face that quickly disappeared when he turned to face her, clapping his hands. "Great! Let's get started, shall we?" He declares.

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 5

Kolivan and Krolia were a significant change of pace in the Galactic Coalition. Kolivan was efficient and to the point. Krolia was innovative and practical. They gained the Coalition’s respect, and their proposals were approved in their majority. They were the change and balance the Galran people needed. They were almost a perfect fit.

Krolia knew how to adapt better to different groups of people, knew how to hide her discomfort when she heard something she didn’t agree with. Coran attributed that grace to her time as a mole in the Galra Empire.

Kolivan lacked that grace.

“It would be a better use of resources to focus our humanitarian aid on terraforming—”

“It would be a waste,” Kolivan cut in. “Restarting the terraforming process from scratch involves an astronomical investment on our part, whereas they already have a moon that’s begun the process.”

“Representative Kolivan,” Commander Holt said in a steady voice. “You’ve already spoken your time on the matter. Allow your colleague to finish his point. Don’t step in on his time again.”

Kolivan seemed unfazed by the reprimand, but Coran noticed the small twitch of annoyance his nose gave. That’s cute.

By the end of the meeting, a few representatives left with some ruffled feathers due to Kolivan’s interjections. Emi was chatting with Curtis as Coran put away his digital filer. Through his peripheral he noticed that Kolivan stayed behind after Krolia left.

“Will you be a while?” Coran asked Emi.

“You can go ahead without me,” Emi assured him. With that, Coran walked toward Kolivan, who appeared to be very interested in the materials of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“Something on your mind?” Coran asked.

“I realize I’m not great at politics,” Kolivan said, glancing at Coran. “Are people always this stupid or am I missing pieces of the conversation?”

Coran laughed. “Welcome to my world.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened. “Seems awful.”

“It is, but you get used to it,” Coran said starting to walk out of the room. Kolivan followed. “But you’re right about today. It was particularly awful. You should have heard Lurok’s speeches, though. You would’ve hated them.”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you want some pointers? So you can be better at politics?”

“Absolutely.”

“Zone out sometimes. It saves you some headaches.”

Coran heard a rumbling sound and realized he’d made Kolivan laugh. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’d also like some real advice, if you have any.”

“My good sir, I am full of advice,” Coran said if only a little dramatically.

“I’m all ears,” Kolivan said, making Coran snort.

“A few lessons in diplomacy would do you some good,” Coran said, leading them toward his office.

“I’ve been on diplomatic missions before,” Kolivan supplied.

“Ah, but Altean diplomacy is a dying art, and I can be sure the universe hasn’t seen it in some ten thousand deca-phoebs,” Coran said.

Kolivan shook his head with a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Kolivan pushed the office door open for Coran. “The universe will always be at odds. Even at peace, treaties are drawn up to delay conflicts, disagreements will be had, resentments will flourish. Alteans were known as the Peacekeepers, boasting a grand number of allies and mediating intergalactic conflicts. I remember when I was younger being conflicted over joining the Altean opera or applying to be an envoy sent beyond our star system.”

“The Altean opera?” Kolivan asked, leaning against his preferred window.

“Yes! I was quite enamored with the idea. We must go some time, it’s quite the show,” Coran said brightly. He felt his cheek warm in the belated realization of inviting Kolivan out. He’d never extended an offer like that before.

Kolivan cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m sure it is.” One of his ears fidgeted for a tick and stopped. He’d become more expressive throughout the phoebs working with the Coalition, working closer with Coran. Or maybe Coran had gotten used to his lack of expression and noticed Kolivan’s other outlets for it.

Or maybe stress just makes his ears tick. Stop overthinking.

But there was something warm in the familiarity he felt with Kolivan. He liked thinking that he knew the man, that they were close. Closer than just work friends. Proper friends.

The thought made him blush.

Coran put away his digital filer, shaking out his hands as he continued, “So, when dealing with smaller conflicts—because they are conflicts—we have a code, so to speak, to follow, Grogery’s Rhetoric.”

Coran moved to the bookshelves that were home to the few books he owned. The majority of his literature was digital, physical copies of Altean writings was rare. From there, he pulled out his Pop-Pop’s copy of Grogery’s Rhetoric. It was well-worn, read carefully, and contained the annotations of generations of Smythes. He very much loved that book.

“Here,” Coran handed the book over to Kolivan. “Hopefully this will help you in dealing with the Coalition.”

Kolivan took the book into his hands carefully. Coran watched as Kolivan turned the book over in his hands. Kolivan no longer wore his Blade uniform, as it was now Keith’s turn to don the leader robes. Instead, he wore shirts with band collars and tactical pants similar to those of the Blade uniform. As odd as it was at first, Coran grew accustomed to seeing Kolivan in casual attire. Then, the full image seemed to register in his head, just how bizarre the sight was—a Galra holding a piece of classic Altean literature. He found himself smiling.

“Thank you, Coran,” Kolivan said, looking up. He returned Coran’s smile and something in Coran’s chest fluttered or stuttered, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll be sure to read it by the next meeting.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Coran said, shaking out his hands. “Happy to help.”

There was a pause between them, like Kolivan was preparing to say something.

“Coran, I’ve been thinking…” Kolivan began. “Ever since Keith took charge of the Blades, he’s been around less, but I’ve been around more. I realize he would make sure to make sure you—Hm. I thought this would be easier to phrase.”

Coran realized that he’d just witness Kolivan babble. Even that he managed to do with some level of confidence.

He restarted, more bluntly this time. “You’re cooped up in your office often, Coranic. Keith’s visits amended that. They don’t anymore. You shouldn’t be cooped up today.”

Coran crossed his arms with a smirk, fueled by the knowledge that Kolivan could also be a flustered mess. “And why shouldn’t I be, today of all days?”

“Because I’m bringing it up today,” Kolivan said simply. “I have failed to bring it up in the past and it was starting to weigh on me.”

“Weigh on you? Why?”

Kolivan’s ears inched back ever so slightly as he looked away. “I feel responsible, as I continue to keep you company, and I have neglected that aspect of doing so. You seemed content inside, but I remember Keith saying that going out was good for you.”

“So you’ve kept me company out of a sense of duty?” Coran asked, deflating a little.

“No,” Kolivan said firmly. “I quite enjoy working with you and being…familiar. I’ve never had that before. Never allowed that for myself. Not in a way that mattered.

“I’m bringing it up because I remember Keith being worried about you. Frighteningly so. And that worry’s been at the back of my mind these quintants. You don’t tend to voice what you need. I thought I would—could give you that space.”

“Oh.” It took everything in Coran’s power not to hide his face in his hands like a schoolboy. There was something in Kolivan’s concern that was embarrassing for Coran. Perhaps he was embarrassed that his slump had caused such an impression on Kolivan that it still lingered on his mind even after all these deca-phoebs. Perhaps he was simply unprepared for Kolivan’s concern… Perhaps it was merely Kolivan’s attention. “Well, erm—I wouldn’t mind—not being cooped up.”

“Good,” Kolivan nodded, tucking Grogery’s Rhetoric under his arm. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Well, there is one place I haven’t been to in ages,” Coran said with a small smile. “All we need is a shuttle to get there.”

“Lead the way.”

The fields had somehow remained just as Coran remembered them. Patches of juniberry flowers covered the ground, their sweet scent wafting towards them as the wind blew. The skies were a placid blue, clouds slowly dragging by, the outer rings a faint silhouette. This was the Altea he remembered.

He had played with Alfor in these fields when they were boys, before they were flush with flowers. He had seen Alfor play with Allura when the flowers began to bloom, a flower crown waiting for him in the Princess’ hand every time he went to fetch them. He had long stopped considering this as his field, his place of comfort. It was Allura’s. Everything about it was hers.

They were under the shade of a tree, the oldest tree in the field by Coran’s estimates. There was a comforting joy that came with being back here. He was grateful Kolivan had brought up his worry. Coran probably wouldn’t have thought of coming up here if it hadn’t been for that.

“These flowers are native to Altea, yes?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes,” Coran said, shrugging off his suit and hanging it on a branch. “They were Allura’s favorite.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t get to see this again, then,” Kolivan said. Something caught in Coran’s throat. Kolivan had no idea how right he was.

“It really is,” Coran said, voice a little strained. He rolled up his sleeves, blinking away the tears in his eyes, trying to focus on anything else.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Kolivan said, making Coran smile. He loved that Kolivan was asking him things. “I understand that you were some kind of ill when Keith was visiting. Was it because of Allura?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said, clearing his throat. “She was the closest—she was very much like a daughter to me. I’d like to think I was like a father to her, too.”

“I’m sure you were,” Kolivan said, placing a hand on Coran’s shoulder briefly. He leaned against the tree with a sigh, looking past the fields. “I never had children. I’m not sure if I regret that now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Coran said with a watery laugh.

Kolivan raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure I would be aware if I had sired any offspring.”

Coran blushed but still shook his head smiling. “Then what’s Keith to you?”

“Keith? He’s—”

“Yes?”

“My ward?”

“He’s a grown man,” Coran pointed out.

“Then he used to be.”

“Now he’s nothing to you?”

A gravelly sound came from Kolivan’s throat. “Not nothing.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Coran nudged him playfully.

“If I were to have anyone that came close to that, then I suppose Keith is like a son to me.”

“Look at that, he has a heart,” Coran teased. “You can afford to be sentimental nowadays, it won’t kill you.”

“It felt like it nearly did,” Kolivan said, undoing the side buttons of his collar. Coran was a little distracted by the movement of Kolivan’s fingers to realize right away that he’d made a joke.

Coran chuckled, sitting next to Kolivan’s legs, leaning his back against the tree. “Has it ever, though?”

Kolivan slid down, knees to his chest, undoing the clasps in his sleeves, and folding them towards his elbows. It was a bit too warm out to be comfortable. “It has,” he said, his hand reaching the side of his face. The side with the scar.

“Lenor?”

“Hm, a parting gift,” he nodded. “She notified my commanding officer of my plans. I fought for my life that day. Not entirely sure how I escaped with just this.” His thumb brushed over the scar. “After that, it felt like I was fighting for my life every day.”

“It’s not like that anymore,” Coran said. That much was obvious, but he wanted to reassure Kolivan of the fact.

“It really isn’t, is it?” Kolivan rested his chin on his knees, turning his head towards Coran.

They stayed like that the rest of the quintant, talking and making small jokes. Enjoying the landscape and each other’s company. The sun had begun to set when they finally decided to head back to the shuttle.

“I forgot to ask you something,” Kolivan said as he watched Coran shrug on his suit.

“Shoot.”

“You haven’t stopped wearing that shade of red in your suits since the war was over, is it an Altean victory color?”

He was right, Coran always had something pink on. It could be the piping, the lapel, the shoulders, the body, but he always wore pink. He gave Kolivan a sad smile.

“No, um… It’s our color for mourning.”

“I see,” Kolivan nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Coran said honestly, fixing his collar. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

They mounted the shuttle and headed for the Castle of Lions. The sun set lower in the horizon, painting the sky in yellows and purples, the shyest hints of pink scattered through the clouds. Sunsets were always peaceful for Coran, but sunsets with Kolivan seemed to be better. Like his fur and markings were made to make the view better, like his yellow eyes were meant to reflect tranquility, like he was made to be just as mesmerizing. Coran found himself staring at Kolivan the rest of the way, too transfixed to look at anything else.

* * *

In the spirit of keeping good relations, the Earth and Altea representatives had proposed a gala. Curtis and Emi led the preparations, leaving Coran—for the first time he could remember—without much to do. Coordinating events was one of his many strong suits, the one he could show off the most. He didn’t like to give it up that easily. But he had other worries right then.

Kolivan hadn’t left his head since that one afternoon. It didn’t help that he saw him every other day. He got distracted easily, sometimes he even found himself fumbling for words. Coran was tempted to blame his age for these slipups, but the feeling was familiar. Everything about Kolivan was infuriatingly familiar.

Coran was just about finished combing his mustache when he heard a knock on his door. He peered out of his bathroom, looking over to his bedroom door.

“Who is it?”

“Kolivan.”

Drats.

“Be right there,” Coran called. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, determined he looked perfectly put together, and walked over to answer the door.

“Hello,” he greeted Kolivan. He was wearing his formal robes again. It was unfair how handsome he looked in the dark robes, the red highlights complementing his markings nicely. “Is there a problem?”

“I didn’t want to put Krolia through the ordeal of dragging me around trying to find you again,” he said somewhat apologetically, holding up his scarf. “I didn’t pay attention when you tied it the last time.”

“Oh,” Coran smiled, stepping aside, “that shouldn’t be a problem. Come on in.”

Kolivan ducked a little and stepped inside, looking around the room. Coran was only a little self-conscious that he hadn’t made the bed that morning.

“Do you want me to show you?” Coran asked, taking the scarf from Kolivan’s hand, ignoring when their fingers brushed. He found he had to do that a lot recently. He ignored every time their hands brushed exchanging papers or reaching for things on the table during meetings. Ignored how he sometimes caught Kolivan looking at him during another’s presentation. Ignored how his eyes seemed to linger. Ignored how his own heart raced at the sight. Most of all, he ignored the little thrill he got from knowing he was of the few people that got to be that close to Kolivan.

“Yes, please,” Kolivan said, following to the bathroom. “I don’t want to burden you. I have a feeling these events will only become more frequent.”

“They probably will, yes,” Coran smiled. “Alright—” he lifted his collar and wrapped Kolivan’s scarf around it, adjusting the length, “—the long end goes over the short end, it loops under, over, and through. And then you just—” Coran pulled on the shorter end, adjusting the knot near the upper half of the longer end, creating a small, bunched crest at the base of the neck followed by a neat tie. The rest of the scarf was meant to be tucked into the suit’s vest piece.

Coran looked up at Kolivan through the bathroom mirror, finding his eyes entirely focused on him, on his hands.

“You think you got it?” Coran asked, undoing the knot. Kolivan nodded, stepping up to the mirror. Coran propped his collar and wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting the length for him. He watched Kolivan silently work the cloth, his finger fumbling with the loops. It was tighter than it needed to be, but it was definitely a cruder version of Coran’s knot. His thumb was still trying to fix the crest when he looked over at Coran.

“Yours looks nicer,” Kolivan said, more of an observation than a frustrated remark.

“You just have to tighten it less,” Coran said, undoing the knot so he could practice again.

“It feels flimsy,” Kolivan said. “I don’t want it to loosen.”

“Did it loosen at Shiro’s wedding?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Then it doesn’t need to be so tight. Try again,” Coran tugged on the scarf for emphasis, but noticed how Kolivan was nudged forward by the small force. Noticed the little huff that escaped him, noticed how he clenched his jaw. Heat creeped into Coran’s face as Kolivan practiced the knot again, hopefully too distracted to notice.

This time, the tie was better, the small crest not as squished as the first time.

“I need to practice it a few more times,” Kolivan said to the mirror. “I’d still rather wear your tie tonight, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not a problem,” Coran said, reaching to undo the scarf one last time.

His fingers worked the tie deftly, gingerly tucking it into Kolivan’s suit, making sure to puff it out a little. His fingers brushed Kolivan’s neck as he fixed his collar, and he noticed how Kolivan swallowed and stood a little stiffer under his touch.

Coran straightened his suit, ignoring how warm he felt and cleared his throat. “You’re all set. Looking very dapper if I might add.”

Kolivan gave him a small smirk. “Thank you, Coranic.”

Coran sighed running a hand over his brow, irritated. “You’re a nightmare.”

Kolivan barked a laugh. “Come,” Kolivan said, patting him on the back and pushing him out of the bathroom, “I heard the festivities would beginning right at dusk, just a few doboshes away.”

They arrived along with a big group of ambassadors, all from the different planets that made up the Coalition. Coran had the overwhelming urge to take charge and help with sorting out the guests. Emi seemed to be doing a fine job of it, everything very much under control.

Coran couldn’t help himself, walking over to Emi. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? Anything you might need taken care of?”

“I’ve got everything covered, Coran. Just enjoy the evening. You’ve done your part,” Emi assured him. Coran gave him a questioning look. “The Rovers. Extremely helpful, especially tonight. Consider that your contribution.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. With all the respect I have for you, sir, I’m going to ask you to go away,” Emi said with a smile. Coran laughed.

“Alright, dear boy. You win,” Coran chuckled. And with that, he properly stepped into the ballroom.

Many grand events had taken place on that floor, each one a means to an end—maintaining diplomatic relations. The most common affairs were arranged marriages, which if memory served, had been the last event held in that room.

Coran watched Allura from the king’s side. She wasn’t of marrying age, but Melenor insisted in her attending the event. Exposure was necessary, according to the queen. Allura was in a corner, surrounded by her school friends, some of which were potential candidates for proposals. They seemed to be giggling at a group of boys that was across the room.

“Coran,” Melenor called.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Could you be Allura’s chaperone for the night? I’m worried she might be uncomfortable. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so adamant—”

“You worry too much, my love,” Alfor said, taking her hand reassuringly. “She needs this exposure, even if it’s not where she’d prefer to be. Listen to your Queen, Coran.”

Coran bowed at his dismissal and walked over to Allura.

“Princess, I am to be your chaperone for the night. Your mother’s orders,” Coran said. Allura seemed relieved at his words.

“Coran! I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, linking her arm with his. “These events seem awful.”

“It’s how your parents met,” Coran said. Allura looked a little horrified, making him chuckle. “Love’s a strange thing, child. One day, hopefully, you’ll get to see how that can be so.”

“Hopefully not any day soon,” she said, dragging him toward her group of friends. He was supposed to simply stand near the princess to serve has her chaperone, but Allura didn’t much care for the protocols of these events. When she was younger, she would’ve run under tables, hidden under her mother’s skirts, dashed around, weaving between the guests’ legs. Now she was older, but her disregard for properness was shown in other ways.

Coran wondered when she would grow out of her rebellion towards the crown.

Coran huffed out a breath, looking around. He spotted many familiar faces, but none he actually wanted to approach. He saw Slav nervously talking Commander Holt’s ear off; Colleen seemed alarmed at whatever Slav was babbling on about, but Holt appeared only mildly interested, like he didn’t wish to encourage Slav further. Coran had half a mind to walk over to spare them of Slav’s dizzying monologues, but he didn’t feel up to enduring them himself.

He saw Shiro walk in, looking around the room with a lost expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, not so different from the one he got married in, except this one was a dark blue. Coran waved him over, Shiro relaxing at the familiar face.

“Hey, Coran,” he greeted him with a hug. “I was looking for Curtis. He left home early to help out over here, so I haven’t seen him.”

“He’ll probably be all over the place the first half varga of the event,” Coran said. “I saw Samuel Holt with his wife, but they were talking to Slav.” Coran nodded in their direction.

“I’m not sure I want to interrupt that, as much as I would love to talk with the Commander,” Shiro said, looking over to the trio. He turned to Coran again. “So, how have you been?”

“Good,” Coran nodded with a smile. “I’ve been good, Shiro.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Shiro said with a grin. “Everything’s running smoothly, then? Castle, Coalition?”

“Very much so,” Coran said. “I just wish I could see you kids more often. I already felt like an empty nester when you went your separate ways and the lions disappeared. Now Romelle’s left the castle as well. I feel nostalgic all over again.”

“Where’s she off to?”

“Happy Lives with Hunk,” Coran said brightly. “I’m really happy for her, don’t get me wrong. I just got used to a certain routine. I’m an old man, I like my routines.”

Shiro laughed. “You’re not that old Coran.”

“I’ve found four gray hairs on my head this last movement, Shiro,” Coran said gravely. “I’m afraid I’m dying.”

“I must already be dead, then,” Shiro chuckled, running a hand through his white hair.

“I knew you were the moment you needed your reading glasses to see all the time,” Coran said with a smirk.

Shiro laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. “Curtis says I look youthful with them.”

“Ha! He lies because he loves you. He’s a keeper.”

“He better be, we just finished paying off the house,” Shiro shook his head, still smiling.

“Commander Shirogane,” Emi called as he approached. “Sorry to interrupt. Representative Colt was wondering about your whereabouts. He’s still a little busy, but he wanted to see you. He’s stationed at the intergalactic shuttle bay.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Coran, my liar calls,” Shiro said, patting his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Coran chuckled. “See you later, dear boy.”

The other good thing about events like this was that Coran got the opportunity to catch up on local gossip. He was usually terribly out of touch with such topics, but the allowance for mingling at the gala gave him easy access. He would hear all sorts of rumors, ranging from silly misunderstandings between lovers to political scandals that he would have to investigate later.

With age, remembering details was getting more and more difficult. He didn’t want to wait until the end of the evening to report the things he’d heard. He began to look around him, trying to spot Krolia. He finally did.

She was talking with an ambassador from a smaller moon. Coran hesitated only for a tick before interrupting them.

“I hate to be rude, Ambassador,” Coran said, trying for his politest voice, “but could I speak with Representative Krolia for a dobosh?”

The ambassador smiled with a nod, turning to another conversation beside them. Coran led Krolia away from their ears.

“Is something wrong?” Krolia asked wearily.

“Not particularly, no,” Coran looked over his shoulder. “I’ve overheard some folks this evening speak quite freely about illegitimate activities.”

“Do you have their names?”

“Yes, though it’d be easier if I wrote them down.”

“Alright,” Krolia straightened. “For now, don’t worry yourself too much—write them down later. I’ll ask Keith to look into it. Breathe, Coran. Try to enjoy tonight. There’s not much we can do at the moment.”

“What can’t we do much about?” Kolivan asked, two drinks in hand. He handed one to Krolia.

“Some ‘illegitimate activities’ Coran overheard being discussed,” Krolia said.

“I suspect these types of events are riddled with many lies,” Kolivan said, taking a sip of his drink and frowning at the glass. “What is this?”

Krolia lifted the drink to her nose. “Nunvill, I think.”

As Kolivan’s words registered, Coran realized he might’ve overreacted. Ten thousand deca-phoebs ago he wouldn’t have bat an eye at such discussions. He would have notified Alfor when he could, the matters would be investigated, and they would turn out to be nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time one of those outlandish rumors had ended up being true.

“Here,” Kolivan said to Coran, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I’d rather not finish this, and you look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Coran said taking the glass from his hand. He relished the familiar flavor of nunvill, the soft irritation it caused along his throat. A few more of those and he’d be swaying on his feet, giggling at the fuzzy feeling that would envelop him.

Kolivan looked over his shoulder, like he was weary of someone approaching.

“Everything alright?” Coran asked.

“Emi asked me to speak before we ‘properly began,’ whatever that means,” Kolivan said. “Not particularly keen on that. It’s already been a varga, when does this begin?”

“By now, most guest must’ve arrived, so I’d say soon enough.”

“I know how to encourage soldiers, not console diplomats,” Kolivan shook his head.

“You’ll be fine,” Krolia said. “This is just a like a Coalition meeting, only bigger and with a fancier dress code.”

“So, very much not like a regular meeting,” Kolivan said with a sour twist on his lips. “Keith has better graces with this type of speech.”

“You’ll do great,” Coran said taking a sip of his nunvill. “Just mention something about a road to reparations and you’ll get big cheers. It’s a rather popular topic these days.”

“Right, right,” Kolivan nodded. “Rhetoric.”

Coran smiled into his glass, feeling an odd mixture of pride and flattery swell in his chest. Kolivan had been reading Grogery’s Rhetotic. He’d kept his word. It was sweet.

“Right.”

“I think Emi is calling for you,” Krolia said, looking around Kolivan. She raised her hand and waved. “You better head over and make both of us look good.”

“I thrive under pressure, Krolia,” Kolivan said in what Coran recognized to be his joking tone. It only had the slightest lilt of mirth. “I only wish I hadn’t given Coran my drink so quickly.”

Kolivan stalked over to Emi, no sign of nervousness in his gestures. They climbed up the small stage that hosted the musicians and Emi got everyone’s attention rather quickly.

“Good evening, esteemed ambassadors, representatives and loved ones,” his voice carried over the grand room. “We are gathered tonight to celebrate the unity of the Galactic Coalition and promote further amity. This has been an effort of many deca-phoebs, but a better tomorrow is on the horizon. That wouldn’t have been possible without Daibazaal joining our efforts in reaching our goals. In the same spirit of amity that brought them to joining the Coalition, I’d like to invite Representative Kolivan to share a few words with us.”

Emi stepped aside as Kolivan took center stage. His face was stoic as he inspected the audience before him. Coran had come to recognize that this was how Kolivan looked with his guard up.

“The Galra have done the universe a great wrong. There is no denying that. It would be a gross oversight to do so. In the last deca-phoebs, Representative Krolia and myself have been working closely with the Blade of Marmora and the Galactic Coalition in the hope to reconcile with the damage done.

“The fruits of our efforts are beginning to bloom. The Blade of Marmora has fully transitioned to operate as a ‘humanitarian aid organization,’ as its new leader, Paladin Keith Kogane of Voltron, has dubbed it. The Empire’s tyranny had never been more behind us. We thank the Coalition for having us and giving us the opportunity to help undo the damage we’ve done. As Daibazaal gains your trust again, we offer our resources at your disposal to help bridge that trust. The future of the Coalition is bright, and we’re excited to be a part of it.”

He bowed and received a polite round of applause. Emi stepped up again beside Kolivan, where they faced each other.

Coran watched beside Melenor as Alfor offered Zarkon his forearm, his trust in the Galra ruler evident in the confidence of his posture. Zarkon’s eyes softened, appreciating the Altean offer, taking Alfor’s forearm in his.

Kolivan’s eyes were not soft, his expression showed his resolve to follow through with his words; Emi’s smile widened when Kolivan took his forearm, glad to see he knew what to do with the offer. The audience’s cheer was louder this time, the show of Altean diplomacy a breath of fresh air.

The event naturally resumed when Emi and Kolivan exited the stage. The musicians were already cued up for their starting piece, the melody softly lifting into the room. Coran recognized it as an interlude piece used in the Altean Opera. He smiled at the familiar tune. His smile only grew as he saw Kolivan approach.

“The next speech is yours,” he said to Krolia. “That was entirely too nerve-wracking.”

“Diplomacy has made you soft, Kolivan,” Krolia smirked. “I’m going to look for Shiro; Keith wanted me to excuse him from tonight.”

“Everything alright?”

“He said so,” Krolia shrugged. “Wanted to keep a closer eye on Lance this weekend. Apparently, he’s going through another slump.”

“I see,” Coran said. “It’s good that they look out for each other.”

“It is. Otherwise, I don’t think I would like Lance very much,” Krolia said and walked in Shiro’s direction.

Coran and Kolivan shifted to the nearest table, taking a seat as Coran gave Kolivan some pointers to improve his public speaking. Coran’s eyes tracked how Kolivan’s hands fixed the folds of his robe as he got comfortable in his chair.

“You could also engage with the crowd a little more, look at more than one fixed point,” Coran said, trying to pull his eyes way.

“I had read that finding familiar faces in the crowd helps,” Kolivan said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I was…worried I wouldn’t find anyone else, so I focused on you,” Kolivan shrugged. Coran straightened in his seat, blushing. “You and Krolia.”

“Right,” Coran’s voice squeaked.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. Coran looked up to find General Tuhml, an ambassador for a moon in System 5-K-L. “My name is Tuhml of Hicif, First General. Could I have a moment of your time, Representative Kolivan?”

Kolivan stared at Tuhml for a tick, and Coran quickly realized he didn’t know what to do. He kicked at Kolivan’s ankle. “Of course,” Kolivan said, standing up with a small bow, like he hadn’t missed a beat. Coran smiled to himself.

The pair distanced themselves from Coran, but he could still read their body language very well. Kolivan stood rigid, nodding as he listened, face unexpressive; Tuhml spoke with a lot of hand gestures and smiles, like he was being particularly charming. Kolivan seemed to talk in short phrases, not particularly encouraging Tuhml’s conversation. He shook his head. Tuhml frowned. He said something else and Tuhml seemed pleased with that. Kolivan walked over to Coran and Tuhml wandered over to join his fellow Hicif ambassador.

“What did he want?”

“He thanked me for focusing the terraforming funding on his moon and asked if Daibazaal could help with additional resources.” Kolivan retook his seat beside Coran. “I said no, that I would have to consult Krolia and Daibazaal’s Secretary of Intergalactic Aid, Aihpos. He said he understood and thanked me again.”

“Sounds like you handled that well,” Coran said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Coran’s heart thrummed in his chest. He’d been feeling like that all evening. The smallest things about Kolivan would get a reaction out of him… Perhaps it was seeing him in a new setting. That was probably it.

The music swelled in the air, the strings lifting the melody to a satisfying conclusion. The next piece that began was softer and carefully sculpted to be danced to, a formal and gentle thing. Curtis and Shiro were already dancing, trying to follow the other representatives in their steps. They were different from the ones Shiro had taught Coran. The dances were created for conversation, allowing the participants to share pleasantries and possibly foster friendships that continued after the dance. They would switch partners every so often, twirling and being caught by someone new.

It sparked an idea in Coran’s head.

“Come on, this will do you some good,” Coran said standing up and beckoning Kolivan. Kolivan stood without question, probably trusting Coran’s judgement regarding these events. However, Kolivan’s blind trust seemed to shift when they neared the large group of dancers.

“Coran, what are we doing?” Kolivan leaned over to ask.

“We’re going to dance,” Coran said, smiling up at Kolivan. “It’ll be good for you to get acquainted with the other ambassadors. This will help.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“Don’t be so stiff, make some friends,” Coran said, offering his hand to Kolivan. “Just follow along.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened for a tick as he took a deep breath. “Alright,” he agreed, taking Coran’s hand.

The last thing Coran expected was to see Kolivan unfold. But that’s what he did.

Coran was surprised to see how easily Kolivan picked up the pattern of the dance; sway, turn, twirl, switch. With each switch, the group would break way into two pairs; sway, turn, circle around each other, switch. By the second switch, the original partners were together again, then the turns changed direction.

Coran probably danced with four different ambassadors, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t stop looking at Kolivan. He took the dance in stride, his steps confident, his hold steady. He was graceful. Each time he returned to Coran, he’d smile like he was relieved to be back. It was a little intoxicating to realize he didn’t smile at anyone else.

Kolivan made it look easy. Like it was easy to be charming and coordinated at the same time. Like it was easy to hold close people one might fundamentally disagree with. Even easier to hold closer those you did agree with. The man that had been on guard giving his speech earlier was not the same one that was dancing. This Kolivan seemed…unbothered. Like dancing were his element.

Coran laughed when Kolivan returned to him, shaking his head as they danced the final steps. He noticed that Kolivan felt closer than he had been at the beginning, holding Coran with ease.

The music came to an end, and they bowed their thanks. Kolivan linked his arm with Coran’s and escorted them off the floor. A new set of ambassadors and representatives took their place.

“What a gentleman,” Coran said with a playful edge. Kolivan smiled as they stepped around the crowd that had gathered around the dance. He led them out to the balconies, which were empty and quieter.

“There are a few things I remember about being gentle,” Kolivan said, leaning on the railing and looking out to the lights that extended away from the castle. The night was alive and bright, the gala behind them in full swing. Coran had missed this Altea. “I could afford to learn a few more.”

“I’m sure you know plenty,” Coran said, relaxing into Kolivan’s side—tensing, realizing he hadn’t let go of Kolivan’s arm. Kolivan didn’t move, however. He just turned his head to face Coran better. “You were very impressive back there. I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I don’t,” Kolivan shrugged. “It was an easy pattern to pick up. A Blade must know how to adapt to his surroundings.”

“Krolia seems to have a better time of it,” Coran teased.

“Yes, well, some of us are more gifted than others.”

The moment stretched before them in comfortable silence; Coran still leaning too close, Kolivan looking out over the balcony. Kolivan took a breath and Coran felt how he stiffed under his touch.

“You must know these have never been my kind of events,” Kolivan said after a while. “I’d much rather be...”

“Be?”

“Elsewhere,” Kolivan looked away, his ear twitching like he were uncomfortable. Coran took a step back and Kolivan’s ears flattened. He wondered if his proximity was unwanted.

“You mean you’d rather be doing something useful?” Coran asked, trying to figure out Kolivan’s mood.

“I wouldn’t say that, I don’t think,” Kolivan glanced at Coran. “Unless utility could be subjective.”

Coran huffed a chuckle. “Subjective—what are you on about? I find you impossible to read, Kolivan. Just when I thought I had you figured, too. You give grand speeches about the future of the Coalition, you managed not to piss off a single ambassador, and you’re unbearably charming when we dance—it’s like I don’t know you. Then you switch around to your old, cynical—” Coran was watching his hands resting on the railing, watched as Kolivan’s clawed hand covered his own.

“I’m sorry,” Kolivan said, heaving a sigh. “I think I’ve forgotten how to act around you.”

Coran was still staring at their hands. Galras never engaged in casual contact, they only allowed that kind of behavior with family, if that. Or unless it was absolutely necessary.

Coran’s mind was blanking; he could only stare.

“Coranic?” There was concern in Kolivan’s voice. Heat flushed Coran’s face all at once.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Coran said with the ghost of a laugh in his voice, looking up in alarm.

“No,” Kolivan chuckled, stepping closer. “I think that's the last thing I want.”

Coran’s heart started to pick up the pace, beating firmly and incessantly. He knew this feeling. Its familiarity had been haunting him for phoebs, deca-phoebs even. And it felt as dangerous as it had the last time.

His hand settled on top of Kolivan’s, squeezing a little.

“Kolivan, this isn’t smart.”

Kolivan seemed confused at the words. Coran felt a rush of panic. Had he read too much into Kolivan’s behavior? Had he overstepped? Over spoken?

Something rumbled in Kolivan’s chest. He was laughing. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled, wearing the brightest smile. His arms wrapped around Coran easily, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. Suns and stars! Your eyes were so wide. I’m sorry I scared you.” He was still laughing.

Coran felt himself warmer at the sudden proximity and even as he began to feel the outrage, he relaxed into Kolivan.

“You’re terrible, you know? Vile and evil.”

“Hm, I’m sure,” Kolivan smiled, letting out a sigh. “This is what I’d rather have be doing.”

“Making me flustered?” Coran asked pushing him away playfully.

“That and something else,” Kolivan said, squeezing Coran a little. “The part that isn’t smart.”

“The part we probably shouldn’t say.”

“Probably not.”

“This is all too familiar for me, Kolivan. I don’t think my heart can play this game again.” Coran chanced a look at Kolivan’s eyes and found them crinkled fondly. He’d never seen them like that.

“But how could I compare to a king?” Kolivan asked, like the endearing fool he was. How couldn’t you? More than anything, Coran wanted to kiss him right then. Instead, he let his hand reach up to the side of Kolivan’s face, his thumb brushing over his scar and cheek.

“You’d be surprised.”

Kolivan leaned his head into Coran’s hand, closing his eyes and stepping away. Coran dropped his hand and offered Kolivan a brave smile, something in his chest dislodging. Kolivan glanced at the gala behind them, his ears twitching like he was annoyed. They knew this would be complicated.

“Kolivan? Have you ever seen the royal garden?” Coran asked as casually as he could.

“Only from your office window,” Kolivan said, tilting his head in confusion.

“Would you like a closer look?” Coran linked their arms and began to lead them down the balcony steps.

“Right now?” Kolivan still looked confused, looking over his shoulder toward the grand, bright room.

Coran’s grip tightened a little over Kolivan’s forearm. “Yes, right now. The gerdia’s look wonderful under the moons’ light.”

“Right, alright,” Kolivan said, placing his hand over Coran’s, finally caught up.

The royal garden had been Melenor’s. She had poured so much of her time and passion into it, Coran felt compelled to bring it back. While it wasn’t exactly how Melenor had left it, it was as faithful to her vision as Coran could manage it. It was open to the public nowadays, the Altean Hierarchy long gone. It kept its title as a reminder of its original creator.

The path to the garden was lit up by soft blue light. Even though it was a public garden, not many people frequented it. It had Melenor’s favorite flowers and aromas. Walking through it was like walking next to her—not that many knew that.

Coran missed Melenor. He had been her aid as much as he had been Alfor’s. They had kept each other company when Alfor was away as the Red Paladin, they would joke around at balls if the politics had been particularly boring, they had been friends. Very good friends.

He took a deep breath, smiling at the comforting familiarity in Melenor’s favorite things. They stopped at the entrance of the hedge maze Melenor had loved to stroll through.

“Kolivan, is it alright if I speak plainly with you?” Coran asked, his stomach thrumming nervously.

“I would rather if you did,” Kolivan said as he took in the garden, running his thumb over the back of Coran’s hand.

“Tell me what you want,” Coran said, turning his head to look at Kolivan. “I know what I want but tell me what you want. I must know if I need to push what I want aside again. I can do it; I know I can. I just need to know if I have to.”

“And what is it you want, for the sake of speaking plainly?”

“You,” Coran said more honestly than he meant to. “But I can withhold my affections for the sake of our positions.”

“Must we do that? Stifle ourselves? Aren’t you always encouraging the idea that vulnerability is something I can afford now? But I have to hold my tongue when, for once, it’s the last thing I want to do?”

“You know how messy this could get, Kolivan,” Coran said, stepping away from him. Kolivan didn’t let go of his hand, so he held it as he stepped into the maze. Kolivan followed quietly. “Our positions create conflict of interest if we were to get involved. I am willing to risk that—if that’s what you want. We could…start small? Make sure we can separate work from a potential relationship?”

“What I want… I’ve never had the opportunity to want things for myself.” Kolivan ran a hand along the side of the hedge. He took a steadying breath, stopping his tracks and pulling Coran by the hand. “Coran, I’m afraid—I’ve never had to—” He shook his head, gathering Coran in his arms. “Victory or death. That’s how I’ve functioned for the longest time. With the affairs of the heart, I am but a child. I’ve never had to moderate. It either meant nothing or everything. I’m afraid of wanting more than you can offer. Of taking more than what is mine. I’m scared I won’t be able to do this.”

Coran fixed the crest of his tie and took his face into his hands. Kolivan held him closer, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go.

“I’m scared, too. My heart’s never had the things it desired. I’ve never allowed myself to dwell. But for the first time I’m considering it, allowing myself a little happiness,” Coran said, running a thumb over Kolivan’s furred cheek. “I want you enough to try.”

Kolivan huffed out a breath like he’d been holding it.

“I do, too,” he said, ducking his head closer to Coran. “I’ll be content with what you can give me.”

Coran smiled, a sad little thing. His heart yearned to give Kolivan everything. Not just small doses of his affections, not just what could be spared between glances. He wanted to be able to kiss him without reserve, hold him without hesitation, have him without a doubt.

But for now, this would have to be enough.

Even then, it had been too easy to break their first unspoken rule. It had been too easy for Coran to brush his thumb over Kolivan’s lower lip; it had been too easy for Kolivan to lean forward and close what little space was left between them.

Coran felt the tentativeness in Kolivan’s lips, soft and uncertain. Coran relaxed into Kolivan’s arms, kissing him back slowly, sweetly. Kolivan, a man Coran had viewed for the longest time as harsh and stoic, a man he’d once been apprehensive to trust, now held him with reverence, kissed him with ardor. Kolivan, the avid disciple of adjustment, was now an acolyte of the contours of Coran’s mouth.

He became more confident, bringing Coran flush against him, and taking a sharp breath as Coran’s fingers tangled into his fur. Coran wrapped his arms around Kolivan’s neck, deepening the kiss and feeling the scrape of Kolivan’s teeth on his bottom lip; it made his knees weak. Coran ran his tongue over Kolivan’s lip whenever he could, his mouth trying to keep up with the slow desperation building in his chest. It seemed to drive Kolivan a little crazy, soft hums rumbling from his chest.

Coran had managed to keep quiet until Kolivan began licking into his mouth. It made his stomach a warm, fluttering mess, his fingers digging into Kolivan’s collar. He made a small sound, somewhere between a hum and a moan. He hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time.

Kolivan slowed down, pulling away softly. “Feeling alright?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said with the brightest smile, swiping a thumb under Kolivan’s lip. “You’ve no idea.”

pt. 1 | < pt. 4 | pt. 6 >

[theskyexists]

gundam ep 5 & ep 6 & ep 7 &8

Poor elan, raised a tool, tortured as a child. surprising he wouldnt want aerial for himself if it doesnt hurt him. but he can actually feel the robot as his own body....

i love that jeturk actually came to protect suletta. really like him now tho i dont understand him.

aha he did want it

Suletta is definitely starting to get on my nerves. i know shes just in it for the sleepovers and the boyfriends and whatever it takes to set up a school and not the high stakes intergalactic political game. but like. get with it. stop accepting duels.

hold up hold on, Elan was old enough to accept the role of being a surrogate Elan... i get that it takes the life out of the surrogate, they didnt want to make Elan go through it. i guess...i guess it makes sense.

why wouldnt aerial have thrusters. we SAW that lfrith has thrusters.we know she went flying around on mercury. you’re telling me she couldnt fly there? shes in zero gravity here....we SAW her pick up miorine. wwhat

theyre in outer space. they could blow each other to quick goddamn death here. aerials voice is that of a child....

theres a lot of Nanoha in this. she trounces everybody decidedly and befriends them in doing so. they realise that winning - everything they thought theyd get through winning - that its not actually what they want or need. But that Suletta can give them something else...

IM AN UNDERSTANDING BRIDE. I WILL TOLERATE SOME MINOR TWO-TIMING. i adore the concept of suletta harem anime. but mio is first of course

oh shit. ok they showed quite deliberately. by jeturk getting thrown out. by not-elan getting discarded. that capital does not CARE for fairytale befriending.

it is merciless

MIO DOESNT JUST LET SULETTA INTO THE GREENHOUSE BUT EVEN LETS HER NEAR THE TOMATOES WITH SHEARS

the beautiful and simple metaphor

RED AND BLUE. TRULY BEAUTIFUL DRESSES. OH MY GOD

Nika tries to compliment Mio and she takes it as sarcasm lololol

STAND UP STRAIGHT. their dynamic is so great sfjlkdsjfaksd

why is suletta’s mother trying to make an enemy of mio - why is she letting on shes not fully to be trusted? (or is she trying to teach her a lesson? why say it so evilly tho)

ah. Nika got the thrusters from Shaddiq.

she actually got out of her stutter because of mio’s harsh love haha

wtf. how are they getting out of this one. why did Delling let them go in the first place and why go about accusing her once again of possessing a gundam in public in such a roundabout way. what is stopping him from using his power fully?

ok thats cool. thats a very cool idea by miorine. but everybodys afraid of delling mio

VERY GOOD IDEA BY MIO. VERY GOOD. (it’s not pride, it’s hatred, far more effective lol)

japanese people always seem to think so weirdly from anime. ‘the gundams curse is heavier than you think’ - IT IS JUST A FUCKING MACHINE. A KILLING MACHINE. oh no its pilots die. yeah. so what. why the fuck is that the line. its not MAGIC. you cant just mash ‘witch hunt’ with ‘killer robot’ and be done with the worldbuilding..

Anyway Delling goes in for it lol why. does he care about miorine after all? he set this whole thing up to destroy the gundam and now he’s like ok yeah you can take on the curse then i guess. what.

anyway yeah its definitely better to be ceo of a startup company funded by the whole group including your father (who is only 3% owner!) than be a daughter completely dependent on him. i do not understand why Delling did what he did, why he made Mio a ‘bride’, why he didnt destroy Aerial last time nor why he went along with setting up a company for MAKING GUNDAMS when he already ‘knew’ the pilot dying problem had been solved. what is this man thinking

her mother is completely underestimating what having lied to her daughter and then admitting to it will do to their relationship

so is Mio buying up Peil’s team and shin sei’s to work on gundams based on Aerial and Pharact? Peil and shin sei didn’t even agree. tho i guess suletta’s mom was like: yep sure lets go

even the intro song is kannazuki no miko as heck.

still lying to suletta

‘i didnt come here to build mobile suits’ then why are you at the mobile suit school

IS THIS THE FIRST TIME THEY’VE DEALT WITH THE REALITY OF MOBILE SUITS BEING WEAPONS????

miorine is very smart. suletta is not very smart but has other qualities.

miorine really does have a LOT of freedom of movement right now. yet she hasnt thought to use it at all to get to Earth.

no one but the vanadis group ever thought to use robot tech to save lives? prospera literally has a prosthesis and mio wasnt TOO shocked. how are spacians suriving space right now??

what the fuck lol. who in the world was like: yeah lets leave the billions of investment to the high schoolers to make a silly video with. THE WHOLE GROUP WAS LOOKING TO MAKE WEAPONS AND NOW THEY’RE LIKE HEY LOOK AERIAL IS HERE AND WE”RE GONNA......USE IT TO IMPROVE PEOPLE’S BODIES? there is simply no way to marry the giant robot with developing medical technology.... why do the cyborg parts need an ai....why develop a suit at all? just to please the shareholders? mio is gonna be in the same problems as vanadis

‘Its better than being complicit in war’ YOU ARE AT A MOBILE SUIT ACADEMY. YOU WERE ALWAYS GONNA BE COMPLICIT

hold on. the group just invested 240 million in this startup and now some school regulations are gonna stop the establishment of the company? lol come on

[pencilscratchins]

ms rebecca pencilscratchins you MUST share more plot of the good star wars that exists in you brain

well i dont have like a super clear one but more or less this is what im vibing with

TFA remains largely unchanged since i think it does an effective job of setting up the characters and the storyline. at the end, they finish the map to show the location of “new mandalore” where luke is at with din. rey still goes to convince him to teach her and he still is initially hesitant, but a combination of din and rey and grogu convince him to take her on. he’s not bitter as much as he is heartbroken and ashamed. through his parent like relationship with rey, he relearns how to open himself up in the force.

rey’s story is now WAY more focused on her personal identity and discovering her own spot in the universe. in this au, she’s nobody’s daughter; she is just a random force sensitive child because like… the lesson that anyone can make a difference, not just the same two families, is still a good lesson even in properties other than spiderman guys sksks. i think also, her struggles with the darkside come more from the fact she grew up with absolutely no power and the promise of power the darkside has obviously appeals to her (like, analog wise i think she has more inline with anakin than luke if you feel me.)

obviously, finn is force sensitive, but to me? it just felt so clear that he was being set up to get other stormtroopers to rebel and like explore the implications of that. like... it seemed blatantly clear but of course they wasted that potential. so while he does a bit of training with luke, i think speaking with some mandalorians (some of which are children of clones) gives him the idea to go liberate some troopers. poe goes along with him, since we need to investigate the republic’s way too comfortable attitude with killing hundreds of what we know are like... child soldiers. (also we can introduce jannah in the second movie so she gets to have a real character)

poe and leia have the relationship we all want them to have, and his storyline outside of trooper liberation focuses on the realities of being in a resistance and forming a new republic. i know this isnt to everyones taste but i like political melodrama i know its trash. but this is my au so i get to decide what goes in it. finn & poe’s relationship is always allowed to develop and they obviously have a beautiful intergalactic gay romance.

NOW FOR WHAT WEVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR: ROSE TICO! rose had so much potential- i think she still loses her sister and underestimates herself. but the great thing about din being in this au, is that now? rose & him get to interact. rose goes up to him and insists he teach her how to fight like a mandalorian, and he takes one look at this angry, grieving young woman with this huge heart of bravery and righteousness, and is like “ah shit. i have an adult daughter now i guess. guess i have to teach her how to shoot big guns and shit now” yeah, that’s right. rose basically becomes a mandalorian in this au NO I WONT APOLOGIZE. THIS AU IS FOR ME. and also my friend bailey.

again, all these ideas are sorta nebulous and subject to change and i wont ever do anything with it, but. You asked so.

[deniigi]

Blame @petrichordiam for this.

-------------

Title: centerstage

Summary: An academic goes to a conference and is jazzed to see a jedi speak there. He unknowingly sits next to this jedi’s Support Squad.

The jedi Support Squad is like 85% clones, and 15% Jedi Generals.

No one mentions that the jedi speaking has never done this before and is petrified out of his blessed little mind.

*Anakin is like 19-20ish here.

-------------

Sion Jissard has spent the last ten years of his life in the dredges of archives, digging through documents and testing fibers found between the flimsy, papery pages of old texts—scrounging for clues to recreate the conditions of the great conference halls and small, tucked away offices in which some of the most powerful people in the galaxy once gathered to whisper and shout over the fate of whole planets.

He has a hypothesis that the conditions in those rooms affected the decisions made in them. His hypothesis is strong enough that it has endured several rounds of peer-review and escaped those vulture-like clutches mostly unscathed in published form—both in journal and, his chest swells to recall, in book formats.

His book has sold several hundred copies and been cited in a plethora of upcoming article submissions.

The last eight years of tension in his marriage has eased in light of this. The salary from the professorship obtained in light of the book certainly hasn’t hurt it either.

His two doctorates are set on the wall of his office and when he receives word that a conference on ‘Intergalactic Unionism and Peace Negotiation’ is to be held in two months time, he opens up the speakers list and raises his head to gaze upon those two solid frames.

There will be jedi speakers at the conference. Several, actually. The whole thing is to be held on Coruscant, in the small visitors’ wing of the Jedi temple itself.

Sion Jissard pinches the fabric of his suit and then lightly slaps at his cheek to make sure that he is not dreaming.

He has only recently begun studying the jedi order’s material world and the role that world plays in their intergalactic peace-making practices. Prior to this, he considered the subject too on-the-nose. Jedi studies are rampant. Everyone wants a piece of that pie—the allure of it being that the jedi themselves, scholars in their own rights, refuse to partake in examinations of their culture.

They are notoriously obstinate. Their grandmasters refuse to let outsiders into their archives. Their masters shut down any and all attempts to obtain interviews or transcripts or documents with empty expressions or gentle, pitying smiles. Their knights blink with confusion at personal and personal-adjacent questions, and the little ones, the apprentices, are shielded behind all of these people as though the elbow-padded questioners are threatening their precious little lives.

In short, the jedi are happy to listen but loathe to teach. If you are not one of their soldiers or one of their fellows, they will lie to your face and tell you that it is their religion to do so.

And yet here they are, offering up a scholar’s wetdream and even allowing a handful of their own to present on their areas of expertise.

Sion Jissard will pass up this opportunity only upon pain of death.

He applies for the conference as a participant, not a speaker, and is delighted to receive confirmation of his place within mere minutes.

He puts the date on his calendar and starts looking into transit to Coruscant for the event in two months time.

--

 Sion arrives on Coruscant, at the foot of the Jedi Temple itself, and stares up at it for so long that he begins to feel sick to the gills.

He fumbles for his confirmation at the little table set up in the interior courtyard behind a side-entrance door. He is distracted by the fact that the woman he is standing in front of is a Jedi. She is helped by two small children and holds a baby who is dead-set on unraveling the knots that decorate her thick waist band. Even the baby is dressed in double-collared cream-colored robes.

Sion has so many questions he wants to ask.

The jedi asks him for his name. She has a collection of name badges before her, but none of them are his. He gives his name and the master turns to the little girl sat at her right elbow with a brush in hand and instructs her to write it out.

The jedi child—not an apprentice, her robes are cream still, there are no additional earth-colors layered on top of it—writes Sion’s name in beautiful script on a little card and hands the card to the master, who puts it in a holder with a pin on it and places it into Sion’s hand.

She instructs him to go through the side door and enjoy some refreshments before the event begins. The baby in her lap looks up at her abruptly and bonks his sweet little head against her chin.

Sion forgets himself.

“How old?” he asks automatically, gesturing to the baby.

The master looks down into her lap.

“He is eight months and 75% lung,” she says affectionately.

“Ah. Mine was like that, too,” Sion says. “He grew out of it. He’s only 40% lung now.”

The master smiles.

Sion removes himself from her table before he embarrasses himself further.

--

 There are enough people inside the front room of the jedi’s visitor’s wing to nearly fill it to capacity. The volume, though everyone is whispering, is great enough to be heard from outside the door. The room itself is earth-colored with a high ceiling. Its walls all contain niches with rounded borders. Columns with deep-cut creases in them arch high to the skylights.

It is all beautifully geometric, stoic, and clean. And even though the walls and floor are built from materials of warm tones, the skylights overhead and the surrounding addtion of books and holorecords set into the walls lend it a cooling quality.

What should have been imposing architectural feels more like holy space. The room is one that reverberates with reminders to respect all around you.

Sion’s fingers yearn to document this, but there is a sign right by the room’s entrance that asks politely for no recordings or holographs to be taken.  

“Professor Jissard,” a familiar voice says.

Sion feels his whole body droop. He turns to see Teo Detras stood before him in his obnoxious, roaring red robes.

“I’m pleased that you too were able to secure an invitation, sir,” Teo says as though he has not attempted to place Sion on the metaphysical chopping block for each of his premises since the time they began their academic programs.

Sion opens his mouth to point out that this is also his area of study and that Teo has no monopoly on the field of Jedi architecture when a quiet passes over the room. Sion watches the heads around him lift and searches for the source of the sudden shudder of silence.

He finds it in a tall master with dark skin standing at the very front of the space. The man has tucked his hands neatly into the mouths of his sleeves.

He is Jedi Master and General Mace Windu. Sion has read and reread his essays, not caring so much for what he is talking about but how he is talking about it. His metaphors and examples should have been insight into the common experiences of those living in the Jedi temple.

Sion has found, however, that Jedi Master Mace Windu does not especially care for eloquence or metaphor. He cares only to methodically destroy the argument (if it could be called that) published by a jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn many years ago. Though Master Jinn has not published for several decades now, Master Windu’s writings remain agitated by his interpretations of the jedi’s Spiritual energy, the Force.

Just gazing upon the man now, Sion would not think him capable of agitation.

Master Windu welcomes the academics to the temple and says that he regrets not having more time to speak with each of the attendees as individuals, but there is a war on and his clone troopers require his services. He encourages people to refrain from any recordings of the temple due to its sacred nature, and he asks that attendees be mindful of the jedi Initiates (the white-robed children) who are confused and intrigued by all of the non-jedi people inhabiting their usual playroom.

He cautions everyone that if anyone slips on a toy, he warned them, and the temple is not liable for their medical bills.

This is a joke.

People are unsure of whether or not to laugh. Some laugh awkwardly far too late. Master Windu gives no sign on his face that he appreciates or disapproves of this.

Instead, he steps from his space of honor and leaves in his place a young man with feathery blonde hair and a highly expressive countenance, who drops his armload of documents on the floor obnoxiously and flings himself down to snatch up only the conference program, as if this was the most efficient way of finding it.

People know to laugh this time.

The young man begins announcing panel topics and rooms and give his strong opinions on each of them.

More people laugh. It feels less like a sin.

“And that’s all, my dears and darlings,” the young man says, “Mind your step into the conference rooms, our predecessors derived joy from an unexpected drop.”

--

 Sion has only one panel that he will kill at minimum three bodies to sit in on. It is the one on peace strategy and resource management. He is not here for the peace strategy or the resource management parts of the talk; his burning interest yearns instead in listening to how and if people talk about their space and things. He wants to write down the language they use. He wants to learn about the physicality of peace.

He thinks ‘The Physicality of Peace’ would make a very compelling title for another book.

So he slips through the arched doors of conference room 3 and finds himself in a tiered lecture theatre. There is a small balcony with rows of pew-like benches that hangs over a lower seating area. He takes a seat at the edge of the front pew and sets his datapad on his lap for note-taking. At the front of the room there is a long bench—not a quite table, but definitely a tall bench, and behind it, there is an enormous screen for displaying images and information. Someone has very kindly thought to place a jug of water and some cups at the center of the bench by a microphone.

Sion gets the impression from its awkward, dead-center placement that it is an addition that the jedi themselves usually forego.

He wonders what that means. He only wonders for about 15 seconds before a hand touches his shoulder and he jerks in alarm.

“My apologies, sir. We were just wondering if the space next to you is available?” says the smooth-faced, copper-haired man standing above him.

He is wearing white armor on top of his layered robes. The arms and legs that emerge from his long off-white tunic are dark in color, but his boots are hard and white and come up and over his kneecaps.

Sion is speechless.

This is General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has touched Sion’s shoulder and apologized to him.

He doesn’t have words. He can only make fish-mouthed motions and then point and nod.

General Kenobi accepts this with grace and stands up straight. He waves behind him to call his companions over to join him on the balcony’s edge.

They arrive as a pack.

Instead of coming around and staggering past Sion’s knees at the edge of the bench, General Kenobi climbs over its back and settles in. He then twists back over the row and holds his hands out; a Clone Trooper in full armor hands to him a strange bundle of woolen, brown robe. It produces legs and arms and then bright blue and white lekku once Kenobi has situated it next to him.

“Fooled ‘em,” the little Togruta that emerges from the cloth says brightly.

“Shh,” Kenobi says. “Cody, you next.”

“No, I want Rex to sit with me.”

“Ahsoka, shhh.”

“Rex.”

“Child, this is how people like me get banned from meetings; you’re not even supposed to see—”

“REX.”

“HUSH. Okay, okay. Rex. Pst. Cody, get Rex. Cody, oh for the love of—Wolffe, yes—no. Wolffe, look at me. Get Cody to get Rex.”

Sion cannot believe what he is seeing. General Kenobi appears to be sneaking half of his command into the balcony area. There are more than a few clone troopers there are at least twenty. They are somehow visibly excited despite their matching helmets. The General is able to tell them apart easily. He leans over the back of the bench again and crooks his finger at one of the troopers who leans forward. He tells them to throw something at their commander.

The Clone takes off his glove, stands, and nail a clone standing in the aisle in the head with it. The slap of contact makes this clone cease speaking in serious low tones with a clone decorated with blue edging in front of him. The first clone draws himself up perfectly straight and turns around with a fury that even Sion can feel the heat of.

His armor is painted yellow in places.

He holds the glove in his hand like a threat. The clone who threw it winces and points wordlessly to General Kenobi, then sits down in a hurry. Kenobi smiles wide and white. He has freckles on his face that do not appear on any of the images of him that appear on the news.

He’s also shorter than Sion himself, even sitting.

“Sir,” the white and yellow clone says stiffly.

“Rex,” Kenobi says through that threat of a smile. “Get over here.”

The Togruta child twists around excitedly as the clone in white and blue exits the conversation with the one in white and yellow and surveys the rows of his fellows piled into the space behind the General and the child. He has to squeeze past the line of knees and then climb over the bench to sit down next to the child, who immediately cuddles up to him.

“Hey, that’s my seat,” a new voice whispers.

Sion looks back to see General Quinlan Vos with his arms crossed over his chest, recognizable in any setting. Behind him is General Koon. General Kenobi slaps a hand to his forehead and grumbles, then shoos the blue edged clone and the child a few seats down.

The generals clamber just as awkwardly as the blue clone through the sea of knees of the troopers and then over the back of the bench.

Somehow, Sion has won the jackpot. He is now surrounded by jedi culture, literally.

“All of you, back,” Kenobi snaps down the bench when everyone is just starting to get comfortable. “Cody. Commander, come here.”

The clone trooper with the yellow edging does not want to play this game. He shifts his weight back onto his other heel as Kenobi pats the newly vacated space next to him. General Vos croons in a teasing tone something about Kenobi being especially fond of this clone.

Kenobi lurches out across the empty seat to punch him in the gut and then returns peacefully to patting the space over the sound of Vos’s moaning.

The Clone Commander has no choice. His general is giving him a directive. He gives in to the inevitable and makes his way through the knees and—much more neatly than the others—steps over the back of the bench to its seat and then into sitting. Kenobi beams at him, practically purring.

Sion needs desperately to take notes, but the subjects of said notes are right there and rudeness is intolerable in retaining his vantage point.

He fights the urge to vibrate in space as the lights begin to dim overhead and the panel chairman comes out to introduce the topic and speakers. It is only about a minute or so when a hand lands firmly on Kenobi’s right shoulder—the one by Sion’s arm. Sion jumps, but Kenobi resolutely stares directly down at the speaker.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Mace Windu’s low, low voice says right into the space between Kenobi and Sion’s ears, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kenobi begins to melt but catches himself.

“You didn’t for a while,” he said.

“Get her out of here.”

“She has a right to see her Master.”

“What part of these orders are challenging for you?”

Kenobi still does not turn around to see Master Windu, but his eyebrows sink and his brow becomes more pronounced.

“No padawans,” Master Windu says. “Ahsoka. Out.”

The togruta, still bedecked in that heavy cloak, turns to stare owlishly at Master Windu while the person at the front of the room moves on to introducing the next speaker.

“But I’m not a padawan,” the child says. “I’m obnoxious. Master Kenobi said so.”

Kenobi holds his face in a hand.

“You can be both. Come,” Master Windu says, holding out a hand.

“But I’m a cloak,” Ahsoka tries instead.

Kenobi crumples further. Master Windu’s hand finds his shoulder again. Sion can feel its heat.

“If not her, then you,” he says.

“After,” Kenobi says.

“I’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Master Windu vanishes from behind them. Sion shudders. Kenobi turns to the side and hisses at Ahsoka,

“Now look what you’ve done.”

“You’re my co-conspirator,” Ahsoka hisses back. “My—my—Rex, what’s the word?”

Clone Commander Rex does not want to give her the word. Ahsoka tugs at him.

“Rex,” she insists.

“Enabler,” Commander Rex says with bitter regret coating his words.

Ahsoka beams over the laps of the other Generals at Kenobi. He glares back through a squint. He starts to say something, but General Vos tells him to shut up in a sharp tone.

Sion looks back to the front of the room and finds that a young man with dark hair has come out to the center of the front table-bench to speak.

He is a jedi. His robes, however, are dark in color. Blacks and browns with knee-high boots.

He’s very young. Very, very young.

And nervous.

Very, very nervous.

Even from the balcony seats, Sion can see his hands shaking. He is holding a stack of white paper. It is trembling like a branch on a windy day.

“Go, go, Master, go, go,” chants little Ahsoka.

Sion finds himself abruptly appalled by the realization that the child on center stage is the master of the child a few seats over from him.

General Koon gently shushes Ahsoka. Commander Rex helpfully wraps a gloved hand over the bottom half of her face to keep her distracted.

Sion looks from them to the young man and finds that he’s already knocked over the jug of water on the bench and looks about ready to sob about it. He gathers himself, though, and brings the microphone closer to him.

He is General Anakin Skywalker, Sion now understands. He is the first speaker and he’s never in his life presented a paper at a professional conference before.  

His voice shakes as he reads out the title of the article that he published (and that Sion has read) on battlefield surrender. After the second paragraph, Sion brings a hand to his lip to help him contain the emotions that come with the understanding that this boy is about to read his article, word for word, in front of a room full of academics.

He thinks now that he has been too harsh with his students.

--

 General Skywalker is not a strong public speaker. Clearly, his expertise is in action. He stammers. He loses his place in his reading and accidentally rereads three whole sentences. Only twice does he look up from his paper, and each time it is not at the audience but at Obi-Wan Kenobi, sat next to Sion, serious as a plague.

Kenobi nods sagely.

General Skywalker is General Kenobi’s apprentice. Was General Kenobi’s apprentice. However, it is clear to all who are present today that General Skywalker is still General Kenobi’s apprentice. Desperate, the poor thing is, for Kenobi’s reassurance.

His confidence in reading grows under his former (current?) master’s approving eye until he turns a page and—horror of horrors—drops the stack of paper.

Sion’s whole body tenses in sympathy and second-hand embarrassment. Skywalker flings himself down and messily collects the papers. He hurriedly reorders them, all while stuttering ‘ums’ and ‘uhs.’

Yet, when Sion chances a peek down the line of Generals next to him, he finds that not a single one has winced. No one has laughed. Even the clone troopers all around them are as silent and steady as the night itself.

It seems like they are all listening intently to their young General on center stage. The only giveaway that sympathy is being had by any is the tiny gesture Clone Commander Rex is making with his hand. He is moving it almost imperceptibly in a circle, as if to say ‘come on, come on.’

Sion looks back to young Skywalker and waits patiently as he finds his place and carries on reading again, this time faster. This time he does not look up for his master’s eye.

He wants only for the torture to end.

He gets to the end of his paper without dropping it or repeating himself and is flushed red. He does not ask for questions. He merely says quietly into the microphone, “Thank you.”

The panel chair waits a beat before walking over to Skywalker and asking the crowd for questions on his behalf. Skywalker becomes even more luminous. Sion cannot decide whether asking a question would be more or less stressful for this poor boy.

No one asks a question.

The panel chair then starts to ask for applause for Skywalker, but before he can even finish the sentence the whole balcony breaks into uproar.

General Kenobi hoots and whistles piercingly in Sion’s ear. General Vos claps and shouts what sounds like ‘You FUCKING did it, kid. You FUCKING did it. Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH,” the Clone Troopers behind General Vos finish for him in perfect unity.

“Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH.”

More applause and congratulations erupts after this.

General Skywalker slams his paper into his face and bursts into tears at the front of the room.

He bolts for a doorway that Sion hadn’t even noticed was right next to the bench. General Kenobi whacks at his Clone Commander’s shoulder, and Commander Cody wraps hands around his waist and hoists him up so that he’s standing on the guardrail at the edge of the balcony. He leaps from there to the lower level then goes jogging out the same doorway his former apprentice ran through.

After another moment or two, Commander Cody stands up and snaps at the whole collection of troopers in their language. Everyone shuts up and sits back down. Commander Rex gestures for Ahsoka to put up her hood and takes from General Vos a small datapad which he gives to the child—presumably for her to occupy herself with for the next hour and a half of papers. She takes it and immediately becomes absorbed in its lightly-glowing screen.

The balcony is once again on its best behavior.

Sion doesn’t bother with listening to any of the other papers. He feels no shame at all in beginning to furiously take notes on his last twenty-five minutes with the jedi.

--

 Upon leaving the conference room nearly two hours later, he finds himself swept up in the clone troopers’ swift and orderly exit from the space. They line up outside the hall in lines by regiment and they wait for their commanders and generals to arrive before marching back towards the visitors’ wing’s exit.

After two or three minutes, only two lines remain.

Clone Commander Rex and Clone Commander Cody stand perfectly at attention beside their lines of men. Clone Commander Rex has his jedi’s apprentice thrown over his shoulder; he has balanced her on one arm while she sleeps.

It’s very sweet. She obviously trusts the Clone Commander very much.

“Gentlemen.”

The clones snap to even tighter attention as General Mace Windu appears, walking briskly their way.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to them. “Commanders, you will remain. Obi-Wan and Anakin will join us shortly.”

“Sir,” both commanders say simultaneously.

There is a pause, and Sion sees that all of these people are now looking at him.

“Can we help you, sir?” General Windu asks.

Yes. And Sion will pay any amount of money to just know this one thing. This teeny, tiny detail.

“Sir?”

“Is that normal for you?” he blurts out.

The Clone Commanders stare. The general stares. The apprentice coughs lightly in her sleep.

“I regret to say that it is not only normal, but expected of these general and units,” General Windu says. “Please vacate this area.”

Right.

“Thank you,” Sion says.

He stiff-legs it back to the crowd of other academics and hunts down a liquid to soothe his parched throat.

  The new book’s title will not be ‘The Physicality of Peace.’ It will be ‘All is Fair in Love and War: The Jedi Order and Ideologies of Family, Part I.’

 --------------- Yeah, so anyways, Myth and I decided that Anakin is bad at public speaking and nothing anyone says can take this from me now, I’m invincible. (If you want this on Ao3 let me know).

[blkgojo]

Game On | Chapter 1

Valkyrie x Reader x Carol Danvers

In which, drunk!you thinks sending nudes to the King of Asgard and the most powerful Avenger... is a good idea.

Warnings: None

Here's the thing. Sending Valkyrie your nudes was an accident. Legally speaking, the nudes were meant for Carol. If you wanted to get even more technical, you weren't even supposed to text either one of them unless there was an emergency. You hadn't realized it at first. You curled up next to your cat, practically smug with your boldness. What better way to show you're available, you thought. You had checked your phone again to revel in it only to see the photo had not only been sent to Carol. It was there, right under Valkyrie's name. Wish you were here x.

You were well and truly fucked.

Working as a S.W.O.R.D agent meant few privileges. One of those privileges you had abused. Greatly. You had sent lewd photos to not only an Avenger, but the King of Asgard. Strong 10000 year old alcohol be damned, Fury wouldn't accept that as an excuse.

"You gonna tell me what's up or we just gonna sit here?" Darcy asked. Your roommate munched absentmindedly on a piece of chocolate. She was blessed enough to not have drank the ale. The buzz of it still causing your world to sway even as you began to sober up.

"I sent nudes to someone,” you whined.

She smiled. Patted your thigh. “That's okay, Y/N. We all send nudes sometimes."

“No you don’t get it. I sent them to the Asgardian king.”

“Thor has a phone?”

“No. Valkyrie.”

You can see she's trying her best not to laugh.

“It’s not funny.”

“You’re gonna start an intergalactic war.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fury’s gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t tell him!” Your words dissolved into drunken hiccups. You sloppily tried to take another sip of the ale, but Darcy snatched it. You frowned. “Do you… do you think she read it?”

“She doesn’t have read receipts? An IPhone?”

“No, I think she has an Android.”

Darcy  quietly tittered, mulling the information over. “Who did you even mean to send nudes to?”

"Don't freak out.”

“Y/N.”

“Say you won’t freak out.”

“Just tell me!”

“Darcy!”

“Spit it out!”

“Captain Marvel,” you hesitantly answered. 

Darcy shrugged. “Well, at least you didn’t send it to her, too.”

“No I did.”

One.

Two.

She laughed. "I'm sorry," she said between breathes. "I'm sorry. This is just... you're fucked."

To her credit, she tried to stop laughing. It doesn't work, but she tried. A few minutes past before she finally can speak again - tears having long since stained her face. She wiped them and took a deep breathe.

"You could just text them something like, 'Oh my god. I'm so sorry. This wasn't meant for you," she offered.

"I could." You nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I could do that."

You picked up your phone, ready to send another message. In your hands, it vibrated.

​---

Carol hated texting. Sometimes, she thought maybe that was why her and Thor were so close. She was traveling the galaxy. He was traveling the galaxy. She hated texting. He didn’t have a phone. She preferred communication the old fashion way like through hologram or sheer word of mouth.

She checked her phone as soon as she received the message and now it was waiting on the countertop of the bar face down.

“If someone sent me a picture, I would’ve been all over that,” Rocket burped.

“That’s not what she needs to hear right now, Rocket,” Thor turned to her. “So what are we doing here? Are you going to respond or…”

“I responded,” she said. And she had.

She said word for word, ‘Oh is this an emergency?’

You had sent the photos when she was on some off time with Thor. They all had just gotten back from a mission liberating refugees from a wannabe empire. She had been ready to dash back to Earth when she saw your name light up her phone screen. When she opened the message… completely different story.

Thor scrunched up his nose and shrugged.

“What?” asked Carol.

“If I sent promiscuous photos to a potential love interest, I would want a bit more…” He gestured to the air.

Carol scrunched her brows. “You would want what?”

“I don’t know. Romance?”

Rocket slammed his beer on the table. “Send them a tongue emoji.”

“I don’t like texting. Why couldn’t they just,” she threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Send a hologram.”

“Look. Forget everything else. Do you wanna get laid or not?” demanded Rocket.

Carol cocked her head to the side and begrudgingly nodded. “Then stop dicking around. It’s annoying. Some of us haven’t got laid in years and you’re over here squandering your opportunities.”

“So what? I travel a billion light years away for sex?”

Before Thor can interject, Rocket growled. “You can breathe in space. Going to Earth for you is like me or Thor here going to the bathroom.”

Carol sighed. “The raccoon has a point.”

“Fuck you.”

----

“C’mon Valkyrie. Just once.”

“I will not play Fortnite with you.”

Korg frowned or she assumed he did. It was always hard to tell. “But-”

“No.”

Her phone had long since vibrated in her pocket. A fact that she had chosen to ignore. The Midgardians seemed to always have issues. Even on Sundays which were supposed to be her self-care days. She picked it up, ready to see some frantic message about one crisis or another. The sky is falling. Nuclear weapons. Blah blah blah.

“Oh.” She nearly dropped it.

“What is it?” Korg peered over her shoulder. “It seems like someone sent you a gift.”

There were two photos with the caption ‘wish you were here x’. It was simple enough. Valkyrie tried to remember the last conversation she had with you. Had you been flirting? It was last Tuesday when she had been discussing global affairs with the other world leaders. You had been there, but in between all of the political nonsense, it was hard to figure it all out.

Korg was still peering over her shoulder. Valkyrie quirked her brow at him.

“Sorry.” He went back to his game. “Are you going to respond to Y/N? I like them. Gave me some good rocks once.”

“Rocks?”

“Yeah, I think they thought I eat them. Not their fault. My mum’s boyfriend used to think the same thing. I use them to decorate me flower garden, though.”

Valkyrie nodded and took a sip of her beer. “Should I respond?”

“You should do what your heart tells you.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’ve been watching a lot of them Disney movies. Have you seen the one with the girl on the islands?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve seen that one.”

“It’s good. She sings.”

Valkyrie took another swig of her beer, typing out a response to your photos.

‘This is way better than what I was expecting.’ And waited.

----

"She's annoying."

"I mean, she is right."

"Seriously?"

"What?" Darcy hesitantly took a sip of Thor's alcohol. "I think it's a valid question. Is it an emergency?"

"It is," you half-questioned.

"Is it?"

"It is," you said with more force.

"Then, say that," Darcy took another sip. "This shit really hits you. I get why..." She burped.

Right after you hit send, another message came through. Valkyrie.

"Well," you begin. "Valkyrie appreciated it."

"Of course she did." When you stared at her, Darcy shrugged. "She seems like really chill. Stared at your ass in one of our meetings."

"She did? When?"

"I don't know. It was like, so far ago."

"She said it was way better than what she was expecting."

"So, she wants you."

"Yeah," you said slowly. The King of Asgard wanted you. Wanted more of you. You reread the message. "I'm gonna flirt back."

Darcy nodded, taking another small sip of the ale.

I guess I should've done this sooner, you texted back.

Her response was immediate.  We’ll have to make up for lost time.

"Valkyrie's so hot," you whispered.

Just then, Carol responded. And what would you like me to do about this emergency?

You walked over to the counter and grabbed the bottle, taking a tiny sip of the alcohol. Just enough to give you a boost of confidence. You spared a glance at your friend. Her alcohol tolerance was higher than yours and yet, her cheeks were already pink. She nodded at the bottle, her eyebrows raised slightly.

"You look ah, flustered."

"You look drunk."

She held one finger up, wobbly walked herself to the couch. "Touche."

There was no reason you couldn't have fun, right? They didn't know that you had texted them both. No one knew save for Darcy and she could keep a secret. You could have fun with this. They both wanted you - honestly, you should take advantage of this opportunity. What was that phrase people loved saying? Live life or whatever the fuck.

"Yeah," Darcy cheered.

You hadn't realized you'd been talking out loud.

To Valkyrie, you send: When can we get started?

You took a deep breathe before texting Carol. Your fingers hovered over the send button for minutes longer than necessary.

I'd like you to fuck me, you sent back.

Game on.

[writingsfromstarfleet]

Q - Not That Bad

♫ - The Rains - Henry Jamison 

For the always lovely @okamiredfoxx I sincerely hope you enjoy! All you lot too, as always, thank you for reading! Hugs! ♡

The captain had called his staff to the bridge not too long into your shift, and you made your way there alongside Geordi. As you entered, Picard was stood almost defensively with Riker shadowing behind, seemingly arguing with a man who you had never seen before. Seeing the uniform, you turned to Geordi.

"A higher up? The captain doesn't argue with superiors, does he?" you whispered, as Geordi folded his arms and shook his head.

"Oh, this guy is not a superior."

Before you could ask what that statement meant, the man in question made a dramatic motion around, his voice loud over the hum of the Enterprise; despite Geordi's claims of the man not being superior, he held every single crewmembers attention like a queen in her court. He turned, arms wide to gesture at the crew.

"And this.. this-"

His words cut off as he made eye contact with you, and your breath hitched. He was handsome, whoever he was, and certainly entertaining. You raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he was looking at you in such a manner, before he made his way to you with a graceful decorum.

"Ah," the man began, taking your hand and raising it to his lips to place a delicate kiss atop your knuckles. "Le plus beau, magnifique."

Unsure of his action but somehow not able to take your eyes off him, you were thankfully dismissed of the interaction by the captain.

"Enough, Q. Get off my bridge!"

'Q,' you thought, smiling a little to yourself. You were no longer looking at him, but he most certainly was looking at you. 'What a gentleman.'

Whether that thought was genuine or sarcastic, even you couldn't tell.

Q had lived a long time, he had met many people, aliens and the like. In all of that time, he had never seen someone with quite the amount of ethereal beauty you possessed. Never had he been brought to silence, for any reason, but most certainly not by a simple human stood before him.

Backing away, he didn't take his eyes off of you, blowing you one last kiss before he went back to tormenting the captain. Your head spun to Geordi, who had a look as though to say he knew this was far from the end of it. Q had since vanished, leaving Picard and Riker, as well as the rest of the bridge crew, awkwardly looking in your direction.

"A word, Y/N. The rest of you, back to work." Picard's voice was stoic and professional as always, and you followed him into his ready room.

"Sir, who was that?" you asked.

"His name is Q, he's part of what's known as the Q Continuum. Often he shows up, causes a lot of trouble and leaves. I know you may be feeling somewhat unnerved by his actions out there, but rest assured we will keep you safe."

"Safe, sir? Is he dangerous?"

"He can be," he replied, sitting upright in his chair. "Never to a full degree, but he can be."

The captain had since dismissed you, and on your walk back to engineering, your thoughts had drifted to the omnipotent being that had you at his centre of attention. He couldn't be that bad, could he? He seemed polite enough, though there was nothing to hold him to on your part; you'd never met a Q before.

Some days later, it began. Little notes left around your work station. Without fail, every couple of days there was a new one sitting there. Each and every day, you would get to work to find something new waiting for you. You knew not of whom was leaving them, and you were desperate to find out. You tried to keep a close watch on your areas, even choosing to work later in hopes to catch whoever it was off guard. Not in an unkind way, of course; you simply wanted your secret admirer to not be so secret anymore.

Part of you had hoped it was Q, though you thought it improbable, given he had left the ship that day and not been seen since. You thought through your friend group, those you worked with and knew, and believed it could have been the ensign from medical you had grown somewhat close to in the past month or so. Still, your guess was as good as any.

"Any luck?" Geordi asked, smile gracing his face as always. You sat down and sighed.

"Absolutely zero."

He handed you a letter, in the finest font, copperplate handwriting adorning the envelope. Inside, you knew already there would be some form of poem, whether it was a rewrite of an old Shakespearean sonnet, or perhaps a Wilde or Keats poem. Geordi chuckled.

"Seems like someone has taken a real liking to you, Y/N. I'd tell you who it is if I knew. Whoever it is really has their grasp on the arts, I'll say that."

You laughed with him, pocketing the note and continuing on with your work. Geordi's expressions suggested he knew, or he had a clue at least, and you got on with the day without distraction.

"Finally." Huffing and leaning against your quarter's door as it shut, you let out a breath. A long day, things not really going wrong per say, it just felt busy, and you wanted nothing more than to get into bed and sleep.

"Finally indeed."

You jumped, turning to see who the voice belonged to.

"Q?" you questioned, wondering if you believed your eyes or not. Cautiously, you stepped forward.

"I see you've been getting them, then." He nodded to your desk, where the pile of notes sat, tied with a piece of twine holding them together. You chuckled.

"Yes, I have. It's nice to know my poet has a face. A handsome one at that."

"No doubt you've had a lecture from Picard about me. I would guess he told you to keep a distance, that you would be safer away from me."

Your eyes widened at the mans words; he was very correct. Sighing, he took your hand, continuing.

"Well, I could see why. I have perhaps endangered him a couple of times, but alas, one must do something to entertain oneself, right? Anyway, I could never harm such beauty."

Your cheeks reddened, your mind not processing how such a being could be labelled as dangerous. He was gentlemanly and kind, at least to you. A hand on your cheek brought your eyes up to look at him, your gaze having fallen for you to look at the ground as he complimented you.

"You certainly have a way with words, Q." Your voice light, he smiled at you. Charming it was, to you there was no malice under it at all.

"Give me a chance to prove I'm not so bad, Y/N? Let's have dinner sometime."

You smiled, nodding at him.

"That would be lovely. Of course, it's the least I could do for the intergalactic Lord Byron."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and one to your forehead. His last sentence before leaving was whispered, quiet and reserved, a strange feat for the overt and loud man.

"Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray."

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Animal Planet.”

I had the sudden desire to do one of those documentary style episodes today, so that is what you are going to get. This will probably have one or more episodes, but it should be fun. Hope you all like :)

“Ok, ok ok, everyone listen up!... QUIET DOWN PLEASE…. Ok very very good. Now we have been cordially invited to interact with a very special group while they are being quartered here on our planet.”

“Don’t you mean you pestered begged and threatened?”

“You know what, you, you can shut up.”

‘Why are we doing this anyway. Humans aren’t all that interesting anymore?” 

“That is where you are wrong! Universe-wide opinion polls state that, behind the drama with the LFIL, humans at large and the most sought after topic in the galaxy. My other sources tell me that only 5% of the galactic population has ever even seen a human. You should read some of the rumors about them, it is quite stimulating. 

“How did you even get this to work?”

“The humans seem to want good PR as much as we want good entertainment. Alright everyone! GET YOUR CAMERAS READY!” “Do you want us to turn on the translation software?” 

“No, of course not, well for everyone accept humans.”

“Why.”

“Well the public won’t exactly get a great thrill from them if they think they are intelligent speaking creatures now will they.”

“But they are?” 

“Shut up, and get ready.” 

“Three….. two ….. One.” 

“HELLO EVERYONE! I am Mendex of the Tesraki, and today on my journey through the universe to meet some of the most dangerous species known to the galaxy, I have taken a stop back on my own planet for a rare opportunity. Now my researchers have come up with a few statistics I would like to share with you before we begin. According to intergalactic poles only five percent of the universal population has ever met, in person, one of these creatures. Number two, since their introduction, these creatures have been the cause for a 15% incline in death rate and a .2% drop in life expectancy for your average dweller of the GA. They can digest metal,, and reports say that they evolved to run their prey to death….. A slow death towards exhaustion.”

The camera pans slowly over the face of the Mendex, his light brown fur accented by a scruffy red scarf around his neck. They are walking up a grassy pathway, though the grass comes in shades of purple and blue instead of green.

“Now as I said before, I have been given a rare opportunity to interact with these creatures in their own environment. Now based on the concerns of some of my producers, we will not be allowed to go in alone, but have connected with an Expert who will take us through safety. Now as I understand it, this expert has left society to spend entire swaths of time with these creatures. He claims to have been incorporated into their pack and has enough social standing with them that he will be able to protect us while we interact.” 

The ground grows steep for a moment as the camera moves up a hill and over the other side.

“Ah, there it is, their hive. Look at it. Now not much is known about how they build such complicated structures, but we do know that they enjoy the use of very hard sharp lines and corners. “ They trundle down another hill and towards the ship sat crouched in a field. Overhead clouds pass over the star.

“Oh, and there is our expert, waiting for us at the entrance to the hive.

The camera cuts for a second, and when it comes on the Tesraki and a Vrul are sitting side by side at the base of the hive.

“No more suspense. It is time for me to tell you what we are going to be seeing today….. HUMANS. Yes that’s right everyone, I have been given access to a human pack and the expert who has been living with them for the past few cycles now.” He turns to the Vrul sitting by his side, “Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and your research, Docotr.”

The little creature glances up at the sun and then back towards the cameras, “Well I am Dr. Krill, and I have been working as a surgeon for as long as I can remember.” “As A surgeon, how did you end up here?” 

“Well, that is actually an interesting story. I was working at the Thevel-1 Andromeda Trauma center, when a human ship actually called in for an emergency landing. One of the humans had been involved in some sort of freak accident on board, and they required immediate medical attention, so I men them in the trauma bay, and, I will leave the details out, but as it turned out one of the humans had a metal rod logged in his brain, through the orbital socket.”

“No, you’re kidding me?”

“Not even a little. I had never seen anything like it. Accidents like that result in visits to the morgue, not the hospital, but the human was still alive, so I removed the object and watched his recovery. Now at this point I was so fascinated that I couldn’t just let them go. There was so much for me to learn.”

“So just like that, you hopped on a human ship, and went gallivanting across the galaxy.”

“I know, sounds strange every time I hear about it, hardly something I would do.”

“What was that like, first day aboard a human ship, surrounded by predators.”

“Terrifying as you might imagine. I was convinced that I was going to get eaten or worse, but of course I never did.”

“Now why don’t you tell us a little about humans.

“Well, Mendex, the first thing you should know about humans is how social they are. Humans generally require SOME contact with other humans weather it be in large group units or at least one other human that they can interact with. It is such a big deal in fact that isolation can drive a human to madness or worse. They are very perceptive to social situations, and that is what made my first day so terrifying because the humans have many social rules that are expected to be followed that just never crossed my mind.”

“And how dangerous would you say a human is?”

“Well that depends entirely on the human and the situation. If a human thinks they are in danger, they will either run or they will fight. Humans have a special hormonal response that, during times of extreme stress, can allow them to life objects up to 500% their own body weight. For most of us a human, even the weakest humans, have the ability to maim, injure or severely mutilate.” he held up a hand, “however, I am not saying that to make you wary of humans, they are generally very friendly and curious creatures, and as long as they don’t feel threatened they will at least be tolerant of you.”

“Why are humans so dangerous?”

“Well that is a funny question, it actually stems from the simple fact that humans aren't actually all that dangers…. At least not on their planet, on the basis of raw power or predatory instincts.”

“Fascinating, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean that humans were not originally a predator species, in fact they are actually pretty poor hunters compared to most everything on their planet. In fact prey animals have been known to maul humans if provoked. Humans are probably the LEAST durable species on their planet. They adapted to survive in a world where the prey animals were dangerous and the predators could decimate them with the sweep of a paw.”

“Is that why they are a pack-creature.”

“Precisely, you see, a single human has a very low likelihood of being dangerous on their own planet, but together they can hunt creatures three four five times their own size if not more. You see comparatively to other animals of their planet, humans are slow, weak, with a poor sense of smell, hearing and even sight, but they had the one thing that sentient life is known for, and that is intelligence. This intelligence allowed they to group together and create a strategy for surviving in a hostile environment. That then led them to the building of weapons and machines to the point that survival was no longer an issue, and hunting even the most dangerous of their previous predators had become laughable.” 

“That is fascinating, to think that a creature that dangerous could be so weak on their planet….. Have you met any of these other dangerous species?”

“Actually, yes/ Humans are so social and pack oriented that they have the ability to bond with non-sentient animals. They call it domestication, and it requires an animal to be, pack oriented, easy to feed, and have a short gestation period. The humans then take that animal and only allow the breeding of animals with specific desirable traits. In fact, they took a similar pack predator, and used their natural sociability to integrate them into human packs. The humans keep them as pets and began to use them as hunting partners considering their new pack member was faster, stronger, had a better sense of smell and hearing, but was now loyal to its human companions.”

“That doesn’t sound real.”

“Oh but it is. We have one aboard the ship.”

“And this creature could rip the humans apart?”

“Oh pretty easily, especially if she had the element of surprise.”

“Amazing, so what do we need to know before we get on the ship with you, you know for our safety and security.”

The doctor shifts in place. He is making a strange expression that seems unnatural for a Vrul, “Well you have to be aware that the humans have a strict hierarchy. When you get on the ship you are immediately assigned a specific sort of guest place in this hierarchy. The human pack alpha that runs the ship is higher than you as well as the betas below him and their immediate underlings. You can assume that your comfort is more important than the low ranking humans but you MAY NOT order them around since it is not your place and you have not been accepted into the pack. Generally speaking though, a human ship is a relatively safe place as long as you are polite, apologetic, and willing to do what is asked of you. Now the humans are likely to be very curious, try not to show signs of fear, but if you do they aren’t going to attack or anything. Depending on the human they may or may not gently mess with you, they may playfully try to dominate or scare you for their own amusement, but don’t worry they aren't likely to attack. Do not make any disparaging remarks or insult the humans.”

“Are humans very sensitive to verbal attacks?”

“Some are and some aren’t. In the case of insulting a human, I have found that it is not generally the human you have insulted that you should be afraid of, but the other humans around the human you have insulted. You see many humans have no issue in making an insult, but will not tolerate one directed at one of their pack members. They are very protective of each other, especially the alpha. It is also a good idea not to insult objects that belong to humans. The human bonding instinct is strong enough that they will bond to objects. So the ship for example, do not offend the ship. I made that mistake on my first day and thought the alpha was going to tear out my throat.”

There was a shifting amongst the crew.

“What are the rules on touching.”

“That is complicated, it also depends on the human. The general rule is not to go up and touch a human without permission. If a human approaches you first, you may make contact with them. Generally hands and arms are acceptable to touch though I would suggest avoiding any other part of the human anatomy for the sake of their privacy. Humans are very very serious about their personal space and their personal privacy 

“Are there any warning signs that we should be aware of, just in case.”

The doctor nodded, “Well there are a few things. Humans have a warning call they use to indicate to other humans that something is wrong, it generally indicates pain or immediate danger and is specifically designed to get attention and bring other humans to assist. This involves a high pitched sort of keening, it is very loud and very powerful, and will hurt your ears if you aren't careful. Generally though, I have only ever heard it used on a few occasions. As far as more subtle things to look at. If a human gets into a defensive posture in your direction it isn't a good sign. They will bend at the knees and have their hands up to protect their face. Their chins will be lowered to cover their necks. Another important signal to look at is the face. A frowning human could either be thinking or they could be anger. That is when the mouth sort of dips on either end like this…. Yes…. yes like that. But the important thing to look at is the eyes. The eyes will always give them away.”

“What is so important about the eyes.”

“Well, human eyes are enormously expressive. I swear by them personally. Humans have this habit of pretending one thing but meaning another, and looking at the eyes can tell you that. Eyebrows slanted down is generally a good indicator. A frown mixed with slanted eyebrows and…. Its hard to explain. If you look into the eyes and feel as if their expression could kill you, you probably want to stop doing whatever you are doing. Also sudden silence isn’t entirely a good thing either. Humans love talking to each other, there is always someone speaking, most of the tie, but if you are in an area with many humans and none of them are speaking there is either something wrong, or they have been ordered to behave that way”

“What is a good indicator of a happy human.”

“It seems strange, but showing their teeth is a good sign most of the time. A curious human is generally a happy human. They like learning and interacting with their environment, so encourage curiosity and the showing of teeth. Also there is a strange sound they make, sort of a repetitive revving noise that comes from the back of the throat or the chest. That means that the human is amused, and that should also be encouraged.”

“Alright…. Do you think we are ready.”

“I think so…. Follow me.”

The crew gets up and the feed cuts to black.

This episode will continue after the break.

[shisabun]

Are u planning on making Silver older in Alliance Au and marry Mephiles?

Ah! Good old Mephilver. Sadly no. I figured someone like Black Doom wouldn't want to just let an asset like Shadow 'retire' in peace on some random planet. They more or less make a copy of him with some more Black Arms DNA. So Mephiles is Shadow's younger brother in this AU.

He's next in line for the throne now. This pleases him, because he was thinking of overthrowing his big bro at some point, but this political marriage thing works out quite nicely. After all, he doesn't hate his brother. He just wanted to be king of an intergalactic race of world conquering starfish. You know how it is Shadow.

He does, however pop in every once in a while to spoil his nephew. Kids cute after all.

[cruciferousjex]

The Attendant Four:

Girls All Day

(aka a requiem for this poor fucker ^):

***

The soup was, as promised, absolutely delicious. It would have been the single best soup they'd ever tasted if not for the knowledge of what it was. 

"See? I told you you'd enjoy it!" Prime said, grinning. "The cognitive dissonance only adds to the experience, or so I'm told. I'd never do anything so vulgar as eat with my mouth." He watched then for moment. "Do you ever think about chewing? What that actually is? And that you do it in public?"

They stared at their soup.

"And how do you eat, Prime?" Catra asked.

"All the nutrients I need are brewed in a vat and ported directly in," he said, showing her a port on his arm. "The same as my brothers."

"Sure, that's way less disgusting," Catra replied 

"I'm so glad you agree! I could fit you with a port if you'd prefer?"

Catra blinked. "I… I'll stick with...uh...good ol' mouth eating, thanks. It's how I was raised."

"Yes, we grew up eating," Glimmer said quickly. "We grew up eating absolutely everything."

"Are you sure? You absorb far more essential nutrients with the port method. And there's no...nasty business on the tail end of the process." Prime shuddered. "You need not fall victim to the brutality nature has inflicted on you, my dears. Just say the word."

"We'll uh...definitely keep that in mind," Glimmer said, stirring her soup. 

"Suit yourselves!" Prime said, leaning back in his chair. "Hardly anyone I ask chooses to go that route. It's a mystery to me, honestly. All I want is to make things better for people. No one understands that."

"I can't imagine why, " Catra said. "It seems obvious this is an intergalactic charity mission."

Prime paused for a moment. Blinked. Then burst out laughing.

"A charity mission! Oh! Oh that's good!' he said, wiping all four of his eyes.  "Charity. Oh, imagine. Heh heh. Your Lady has quite the sense of humor, Queen Glimmer. I see why you keep her around."

"Yup, she's a funny one," Glimmer said.

"And she's not entirely wrong!" Prime began, but then suddenly stopped. Turned towards an attendant clone and glared. "Will you tell your brothers to give me a moment's PEACE?" He shouted at it, slamming his hand on the table. The clone flinched and shrunk away.  "I. Have. Company!"

Glimmer and Catra stared at him. 

"Excuse my outburst," Prime said, smoothing his hair. "Tell me, have you ever had a pet cat?"

"Other than her?" Glimmer said.

"No no, I mean a full actual cat, not a half breed like whatever your Lady is. Four legs. They're on almost every mammalian life-bearing planet, if you can believe it. Nature clearly favors that design," he said. "In any case, have you ever had one? Either of you?"

"No," Catra said flatly. "They weird me out."

"My mother did," Glimmer said softly. "She loved cats."

"Ah. Then you will know how annoying they can be when they are hungry. How they scream, nonstop, until they are fed." Prime turned to glare at the attendant clone, who averted his eyes. "My brothers are hungry, my dears. The poor things haven't seen battle in months. It's hard on them, they simply live for it. They've been longing to be allowed down to your planet and raze it to the ground. To kill every living thing. Isn't that right?" he asked the attendant clone, who looked terrified. "Isn't that right, you bloodthirtsy little things? Come here."

The attendant, though clearly afraid, approached Prime without hesitation. The second he was within his reach Prime grabbed him quite brutally by the hair. 

"Please excuse his inexcusable rudeness," Prime said.  The clone twitched in his grasp, green eyes wide with terror. "The cheek of him. Honestly."

"He didn't say anything," Glimmer said quickly. 

"Well not to you," Prime said. "You can't hear their every thought,  but I can."

"Was he...standing there thinking how he wants to destroy Etheria?" Catra asked.

"Not him specifically," Prime said, narrowing his eyes at the clone. "No, this one is quite peaceful. Never seen battle. Rather likes being an attendant. Liked making your dress, and serving your food. Ah, you do like being near the fascinating pretty girls, don't you?" he asked, shaking him by the hair. The clone made the tiniest of fearful whimpers. " But you must understand, the clones are all the same. All connected. Their thoughts can be transmitted to me, as one,  through the clone with the closest physical proximity. I can taste their bloodlust through this one. And at times like this, I must remind them they are being inexcusably rude."

With that a long, scalpel-like blade shot out of an unforeseen slot in Prime's forearm.

"No-" Glimmer protested, but it was too late. Prime put the blade directly into, and across, the clone's throat, spraying blood across the table, into the soup, onto their clothes.

"There is nuance in conquering!" Prime shouted into the dying clone's face.  "Artistry! Subtlety! It's not just kill, kill, kill all the time! Tell your brothers to grow the hell up!" Prime glanced towards the table and guests, ruined with blood. "LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!" He shouted at the now very dead clone. "You've spoiled their meal! And Lady Catra's gown! Imbecile!"

He threw the clone to the floor with a disgusted look. 

"Oh, how they try me. Oh, the chore of rulership! The burden of it!"  he moaned. "Queen Glimmer, you understand."

Glimmer was wide-eyed, unable to respond in her shock. 

"Such a trying time, keeping them at bay," Prime said, gesturing to the dead clones littering the floor. "No manners. Ah well. That's what I get for having a standing army," he said, looking for something to wipe his hands on. "Could one of you mass produced morons get me a napkin or shall I use the tablecloth?" he shouted. "And some fresh soup for the ladies? Must I spell everything out for you?"

Four clones immediately presented Prime with napkins and the girls with new, unblooded soup. 

"Speaking of unsubtle morons, how is your attendant performing?" Prime asked.

"Fine!" Glimmer said quickly.

"Perfect!" Catra added.

"Perfectly polite, he's perfect," Glimmer said. "Please don't hurt him."

"Don't hurt him? Whyever not, didn't he destroy a large portion of your planet with a garish fifty year ground war? I'm surprised you haven't taken him out yourself, little Queen." 

He eyed Glimmer suspiciously.

"It's… he's…he's had excellent manners since you reconditioned him,  Prime. The best. Excellent, uh...such excellent servants are difficult to come by."

He shrugged. "Keeping him as a trophy then? Suit yourself. Make of him what you will. Humiliate him, keep him as a pet. Fuck him if you like. He'll make you absolutely squeal," he said. "Or I will, if you prefer."

He grinned creepishly.

"I like girls," Catra said.

"Me too," Glimmer said quickly. "Girls all day."

Catra looked up at Glimmer in surprise. 

"We're super into women," Glimmer continued. "I mean like...boobs, amirite?"

"You are right," Prime said.

"She is so right," Catra said.

"Then we're all in agreement," Prime said, folding his hands on the bloodsoaked table. "Boobs."

[moonlightstars16]

Please grant me this “You’re more than that.”...For MISTER AND HEARTBERRY

I’ll grant your wi- WAIT A MINUTE! Mister and HeartBerry?! My fellow writer you’ve truly given me a challenge. I hope to do your version justice. (Edit: So this story is going to be a bit bizarre but I’ll try my best. Also I wrote this around midnight to 1 something AM...whoops. :)p )

Also question for anyone who is reading this one-shot. I put titles of these  asked one-shots when I post them on my other social media platforms. Should I begin to do that here as well?

“You’re more than that.”

Disclaimer!: They are 19/20 in this story.

(18+ only! Nothing detailed just heavily implied)

Connie never minded much on heels. Except when her feet hurt. She wore the occasional skirt on occasion but still wore shorts underneath. Her make-up was earth tones and very minimal. That is if she chose to wear it. Even her hair was styled on occasion if she wanted too. She liked what she liked and never chose one specific style to call hers. Just whatever fit with her mood.

However when it came to diplomatic missions to Homeworld with her favorite Mister, were days she dreaded the most. Not because of anything political surprisingly. No she already was mentally prepared for that and knew how to handle herself within each topic discussed.

What she hated was having to look stereotypically ‘perfect’ for the meetings. It wasn’t enough to put on a nice office type outfit, also something nice to travel in through the warp pad. But everything had to be just right. Not a hair out of place, posture straight and even make-up was supposed to be a bit dramatic.

Why did she put up with things like this? Even though the Diamonds have changed, or at least are beginning too, the saying ‘Old Habits Die Hard’ would be putting it lightly. To help make them feel like it wasn’t an attack, Connie decided to meet on middle ground. Show that she respected their rules and old traditions. Even if they were in the process of changing things around. A sort of familiarity for them helped in the long run for a good relationship. It also was supposed to look professional.

But that didn’t mean she liked doing it. Still deciding not to think about it much on those days and just go through her routine. Taking a quick rinse of shower, Make-up, hair and then adding the outfit. All while her expression was monotone. Her music whilst preparing, just calming instrumentals on her titled ‘Woe Is me’ playlist.

Steven woke up upon hearing the music and rolled over to see the bathroom door open. Sat up and stretched; letting the bed sheets fall to the side and hang off the edge of the mattress. His old t-shirt and cozy pajama pants clung to his body from being a bit damp with sweat overnight. Walking to where she was brushing her hair, he leaned against the door frame momentarily. His beloved wrapped in a silk robe, not even tied closed. Her gaze flickered to him, stayed for a few seconds before concentrating back on her task.

Without a word he walked up behind her and began massaging her shoulders. Knowing she was in an extra salty mood from all of this. Connie’s facial expressions stayed the same. Her eyelids half closed from the sensation. The corner of her lips slightly flickered upwards when he moved from the shoulders to her front.

Slipping underneath her robe and teasing her middle, brushing past her breasts with his fingertips, caressing the waist and ran his pointer finger along the hem of her undergarment. Teasing for a special time for just them. Wrapping her frame in his embrace as his arms held onto her waist, he watched as she finished up. Glancing at the mirror she sighed and leaned her head back against his shoulder. Her breast almost protruding from under the silk fabric.

“Heartberry?”

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t like the feeling of subjecting myself to this stereotypical look. I know I did this to help in the beginning but I just can’t anymore.” Turning around she laid her chin upon his shoulder. “Is this all I am now Mister?”

“Connie you and I know you’re more than this. You’re a sword fighter and an intellectual but you’re more than that too. You are you Connie. Nothing can take that away... But Heartberry, why don’t you just stop? You don’t have to look what others see as ‘perfect’.” Pulling her away so he could look at her face, placed a gentle hand under her chin.

“I fell into a habit of doing these things I suppose. Plus even if we weren’t doing intergalactic missions. I would still have to do this for interviews, future jobs, etc. This gave me a change to practice getting used to it for my future too. I just... I grew-... I became to embarrassed to stop. It’s beyond pathetic but... I felt valued, accepted and felt like I was worth it.”

“Connie you are worth so much more than what others define you as. I mean look at me! I’m what others call a chubby guy in sandals and a jacket. Not to mention my signature star t-shirt. By the social ideas of perfection, I wouldn’t be anywhere near close. Yet I’m here living my life. Besides...”

He took her hands in his and lifted it to his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss before placing it on his chest right over his beating heart. “I fell in love with the Connie that is herself. Not for what she looks like, although she looks beautiful no matter what.” With a smirk Connie giggled and sighed, turning towards the mirror once more. Finally finding her resolve.

“Mister, my apologies but I’m going to have to ask you to leave as I find myself while I finish preparing for the meeting.”

“Awe no teasing show? No bare skin for my eyes to devour? Every inch and every curve as you change into-”

“Okay, Mister enough and out!” She giggled pushing him out the door. Steven sighed and went to get ready himself. Waiting downstairs as Connie arrived in a more earthy vibe look. Long flowy skirt(plus jean shorts), a simple but nice blouse, heels and her hair down (and pinned back only slightly) and make-up almost non existent. Steven smiled and held out her hand for her on the warp pad.

A few hours later they returned with Connie on Steven’s back, arms around his neck and heels in her hands. He set her down on the couch and went to grab some waters. She sat there with her feet propped up on the pillow as he returned and began to massage them.

“So this wouldn’t happen to be why you wore heels instead of flat shoes?” Steven inquired as Connie moaned in content from the massage.

“Well I mean this tradition of ours post meeting I don’t mind keeping- Ah!” Feeling his fingers caress up her leg and inner thigh, pushing up the skirt as well. He smirked as he continued to tease her while making sure her feet didn’t hurt. Both enjoying the playfulness between them as he slowly began to follow up on his promise from earlier that day.

[sentfromwolves]

「 CARVE THE STARS . WIP INTRO」

GENRE: NEO-80′S SCI/FANTASY IN SPACE SETTING: A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY LENGTH: SEVEN-MAYBE-EIGHT NOVELS

Two hundred years after reaching the stars, it turns out that aliens are either dead, missing, or worse.

For Wren Akane, this is a fact of life that comes alongside the three golden rules: water is wet, the sky is red, and whatever came before left something behind. A mechanic of Terra-9, a backwater planet in the backdrop of a budding human nation set against a foreign set of stars, Wren doesn’t care much for the starward politics of the galaxy, but they certainly have something to say about the aliens everyone thinks are merely dead. 

Unfortunately, Wren’s golden rules are shattered the moment Marek Khalid touches down on Terra-9 and challenges them to a race. A star pilot turned famous for coming back the lone survivor of the missing deep space mission of the century, Marek is nothing short of dangerous, but Wren never learned better than to play with fire when it came crawling to their door. 

But being burned is the least of Wren’s worries when their life is turned upside down by an alien doorway in the desert opening again after a thousand years closed, and a sudden calling only they can hear. Drawn into an intergalactic war when their planet is sieged in search of something ancient and holy, Wren is forced to flee to the stars, where they learn that they may play a greater role in the universe than they’d ever asked for, and that now, they’re being called on to finish the job.

After all, Wren might not have won the war they started ten thousand years ago, but they’re nothing if not determined to end it once and for all. 

Ah! It’s finally done! Welcome to the world of Carve the Stars, my longtime project that I’ve been working on for awhile now. I love these characters and this world so much and I’m super excited to continue sharing it with you all now that it has been more fully realized during its many redrafts. I’m finally working on a concrete draft two, and I’ll be sharing my process for it here with you all. 

If you’d like to be added to a taglist, please let me know! I did have an old one, but it’s been so long now that I’d prefer to create a new one just in case people from before no longer remember or are interested. Just @ me or send me an ask! I’m always up for talking about this story, so feel free to hit me up about it any time.