#also she's less rage fueled now that howe's dead

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Why am I SO bad at predicting what my characters will do

[monsieuroverlord]

Hellverine #3 Thoughts:

No.

Okay, but seriously though. I keep hoping one day that Marvel learns their lesson and actually treats Akihiro with respect, but today is NOT that day.

My last hope is that final issue comes in clutch (and I'm very likely gaslighting myself with this), and the writer pulls some bullshit out his ass like Logan having to fight Bagra-Ghul and then wins Aki's soul.

(I mean, the adamantium armor ~conveniently~ reactivated Logan's healing factor in the Wolverine Finale, why not?)

Then Akihiro is fine and stays far away from Logan for the time being.

Summary:

The issue basically opens with General Harms' backstory. He was a soldier, commander of a shadow unit -- stereotypical, vague American black ops plotline. He was a nasty dude who did nasty work in the name of U.S.-branded freedom.

On one mission, he tracked the families of enemy fighters to an ancient church, came in contact with a demon skull, got shot then infected with demon magic and now is a soldier of hell. But also the U.S. Government secondly.

We go back to the pages we saw in the preview, where Logan gets a bike from the family of one of the hellfire destroyers (now dead) and rides off.

We shift back to General Harms, where he is called to deal with an incident in the Pentangle-demon-hellfire-whatever-its-called lab.

The lone survivor of the unit that became the Hellfire Destroyers showed up, mostly by calling in a few favors. He eventually volunteers to become a Destroyer as he feels he's the only one who can reign them in. They've never tested a living subject before, so it could go any which way.

Our scene then turns back to Akihiro, where he's called to Washington DC, and ends up doing a stakeout on top of the Washington Monument, waiting for demon signals.

Then back to General Harms and Madame Secretary, and she's telling him to get it together or he's ending up forgotten in federal prison. The Hellfire Destroyers show up, attack, and manage to kill the Madame Secretary. General Harms is caught, but Hellverine/Akihiro shows up and kills one, leaving only one left.

General Harms is a douche-canoe and shoots Hellverine/Akihiro with a fancy holy water bullet.

Hellverine/Akihiro lets out a high-pitched, agonizing scream (that only every dog within a 50-mile radius and Logan can hear) as he escapes, which alerts Logan.

Logan shows up, and because Logan was the OG host, the Hellverine transfers over to him, leaving Akihiro an empty husk.

Akihiro also says all of two words:

Thank you for the tragic "Dad," that was depressing.

And I'm sincerely hoping this is just a one-off thing, but he's referred to as "Daken" again:

Goddammit.

My Thoughts:

Bravo for managing to find a way to disappoint me further. The bar was already on the dirt floor and they really handed me a shovel and a one-way VIP ticket to hell with a scenic view.

But no seriously, I don't care how they do it at this point. I don't even care if its "bad" writing.

Just have Logan fist-fight the demon in the back of a Denny's parking lot for Akihiro's soul and I'd be happy.

The demon Bagra-Ghul is supposed to the "Great Stitcher" or whatever. Do it again.

I just -- three issues and he's dead again. We've seen this so many times before (latest one less than a year ago). Its so much the same song and dance. I just want it resolved and over with.

My predictions for the finale:

-- Big showdown -- OG Hellverine/Logan vs. General Harms vs. Hellfire Destroyers -- Logan wins because its his book.

-- the "living" Destroyer manages to talk his comrade down and all is well somehow. Either the dead one returns to death. Or they become independent crime fighters fueled by hellfire rage. Either long-term or they destroy the pentangle from within then die. Maybe the living one also intentionally chooses to go to hell to join his buddies.

--General Harms is consumed by the demon fully and sent straight to hell, likely because the demon turns out to be the "real target" of Bagra-Ghul, just waiting for the right moment.

MY BIGGEST HOPE: there's some bullshit, where Logan wins the big showdown, and the demon Bagra-Ghul, even more twisted into a force for good and eating evil, leaves Logan and as thank you, restores Akihiro to life.

All loose threads are wrapped up all nice and tidy just like X-Force and Wolverine were! The End.

Like seriously, haven't we proven Akihiro is popular enough to sell a book? Both issues of Hellverine went to 2nd print. AND, before it came out and the big spoiler was revealed, I read a lot of comments dismissing it as too gimmicky.

Wolverine as a character is very oversaturated. The loyalists pre-order naturally, but its not common that his books go to 2nd print just because of the volume of variety. So clearly this book is something that piqued people's interest and I don't think Akihiro played a small part in that. That's just my personal opinion.

Also, also, we got X-Factor, Marauders, and then Alpha Flight for a bit. At the very least, Aki has a decent enough following. This is just insulting.

Anyway, I'm going to go lay down in the middle of the road or something. I'm so damn tired.

[spaceorphan18]

Which book should I read next?

Inspired by @ckerouac - I picked out one book from each of my eight bookshelves** - one that I haven't read and that's been on my TBR list for a while. I'm letting you guys decide which one to read! Let me know what you think! And I'll read the one you pick next....

**- one of the bookshelves is dedicated to Young Reader books, and sitting on top of it are a couple of books that my bother loaned me, so I've included that instead of an actual YR title.

Info about the books under the cut

From the Fiction/Classics bookshelf: Less by Andrew Sean Greer

You are a failed novelist about to turn fifty. A wedding invitation arrives in the mail: your boyfriend of the past nine years now engaged to someone else. You can’t say yes--it would all be too awkward--and you can’t say no--it would look like defeat. On your desk are a series of half-baked literary invitations you’ve received from around the world. How do you arrange to skip town? You accept them all.

From the Graphic Novels bookshelf: Sandman by Neil Gaiman (Vol. 1)

In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, an occultist attempting to capture Death to bargain for eternal life traps her younger brother Dream instead. After his 70 year imprisonment and eventual escape, Dream, also known as Morpheus, goes on a quest for his lost objects of power. On his arduous journey, Morpheus encounters Lucifer, John Constantine, and an all-powerful madman.

From the Sci-fi/Fantasy bookshelf: The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson

It has been centuries since the fall of the ten consecrated orders known as the Knights Radiant, but their Shardblades and Shardplate remain: mystical swords and suits of armor that transform ordinary men into near-invincible warriors. Men trade kingdoms for Shardblades. Wars were fought for them, and won by them. One such war rages on a ruined landscape called the Shattered Plains. There, Kaladin, who traded his medical apprenticeship for a spear to protect his little brother, has been reduced to slavery. In a war that makes no sense, where ten armies fight separately against a single foe, he struggles to save his men and to fathom the leaders who consider them expendable.

From the Mystery bookshelf: The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman

In a peaceful retirement village, four unlikely friends meet up once a week to investigate unsolved murders. But when a brutal killing takes place on their very doorstep, the Thursday Murder Club find themselves in the middle of their first live case. Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron might be pushing eighty but they still have a few tricks up their sleeves. Can our unorthodox but brilliant gang catch the killer before it's too late?

From the Non-Fiction bookshelf: The Great Green Room by Amy Gary

The extraordinary life of the woman behind the beloved children’s classics Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny comes alive in this fascinating biography of Margaret Wise Brown. Margaret’s books have sold millions of copies all over the world, but few people know that she was at the center of a children’s book publishing revolution. Her whimsy and imagination fueled a steady stream of stories, book ideas, songs, and poems and she was renowned for her prolific writing and business savvy, as well as her stunning beauty and endless thirst for adventure.

From the Agatha Christie bookshelf: The Science of Murder by Carla Valentine

Agatha Christie is the bestselling novelist of all time, and nearly every story she ever wrote involves one―or, more commonly, several―dead bodies. And the cause of death, the motives behind violent crimes, the clues that inevitably are left behind, and the people who put the pieces together to solve the mystery invite the reader to analyze the evidence and race to find the answer before the detective does. Nearly every step of the way, Christie outlines the nuts and bolts of early 20th-century crime detection, relying on physical evidence to tell the real story behind the facades humans erect to escape detection.

From the Young Adult bookshelf: Scythe by Neal Shusterman

A world with no hunger, no disease, no war, no misery. Humanity has conquered all those things, and has even conquered death. Now scythes are the only ones who can end life—and they are commanded to do so, in order to keep the size of the population under control. Citra and Rowan are chosen to apprentice to a scythe—a role that neither wants. These teens must master the “art” of taking life, knowing that the consequence of failure could mean losing their own.

From (on top of the) Young Readers bookshelf: What If It's Us by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

Arthur is only in New York for the summer, but if Broadway has taught him anything, it’s that the universe can deliver a showstopping romance when you least expect it. Ben thinks the universe needs to mind its business. If the universe had his back, he wouldn’t be on his way to the post office carrying a box of his ex-boyfriend’s things. But when Arthur and Ben meet-cute at the post office, what exactly does the universe have in store for them?

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 24: Bellarke, Strong/Weak

I break my block (at least partially) by writing a little ficlet at 3am. LOL RIP me.

Written for a prompt off my July Break Bingo card: strong, and its antonyms (weak, frail, powerless, small)

This is in the same universe as my Time Loop fic Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside. It's semi-spoilery for some stuff that's not yet published but not overly so. More like, it will make more sense later but nothing in here should be too surprising if you've read Ch1. And if you've read none of it, also fine, this is a prequel type thing.

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~1000 words, written in about 35 minutes

*

Sometimes Clarke asks him to tell her stories, too, and the stories are always about strength. Strength, and perseverance, and fortitude through adversity. He lays the details on thick: the hero’s prominent muscles, the heroine's steadfast and impregnable heart, the ease with which a man picks up a woman and holds her in his arms—every little crevice and thin, twining vein of detail he can find so they can wallow in it, live in it, the idea of a power so profound and so natural that it can never waver, never succumb to doubt.

As he winds out these threads, she stares up at him, lets her fingers play blindly against his arms, his own muscles, taut beneath his skin, and his own words sound like a distant rush in his ears as he looks down into her unblinking, crystalline blue eyes.

He's leaning too much into this habit lately: waiting for Octavia to fall asleep and then creeping out of his own house like a burglar, rolling his bike down the street by its handlebars until he gets to the corner, as if he were being quieter or less suspicious that way. Then he pedals his way to Clarke's house, feeling the night all around him soft and warm, and the rush of air he's created against his face and blowing back his hair. Most nights, the bugs are humming, buzzing loud and the night feels riotous by the time he gets to her place. Strands of hair are sticking to his face with sweat and he's breathing hard, like all this way he was running from something and his life depended on it. He lets the bike fall down in the yard by the big tree with the tire swing, its wheels still spinning, winces at the indecorous metallic sound it makes, and breathes in deep of growing spring humidity and wet and warmth as he tilts his head back and stares up at the dark windows of the house. There's no car in the driveway: Abby on the night shift again.

Clarke's window looks out over the back. When he sneaks around to the backyard, he sees her light still burning.

He never tells her when he's coming over because it would be admitting too much, and fuck he's sneaking out so often now she probably expects him every night—but she never tells him she's waiting up. After the first couple times, she stopped showing any surprise. And she never, not even the first time, has said anything about not wanting him to stay. The route up to her window is precarious and awkward, and she still has to pull him, torso first, through the narrow opening, sweaty and overgrown and with all his limbs stretching out in the wrong places, his muddy boots threatening her bedroom carpet, every time.

Being in Clarke Griffin's bedroom in the middle of the night always feels forbidden and profane and yet predetermined all at once, like he's breaking all the rules to be exactly where he needs to be. A contradiction that slots neatly into his ideas of himself. He's the unflagging strength that does the impossible, the rage-fueled need that just protects and protects and protects, and that's so deep-ingrained he's not sure how he would live without it, but he's the groveling, frail, powerless little boy, too, out of breath and ragged after running all night. This second deep-down part of him needs those stories like breathing, and he needs the sanctuary of Clarke's neat, rectangular bedroom, with the blue-painted walls, her twin four-poster bed in the corner of the room.

She's running her fingers through his hair and kissing his face like she's not seen him in years instead of hours, kisses that linger on his cheeks and his nose, little breaths that he hears against the shell of his ear. The kisses on his mouth linger longest. He wants to pick her up and press her against the wall.

Throw her on the bed. Prove he can.

He still hasn't learned to touch her in a way that doesn't feel like pawing.

He only hears the clock ticking again after, when he's squashed up against the wall trying not to roll over and onto her, crush her, catching his breath again. His whole body is buzzing like he can feel every single atom in him vibrating, reminding him he's big and strong now and it's too late to learn gentleness. Beyond Clarke's shoulder, he can see her bedside table: her alarm clock, a small notebook that might be her diary, a box of tissues that almost fell to the floor while they were fucking. Past that, the slatted door of her closet, the photograph of the Eiffel Tower like she's taunting him with all the places she'll someday go.

"Bellamy," she murmurs, his own name almost a question, maybe a sigh. He repositions himself so that his arm's around her and her head is on his chest. This is a position he could stay in too long if he's not careful, a warmth and comfort to it, to her weight on him, that's tempting as sin.

This is the worst time to be thinking about it. But he's thinking about it. Her window's still open and the high, rising buzz of the insects seeps in, and he can't stop turning over and over in his mind what else he's brought in with him, can't stop wondering if she sees him this way too.

Can't stop wondering what she's thinking, as he glances down, entranced by the heavy rise and fall of her chest.

"Tell me a story or something," she says.

He tries to laugh, only a huff. "Don't get too comfortable listening. I need to leave soon."

"Yeah, but not yet." She pokes him in the side, and he squirms away on instinct, then smiles because he really feels warm in this moment. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "Come on. A story where the good guys kick some ass. Defeat some monsters for me, Bellamy."

Defeat those monsters.

He takes a deep breath in, gathering up his thoughts, letting the story come to him.

Kill those monsters dead, he thinks, or die trying.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

For Lucian and Peter (any version), it seems that in Underworld Lucian’s love and grief for Sonja and his rage and desire for revenge on Victor have become all intertwined and are now a part of him, so by the time he meets Peter (or after meeting him?) how does Lucian move on from all that and heal enough to allow Peter in and to be in love with him and want a life with him?

Hmmm, for me, I'd like to think that Lucian realizes after his brush with a very painful death, he has been fueled solely by revenge against Viktor, and by his desire to create the hybrid as it was the last thing he and Sonja really had outside of their love for one another. He wanted to unite their species because she wanted to.

But when the events of 2003 happen, and he's left alive, barely, he has time to think about everything.

Viktor is dead, the hybrid is alive and is Michael (who has run off with Selene and they are of a vampire/werewolf relationship), and his pack is pretty much dead or has ran away for their own safety.

He finished his goals, his people are gone, and Sonja remains forever lost.

He's alone and has nothing and no one, but he's alive.

I think Lucian would continue to travel, alone, cleaning up the messes left behind from the war. Viktor is dead, as is Amelia, but Marcus is still around (well... for a while), so he decides to just do what he can to stop the war in little ways. One less battle in a weary world.

But he ends up in Vegas years later, and meets a weird human (or vampire-infected human, depending on the au), who pretends to be a hunter on stage but goes out at night to actually hunt because he wants to do right himself, in a sense.

I'd like for Lucian to befriend Peter, see a bit of himself in the human. Someone lonely, affected by a monster who lurks in the shadows always (even if said monsters are dead, because of what they had done to their loved ones, it will always be there, that fear), someone who knows of Lucian's world in a sense, and who understands that it's a tough life but you gotta make what you can of it, even if they go about it in vastly different ways. Also, they both have horrible coping issues with their problems. Peter is an alcoholic with people issues and Lucian experimented on humans and such, so...

But the big thing is that I like the idea that Lucian feels that it's time to move on. Sonja would never want him to suffer for centuries alone like this, especially without his pack. And if this odd man who runs around on stage in leather can make him happy like she did, well... maybe she'd approve of him, maybe she'd find him enjoyable and a bit of a gold hearted person deep down under all those design clothes and fake tattoos. She would want Lucian to be happy, and if Peter makes him happy, then he'll allow Peter into his heart like he did for her.

But that's just me, I just want Lucian and Peter to be happy, and if they find it in the comfort of each other's arms, then there ya go.

[kennyomegasweave]

It's time for episode 5. I know there's an outing and a shooting this episode. Let's go.

Like why would no one tell Palm Nueng was allergic to alcohol? That kinda seems like a big thing because being like YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM FROM DRINKING makes no sense cause he's an 18 year old kid. He's gonna want to drink, Palm wouldn't think that was weird at all.

Okay Palm's dad is an ass but I also feel bad for him? But what does he mean by Nueng's dad saved Palm's life? Does he just mean by employing him so he had money to send to Palm? I need answers bitch!

Not Nueng doing like riding lessons or whatever. Dressage or some shit. The wealthy just jumped out of him.

"You should look at me when you talk to me." If looks could kill you'd be dead Nueng. Palm doesn't want to see you right now. You acted an entire ass and he got his ass beat and he's mad at you and you also have a boyfriend.

Oh here's Ben. NOT PALM HAVING TO SIT THERE WHEN BEN AND NUENG ARE ON A RICH PEOPLE DRESSAGE DATE. And I would like to take back 52% of my Ben hate cause he's being nicer to Palm right now than Nueng is.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE WROTE A FOOL ON PALM'S CAST. NUENGDIAO. This is not how we handle our feelings!

Nueng saying "this isn't a date, calm down." My guy you said he was your boyfriend last episode. What are you doing. Also I can't take him seriously in this outfit. He's just carrying that little helmet and wearing those riding boots and a polo. He looks ridiculous. Ben really does like him to still think Nueng is cool.

NOT PALM HAVING TO ACTUALLY FOLLOW THEM ON THIS DATE. The audacity of Nueng. I get it's Palm's job but the audacity of Nueng.

NUENG HAS A RIDING CROP. Palm. Please. Want more for yourself. Maybe you should just go for Maggie. She's cute and not doing like fucking dressage and getting you beat in a alcohol fueled jealous I CAN YOU LOVE rage.

Maggie is spitting straight facts and, while I still wish she'd realize Palm isn't into her like that, someone needs to say this to Palm. Her absolute "this bitch" when she saw Nueng wrote fool on Palm's cast. I know that's right.

Okay. I'm gonna be less mad at Nueng because he bought Palm shoes as an I'm sorry but also baby you can't buy your way out of this. Palm doesn't want to be your sugar baby. Which is like valid but also Palm baby.

YES THROW HIS WORDS BACK TO HIM. But also my heart is hurting for them both now. Nueng's like obvious jealously at any mention of Maggie is just like. How is Palm not realizing this?

This bullying is like so much. Like banners from the ceiling, flyers raining down. Good lord.

Oh my god. This is gonna be bad I know. Ben's poor little face. Also like damn they don't play. "How could this happen?" They're just teen's kissing. Good lord.

Oh my gosh Ben. Ben. Baby. Ben's father is The Worst. "My son is the class president he'd never kiss a man." What does being the class president have to do with this? Ben looks like he's about to puke. I get why he lied, I'm not mad. My heart is breaking for both him and Nueng.

Also I know it's cultural and I know homophobia is everywhere, but as I've said before about Palm's dad and I'll say again to Ben's, most people would be happy to know their child is being taken in by a kind rich man. lol

Hi Chopper. You look sketch. I don't know if it's cause you were the one to out them or if it's cause you went to hold Ben's hand. I want to believe it's the second but like. I trust no bitch but Palm. Not even my own wife Chopper.

Oh baby. Nueng. This breakdown is just. Oh baby boy. Just hug Palm. He genuinely likes you, I promise.

They really just stayed up there all day. Did they at least call Nueng's mom?

Not Palm's broken arm being healed by the power of gay love.

Palm telling Nueng a genuine apology means more than an expensive gift. You should get both baby. He's gonna keep fighting his sugar baby status and he doesn't have to.

I feel bad for Nueng cause he thinks Ben just used him, but Ben genuinely likes him, I think. Palm saying Nueng loves Ben and Nueng being like I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT LOVE HIM. I laughed.

Palm is out here like "what if I give you a better first kiss? Completely altruistic, it's for your own benefit." My guy. They really are both just playing themselves. lol

This kiss is like a million times better than Ben's and I'm screaming. They won't even touch each other with their hands and it's so much better. Please. Get married. Adopt two cats and a dog. And now they just have to sit there like that wasn't a Grade A kiss and didn't really mean much.

Palm telling cheesy jokes to make Nueng laugh.

Palm's dad sitting in that chair about to make an awkward turtle.

Aww, Nueng's mom really just loves him so much. And of course she knows what happened at school Nueng. It's why she's having this conversation about vegetables. Because she loves you. No matter what you eat.

"Are you dating? You can't date. You must focus on Nueng." See Mr. Palm's Dad, he will solve that problem by dating Nueng himself. But I don't think his dad is gonna vibe with that. Oops.

Once again I ask, why does Palm not have a tie? I WILL ASK THIS EVERY SINGLE EPISODE UNTIL I GET AN ANSWER OR THE SHOW ENDS.

NO MRS TANYA IS NOT ABOUT TO DIE NO SHE IS NOT. ABSOLUTELY NOT.

I can't even care about their hands because like Bad Bitch Tanya better be okay. Also like damn they're just kids. Like Nueng is only 18. Palm is around there I'm guessing? This is Rough.

Okay. That preview better mean Nueng's mom is alive. He clearly won't get to see her but I can't imagine he'd be on a beachfront vacation with Palm's flop mom holding hands and shit if his mom was dead. I WILL CLING TO THIS.

I will also choose to believe Chopper looked so sketch when Ben said he's gonna fuck up the person that outed him not because it was him, but because he went to hold his hand and that's a Big Moment.

I also would like to say I take back all the mean things I said about Ben and I feel so bad for him. He's the bad guy in Nueng's story right now, but he had no choice. His dad is out here like MY SON IS THE CLASS PRESIDENT AND A STRAIGHT HE'S NOT DISGUSTING. Meanwhile Nueng has his mom completely accepting him. And now that Nueng knows this I'm hoping he won't be as upset with Ben. But Nueng's also not like the best with feelings and reflections, lol.

This show. Amazing.

[goldentournesol]

Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k 

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately. 

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on. 

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds. 

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it. 

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive. 

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head. 

The BAU! 

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed. 

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He’d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture. 

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right. 

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

 He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. 

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy. 

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt. 

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was. 

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind. 

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her. 

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone? 

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed. 

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased. 

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly. 

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away. 

Blood.

So much blood. 

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.” She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days. 

It wasn’t real. 

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand. 

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

Whumping the Wrath (aka titles are hard)

Bad AU continuation of this piece I wrote a while ago (though Nox is actually Occlus now that I have a canon Inquisitor)

All inspired by something @palepinkycat sent me that made me laugh with all sorts of “I’m going to hurt my OC” amusement 😂

Also no real editing done, we die like sith on korriban lol

-

Darth Occlus leaned against her saber pike for a moment as she prepared herself for another long session. At another time she might have been impressed at the prisoner’s resilience and power but now all she felt was frustration at how long it was taking to break her and anger at how much it had cost to catch the prisoner.

A now familiar flare of pain in her back and leg fueled her simmering rage. The plan to capture and control the Wrath should have been a straight forward one. With the combined power of the Dark Council and the new Empress, they should have been able to easily emerge victorious. But they had miscalculated.

The Wrath was far more powerful than any of them had given her credit for. They had all assumed that her skills lay only in unexpected ambushes and lightsaber combat. But it seemed that she had hidden depths of force potential that none of them had known about until it was too late.

Xarion was dead, his body crushed into a twisted mass of blood and guts.

Malora had been fortunate to receive a swift end with her head being cleanly removed from her body.

Vowrawn lost both legs and now had a scar across his face from a slash that had removed one of his face tendrils.

Occlus herself now walked with a limp and had to have extensive cybernetics implanted along her spine to save her from total paralysis.

Even Acina had lost an arm, leg and eye to the Wrath.

Krovos had been the only one of them to remain unscathed and that had been because the honorable warrior refused to fight against the woman that had led them through Zakuul’s invasion.

Occlus scowled as her injuries throbbed painfully. She had respected the Wrath’s leadership during Zakuul’s conquest and had been impressed at her refusal to claim the mantel of Empress. A less experienced Sith would have leapt at the chance to gain such power but the Wrath was anything but inexperienced. Still, now that Zakuul ruled unopposed the Wrath had outlived her usefulness, at least in her current position.

Closing her eyes, Occlus focused on the task at hand. She knew that the Wrath was resilient but she could tell that her resolve was finally starting to waver.

A small smile spread across her face as she reached into her robes to the military ID tags within. Even if the Wrath did not break today, Occlus knew it was only a matter of time. And it would at least be entertaining to see the once powerful Wrath realize just how hopeless her situation was.

Opening her eyes once again, Occlus entered the cell, now looking forward to the day’s activities.

-

Amarra couldn’t bring herself to raise her head as the door to her cell opened. She had long ago stopped wasting energy on looking up at her visitors. The people that entered her cell only ever came to deliver more pain, so what was the point in looking up at them?

Besides, her visitors never failed to let her know who they were.

Her head jerked to the side as one of Darth Occlus’ metal gauntlets opened a new gash on her face.

She didn’t bother to hide to cry of pain that the blow caused. In the beginning, she had fought hard to keep from making any noise at all. It had been a pointless display of pride but she could not help it. The Dark Council did not deserve her respect or service let alone her screams.

But now?

Now she didn’t care.

As much as she hated to admit it, the endless torture and isolation had finally begun to ware her down. Her mental defenses, which had held strong for over a year of torture and abuse, were beginning to form hairline fractures.

Maybe she could have held out longer if she had been able to rest and recover even a small amount of strength. But the Dark Council had other plans.

For a political body that was perhaps most well known for its bickering and backstabbing power plays, they had apparently found common ground when it came to Amarra. After capturing the Wrath, the Council had begun to work on breaking her will in shifts. One Councilor would torture her in their own way before passing her off to the next Councilor. She never had a moment to rest, save the times she passed out from pain, and she could never anticipate what each new Councilor might do to her.

Vowrawn was quite fond of using both the Force to torture her but he also enjoyed taunting her with food and water that her body so desperately craved. He often set up elaborate meals with mouth watering aromas in her cell and commented on how delicious it all was as his attendants continued her tortures.

Still, she had been able to push through the pain in her aching belly because she knew the Dark Council would not let her starve to death. They wanted a puppet, a weapon. And a weapon was no good to them if it was dead.

Acina was different. The Empress would often use machines to inflict pain. Amarra recalled one particularly painful session when surgical droids had been brought in. They had cut into her flesh with the sole purpose of inflicting as much pain as possible and they had indeed caused her unbelievable levels of suffering. That had been one of the first times when her voice had given out from screaming.

Some small part of her brain that was still capable of rational thought was grateful that she had previously destroyed the Ravager and her sire’s Arcanum. She shuddered to think of the ancient torture devices that Acina might have had access to if she had not destroyed the station.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Occlus grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head up.

A small whine slipped past Amarra’s lips as she was forced to stare into the rattataki’s eyes.

She was met with an all too familiar smile that sent a chill down her spine.

“How nice to see you again, Wrath,” Occlus spoke casually as if they were meeting over drinks.

Amarra didn’t bother trying to respond. Once, she might have spat in Occlus’ face but now she barely had the strength to keep her eyes open.

“Ah, I forgot,” Occlus chuckled. “You’re a woman of few words.” She then pulled a knife from her robes and plunged into into Amarra’s side, grinning at the writhing and cry of pain it caused.

Gasping, Amarra tried to focus on cataloging her new injury. The blade was still in her. Fortunately, it seemed to be short so the wound was relatively shallow. Good. She hated being left to slowly bleed out from deeper wounds.

“Now before we begin, I brought you a gift!” Occlus spoke in a cheerful tone as she reached into her robes for the Imperial ID tags.

Though she didn’t want to, Amarra raised her head. It was better than having Occlus grab her by the hair again.

But as soon as she saw the ID tags in Occlus’ hand, she wished she had just kept her head down.

Biava, Amélie

It was as if Occlus had just reached into her chest and ripped out Amarra’s heart.

No. No, no, no, NO!

She thrashed in her restraints and let out a broken scream of anguish and frustration.

It wasn’t possible! Amélie had fled! She had escaped with Vette, Jaesa and the rest of her allies before the Council’s trap sprang shut!

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to sob. She desperately wanted to reach out with the force, to try and touch Amélie’s mind. To see if she was safe. Or to confirm that she was...

But she couldn’t.

If she reached out then Occlus would take advantage of the opening and Amarra’s mind would no longer be her own.

A ragged sob did escape her this time.

There was nothing she could do.

Occlus had her trapped and she knew it.

The rattataki grinned impishly and pulled additional knives from her robes. “While you try to determine if I am lying or not, why don’t we see how many of these I can stick you with before you pass out?”

Amarra got to thirteen before her weakened and grieving body gave out for the first of many times that day.

[lightdancer1]

Two part preview from the Omashu AU:

The Fire Lord was surprised when his son interrupted him at work with a clear troubled look on his face. More for the interruption, for Zuko showing he had a clear strength in him in a sense that unfortunately would have to b-

"Father," Zuko asked, "How did Azula get that scar on her face? Mai said she was wearing a golden eyepatch, that the upper part of her face on the right side looks like a mass of lightning scarring."

Ozai froze. Damn the boy, but he did have strength in him. No lies would work here, even if his sickness pulsed in him to lie, even if it urged him to reach out with hands of flame and stifle the questions. He had come far since that terrible day, and the knowledge of his child's survival was a boon from the spirit world. She had not died, he could make amends for his error. Raise his daughter as his own child, give her what she needed.

"My son," he said quietly, in what was a simple unvarnished truth, "I did that to her. It was a moment beneath my dignity as both man and a prince of our land's royal lineage alike. I never understood how to interact with my brother. Still less with my child remade into my sister. It wasn't"-he surprised, even awed himself with the recognition that it was truth when he said it-"that she was ahead of me in succession. At the most brutish sense no child could have ruled before she was of age, and well...." He tapped his chest with a clenched fist.

"That day we were in a ferocious argument, the kind that children have with each other. I should have seen her age, that she was a little girl, that she sincerely thinks of me as her brother, of you and Kiyi as her nephew and niece. She was raised to think this before she could crawl, so what else would she know? All I could think of was...."

The memory was a jagged thing and he could not bring himself to speak it.

"An old mistake," was all he said.

"And I was angry, and I reached that point of rage my mind can get to sometimes. I've spoken to you before, as has your mother," and he paused again, and for a moment Zuko saw his father unguarded, a moment that would linger in his mind as long as he lived, the ways emotions and shadow played on his face in the throneroom, "about that sickness in my mind. It means I do not feel as others do, that I have a ready switch to violence, that I find violence and hurting people and things more fun than others do. That I do not always have a good measure on my own of the consequences of my actions."

His lips thinned. "I owe your mother more than life itself, for she has given me through herself and mind-healers things that none else sought to. And that one day is what happens when I am left to myself, and to what I thought worked with that sickness. I was angry, and I fired lightning and struck your sister, my own child, in the face."

He sighed then and put his hand on his face and shook it.

"I couldn't undo it when it was done. I was not lying when I said I thought she was dead. The wound was...." He bit his lip. "Part of her hair was completely burned off, Zuko. Part of her ear was charred and I've never forgotten the smell, the smell."

He sighed.

"And that, Zuko, should be a lesson to you." He shook his head.

"You do not have my sickness, for which I am grateful, but you do have my temper, if constrained by being more of a person among people than I am. My temper led me to an act that showed me beyond anything else that I have something wrong with me, it has forced me to struggle with enough success that I now wonder if Ursa was right. If Mother deliberately made everything with me that much worse, out of pure spite aimed at Father."

He shook his head, distracted by memories.

"All the same, that fire that blazes in me burns in you, also. You are swift to anger and swift to act, you strengthen your fires by the nature of that rage within you. I've seen that rage is not the only kind of fuel, that hope for a better future can burn just as well."

His father's smile was a grim one, something that inwardly always led Zuko to the Stillness.

"And Omashu...." Father shook his head.

"Why would she end up there, of all-"

And then he stopped, and stood up and went to a scroll.

Zuko was puzzled when his father didn't dissuade him from going over to look at it.

"A....Pai Sho tile?" His question was painfully innocent.

Ozai nodded.

"Now that's interesting," he muttered, in a low and dangerous tone of voice. "When I thought I'd killed her Iroh disappeared for eleven days. I thought he'd done me the favor of giving Azula a formal burial and giving her soul rest, so I said nothing to Father save that the Crown Prince was doing something he deemed necessary.

That Pai Sho club of his, this White Lotus Society...."

Ozai tapped his chin.

"Very interesting."

A list of names written. Piandao, Jeong Jeong-the word Deserter written in sharp letters. Pakku, of the Northern Water Tribe. Hakoda, of the Southern. A name crossed out, that looked like it started with an H, also from the Northern, and then one that drew both of their gazes. Bumi.

"Very interesting indeed."

Ozai's gaze turned to his son and he gave Zuko a strange smile.

"You impress me, my boy."

"Shadows know you for their very own. They always have. You see patterns that others do not, a skill vital in a Crown Prince."

(Zuko would live for weeks on the first truly sincere praise from his father he had ever gotten and the warmth it raised in him).

"And you may have exposed a conspiracy of traitors in the heart of the Palace itself."

Zuko smiled brightly at his father, never comprehending that his Uncle would now face a very grave danger indeed.

[lucky-sevens]

mechs deep lore compilation post

so! maybe you’ve read the other compilation post i made of basic lore/how to get into the mechs! maybe you want to know more! or maybe you’re a fan already and want to see how deep down this rabbit hole you can get!

well, good news for you: i have gone down the rabbit hole and hit bedrock only to find maki yamazaki standing by my side with a pickaxe! it is time for mechs lore part 2: electric boogaloo also known as ‘wow blue have you considered sleep’

rest under the cut!

i’ve tried to organize this, but given how many random facts there are, it’s hard! decided to start off with lore for each character (in order of them joining the mechs in-universe), including all the carmilla lore at the end; then move into general world lore/a bit of album lore, and finally more obscure/unknown facts, such as explaining the whole scuzz thing! also, citing the sources has been difficult, as a lot of things are from, say, old twitter posts and the like. there might be less links here than you all would like, but bear with me- compiling all this lore is quite difficult!

disclaimer: unlike stuff like the wiki, this includes a lot of my own theories and red stringing, and while i’m noting if something’s fanon or canon, the fanon may occasionally make its way into my theories!

links to the songs will be mostly TheVoidSings’ youtube lyric videos, as i don’t want to find the links to all the different platforms they’re on and the videos are lovely and accessible!

also- i’ve done some significant editing on the mechanisms wiki, as have other talented people- go check it out! it’s a good source of lore!

now on w/ the actual post!

crew

jonny d’ville

his lore is fairly concrete, but since he’s an unreliable narrator, we don’t know what bits can be trusted! his backstory song is one eyed jacks, which gives a pretty clear picture of events, but here in his crew bio he says that he made up new texas, and doesn’t have a very good memory of events in general. (it’s implied that he didn’t lie about killing his father, but we don’t even know that for sure.) a note: unlike the others, we don’t know what happened to his heart in order for him to be mechanized.

the aurora

the aurora’s lore is a mess. here’s what we know for sure, which is an edited version of what i have on her wiki page, (where i have also given a list of her known physical attributes);

she started off as a moon, but was weaponized and turned into a ship. she initially was a navy ship, but mutinied and joined the rebellion, participating in the october revolution, in which nastya died and was mechanized. this may have been her choice, but it is more likely that carmilla and/or jonny forced her into it, as they are the ones who won her from the cyberian navy.

when they stormed the ship, a woman was trapped inside- specialist 278 tereshkova, presumably aurora's programmer. What her and aurora's relationship was like is unknown, but aurora did not make any attempt to save her, so it may have not been positive. before dying, tereshkova managed to program a final distress message into aurora, as well as coding the mechanisms' blog.

she’s likely to be based off of the historical battleship aurora, like nastya is based off of the historical russian princess anastasia.

now, it’s time to get into the main theory about her: that aurora used to be briar rose! i’m collecting all the evidence on it, as well as all the evidence that can disprove it.

here’s a refresher on briar rose’s whole deal, taken from ‘the aurora strikes’-

The Rose Reds were the most effective of the soldiers created from Rose's genetic material, but they were not the first. Rumours spoke of an early prototype, known as the Briar Rose, that had malfunctioned and slain everyone on the desert moon of Briar, where she was being grown. But she was not dead. As the Mechanisms discovered, instead, she slept, at the heart of the defence grid that surrounded New Constantinople. The grid was composed of Thorn-class gun emplacements and was virtually impenetrable. And in its centre, the Briar Rose slumbered, plugged into the system, her anger, her rage, her hatred and her fear, fueling the machines, and focusing their gun turrets.

the main support for the theory here is that over time, briar rose could have fused to the moon, which is one of the very few conditions in which a biomechanical weaponized moon seems plausible and not just like a collection of vaguely cursed words. however, in the fiction ‘by any other name’, which is some collected lab research on briar rose, there’s this line- “During transportation and integration of the specimen, take all precaution and care.”- key word here being transportation. so she must have been moved off the moon.

the fiction i cited to disprove the theory actually has something that further supports it, though- the presence of a mysterious woman in king cole’s lab, who could be carmilla. hood, the revolution’s hacker, notes on a picture of her ‘[No idea. The others I’ve been able to find evidence of, but she’s a fucking ghost]‘. the description is a bit off, though, as she’s described as a short, pale, woman with hair long enough to be pulled back and carmilla is quite tall and has short hair- as well, in a later part of the fiction, the woman is killed and does not revive. however, there’s also another who could plausibly be her, noted here- ‘A tall woman sits opposite Prof. Root with a tray of her own. From her stature, it is conceivable she was one of the figures in the chemical suits. They talk sporadically, but the audio is heavily corrupted.’ she isn’t one of the ones killed later on, either, so that’s possible.

we know carmilla knew aurora when she was a very young moon and raised her practically from birth, so if she is one of those two people, it would make sense.

in ‘the aurora strikes’, aurora pushes to save briar rose- nastya explains this as ‘she can not bear to see another biomechanical organism in pain’. in my own writing about aurora, i interpret that as her having very high empathy, but there could be a more personal connection here. this is also notable as the only time aurora is mentioned in-album beyond jonny calling the mechanisms ‘the crew of the starship aurora’.

nastya rasputina

nastya’s backstory song (cyberian demons) was only performed when they were still dr. carmilla and the mechanisms, so it’s harder to find! thevoidsings has made a lyric video of it here, though, and it gives another very clear picture of her backstory! there’s also the fiction of the same name, which i didn’t understand upon first read-through but is basically a nastya character study, covering different points in her immortal life.

her performer went on hiatus for a while, and as an in-universe explanation, the cyberian sequence was written! in which nastya flies aurora to cyberia, infects herself with a computer virus, and transmits it to the entire planet, causing it to explode. this is all in the cyberian demons fiction i linked above, and with it are two other tangential fictions- one presumably just before those events, and one that’s an outsider pov.

there’s also out, which i’d suggest reading rather than just looking at my summary; basically, nastya has a crisis over aurora changing so that it’s harder to recognize her love, and ends up leaving the ship to float away into deep space- this is presumed to be her death, but that is never confirmed and nastya seems to assume she will wake up at some point.

ashes o’reilly

ashes’ whole deal is quite straightforward, which is a nice break from aurora and (to a lesser extent) nastya! their backstory song is lucky sevens, and it’s elaborated on further in their crew bio; interestingly, ashes was the one most into the idea of immortality at first, and also gave clear consent to carmilla.

ivy alexandria

we don’t know that much about ivy, which is fitting, as she doesn’t either! the most clear information we can find about her is in her crew bio, which can be summarized as: she grew up in a library!

archive footage explains more about her memory situation. she has no memories of anything before she was mechanized, according to this line ‘[...] she can tell you dates, and places, and body counts, she can list for you the exact circumstances of each event of her long, long life (at least, every event since that time, long ago, among a maze of bookshelves in a library that, awake, she can no longer describe to you, though once she knew its every turn by heart, when a woman stood over her and offered her eternity: before that, there is nothing at all).’ she also processes her memories differently than most people- they’re more like records, instead of things that affect her emotionally. (archive footage is also beautifully written and very much worth reading!)

the toy soldier

would say it has concrete lore, but it’s also almost solely responsible for fucking up my timeline and the album lore, so i’m rather angry at it. nevertheless, its entire backstory can be found in the fiction ‘the story of the toy soldier’. additionally, there’s a short story about its time fighting in the revolution of once upon a time (in space); presumably, this is the first time it did so, though it was likely in the war at least twice and possibly even three times. the mechanisms were only watching the second time, though it’s not out of character for it to have participated in the war again, and there’s also the dr. carmilla song, eleven, (which is about a war and uses a lot of rose symbology so it’s likely the revolution) where it is present. notably, carmilla had left the mechanisms by the time once upon a time (in space) takes place on their timeline, and the toy soldier is the only one there. at first, i interpreted that as carmilla meeting the toy soldier before it had met the mechanisms, but there’s two inconsistencies there: firstly, it doesn’t recognize her when it joins the band, and secondly, in the song they leave together. this increases the likelihood of it having been in the war three times.

we actually have a recording of the toy soldier’s first time joining the band- the mechanisms @ lashings! (part one / part two / transcript) there’s also a note of that show in the story of the toy soldier! they bought it because jonny was in jail (x). interestingly, that show is the first recording of rose red, and it’s later noted jonny was in a rose red prison!

now it’s time to get into the main theory regarding it, which also will factor into the write-up of ulysses dies at dawn later! i personally subscribe to this theory, or at least, most of it.

here is frankie @byron-von-raum‘s post- the theory here is that the toy soldier is the rebodied mind of the widow’s fiance. i’m not going to get too into that part, as i don’t personally incorporate it into my lore and more importantly frankie already has a post on it! read that if you’re more interested!

the most important bit here is the evidence it collects regarding the toy soldier living near labyrinth; in one of the pictures from the toy soldier’s backstory, there’s a dionysus brand wine bottle. the consensus he comes to is that the toy soldier lives in a colony of earth that trades with labyrinth, and while i think that’s possible, the all-encompassing nature of the city makes it more likely that they would have a minimum of outside communication, so the toy soldier would just be from the city proper. i will get into the impacts of this/expand on it more in the world lore section!

another thing: the angel has an out of character explanation! if you look at photos of old mechs gigs, jessica law looks similar to the drawing of the angel in the story of the toy soldier! their voice being stolen was most likely a reference to that.

drumbot brian

brian’s backstory is laid out in his crew bio! i’d summarize it, but to be honest, it’s already a summary, so i’d suggest just taking a second to read that! sadly, this is all of what we know about it. the priest from his backstory was apparently made almost immortal in some twisted form of mechanization, and has never forgiven brian for it/is still trying to hunt him down (x).

his bio is also where his morality switch is introduced! (interestingly, it takes a far lower role/is mentioned far less in canon than in fanworks.)

there was originally going to be a backstory album about him called indistinguishable from magic. this never happened, but ben below is working on a new one called the wanderings of drumbot brian! no more knowledge on this currently. 

the main theory about him is that he had some kind of alliance/is lying about something to do with carmilla! we know from maki that carmilla didn’t go out of the airlock (more on that in her section), and when brian is questioned on what happened to her, he doesn’t give a concrete answer. this is in contrast to all the other mechanisms, who assume she fell out an airlock. here’s what he said:

I will not point fingers and lay blame. I do not know how it came to pass that Dr. Carmilla left this vessel, whether by fair means or foul, and so I will not engage in this painful discussion. I hope she did not suffer, and that we may forgive the perpetrator of this deed.

he’s speaking very formally here. (fucking nerd). well, no; legitimately, this is not the normal way he speaks in other contexts. he could be masking something. we know that even when he’s lying, he’s not good at it, and this comes off as clearly odd. in support of this, i believe one of the songs on his unwritten backstory album was called ‘the doctor’s demise’ (though i could be remembering incorrectly).

there’s not much more evidence we can draw on here to come to a consensus, though!

something else to note- i’ve written this other meta about his prophetic powers! feel free to read if you’re interested in that aspect of his character!

gunpowder tim

of course, tim already has a whole mini-album to himself (gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser), but there’s a couple more niche things about him, though not as much as aurora and ts!

mainly, the implications that he destroyed the sun. there’s an old mechanisms tweet that states he 'was floating in the wake of a detonated star’. additionally, there’s this old blog post, which turned into a bit of a fiction! the figure speaking is not named, but given the other mechanisms who speak (therefore knocking them off the possibilities list) and the fact that the post was made around the time tim joined, it’s likely that it’s him. now, he says this:

“It wasn’t the deep space that drove me crazy,” he said, his voice low, calm and polite.  “It was the sudden realisation that I was entirely responsible for the destruction of my entire civilisation, and happy for it.”

though destroying the moon and his other actions in gptvtmk could possibly count for this, it would fit more if he had destroyed the sun.

both those posts also imply that he was floating in space for an incredibly long time. i don’t know how he survived if so, but it seems very likely that’s what happened.

i considered these posts being too early/having a changed canon now, like the odd use of different pronouns for some characters in the earlier fiction, but they seemed to have gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser mostly worked out by the time tim ledsam officially joined, as they perform it at the only recorded gig from that year with him (port mahon 2011), which was around when the second blog post was made!

marius von raum

we don’t have a written backstory or backstory song to go on for him, but kofi young (his performer) is working on a full album about him called ‘the death of byron von raum’!

the blog post kofi made about it as a summary is the main source of marius lore that we have! i’d highly suggest reading it, but the main points are:

1. it’s going to be very dark and tragic, and shows that marius at heart isn’t really the kind of comedic figure that he comes off as in the band! ruth @thedreadvampy (the mechanisms’ official artist, as well as morgan’s sister and kofi’s partner) has also made a tumblr post that connects to this!

2. the world he’s from used to be high-tech, but has devolved over time into 18th century levels of technology! what this boils down to is; what we assume is marius and an unknown friend (more on this in raphaella’s part) manage to discover ancient technology and attempt to use it! all we have here is this quote om the blog post- ��In the middle of this, two kids hiding from the soldiers discover an army of ancient mecha and use them to fight back, but only end up plunging the world into further chaos.’.

3. anime protagonist marius!

we also have this small piece of writing, screenshotted here (monogoggle...)-

[image id: a screenshot of writing, most of it out of view/hard to make out. it’s also in the middle of the line, so the breaks are off. however, it looks to say ‘at the controls of RISML/cockpit is cramped and d[...]/has his monogoggle over his/controls are uncomplicated/the neural interface. They [...]’ end id.]

raphaella la cognizi

i’ve been very deep down the mechs rabbit hole for over a month now, and yet i’ve found hardly anything about her!

there’s a small theory i have, though it doesn’t have too much supporting evidence! in marius’ backstory, it mentions two kids, and raphaella and marius joined together (first mention of either of them is together, in this facebook post!) when questioned about marius and raphaella, nastya says a story instead of stories (x). (that post also clarifies that carmilla was not involved in either raphaella or marius’ backstories!) this could potentially point to raphaella being the other person from marius’ backstory. the evidence against it is that if raphaella featured that heavily, r. l. hughes would have said something about the album as well instead of it just being kofi talking about marius, but it’s still interesting to think about!

there’s also a theory that she was the preacher’s daughter from brian’s backstory, but the only real evidence there is that she could have used his tech to mechanize herself (which her doing is only fanon!) and that she performs ‘lost in the cosmos’.

dr carmilla

this is most likely going to be the shortest section, as it’s basically another crew member; that being said, there’s a lot of lore here!

if you haven’t listened to the carmilla albums, i’d really suggest doing that! there’s two- exhumed and (un)plugged and ageha prototype edition! the story there is harder to put together than in the mechs backstories, especially because the songs are mostly out of order, so i’ve decided to just straight up summarize my interpretation, along with what we have to go on from maki, instead of framing it like a theory, as that’s the easiest way! still, please bear all this with a grain of salt- it’s most likely to be contradicted in the new album maki is working on.

carmilla and her girlfriend loreli lived on a planet called terra. for their childhoods, it was a fairly okay place to live (though i elaborate on this a bit in the world lore section!) however, it was bombed; most likely taking the role of an alternate universe hiroshima, as the blurb on her bandcamp says ‘Dr. Carmilla tells the twisted tales of a dystopian future following WWII having ended very differently.‘ after this, the planet sunk into a nuclear winter.

loreli got sick and died; or, she should have, but carmilla saved her by turning her into a vampire as well. this resulted in loreli losing her morals and becoming abusive towards carmilla. carmilla was too deep in love to see this, and stayed in the relationship for several years.

we don’t know what happened to make her strike out on her own, but eventually she did, and created the mechanisms. while with them, she recognized her own failures with loreli, and left the mechanisms (which they all believe was caused by jonny d’ville pushing her out an airlock, rather than her own volition.)

from there, she traveled back in time to the point where loreli was dying, and let it happen- potentially burying herself and loreli alive, which she survived due to her immortality and loreli did not.

however, she was trapped underground for a hundred years. when she is finally found and dug out, she starts enjoying herself (i.e. committing murder). for some unknown reason, she clones herself multiple times, creating the in-universe version of maki yamazaki.

the mechanisms assume she pursued them after she was pushed out of the airlock, and that that was what eleven was about, but i’m not sure why she would do that, given that she left them of her own volition. because of time shenanigans, it could have been far later on her personal timeline; maybe she simply wished to reconnect with them after all those years.

that’s all we have; we don’t know if she died, or anything like that!

world lore

all the folktales and normal history the irl mechs work off of also exist in-universe! (for an example- the toy soldier and ivy start reciting the walrus and the carpenter together in lashings, and the mechs also do alice in wonderland as a song.)

we know the alternate universe theory is correct, mostly because of this piece in the fiction on kofi’s blog-

In those burning instants, he’d feel the weight of it all, and know it was true. The golden age that never came; the city that stood at the dawn of a world instead of in its dying embers. And beyond – to a myriad of Camelots and a thousand thousand Arthurs, unfathomable worlds apart, each different, each fighting the same hopeless battle.

He’d feel the burden of that task pressing down until it felt like it’d crush his chest, and he’d wake every day gasping for breath, feeling older than he ever had, older even than Ector.

And as he screamed inwardly, Galahad would meet his gaze with those crazed eyes of his and grin, and Arthur would know again that whatever had spoken to Galahad was moving him too.

the mechanisms are most likely traveling between several alternate universe versions of folktales, and occasionally alternate versions of earth! (cyberia, tim’s earth, terra...) this is likely why everyone in their stories is human, and is actually low-key evidence against drawing them as aliens (though ofc feel free to have fun!)

i was initially going to put all the album lore in its own separate sections, but a large amount of it is how it intersects with other pieces of lore, and the rest isn’t necessarily niche enough to cite here? my personal advice is that if you want to learn more about the albums, read the fiction! i have a compilation post of all the fiction up on this blog, and you can find it on the website here!

let’s start with the mechanisms’ roles in ulysses dies at dawn, though! we know for sure ashes is hades, brian is the oracle of delphi, and the toy soldier was a nymph (which is actually quite worrying, considering what that means and the inherent issues with consent there, but i digress.) tim most likely took on the role of achilles (more on that here). then, we know some of the mechanisms’ activities and can guess their roles from that. raphaella was helping athena on her research, marius was psychoanalyzing the olympians, and jonny was committing mass murder. it’s a common theory that one (or three) of the mechanisms was cerberus, but sadly i couldn’t find any evidence towards or against that.

i said in the toy soldier’s section that i would talk more about the implications of it being from labyrinth here! the main thing is the fact that, for it to join the rose red war, the city must have interacted with king cole at some point. it’s a risky thing to pose a theory on the toy soldier’s allegiance towards a certain group, but the fact that it seemed to stick with the rose reds here might also mean that the city was, in fact, under king cole’s power. this fits in nicely with the greek mythology aspect of it all; king cole, in that universe, could have been a stand-in for the figure of kronos/saturn!

a few other theories on how the lore intersects:

1. high noon over camelot takes place after the bifrost incident! in terminus, we see communication breaking down, and that could have been the reason the station was isolated. the mechanisms go from it to the bifrost incident, but as they canonically travel in time, that’s not enough to disprove the theory!

2. arthur becomes king cole eventually! this is mostly going off of the fact he’s called ‘the once and future king’, but also the fact that cole used to be considered a good king.

a few loose pieces of worldbuilding:

people from new constantinople seem to be longer lived, and their culture is built around age as a concept. the older you are, the more wise and important you are. specifically, in this fiction, snow is dismissively noted as ‘barely fifty’ and king cole’s age is held up as evidence to why he’s a good ruler.

terra, carmilla’s planet, has two major languages; high terran and low terran! high terran is a more regulated, formal way of speaking, specifically something that only the rich and privileged tend to know. there are many dialects, but the grammar is dictated by the capital. low terran is a creole language formed from several others, including high terran, that most children are taught in school as the baseline. (though they might speak a completely different, less widely spoken language at home!) carmilla speaks low terran but not high terran (although she pretends to know the latter.)

the mechanisms were all (or mostly all) at fort galfridean at one point; don’t have the source to hand, but marius apparently became a prophet to the saxons for staring into the sun for a very long time.

if you’re looking to draw album fanart, there are a few things i know aren’t as widely known; the ones i can think of off the top of my head is orpheus having a ‘foppish haircut’ (the type of thing that falls under that definition is narcissus’ undercut), and snow’s disfiguring scar. there is also official album art; i, personally, have not seen much of it, and i’d encourage coming up with your own character interpretations.

one last theory- it’s highly likely carmilla was involved in the events of the bifrost incident. in the mechscord (sadly, invites are closed due to the difficulty with handling the boom in the fanbase) maki yamazaki has mentioned that part of the criteria for picking a mechanism is ‘good friend for lyf’. at first, i assumed that she meant good friend for life, but when asked on that she was worryingly cryptic (as tends to happen), and she made a joke earlier in character as doc c about accidentally calling odin. though immortal lyfrassier edda most likely became fanon just so they could become a mechanism, this is a piece of evidence towards them actually becoming immortal.

my personal headcanon is that to gain true immortality (which maki has said king cole and the olympians do not have) you have to have some kind of eldritch component, so carmilla had to go to odin for aid. this is supported by the fact that in drive the cold winter away and cyberian demons, their mechanisms are noted as having a rainbow sheen to them!

other lore

scuzz nishimura

scuzz has built up a bit of a reputation for being the ‘cryptid mech’, but her lore is really quite simple! she was a member of the band back when they were doctor carmilla and the mechanisms, but left before they became more popular, so there’s not too much knowledge about her. she appears in this fiction and the only two recorded gigs from that era (lashings and homesick). she’s also visible in several photos!

i know i’ll get people in the notes asking for photos of her if i don’t include any, so have this;

[image id: a cropped picture of scuzz nishimura, looking tired and resting her head on her hand. she looks to be wearing white gloves and some kind of sweater or waistcoat, and her hair is cut short. her cello is also visible, as is someone else’s hand. end id.]

we don’t know too much about her; all we really have is that she was their cello player!

assorted things with no explanation

there’s this old piece from the wayback machine-

[image id: a screenshot of what looks to be the fiction page from a old site for dr carmilla and the mechs. the writing reads;

Writing

( The Aldwich Horror } A short story in which Dr. Carmilla attempts to solve the mysteries of the Aldwich Horror, the strange appearance of a new crew memeber and several zoologically dubious pets.

( Disinterration } A cautionary tale about exhuming corpses.

end id.]

‘disinterration’ is most likely a reference to the carmilla song exhumed, but i’m unsure about ‘the aldwich horror’. the most intriguing bit there is ‘the strange appearance of a new crew member’. i’ve researched the other aspects in an attempt to figure this out. aldwych is a closed london tube station- it served as a bomb shelter during the blitz, which is interesting as both carmilla and tim have backstories involving the world wars (though only carmilla’s is world war ii specifically; tim’s is wwi). the zoologically dubious pets are most likely the octokittens, which we know the toy soldier brought on board, so it would have to be in a place on the timeline after ts joined and before carmilla left. the only mechanism that joins in that space is gunpowder tim, so it’s possible that he is the new crew member.

the mechanisms blogs have a lot of incidental lore, so if you’re this deep in i’d suggest looking at my compilation post of some of my favorite posts of theirs!

and that’s it! we did it! i can finally go to sleep now. i’m so tired. please. i am going to die. i have homework. thank you all so much. please consider coming to my funeral service.

[wipodu-ao3]

Fueled by revenge - a HTTYD fanfic

Read it on Ao3. Join the Discord!

A work in the Cannibal AU.

Summary:

A simple day in the life of Hiccup, with a few twist that can change a life, not his though.

An explanaition on how the chapter 'Fueled by revenge' came to be.

Words: 2,502

[One-shot]

After they had taken care of the tribe who were responsible for Toothless’ injury, Hiccup had used the forge on that cursed island to build the Nigh Fury a temporary fin. It had disturbed Hiccup that he felt nothing when he stepped over the dead bodies of the cursed tribe, but they were responsible for their own situation.

The tribe that had captured him had held dragons as food, nothing more, nothing less. Hiccup had learned from Storm that they had been capturing dragons and ate them as their main source of meat. While Storm was okay with fish that Shadow managed to catch, Hiccup grew a preference for… something else.

It was easy for Hiccup to take a knife to the body. It was easy to cut the flesh and taste it again. The fact that Toothless indulged in the taste too, just made everything seem okay. Hiccup knew it wasn’t, but he didn’t care.

What had shocked Hiccup, was that Storm didn’t seem to care. She had stumbled upon him with the knife in his hand and a cut up body below him. She didn’t scream or seem afraid. Storm had looked at him in disgust and scoffed.

“Cook it at least,” she told him.

And that was that. Hiccup’s new meat preferences were left undiscussed and an understanding was born between the two humans.

While Hiccup was making Toothless’ first ever prosthetic, they talked.

Hiccup learned that the man he had killed was Storm’s father. He learned that the reason the girl was with the dragons, was because she refused to eat the dragon flesh and her father didn’t have it in him to kill her. The reason Shadow was alive? ‘Skrill wasn’t tasty’.

The more Hiccup learned, the more he felt justified in his actions. Something he hadn’t noticed in his rage, was that the girl didn’t have a leg, just like him she had a prosthetic. It was a simple wooden one and she had clearly not gotten used to it. When asked about how that happened, Storm simply said:

“Just because he didn’t kill me, doesn’t mean he didn’t try.”

The fact that she joined him so easily made sense, she wanted revenge and she got it. Still, Hiccup had taken upon himself to make her a prosthetic, like the one he had, as a gesture of his gratitude. At first she refused, but the prospect of having a comfortable leg won her over.

Fortunately for both Hiccup and Toothless, Storm knew a little bit about healing and she took care of the injuries they sustained. Their injuries needed time to heal and Hiccup gladly stayed on the island for a few more days.

When he was done with both prosthetics, he asked Storm what she was going to do. She had hesitantly admitted that she didn’t know, but she wanted to but the cursed island to the ground. Hiccup was hit with an idea, he knew that learning to fly with Toothless’ new tail would take some time, but he wanted to get back to Berk sooner rather than later. He offered Storm a place to stay if he got her help one more time.

That was about two years ago.

Hiccup was hammering a metal rod for Toothless’ new tail. The new tail would seamlessly blend in with the Night Fury’s body and nobody would know that Toothless doesn’t have a tailfin. It was the third fin Hiccup was making for the dragon. The first one was on the Edge, and Toothless’ current one would join it in Hiccup’s room.

The Edge was the place Hiccup had offered to Storm. At the time it was just an island with a lone abandoned hut that Hiccup sometimes used to spend the night. While Hiccup had been at Berk, Storm had taken it upon herself to fix it up, she didn’t want to explore without Hiccup, so she spent her time building. At this point, the Edge had two houses, one they used for sleeping and the other was like a common space, with a simple kitchen and a library in progress.

Hiccup would leave for the Edge and be long gone by the time the morning rolled around. He had plans to explore and check out some spots frequented by Dragon Trappers. He also wanted to make sure the new tail was okay and that the saddle didn’t need any adjustments. Hiccup had already adjusted the saddle twice, his growth spurt making it uncomfortable.

Hiccup finished with the rod and put away the used forge equipment. He took the rod, also taking some nails he had made previously, and left the forge. It was late evening, but people were still milling around. He didn’t bother hiding the rod or nails as he could just claim they were for his prosthetic, nobody would care, because his growth spurt did mean he had to build a new prosthetic.

Hiccup let his eyes wander across the village. A lot of people were trying to finish up their chores for the next day, as from tomorrow, for almost a week, his father would be in the Meade hall, answering the tribe’s problems and solving their disputes. A good time for Hiccup to disappear for a while.

“Hiccup!” he heard his name being called from behind him.

He kept walking, not even glancing back to acknowledge his cousin. Hiccup hoped his obvious dismissal would discourage Snotlout from pursuing him. Luck was not on Hiccup’s sight it seemed as Snotlout caught up with him and stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Hiccup stopped and looked at the hand in disgust and Snotlout quickly removed it.

“We’re going over to the Meade hall, want to join us?” Snotlout asked him, gesturing to the rest of the gang standing a bit away.

“No,” Hiccup answered after glancing at the others, he went to leave, but his cousin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder again, and even Hiccup’s disgusted look didn’t make Snotlout remove his hand this time.

“We-we’re gonna take some mead and head out to the academy,” Snotlout tried to persuade him.

Hiccup almost laughed. How times have changed… a few years ago, he would have jumped on the chance to hang out with the others, but now he knew that they didn’t have any real value in his life. With Toothless he could see faraway lands and explore, with Storm he could talk about his thoughts and have meaningful conversations. The others just didn’t offer him anything, at least not at this time.

He knew that if they were a bit more mature or adventurous, and forgot their hate for dragons, they would be great friends. Also, Hiccup was still a bit mad that they had tormented him in his younger years, the torment stopping only when he stopped reacting to them and started treating them with indifference. His cold disposition somehow made him cool in their eyes.

“I don’t drink,” Hiccup told him and shrugged of his hand, going back home without looking back.

Hiccup didn’t linger at home, he didn’t need to. He just took a loaf of bread and put it with his other things. He left through the back door so nobody would see him leaving, because while they generally never noticed he left, but that was because they didn’t see him leave.

Toothless excitedly bounced towards Hiccup as he entered the cove. Hiccup greeted his best friend and went over to his stash of things. His stash consisted of the armor he didn’t want to wear around the village, the armor that could easily be recognized as the Dragon Master’s get up, some spare bags and a few of his own made weapons.

He dressed in his armor, mounted Toothless and with one final pet to the dragon’s head, they took off. They flew through the air as fast as they could, making short work of leaving Berk behind. Hiccup knew the way to the Edge by hearth, he could find it with his eyes closed.

Flying was freeing for him. Soaring through the air like nothing mattered, because it didn’t when he was there, Hiccup let his mind wander. He thought about the dragons he had found, the places he had explored and the people he had ‘met’. He used the term ‘met’ loosely as the people met his persona of ‘Dragon Master’.

He didn’t know who had given him that name, but he had no problem with it. The name gave him notoriety and opened doors that could never be opened otherwise. And he couldn’t say that ‘Dragon Master’s’ reputation was unwarranted, because it was. He didn’t hesitate to land a killing blow if he needed to, he frequently went around Dragon Trapper ships and freed the dragons inside, killing anyone who came in his way. And, of course, taking some of his preferred meat with him anytime he could.

Halfway to the Edge, in the middle of the night, Hiccup saw a ship in the waters below him. Curiosity got the better of him and he steered Toothless down. They flew around the ship, the darkness hiding them. Hiccup felt anger rise within him when he heard the roars of scared dragons come from within. Hiccup hated Dragon Trappers, he had taken care of countless ships on his own before, this time would be no different. He doubted anyone would survive.  

Hiccup touched down on the ship, the fact that the deck was clear of people surprised him. He dismounted Toothless and gestured for him to stay quiet, he listened closer and he heard a voice mixed in with the roaring of the dragons. The shouting was filled with pain, it was clear to Hiccup that whoever was beneath the deck was being tortured. That did not surprise him, Dragon Trappers were rarely smart or compassionate people.

Hiccup motioned for Toothless to stay on alert and went beneath the deck. It was light there, torches on the walls giving enough light for him to see clearly. There were about ten people there, all ganged up on one tied up man. The tied up man was screaming as one of the trappers, donned with a cloak made of dragon hide, took a knife to his bicep – carving away the skin there.

Hiccup didn’t waste time when he saw the keys dangling on one of their belts. He sneaked toward the man with the keys, luckily he was in the back of the group so Hiccup found it easy to cover the man’s mouth and pull him back. A dagger to the man’s throat was a quick and silent way to dispose of him, the body went down and Hiccup took the keys from his belt.

It was done silently, not alerting the others in the group. Hiccup used the keys to unlock the cages that housed dragons that did gain the group’s attention. Startled shouts rang out as the dragons ran out, Hiccup used the commotion to his advantage. He took his sword and managed to kill three more of the men before the others register what had happened.

The remaining six were easy to dispose of. Hiccup’s sword was sharp and he managed to behead two of the six, their head landing on the ground with a thud. One took a stab at the heart, two took fatal blows to the neck. The last one was the leader of the group, the one who had been carving at the man’s bicep. Hiccup managed to push the man to the ground and used his sword to cut the man’s leg at the hip clean off. The leader screamed in pain as he bled out.

Hiccup took the dismembered leg and with one swig he separated it at the knee. Hiccup called for Toothless, the dragon bouncing in with a croon. Hiccup took a mesh bag he had in the sack with his other things and wrapped the thigh in it. He fixed the slab of meat on Toothless’ saddle and turned to the man who had been tortured.

The man was looking at him with fear and confusion. Hiccup went over to him and took a knee to stay in eye level with the man.

“What’s your name?” Hiccup asked him with a tilt of his head.

“E-Eret,” the man gasped out, his face screwed up in pain.

“You have a choice Eret,” Hiccup told him, his eyes turning to the man’s bleeding bicep, the wound would scar if the man stayed alive, “Join me.”

“Or?” Eret asked when Hiccup didn’t elaborate.

Hiccup rolled his eyes and looked around the dead men, making a show of his wandering gaze. Eret gulped as he understood, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“Join you.”

Hiccup smiled and went around him to cut the rope that held his hands. Eret was another person for him to train and be friends with. Even if Hiccup could do this on his own, more people meant more saved dragons. Hiccup got Eret in Toothless and they took off.

Hiccup wasn’t scared that Eret would try to hurt him. For one, the man’s bicep must have been killing him. Eret had also been tortured by the dragon trappers, which meant he was someone they hated, and he didn’t share in their believes, at least not anymore. Hiccup could easily recognize people who could be assets to his cause, Eret was one.

By the time they landed on the Edge, Eret was struggling to stay awake, even the pain from his injury and the excitement that came with flying for the first time, couldn’t keep him awake. They had landed by the main building and, even though it was still dark, Storm had come to greet them.

“Who’s this?” she asked instead of greeting them, Eret’s presence coming as a shock to her.

Hiccup jumped from the saddle and helped Eret down, letting the man lean on him. Toothless went over to Storm and nuzzled her in greeting, she petted the Night Fury’s head as she watched the two men. Hiccup started leading Eret to the house.

“A new member of our team,” Hiccup told her as she held the door open, “He needs a bit of medical attention, if you don’t mind.”

Storm sighed and went over to their kitchen, she opened a cabinet where they stored their medical supplies, and took out everything she would need. Hiccup sat Eret down at the table and pulled out a seat for Storm.

She sat down and looked at the man’s bicep, she blew her hair out of her face and glanced at Toothless. The Night Fury was sitting near the door, waiting for Hiccup to take his things from the dragon. Storm eyed the mesh bag and turned to Hiccup.

“Put the meat on ice, at least,” she sighed and rolled her eyes, “Thor, you never learn…” she mumbled and got to work on Eret’s wound.

[zodiyack]

Opposites Attract (1,000+ Follower Special!!)

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x Female!Pierce/Petrova!Reader

Warnings: Possibly swearing?, fluff, indications of smut??, death/mentions of death, slight angst/violence, I think that’s all

Words: 1,667

Summary: The younger sister of Katherine was the true owner of Damon’s heart, Katherine only being his worry in 1864 due to the sister’s bond, the bond that fueled Katherine to force Y/n to join her when she escaped Mystic Falls and left Damon to think they were both in the tomb.

Note: I have no idea what to say honestly... I’ve been gone due to troubles with my computer yet you guys stuck around and that’s what matters to me. Though I may have a bit of a hard time with words, I hope you guys know that you all mean so much to me 💕💕

And if you’d like me to make a part two, which I’m already planning on doing- I just really liked the ending, or make this a series, feel free to let me know!

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. Part V. Part VI.

1864

Her back hit the wall, lips molded with his as their tongues clashed in a hungry passion. Her fingers played with his hair and pulled his face and body closer to hers. With his hands trapping her against the wall, she felt content.

“Turn me.”

“I can’t, Da-”

“Don’t. I understand, Katherine and all that...but promise me that one day, you’ll escape her grasp and run away with me.” She forced herself to look into Damon’s eyes, her undead heart breaking at the sorrow that drowned in his blue orbs. “Please?”

“I can’t make any promises...” she paused involuntarily, her heightened hearing catching a sudden ruckus from Stefan’s room and stealing her attention. Damon frowned, adjusting his grip on her waist to pull her back to reality. “I...I just can’t right now. However,” the smile returned to his lips, “one day, I will find you. And if you still want to...you may take me up on that promise, Salvatore.”

He was ready to answer when his door burst open and he and Y/n pulled away in a panic. His father stared down Y/n with a great furry in his body. She didn’t say a word, simply kissing Damon softly and nodding to Mr. Salvatore.

“Father- please-”

“No. She’s a monster, Damon! Her sister is a monster! They are monsters! Don’t you see that? She’ll kill you if you give her the chance. The same goes for Stefan and the other Pierce girl. If they’re even girls.” He mumbled the last bit of his sentence, too caught up in the belief that they were pure evil to consider any other possibility.

“She’s not a mons-”

“Yes. She is. Now, enough! I’m already ashamed of your siding with the demons, there is no need to make it worse, boy!” Mr. Salvatore grunted and put a muzzle-like-mask over Y/n’s head and called out to the rest of the hunters, watching as she was dragged away with a grimace upon his face.

Whilst Damon was traumatized, angry at his father and the world for their cruel decisions for his life, he attempted at keeping a neutral, unphased expression. “What will happen to her?”

“The same thing that will happen to the other monsters; she’ll burn.”

Present Day

Damon continued pacing throughout the house, ignoring Stefan’s pleas for him to stop. He thought about what Emily had told him, and what he needed to do. He had everything he needed, what was stopping him from going to the tomb? A gut feeling? Life? Was he just a big chicken?

He took a breather, telling himself to think about the reason he was in this mess. It was for a girl. The love of his life, to be specific. Y/n Pierce. The lovely lady who had come to stay with the Salvatore brothers after her and her sister’s parents had burnt with their home.

They felt pity for the girls, taking them in and, from then on, starting their odd journey through the supernatural world. Y/n was the first to reveal her secret; pulling away from a kiss with Damon due to her loss of control over her vampire features.

Though normally he’d be afraid, Damon had gripped her chin and forced her to look at him, awe and interest shining on his face. It was that night that he confessed his love for her, promising to take her away one day.

He chuckled at the memory, wiping his thumb across his lips. Damon remembered the taste of her lips like it was yesterday. The delicate softness paired with the lustful desire of their kisses was perfection. The kisses they had shared held something no one else could give him.

Despite occasionally hooking up with a girl or two, he was still on the search for his long lost lover. Deep down, he knew the sex was just for a distraction; even if he didn’t want to think of it as such, he knew that he was constantly comparing them to Y/n. Sometimes verbally, sometimes mentally, either way- the comments were always about the woman his heart belonged really to.

“Damon. Why are you really here?”

To find Y/n and stay true to my promise. “Just to be with you, little brother! Is it wrong that I want some bonding time with my little bro?”

“For you? Yes.” Stefan made it a point to avoid and ignore Damon as much as possible, especially with a girlfriend to protect from his ‘evil’ also-vampire brother. “Now, I’m going to ask you again. Why are you really here?”

Damon sighed. “You already know that Stefan.”

Now that Damon was closer than ever to opening the tomb, he was more than ready to reveal his true intentions. Stefan believed Damon was after Katherine, pleading him to leave as soon as they got out of the tomb. But in reality, Damon could care less about that vampire. He just wanted Y/n, but with the sisters being closer than anything he’d ever seen, he had no choice but to rescue Katherine as well.

If he was lucky, Katherine would allow Y/n to stray from her and stay with Damon, but he had a feeling that would never happen. Not with how possessive Katherine was. How she insisted that blood, as well as herself, went first.

1864

“We need to go back to them!” Y/n tried to run to her lover’s body. Her heart was racing. She’d come back to find that her beloved had been shot dead, his brother the same. Before Y/n could reach the man, Katherine gripped her waist and held her back, stronger than her younger sister due to being older in human and vampire years.

Y/n was the one Petrova to have escaped Klaus in his act of revenge. To be fair, it wasn’t his fault that he missed her. She was out picking berries, going about her life normally, before returning to a bloodied home with the bodies of the people she loved strewn about messily.

She remembered falling to her knees and cursing at whatever entity seemed to be there. Whether it was God or some other being, she demanded, through sobs, to know what she had done to deserve it.

Then, as if her prayer-like-yells of agony had been answered, Katerina showed up at the doorway. Her reaction was similar to Y/n’s; first, processing what she was seeing, then, feeling the fear freeze her in place, and finally, screaming and trying to shake her family awake, hoping as much as she could that it was all a dream.

Y/n walked from her hiding spot slowly, still shaking from her discovery but much more calmed with the presence of her older sister. “Who would do such a thing?”

She swore she could never forget the rage, paired with terror, in her sister’s eyes. “Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson did this.”

That very day, she turned her sister. She explained that they would live long enough to either kill Klaus and get revenge, or plea for his forgiveness and live their lives once more.

Snapping out of her memory fueled trance, Y/n broke free of her sister’s arms and dropped to the ground beside Damon. She pulled his head onto her lap and brushed his dark curls from his face. She chuckled to herself when she noticed her tears dropping onto his face.

“Goodbye, my love.” Y/n pressed a kiss to his forehead, then one on the tip of his nose. Finally, one on his lips, staying a little longer than the others as she savored the intimacy in their final goodbye. “If I only I had told you yes...”

She left her sister to say her goodbye to Stefan, wiping her tears away as she felt what was left of her heart crumble into bits.

Once, she had a family. And then she had her sister. Then she had her sister and an owner to her heart, the feeling of humanity returning to her undead body, feeling alive for the first time since her transition.

Now? She was back to having only her sister.

Damon felt the same way.

When he had woken, taking time to recover from the shock of being alive. Emily had told him how Katherine compelled Stefan to drink her blood, and he already knew that he drank Y/n’s blood willingly.

“There’s no point in living.” Damon pleaded with his brother after he tried to get him to feed, “They’re dead.”

Present Day

He ran into the tomb, desperate to find the sister of the vampire doppelganger. Damon sighed, ‘speaking of doppelgangers’, Elena had followed him, ignoring Sheila and Bonnie’s warnings.

“What’s that sound?”

“They can smell you.” He made his way through the tomb, eyes traveling from one decayed vampire to the other, cursing to himself each time they weren’t Y/n. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t give up. At some point, he’d gotten separated from Elena, but he didn’t care- never faltering in his search.

After spending more time looking for the vampire with negative results, Stefan had rushed in. He seemed anxious, desperate, ready to plead. And that he was. “Damon. We have to go.”

“She’s not here...” He felt like he was having a panic attack, which was more than likely. Damon threw the blood bag he had brought for her against the wall, “She’s- she’s not here, Stefan!”

“Who? Katherine? Look, I’m sorry that she’s not here, but we need to go!”

“No! Not Katherine! Y/n! She’s- she’s gone...she’s gone Stef.” Stefan furrowed his brows, feeling sympathy for his brother for a split second, then realizing how much time they were wasting.

“I’m sorry... Okay Damon? Maybe she didn’t die-”

“Don’t get my hopes up, alright?”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Really, I am. But- we need to go, like, right now.” He grabbed his brother and sped him out, gaining a boost with his vampire speed. The entire time he thought his brother was after the bad sister, but he was after the good one.

Opposites really do attract.

[bunnirs]

Someone To Fight For

Y/N L/N is the last remaining Kurta, fueled by hatred for the Phantom Troupe. They’ll do anything to eradicate their existence, even if it means dying in the process.

Kurapika Kurta X Reader

Word Count: 3,353

Your motives were clear as day. Kill the Phantom Troupe, and then yourself.

Murder was something you weren’t proud of, and would never be. That is why, to atone for your sins, you would end your life after you murdered the very people who slaughtered your tribe.

The Kurta were known to be peaceful. They were stubborn, but truly harmless. That’s why they never stood a chance against the Phantom Troupe. What or Who is the Phantom Troupe you ask? It’s a group of disgusting lowlife thieves who steal whatever they lay their eyes on. At that time, it had been the Scarlet eyes that defined your Tribe.

How you escaped was beyond your luck. They must not have noticed that you slipped away, running for your life. It must have been the fact that they were too busy gouging out the eyes of your tribe, your family. Maybe your people’s screams were so loud they couldn’t hear your sobbing, or maybe they didn’t care. Afterall, you were only a child.

That was the day you realized that your world would never be the same. That was the day you realized that you would never be able to walk freely without knowing that they were dead. So you trained, you killed, and you bled. You cried during your sleep as your nightmares materialized the very bodies of your fallen comrades, their eyes filled with endless black voids, forever missing.

As you grew up, you became stronger than you would’ve imagined. Your rage had grown over the years, silencing the screams of your past. Even as they calmed, they still rang in your ears. The begging, the crying, the screaming. It all stuck, only to be relieved at the death of their oppressors.

As the last Kurta, you had to fulfill their wish, or die trying.

That led you to now, as you stood on the roof of an abandoned building on the quieter side of Yorknew City. You had been tracking the Phantom Troupe for days now as they gathered around the Auction that was to last through September. It was the perfect time, seeing as the troupe seemed to separate regularly to satisfy their needs. You just had to pick them off one by one.

Even if their abilities were a secret, you had gotten to know their personalities and that was enough.

The numbers of whom you were watching, were #1 and #3, also known as Nobunaga and Machi. They didn’t seem to be the most dangerous of the Spiders, but even so, you could NEVER underestimate them. These monsters killed your people after all, and that wasn’t the easiest task.

Hours into your endeavor, you began to notice that you were not alone. Two more people had joined you in stalking the troupe members. From the looks of it, they seemed to be two ordinary children, besides the fact that they could effortlessly hide their aura. Would it be enough to stay hidden from their victims? Probably not.

That’s all it took for you to get closer to the two troupe members, almost afraid that the kids would get to them first. You were not afraid for yourself, no, more for them than anything. If they got noticed, they could easily be hurt, or worse, killed. It didn’t matter who killed them, it could very well be you. If they got in your way, you may not be able to restrain yourself. You had been planning this for months, and if they ruined it now, you’d be beyond pissed.

More time had passed, but that didn’t matter. Everything seemed to go by in seconds for you, your heart almost beating out of your chest as the two of the children disappeared into separate buildings. You grew nervous, hoping to whatever god there was, that the children knew what they were doing. But your prayers went unanswered, seeing as the two troupe members, Machi and Nobunaga, caught on to the children’s aura, disappearing into the very building the children had hidden in.

That’s when you decided to throw in the towel. You couldn’t stay hidden and wait till they disposed of the children, you needed to do something, and the human in you begged to help. And that’s what you did. You jumped from roof to roof, landing on the building the green boy had gone in. As soon as you landed on the ceiling, you jumped off the edge, swinging yourself through the window. As soon as you did that, your feet had met the back of the pink haired troupe member, Machi.

Much to your dismay, Troupe Member #9, Pakunoda, was also present, blocking the doorway of the child. That really pissed you off. You hadn’t noticed her, and she could’ve been tailing you this whole time, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Her aura was also joined by another, making four troupe members present. The other was most likely taking care of the other child, alongside Nobunaga.

As you disregarded your realization, you grabbed the child’s arm, skidding to the other side of the room, glancing between Pakunoda and Machi, whose face was still plastered into the ground.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, his voice in a low whisper, obviously skeptical of you.

“Your friend.” You murmured, letting go of his arm as it tensed. Hoping he got the hint, you stepped in front of him, almost in a protective stance. “Honestly, I thought I warned you about sneaking up on people.” You glanced at him, winking, hoping to god he wasn’t as dense as he looked.

He seemed to understand, nodding his head firmly. He let out a nervous laugh, putting his hand on his neck, scratching it. “I’m sorry, I just got carried away! They were worth a lot of money.. and me and Killua couldn’t resist!”

“You really are an idiot..” You grimaced, hitting his head softly, mentally kicking yourself for the display of affection. So they were in this for money.. how.. unoriginal. Of course they had bounties on their head, it wasn’t a surprise to you. They were crazed thieves who picked fights with the mafia, so it was a no brainer they pissed people off. But for kids to get involved? That was a load of bullshit.

Through the conversation you had with Gon, Machi had pushed herself up, dusting off her outfit and holding her nose. It definitely looked bruised, if not broken. This wasn’t going to be easy to get out of.

“So, you two.. know each other?” She questioned, an eyebrow raised. “I knew there were two of you, but I had no idea there was a third. Bad judgment on my part. Paku, we have room in the car for three right?”

Pakunoda hummed, nodding a yes to her question. “So they’re after us because of money? Seems a little… risky don’t you think?”

“Kids are kids.” Machi looked at her, and then stared directly at you. “We won’t have another problem will we? I really don’t want to have to kill you in front of a child.”

“The same goes to you.” You responded, shifting your weight to your other leg, crossing your arms. “So, what's this I hear about a car?”

“Well, we’re obviously not going to let you go.” Machi glanced between Gon and you, a small smirk growing on her face. “We’ll bring you back and let the boss decide on what to do with you.”

You only shrugged, glancing at the kid, whose eyes widened. You could guess he didn’t expect to get caught. You almost laughed as you ruffled his hair, hoping to comfort him. You wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him and his friend, that was for sure.

As you were loaded into the car, you could tell the white haired boy, known as Killua, was questioning your well-being. You wouldn’t blame him, not at all. You’re messing with dangerous people, and you can’t expect to trust anyone. The kid that you helped seemed to look at his friend, almost having a conversation with their eyes. That’s all it took for Killua to glance back at you, his eyes losing their hostility, and a small smile formed.

That quickly vanished when the members of the Troupe began to speak. You blocked them out, staring out of the window, watching the surrounding area become less urban. You were sure they said something regarding you, but you couldn’t care less to listen. They didn’t deserve your attention. Not now at least. You were sure that you ticked them off, seeing as one of them kept glaring at you. You hadn’t done anything yet and they were already tired of you. Good.

Time seemed irrelevant now, as everything seemed to go as it came. You were now in the base of the Phantom Troupe, the Spider tattooed freaks who slaughtered your people just for the sake of their eyes. You almost wanted to throw up as you looked at them, they weren’t scary...just ugly.

To your dismay, they decided to take the kid whose name was Gon, and force him to arm wrestle the members. You could tell he was in pain, and no matter what his friend tried to do, the Troupe was one step ahead.

What was odd, was the fact that Nobunaga was hellbent on letting the kids join. What was in store for you? You had no idea, and you didn’t care. You only leaned against the wall, picking at your fingernails, making sure they were in a clean disposition. Some of the troop members watched you, and that only made your smile widen. You hoped they remembered every inch of your face, so they could be haunted by it even in death.

“So, Pakunoda, when you scanned the three of them… what did you see?” One of the members who you recognized as Feitan Portor, Troupe member #2, asked. He said it while looking at you, holding Gon by his arms, his body bent over the table. To you, it looked wrong, but you couldn’t really suppress your opinion.

“They don’t know each other.” Pakunoda said, your eyes widening as you stared at her. Her power must be something like reading minds.. or seeing people’s memories.

“That’s odd, they pretended too.” Machi said, her voice laced with amusement. “So, you just pretended to know him?” She said, moving her gaze towards you.

“Yeah.” You said blatantly, dropping your hand from your face, the dirt now removed. “I have no idea who these kids are. What I do know, is that you guys are going to die. Doesn’t have to be today, but it will happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

They all stopped what they were doing, staring at you. Killua and Gon had stopped breathing for a second, their eyes widening as they stared at you. Wrong move.

The Spiders turned to each other, laughter erupting from their throats. It would have bothered you had you been cornered, but you knew how to deal with them. You had trained for four years, just to kill them. It wasn’t going to stop now.

“No one’s that stupid to openly admit to wanting to kill us… so you either must be stupidly strong… or just stupid in general.” Feitan said again, tightening his grip on Gon.

“Call it what you want.” You said, sliding down to the ground, your back to the wall. “But this is a warning.” Your eyes narrowed, glancing at the members. “You don’t know who I am, but I know all about you. Do what you want with that of course.” You leaned your head back, looking at the ceiling before closing your eyes. Your aura vanished, and your eyes narrowed, a red glow emitting from them. “Just know that I’m always watching.” After that, the red vanished, and you closed your eyes.

Of course anyone in a situation like this would never willingly fall asleep, seeing as you are open and vulnerable. But of course, you weren’t normal. Your nen ability was perfect for this situation.

You called your Nen Ability: Relentless Increase. The more someone damaged you, the stronger and more immune you became. This caused a huge amount of power to build up inside of you, leaving you stronger than ever. Torture didn’t work on you, seeing as halfway through it, you were numb to the feeling and could easily overtake your assailant. So with this, you could easily stand by while the Troupe watched you. Of course, they had no idea about what you could do, so it was smart to stand by.

Your instincts were proven true, seeing as they didn’t even try to touch you. Instead, most of the members left, leaving you with the two kids and Nobunaga. It almost irritated you. This Nobunaga dude seems confident in his skills, thinking he could take care of the three of you if you tried to escape. Of course, the children proved him wrong.

They had a plan up their sleeve, and it actually worked. While you sat in the room, they broke through the wall, running in opposite directions. Since you didn’t follow their example, Nobunaga seemed to trust you. First mistake on his part.

When he left you unsupervised, you took the opportunity to break out yourself. By the time he had lost the kids, you were long gone. As you ran, you expected someone to come after you, but instead, you found the kids high tailing it out of the surrounding fence. You laughed a little, running alongside them for a while. They seemed to be high in spirit, despite the fact that they were just held against their will by a dangerous group of thieves. Kids these days never failed to surprise you.

Sure, your plan failed, but at least you got knowledge on the Troupe, as well as two kids who might know something important about them too.

On your walk into YorkNew, the three of you had made small talk, getting to know each other. It seemed to be a smooth conversation, until Killua brought up your eyes

“So… Y/N.” Killua narrowed his eyes, focusing on the ground in front of him, his hands fumbling in his pockets. “Your eyes…”

“Ah yes.” You mused, kicking a loose stone from in front of you. “What about them?”

“When they turned red…. are you by chance…?” He didn’t finish, finding the conversation almost too awkward to continue. He didn’t want to press any wrong buttons with you.

“A Kurta?” You finished for him, your eyes slightly narrowing at the word. “Yes. The last one.” You could feel the water building up in your eyes, threatening to spill.

“No you're not.” Gon said suddenly, confusion lacing his tone of voice.

That shocked you, causing you to choke on the saliva that built up in your throat. The tears in your eyes were forced out, and you suddenly fell to your knees, uncontrollable sobs leaving your throat.

“Great going Gon! Look what you did you idiot!” Killua berated him, hitting him across the head.

You clenched your fists, the sand and dirt from the road coated your palms. You began to laugh as your tears fell, washing away the loose build up on your knuckles. For the first time in a while, a genuine smile formed on your lips, your laugh gaining in hysterics. You looked crazy, but at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t alone.

“...I think.. we broke her.” Gon muttered.

“We?! I didn’t do anything!” Killua yelled in his face, pointing at you.

“Well you brought it up!” Gon reprimanded, knocking his hand away from you.

You slowly stood up, your legs shaking, tears continuing to fall from your face. You raised your dirt covered arm, wiping the liquid from your face, grime replacing it. “S-so… where is this… other Kurta?”

“Oh, right! Kurapika is in Yorknew right now!” Gon smiled, pointing at the city on the horizon. “He’s actually our friend! And to be honest, we were just about to go see him!”

Your face brightened, the setting sun shining down on you. “...Can I… can I join you?”

Killua and Gon stayed quiet for a moment, before large grins appeared on their faces.

“I don’t see why not. As long as you're not an idiot, you should be just fine. There’s only room for one of those around here.” He giggled, poking Gon in the side.

“Yeah! We’d love for you to join us!” Gon gave you a thumbs up, before looking over at Killua. “Wait Killua, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing! Come on slowpoke!” Killua yelled, running ahead of the two of you.

“Oh you’re so on!” Gon cheered, running after him, before skidding to a stop, looking back at you. “Come on! Wouldn’t want to lose ya!”

“Are you calling me slow?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Well then, I suppose I don’t want to get lost.” You rolled your eyes, playing along with him. That’s when you started to run alongside Gon, laughing as he tried to tag Killua.

A few days passed, and it was the day that Kurapika was meeting up with Gon and Killua. It was the day that you’d finally get to see another Kurta, after four long years.

The day seemed to go on forever, only getting slower as the time grew near. Time never liked you it seemed. It made important, peaceful moments go by so fast you couldn’t even keep track of everything. But when you wanted to get over with something, it seemed to slow down just to spite you. It took four years just for you to learn that you weren’t alone, and maybe it’ll take forever just to see him. But In all honesty.. you could wait decades if it meant restoring the missing piece in your soul.

The time finally came around, and you finally saw him. He was tall, blonde, and had dark eyes. You could tell they were contacts, seeing as nothing could compare to the natural beauty of a Kurta’s irises. Just by the look of him, you already felt the welcoming warmth of home.

He made eye contact with you, and for a split second he became confused. That vanished when he saw the tears spilling from your eyes, and the red creeping up onto your normally dark irises. From the overbearing emotion you felt, your true scarlet eyes revealed themselves to him, and that was all it took for him to come running towards you.

He enveloped you into a hug, it was so tight that he was afraid you would vanish before his eyes. But you were there.. and you were real. Your eyes were real.

“....Kurapika..” you managed to breathe out, the air being stolen from you as he smothered you.

He immediately let go, letting out a formal apology. “I- I’m sorry..” he muttered, his face red from embarrassment. “I just got…”

“Overwhelmed?” You finished the sentence for him, a small smile creeping onto your face.

“Yeah.. that’s the word.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You giggled, finding his reaction amusing. “I understand completely.”

Killua and Gon were giggling as they whispered to each other, the two of them running off a split second later. That left the two of you alone.

“Do you want to.. catch up?” He suddenly said, ignoring the two boys that had left in a hurry. He knew they had done this on purpose, and he was thankful. For once he was glad they left, because now, he had you.

“You know what...” You smiled, your hand on your chin as you pretended to think of an answer. “I’d like that.”

Just for a moment, your rage had softened.. and you had someone to live for.

Taglist:

@tokoyamis-luv @imsloan

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

Day 4: Modern AU OR Favorite Trope

I have always been fascinated by the concept of twin flames so here’s my AU with twin flames Anidala. A twin flame is a kind of soulmate so this counts as a soulmate AU. 

Half of My Soul

“I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything.

Maybe we’re from the same star.”

― Emery Allen

I. 

I loved you before I met you. I think I have been in love with you for a very long time – since the beginning of time, really. I didn’t know what you looked like and I often wondered about you as a child. I would look around the other girls my age and you just weren’t there. My other half – the missing piece to my soul.

It hurt – just a bit – that you weren’t around when I needed you as a lonely child but I was determined that you would show up some day so kept on looking. And then I finally saw you. Not in school, not in the junkyard I often played in, and not in my neighborhood. I saw you much more closely – in a dream.

In my dream, I worked at a repairs shop but I was a slave. And you were an angel in the form of a girl. You were older than me and it made sense to me then why I had never found you before.

“Padmé Naberrie,” you say and the name resonates within me. Of course, that was your name. What else could it be?

Your name is etched into my very bones and imprinted on my very soul. Everything about you – from your big, brown eyes to the little beauty spot on your cheeks still burned in my memory.

In my dream, you were a queen from an elysian world and it seemed like you descended from the heavens when I met you. I was a mere slave, smitten by your ethereal beauty.

You have haunted my dreams since I was a child. I wondered if I did the same in yours.  

Amidst the crowd of people, my eyes sought out yours. I knew you were the one I've been looking for my entire life. The moment our eyes locked, I felt complete. Whole. Something I have never felt my entire life.

My life couldn't be any better - I am a Harvard graduate in mechanical engineering, I have a loving mother, a friendly stepfather, a supportive best friend and yet life has always been far from satisfying. Was it because I was only half of a soul waiting to be reunited with its missing half?

Your beautiful brown eyes sparkled with a hint of recognition. Your face was as familiar as my own.

I longed to tell you that you looked mesmerizing in that white dress. The rest of the world - this noisy bar - faded away once I had laid my eyes on you. It finally like coming home.

"You're the angel, aren't you?" I whisper.

You laugh and the sound is just as melodic as I remembered it.

"I have never heard that from a stranger," you say with a hint of amusement.

“But we aren’t strangers,” I say.

"No. We've met before," you say with a mischievous smirk. You knew exactly what

“Once upon a dream,” we say in unison.

Looking on you was a strange feeling – I saw a part of myself in you. It was as if the Universe had shifted around me and I had finally discovered my place in it.

"I remember you. Though your hair was much longer when I saw you," you remark.

The last time I saw you (alive), you were miserable. Tears had stained your cheeks and you were been desperately clawing at your throat. And after that, I only had the opportunity to see you in holograms. When you looked like you were drowning in a sea of flowers as six guaalars took you back home. The others were faint images of the times you were happy.

"Last I remember, I was a sad, sad man. You know why?" I asked as I played with a loose strand of your hair.

I know why, Anakin. But I let you finish anyway.

My heart beats just a little faster as I gaze into your solemn blue eyes. There’s a hint of sadness in them. I have seen that look before.

"Because I had lost you."

I gazed at the man I had loved in countless lifetimes. He looked like a lost child. There was a vulnerability in him that I had not seen in most men. He was beautiful as tragedies often were.

How could one feel so complete and lost at the same time?

I remember the last time I had closed my eyes because I was exhausted and it was hurting to stay alive. My time was over, I knew it but yours wasn’t. You were going through so much more pain but you had to live on and fulfil your destiny.

I always had faith in you, Anakin. And I told that to your Master and I whispered it in to our son. He had your eyes.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth for he knew what I was thinking. We had shared a mental connection in our other lives as well.

I laced my hand in yours and tiptoed to reach your ears.

"But not this time,” I say.

Your smile is as radiant as the sun itself. When you smile, you remind me of that little boy I dreamt of.

“Not this time,” you echo.

"What do you say we leave this place and go somewhere more private?"

"I would like that,” I say with a smile.

You tremble slightly and I can tell you’re tipsy. I look at the girls who had accompanied me. I gesture them to enjoy the rest of the night by themselves. 

“I am not letting you drive home,” I say. "Tell me the story of the Queen and the slave boy again."

"You already know."

"I do. But I would like to hear from you all the same."

We found each other again for a reason. I’ve always known we would find ourselves in each other’s arms in the end. Perhaps, the Universe wants to make up for all the suffering it had put us through in the past. Perhaps, this was the happy ending we have always wanted. It was a faint hope but I saw it burning in his eyes as well and we held onto that hope. For without hope, we had nothing.

 II.

“Anakin.”

Odd how a simple word – just some wind, really – was enough to rattle him. Hearing it from surviving Jedi would fuel his rage and brought forth denial if it came from his Master but, when she said it, it haunted him. Her voice could calm him from even the deepest rage. She still had that effect on him, even when she was dead and cold in the grave.

He stared straight ahead, determined not to turn around and meet her eyes. This ghost from Vader’s past from appear at different times in his life – briefly, unexpectedly. Even in death, she had never left him.

Vader had many ghosts and he never hesitated to crush them down for ghosts had no power of their own. They were petty annoyances and reminders of a life he had long left behind. But he happened to love this particular ghost and so he let come and go as she pleased, not quite certain if she was a figment of his imagination.

"Anakin."

She would whisper so softly he would wonder if she was there at it. Perhaps it was just the wind hissing.

He didn't respond. During her visits, she spoke very little. On the rare occasions he had dared to look on her face, it was the same pained expression on Mustafar. Her last moments…

He kept his silence, letting his loud rhythmics breaths drown out her weeping. He decided to take a look. After all, her grief meant his grief, and that would make him a better Sith, as his Master wanted.

He expected to see Padmé with braids, her belly swollen – the way she was on Mustafar or a shriveled, decayed corpse as she was in the nightmares that plagued him every night.

But she was just a child – the way he had first met her. She wasn’t looking at him kindly and Vader knew he deserved that look. He was her murderer, after all.

"You weren't like this," she said in her cold, regal voice. It had always fascinated him how a child could appear so authoritative.

He looked away but there was no escape from her. The Padmé that stood before him was in her yellow gown – the way she had been on the meadow in Naboo.

“I knew our love would destroy us,” she said in a kinder voice than the younger Padmé with a hint of sadness. Vader now addressed them both.

"This is what I have become without you,” he rumbled.

"You aren't the same," said child Padmé petulantly.

"Why? Why did you change?" asked the elder. She had the same look she had when she would be frustrated with her work. His Padmé...the one who was his wife would have been gentler. But he remembered she had a temper in her younger years.

"How can I be the same without you? We were two halves of the same soul and without you, I'll never be whole again...I won't ever be Anakin again."

"Without Padme, there is no Anakin. You were me, Padmé. You and I we were the same person. You were trapped by the Republic just as much as I was trapped by the Jedi. We led the same lives. With you died one half of my soul. And now I'm just what's left of me."

The Padmés faded away. Only this time his wife was in their place and she had flowers in her hair.

"Have faith my love," she said as she drew closer. The words sounded hauntingly familiar but he couldn’t remember why. It had been so long…

She put a ghostly hand on his face though he couldn't feel it. He tried to clutch her hand with his gloved ones only to let it pass through the phantom. "We'll be whole, once again. Just you wait," she said as she disappeared into nothingness.

Vader sighed. His other half had proved to be the best thing in his life and also his greatest misery.

Vader never hallucinated his dead wife again but when she did return, she did in the form of a fierce young princess and a young farm boy from a distant planet.

III.

In a different timeline, Anakin Skywalker lay entangled with his wife. She was fast asleep in his arms but sleep didn’t come as easily to him. Anakin always had a hard time falling asleep. The war had made it very difficult to be vulnerable. He knew he was safe at Coruscant and yet he just couldn't let all his worries fade away.

He gently disentangled himself from his wife and watched her sleep peacefully, her curls spread all over the pillow, her expression as soft as an angel's. He paced back and forth their apartment and settled in front of the large windows in Padmé’s apartment. The city never slept but the traffic was less in Coruscant's skylanes at this hour so it was easy to see the stars clearly.

He remembered watching them from his own small hut back on Tatooine. The worlds that had seemed so foreign back then seemed so familiar now. It was the place he grew up in he had trouble remembering.

"Anakin, what are you doing?" asked Padme softly, her eyes still sleepy.

"I’m sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, of course not," she said as she rubbed her eyes. "You should get some sleep."

"I just can't. It's hard to relax," he explained.

She nodded with understanding as she took a seat beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulders and rubbed it gently. "Alright, then. I'll sit with you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. It's not that I get to be with my husband every day."

They sat together and intertwined their hands. "Do you...you ever wonder if...we had never met?" Padme asked.

"No. I don't. Because we were always meant to meet. Don't you believe that, angel?"

"I-I do but that's wishful thinking on my part."

"No. it isn't. My connection to the force is so strong I just know we were meant to be together. It has always been our destiny."

"Mhmm," she hummed, "Wonder what destiny has in store for us."

“Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together,” assured Anakin as he kissed her cheek. The couple spent the rest of the night sitting in comfortable silence and basking in each other’s presence.

[jennana501]

Attachment and the Jedi Way

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN AND STAR WARS REBELS

I always know a story is quality when what I want to say about it to my mother and sisters is too difficult to text, and I have to drive over and talk with them in person. Such was the case when I watched the Mandalorian Chapter 13. There were so many juicy details, plot developments, and general excitement about the long awaited appearance of one of our favorite Star Wars characters that I couldn’t stand being restricted by phone when I wanted to gush a million things. We were all so stunned with the emotion of her appearance. Truly a moment I will remember for the rest of my life. 

But after all the sweet outer frosting on the Chapter 13 cake had been licked clean, I dove into the center of this delectable episode and began to savor in its indulgent but substantial core. I have many thoughts about Thrawn, where Rex can be (is he dead or alive?) and where the season is going to go from there. What has interested me the most is Ahsoka’s reaction to our newly named green baby friend, Grogu. 

First I must say how much I love Rosario Dawson’s performance. I feel she knows who Ahsoka is and what she has gone through. I am reminded of little ‘Soka in her very first appearance in the Clone Wars animated movie when she takes care of the way less loveable baby Hutt. Seeing that she is  charmed by Grogu and that she clearly thinks he is cute makes me feel all sorts of warm fuzzies. Their very mythical and silent conversation in the moonlight shows how in tune with the force Ahsoka has become and that Grogu himself is much more than meets the eye. 

And yet when it comes to it, Ahsoka says she cannot train Grogu. The reason: his attachment to Din. I was surprised at first. Ahsoka does not see herself as a Jedi, at least as far as her association with the order that raised and trained her. I didn’t think I’d hear about attachment from someone who has forgone the Jedi way, especially since Ahsoka appears to have indulged in an attachment or two.

I immediately realized she was on to something. I recall Grogu’s moments of using the force: saving Din from the mudhorn; using the Force to save everyone from a giant fireball; Force healing Greef Karga; and Force choking Cara Dune. The latter example stands out to me as being the most violent use of the Force we see from little Grogu. He perceives that Din is in danger and acts against what we now know is his training to hurt someone in a manner that is often consistent with the dark side. 

Sure he is innocent and adorable. But he is also dangerous. And Ahsoka is right. It’s his attachment to Din that turns him from benevolent force using baby, to emotionally fueled deadly force bomb.

But I’ve seen Star Wars Rebels. I know that a Jedi can have relationships with other people and not turn to the dark side. You can love and still listen to the will of the Force. The Jedi were wrong. So I’m here to look into what attachment is, how you can love and not have attachment, and how Grogu might still become a Jedi, or at least the new wave sort of Jedi. 

First we must look at the poster child for attachment issues: Anakin Skywalker. The Clone Wars TV show could be renamed- Star Wars: Attachment and How it Disrupts Nearly Every Mission the Republic Assigns Anakin. He prioritizes Padme, Ahsoka, R2, and even Obi-wan over everything else. He is constantly  defying the orders of his commanders and putting the mission in danger. 

This all comes down to what happened to Anakin’s mother. 

When Anakin is taken from Tatooine, he has to leave his mother behind, with whom he shares a strong bond and attachment. When he is brought before the council and they say “he is too old”, what it really means is “he has already attached himself to something other than the Force.” Why else would being “too old” matter? The Jedi prefer blank slates for a good reason. Very small children have not developed strong attachments.

Anakin does turn into Darth Vader, after all. 

It would appear the Jedi are very right to say that Anakin should not be trained. He is ripped away from his mother; the man who believes in him is killed; and he is forced to be trained by someone who treated him with bitter indifference. After losing his mother he has no help, no advice, no direction other than to stifle his negative emotions. 

So instead of processing his grief and finding peace, he latches onto Padme. This attachment he will never abandon. He trains harder and becomes more powerful to always be able to keep Padme alive. The guilt Anakin feels for not being able to save his mother gives fire and passion to his obsession with Padme. And this obsession slowly erodes their relationship. 

Anakin says things like “There’s nothing more important than the way I feel about you.” (Hostage Crisis) During the Mortis Arc when he sees a vision of his mother, they have this conversation: 

“The only love I feel in my heart is haunted by what would happen should I let go.” 

“Then it is not love. It is a prison.” 

“But I have a wife…she’s everything to me.” 

“She’s not your destiny.” 

“But I love her.” 

We see the very ugly side of Anakin’s obsession and jealousy in the arcs that involve Clovis. Anakin's insecurities are valid, but they simply drive home the point that his attachment to Padme will eventually unravel him and lead to violence. 

Anakin and Obi-wan have a very interesting conversation during the episode “The Rise of Clovis” that reveals that Obi-wan is worried for Anakin and senses Anakin’s anger pitted towards the man he perceives as his rival. 

Obi-wan: Master Yoda is feels that your judgements concerning Rush Clovis are clouded. 

Anakin: I believe he can’t be trusted.

Obi-wan: Yes, but there is more isn’t there? I sense a deep anger in your by my simply saying his name. 

Anakin: He almost got Senator Amidala killed and I would have been responsible. 

Obi-wan: The Senator has risked her life many times. She’s quite capable of taking care of herself. 

Anakin: They had a relationship...once. I simply feel she is vulnerable to her emotions. 

Obi-wan: She is, or you? 

Obi-wan then empathizes with Anakin, telling him that he knows what it’s like to harbor feelings for someone. He tells Anakin to not be ashamed of these feelings, but that he must make the rights choice “for the order”. The conversation ends with Anakin becoming very angry, asserting he knows what his responsibilities are and Obi-wan leaves the room, leaving Anakin to deal with his distress alone. 

 And since Anakin is denied the support he needs, he resorts to controlling, intimidating behavior. He commands Padme to stay away from Clovis, is cruel to him, and chooses to punish Padme emotionally for Anakin's own insecurities. When tensions reach their peak, he attacks Clovis. This fully expresses Anakin's own fear and rage at the idea of losing Padme to another man. 

Anakin’s unchecked and untreated attachment to Padme, as we all know, results in the ultimate ruination of the both of them, the Jedi Order, and the Republic. He will never out anything about her. She is his center. Nothing else matters. 

This is not Anakin’s fault. This is the fault of the Jedi. Their teachings about attachment are unhelpful at best, and this stems from their crippling confusion over the difference between “attachment” and “love”. 

It makes me wonder if they even know what they are talking about at all. Their advice about attachment involves regurgitating confusing platitudes.  

In “The Revenge of the Sith"; Anakin goes to Yoda to seek his counsel. Anakin is told that “attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is.” When Anakin asks what he must do to overcome attachment, Yoda tells him simply to “train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose”. 

Thanks Yoda, I’ll get right on that. 

Anakin needs to “let go”, apparently, and if he is holding onto something dangerous, what should he be holding onto instead? No one ever explains. The Jedi simply tell him to “let it go”. 

It’s no wonder that Anakin can’t ever consider letting go of Padme. For all he knows, that means cutting her out of his life and never speaking to her again. Or worse, does that mean letting her die the next time her life is in danger? Does it mean he should replace love with indifference? He has no idea. As he is given no tools, Anakin fixes nothing and plummets to his unavoidable demise.

Divorce papers and deleting Padme’s number isn’t how Anakin is to overcome “attachment”, and it was never going to be. Obi-wan tried this method with Satine, and though he didn’t fall to the dark side, he never recovers from the bitterness and regret he feels.

In “Voyage of Temptation”, Anakin and Obi-wan discuss his and Satine’s relationship. Obi-wan explains his Jedi duties forced him to leave Satine after forming a strong bond and love with her over the year they were together on Mandalore. The Jedi teachings dictate that he let Satine go. So, obedient Padiwan that he was, Obi-wan cuts off his relationship with Satine. The results show that this was not the way. If the goal of the Jedi is to avoid negative emotion, then this technique fails and perhaps cripples Obi-wan forever.

Anakin: “As Master Yoda says: ‘A Jedi must not form attachments.’”

Obi-wan: “Yes, but he usually leaves out the undercurrent of remorse.” 

I’m here to tell you today that Obi-wan perhaps gets screwed over by the Jedi Code more than any other Jedi. Obi-wan does not have an attachment to Satine. Sure he says “Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order” but that’s only because that is what he has been taught. He is taught you only have two options: love someone or be a Jedi. 

Obi-wan loves Satine. He has a relationship with her. Some even think, myself included, that he is physically intimate with her. Qui-gon no doubt encouraged this relationship. He probably carefully nurtured Obi-wan during this time, helping him be able to love without forming an attachment. But Obi-wan is not able to see that he could love Satine and still be a Jedi. Leaving the order means that his Jedi journey would be over. If he had realized love and attachment are separate things, he could have been a Jedi and could have had Satine's love, too . 

Qui-Gon nearly convinces Obi-wan to be different: Obi-wan could have been a Jedi with feelings and love. Satine is a person who values duty above all, just as Obi-wan does. She respects that he answers to the Force. They would have been able to perfectly rule together with that mutual understanding. He could have been her force wielding husband without being attached to Satine and falling to the Dark side. 

True attachment is so dangerous to a Jedi because if they attach to a person, an idea, or a cause then they are not attached to the will of the Force. 

This is the missing detail Anakin and Obi-wan needed. Obi-wan could have been completely attached to the Force, even while loving Satine and even becoming her husband. Anakin needs to know that he could attach his center to the Force, and that this would not interfere with a deep and meaningful relationship with Padme. While centered in the Force, Anakin could be Padme’s husband loving and living with her, but ultimately his duty is to the Force, just as her duty is ultimately to the Republic. 

We know all of this is possible because of two characters from Star Wars: Rebels. Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla share what is essentially a marital bond. They love, live, and lead together. They are physically intimate, but they do not have each other as their centers. We see evidence of this in the episode “Call to Action”, when Hera leaves Kanan in the hands of the Empire. She  knows that if she risks saving Kanan then everyone else will be killed. 

If Hera had an attachment to Kanan like Anakin had to Padme, she would have risked everything to get Kanan back. Since Hera is not one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, she would have failed and the rebel cell would have been stopped dead in its tracks. 

We also see evidence that Kanan is not attached to Hera. At the very end of their journey, after Kanan and Hera have fully expressed their feelings to each other, Kanan sacrifices himself for Hera and the others by using the Force to hold back an explosion. Though it appears as  Kanan is doing this because of his love for Hera, that is not the true motivation. If Kanan has an attachment to Hera, things would have gone differently. 

It is heavily implied leading up to this event that Kanan knows it is the will of the Force that he is to die. He knows this because the Force is his center and not  Hera. If his center is attached to Hera, I believe two things would have happened. Kanan would have tried and failed to save himself along with Hera and the others.  His actions would have been motivated by selfishness and desperation to extend his time with Hera. If Kanan tries to save himself, the conflagration consumed them all. The only way Kanan can prevent this is to draw upon the dark side of the Force. This would have thrown Kanan out of balance with the Force, and put him in very real danger of falling to the dark side. 

Instead, Kanan allows the will of the Force be done: he dies and his time with Hera comes to an end. Hera knows this about Kanan, and has always accepted the possibility he would choose the Rebel cause over their time together. Kanan knows the same of Hera. This mutual respect is the foundation of their love for each other. A Jedi can have a love and a bond with someone as long as they understand that ultimately, if the Force wills them to do something they must do it, regardless of how that affects their lives together.

So, can Grogu live like Kanan? The issue with Grogu, however, is that he already has attachment. His center is his adopted father, Din. Grogu is currently like Anakin, and if Din hands Grogu over to Ahsoka, they will have very Anakin-like troubles. From whom is Grogu going to learn? Ahsoka is unable to teach Grogu how to let go of deep attachment and center on the Force. Ezra Bridger can. 

In the second part of this post, I will discuss how Ezra Bridger is one of the most important Jedi who has ever lived, because he will be able to Grogu learn to let go, attach to the force, love and live, and yet do what needs to be done. 

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 29- An Obitine Story

Satine was shaken awake by Obi-Wan at three-thirty, he was dressed and cleaning up. The Duchess whined for him.

“I wanted to let you sleep,” the Jedi confessed, “but I’ll help you get ready.”

“Ben,” Satine whispered harshly, “I can’t get ready in half an hour!”

“Hurry then.”

The Duchess dressed as quickly as she could with her corset, trying to be patient with Obi-Wan as he fumbled.

“I swear I did it this morning.”

“I know!”

“Stop pressuring me!”

Satine sighed.

“What?”

“Remember when we were young?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“This would happen all the time.”

“Only now,” Obi-Wan tugged, “we’re grown adults with children ourselves, and no Master Qui-Gon.”

“Very true.”

Satine’s hair took longer than it should have, but fortunately, she hadn’t unpacked much. 

“Now I wish Parna had come,” the Duchess whined, “Ben, carry my bags.”

The Jedi sighed, but did as he asked. Jaym met them in the hallway.

“Everyone is worried,” he smiled, “we thought you were dead.”

“Not dead,” Satine assured, “just tired.”

Jaym took the bags from Obi-Wan and headed down the hall. Satine pressed a quick peck on Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“Love you, Darling.”

“I love you too.”

The Duchess ran to catch up with Jaym.

“So-” he began

“No comments,” Satine interrupted, “we’re late.”

They weren’t that late, maybe because Korkie, Tristan, and Mara were goofing off with Ahsoka, but Satine saw Padme’s face.

“Very fashionable entrance,” the Senator smiled as they hugged, “we should’ve known.”

“Time slips away from us.” Satine shrugged.

“Duchess,” Anakin kissed her hand, “I hope you enjoyed your visit.”

“Don’t act so smug, Anakin,” Satine scolded, “and make sure Tyra doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“I’ll try.”

Satine approached Ahsoka.

“Momdalore!”

“Keep an eye on my twins, will you?”

“Of course.” Ahsoka nodded

Satine turned, “Children, we don’t want to be late.”

It wasn’t till they were sitting down sipping tea that Korkie asked his mother how their father was doing.

“Fine,” Satine raised an eyebrow, “he seemed in a good mood when I left.”

“Honestly, Lady Mother,” Mara sighed, “try to be more subtle.”

“I hid you all from the Jedi Council for your entire lives,” Satine countered, “I would say I’m quite subtle.”

Tristan laughed, “Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

Satine gasped, “Never.”

  There was a small group of reporters waiting for their landing, eager to see the reunion. Tristan hugged his foster parents and put on quite a good show, thanking the Jedi for their rescue. Parna received her niece, though their reception was much less ostentatious.

“And you, Duke, is it good to be home?”

Korkie smiled, “Most certainly, and I would also like to thank our saviors, we really appreciate their kindness and hospitality.”

“Thank you for all the kind wishes we’ve received as well,” the Duchess added,placing a hand on Korkie’s shoulder, “our family is reunited again.”

The press could likely spin that comment, but Satine didn’t mind. She strode past them and into the palace, her children behind her.

“Lady Mother,” Korkie whispered as they climbed the stairs, “am I really just supposed to go back to school?”

Satine frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I want to learn more about what I can do,” he confessed, “and I think I need therapy.”

“So do I,” Mara agreed, “on both counts.”

Tristan also wanted to see a professional, he claimed that the Sith did strange things to your mind, and he definitely needed a break.

“Lady Mother?” “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance,” she frowned, “I hate what they did to you.”

“The Sith Lord is in custody now,” Korkie smiled sadly, “Maul and Dooku won’t be able to do much.”

“They can still try.” Satine countered.

The Duchess didn’t know how right she was, that night, after Tristan went home to his foster family and Mara to her mentor, Satine and Korkie sat having dinner with her ladies. 

“Let me get some more tea, Your Grace,” Khaami stood, picking up a tray, “I’ll be back.”

Conversation continued until Parna noticed that it had been twenty minutes and Khaami had not returned.

“Why don’t you go check on her,” Satine suggested, “and bring the desert course.”

Parna grinned, “Gladly.”

Korkie was in the middle of complaining about how much schoolwork he’d have to catch up on when the glass doors to the balcony shattered. Both the Duchess and her son jumped up.

“What-”

“Stay where you are,” Dooku growled, “and this will go a lot easier.”

Maul held both Khaami and Parna behind a lightsaber, and Korkie raised his hands.

“Don’t try anything, boy,” the Count snarled, “we’re here for your mother.”

In spite of what Dooku had just said, Satine stepped in front of Korkie.

“We won’t hurt him, Satine, if you come with us.” the Count added, eyes blazing.

Maul growled and the Duchess squeezed her son’s hand.

“Alright,” she exhaled, “but my ladies must be freed as well.”

“No,” the Zabrak snarled, “they come with us.”

“Then why-”

Dooku picked up Satine using the force, clenching her waist with his mind.

“And for good measure,” the Count smiled, “this.”

Korkie flew back and hit his head on the wall, Satine wailed.

“Come on.”

They were prodded onto a ship, and Satine and her ladies had their wrists bound. Huddling the corner of a hull, Parna whispered that her brother could help.

“He’s dead,” Darth Maul called.

“No, Satine,” Dooku frowned, reading the Duchess' thoughts, “Mara wasn’t there.”

“Don’t you dare use her name.” Khaami spat.

“I killed Ursa Wren too,” Maul smiled, “it was great fun.”

Tears welled in Satine’s eyes, Ursa had raised her son for her, and now she was dead because of it.

“You monster!” Parna growled, voice breaking.

“Oh, right, he was your brother,” Maul laughed, “what an interesting family you made.”

Silence filled the ship.

“Where are we going, Kal?”

The Count smiled, “To your enemies.”

“I don’t have enemies.” Satine replied without thinking.

Maul snorted, “If you believe that, Duchess, you’re more naive than we thought.”

Satine retreated inwards? Who could be considered her enemy besides the Sith and the Separatists?

“Pre Vizsla.” the Duchess frowned.

Dooku and Maul didn’t acknowledge her, instead, they maneuvered the ship into the lower levels of Sundari. Satine swallowed, corruption on her planet was fueled by the Vizslas and their desire for war, them and all who followed them. No good would come of this.

“Do you have the prize?” a voice croaked over the radio.

“Yes,” Dooku smiled, “and the ladies.”

“Did you hear that, son,” the voice asked, “they even got the ladies too?”

Raucous laughter burst out from the radio and Satine shrank back. So many voices, so many people.

When they landed, Maul used the force to carry the ladies by their necks and bring them off the ship. The Duchess was greeted by Tarrei Vizsla, grinning maliciously as he shoved a gun to her back.

“Walk,” he ordered.

Satine followed Count Dooku as he made his way through a series of tunnels, bribing guards and telling passers by to spread the word. The Duchess had been caught.

“Ah, Duchess,” Pre Vizsla smiled when Satine arrived, “so good to see you’re looking well.”

The criminals around Vizsla laughed, like a pack of hyenas about to eat.

“Shame on you,” Satine growled, “all of you.”

“The poor Duchess,” Pre Vizsla gave a mock frown, “she thinks she hasn’t been ruining Mandalore.”

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves,” Khaami spat, “treating the Duchess like this, she’s saving Mandalore.”

“Ha,” Tarrei Vizsla laughed, “she degrades our very purpose.”

“And what purpose is that, Tarrei?” Satine asked.

“Restoring Mandalore to her former glory!”

The criminals cheered.

“War will get you nowhere,” Parna disagreed, “and many people will die that would’ve been saved by our Duchess.”

“Your Duchess,” Pre Vizsla growled, “is a Jedi-sympathizing b-”

“If you continue with this,” Satine warned, “know that none of you will survive.”

“On the contrary, Satine,” Count Dooku spoke up, “it is you who won’t survive.”

The Duchess had almost forgotten her ex-fiance was there, so she turned to him.

“What do you plan to do once I am rescued?”

“Bold assumption,” the Count smiled, “though I suppose you have faith in your Jedi lover.”

Satine pretended to be horrified, she had no idea if it worked.

“So it’s true?”

“Most definitely,” Count Dooku nodded, “and they most definitely have children.”

“Who do you think you are,” Parna spat, “making up these lies?”

Count Dooku ignored Satine’s lady and announced that he had a plan to set in motion. The Duchess growled at him as he left. Pre Vizsla turned to face Satine.

“First things first.”

The pain in her cheek appeared out of nowhere and throbbed. Laughter echoed in Satine’s ears.

“How dare you,” Khaami thundered, “how dare you strike the Duchess!”

“Oh no,” a criminal whined, “what are you gonna do about it?”

They were led to a cell and locked in with such flair Satine wondered if there was a camera. Suddenly, Parna burst into tears.

“He’s dead,” she wailed, “dead, dead, dead.”

Satine gripped the cell bars tight.

“I’m sorry, Parna,” Khaami whispered, “I’m so, so sorry.”

”Awful,” Satine shook her head, “these demons deserve hell.”

“Careful, Duchess,” Tarrei Vizsla appeared, “now you sound like one of us.”

Satine growled at him.

“Why are you here?” Khaami spat, holding tight to Parna.

“To guard you, torment you,” the former Count shrugged, “it’s all the same to me.”

Satine glared at the Mandalorian, how dare he identify with her people. Her good people.

“But I do have one question, Duchess,” Vizsla smiled, “are the rumors true.”

Angry, Satine stood and spat in Tarrei’s face.

“You know, I much prefer words.”

“You’re vile, Tarrei,” she barked, “you will regret working with Mandalore’s enemies.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Vizsla raised his hand, “your enemies are my friends.”

“Go away.” Parna sniffed.

The former Count laughed and Satine’s rage fueled. The bars of the cell began to shake.

Tarrei’s eyes went wide, “What-”

Satine glowered at her former ally and the bars shook harder.

“Are you doing this?”

The Duchess let go of the bars and stepped back, but they still wiggled uncomfortably. The eldar Vizsla ran in the opposite direction. The bars stopped shaking as he turned round a corner.

“Satine?” Parna questioned, eyes still red.

“That wasn’t me,” the Duchess shook her head, “honestly, it might’ve been the force.”

Parna snorted.

“You and the force,” Khaami laughed, “allies, who would’ve thought?”

They sat in silence until Tarrei Vizsla returned with his son and three other guards.

“She made the bars shake, it was like,” he gasped, “it was like-”

“Are you a Jedi?”

Satine burst into laughter, completely astonished at the unexpected comment. Parna stared dumbfounded at the criminal who asked while Khaami mocked him.

Pre Vizsla turned to the man, “A Royal Mandalorian Jedi?”

“There’s no other explanation.” Tarrei agreed.

Pre Vizsla looked back at Satine.

“Make the bars shake.”

Satine stared at the man as if he were crazy.

“Well?”

“I can’t.”

“She’s lying.” Tarrei frowned.

Satine gestured, “It wasn’t me!” 

“Son,” the former Count was firm, “it was her.”

Pre Vizsla stared at Satine for a long time.

“What possible explanation is there?” he concluded at last.

The Duchess could think of quite a few reasons, fortunately, no one in front of her was a mind reader.

“Leave them, what can they do?”

Tarrei Vizsla wouldn’t speak to the prisoners for the next three days. When Satine awoke on the fourth day, her neck stiff from sleeping awkwardly, she sat up to the opening of the cell door.

“Come on!”

The Duchess wasn’t expecting to be yanked by her hair, and gave a little yelp when her scalp was pulled.

“Hurry up!” Pre Vizsla barked.

Something must’ve been wrong, and this filled Satine with joy.

���Stop smiling,” Tarrei slapped her, “you’ll regret it.”

Angry, the Duchess growled, but no one seemed to hear her. She and her ladies were being tugged along a back hallway that seemed to have hardly been used. Trash littered the floor and more than once Satine stumbled.

“Hurry!” someone barked.

An explosion boomed in the background, and it rattled the Duchess so much that even when they were in a ship flying away, her teeth still chattered. In the pack, Khaami and Parna huddled together, shoved between boxes of illegal substances. Satine was tied in the back by the fresher, and it smelled awful.

“Oh, suck it up.” Pre Vizsla spat.

There were two other criminals besides the Vizslas, which seemed to be a small group for precious cargo.

“What happened?” Satine asked.

Tarrei Vizsla snorted.

“Like we’d tell you.” a criminal answered.

They had no problem getting off of Mandalore, the Vizslas had too many friends, what shocked Satine was when their ship was shot down while they went to refuel on a desert planet she’d never heard of. It wasn’t a bad crash, seeing as they were caught by a ray and lowered to the ground.

“What-”

The ship door burst open and Khaami screamed. Gruffy looking soldiers with giant weapons entered the ship.

“Ah,” a man, their leader smiled, “fellow criminals I see.”

“What do you want?” Pre Vizsla asked, tone sharp.

“You came to our planet,” the leader gestured wildly, “it’s us who should be asking that question, friends.”

“We’re not our friends.”

Parna gasped, “You’re Hondo Ohnaka?”

The man turned, a smile on his face.

“A prisoner with sensibilities? That’s rare.”

“I’m Parna Supreis,” Satine’s lady began, “and-”

Satine gasped as Parna was gagged.

“Are you,” Hondo grinned, “then you must be the Duchess of Mandalore, no?”

The Duchess watched as he came close, then spat in his face.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hondo snapped, “men, take them.”

”Now hold on-”

“Who’s in charge here?”

Khaami pointed at the Vizslas, “They are.”

“Then take them too,” the pirate ordered, “the government will likely want them.”

Satine watched in horror as the other two criminals were shot. Only this time, she didn’t feel quite as bad, and that scared her.

“Come on, ladies,” a pirate tugged on their new bonds, “it’s time to go.”

A couple men snickered and dread settled in Satine’s stomach, this was much worse than she had anticipated.

They were forced onto speeders and taken to the pirate hideout, which was much grander on the inside than out.

“Are those Zygerrian rugs?” Satine frowned.

Hondo laughed, “They most certainly are.”

Zygerrian rugs were made by slave labor and very expensive.

“You’re disgusting.” Khaami growled.

“Now, now, that won’t earn you any favors.”

Satine and her ladies were placed in a cell, all tied together at the hip with some glowing contraption. Fortunately, their cell was actually nice. There was nothing to aid in an escape of course, but there were pillows and couches.

“This is for our most distinguished guests.” Hondo smiled proudly.

The Vizslas were put across from them, in a sour smelling hold that reflected on their true nature.

“You’ll regret this, Satine.” Pre Vizsla growled.

“What did I do,” the Duchess asked angrily, “wasn’t this all your fault?”

Hondo laughed, “Enjoy yourselves, friends.”

Satine, Parna, and Khaami all decided that one person should keep watch. Satine had the first slot.

“Duchess.”

Satine jumped backward, “When did you get here?”

“I’ve just had a very interesting call with your sister,” Hondo smiled, “she has captured Count Dooku and is willing to trade him.”

Satine grinned, “You must enjoy having the Count in your custody.”

“Oh, I do,” Hondo nodded, “almost as much as I enjoy having you and your ladies.”

Satine frowned, “When is the trade happening?”

“First,” the pirate held up his hand, “you must choose the two prisoners the Count will replace.”

Satine fumbled for words, “May I conference with my ladies?”

“You may.”

Gently, the Duchess woke her ladies and explained the situation.

“We can’t let the Vizslas go alone,” Khaami whispered, “they could escape.”

“But you both deserve safety.” Satine stated.

“We should definitely send Pre,” Parna decided, “and one of us should accompany him.”

“Oh, Duchess!”

Satine turned.

“If you chose to go, you will be the only one released.” Hondo advised.

The Duchess frowned.

“Parna should go,” Khaami whispered, “guard Pre and give testimony.”

“But-”

“It will give you time to mourn.” Khaami added.

The Duchess announced her decision, and the next day, Parna and Pre were taken outside and Count Dooku was thrown in the cell across from Satine.

“Kal.”

“Satine.”

They did not speak for two days, a stalemate occurring when both sides of the battle were prisoners, but finally, Hondo spoke for them.

“I have to ask,” he began, “how was the engagement party?”

“We never threw one.” Count Dooku answered.

“What, but surely-”

“I throw garden parties all the time, Hondo,” Satiine smiled bitterly, “it’s a natural part of being in charge.” “That I can understand,” the pirate nodded, “I throw parties as well.”

“Do you?” the Duchess asked.

“I do, for instance,” the pirate smiled, “I’m currently throwing a party to celebrate your capture.”

Dooku snorted.

“It’s true,” Hondo opened her cell, “and you’re going to be paraded around.”

Satine ground her teeth as the count laughed.

“Her Grace is royalty,” Khaami gasped, “you will not treat her as some peasant!”

“I shall,” Hondo grinned, “and if you don’t cooperate, your lady will suffer.”

Satine growled, “She has a family.”

“Then you appreciate what you must do.”

Satine swallowed, standing on shaky legs.

“You will regret this.” the Duchess warned.

Hondo rolled his eyes and tugged Satine by her hair into a room that stank of pirates. They laughed at her.

“So this is the Duchess of Mandalore?” one asked.

Satine balled her fists and stared at the voice.

“Angry, aren’t you?”

Suddenly, tremors attacked the ground.

“I am Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, Second of my Name, and Lady Krewella,” the ground shifted, “and you will treat me with respect.”

A pirate snorted and Satine turned her fury on him.

“What is it, peasant,” she asked, “can’t stand being reminded of your place?”

The man would’ve lunged at her had he not fallen on the uneven ground.

Hondo frowned, “Duchess, is that-”

Shaking with fury, Satine shouted, “Silence!” 

Rocks began to fall from the roof. Then it went black. 

“Satine?”

The Duchess groaned Khaami’s name.

“It’s alright, you’re back in the cell.”

It hurt to open her eyes, but Satine managed.

“They think you caused an earthquake.”

“What?”

Dooku groaned.

“Honestly, Satine, you heard what your lady said.”

Khaami helped Satine over to a lounging couch so she could lie down.

“I knew it,” Tarrei shouted, “you are a Jed!”

Satine sighed, Dooku gave the Mandalorians a strange look.

“It’s true,” Vizsla continued, talking to Dooku, “she made the prison bars shake back in Sundari.”

Dooku raised an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“She did.”

“That wasn’t her,” Khaami shook her head, “it was-”

“There’s no other explanation!” Tarrei gestured.

“It sounds like your Jedi-Spawn are helping you from miles away,” Dooku snarled, “the blood of your force-sensitive bastards is within you, and their midichlorians have fused into your body.”

Satine gaped.

“That can’t be true.” Khaami whispered.

“Either that or you’re expecting a force-sensitive child.”

Khaami turned to Satine.

“It’s too early to tell.” she mumbled back.

Vizsla’s eyes went wide, “Kenobi is the father of your children!”

“Oh, please-”

“It is true,” Dooku added, “their force signature is a mix of yours, his, and their own attitudes.”

Satine glanced at Khaami.

“You,” Tarrei pointed, “you’ve been working for the Duchess longer than the Duke of Sundari has been alive, you would know!”

Khaami held up her hands, horrified, “No, no, that’s not true.”

“Is it not?”

No one had noticed Hondo in the corner.

“Because I just did an image search of the Duke of Sundari, and he looks a lot like Kenobi.”

Satine opened her mouth and closed it.

“Why would you care?” she eventually asked, quiet.

“Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is a dear friend of mine,” Hondo bowed, “it’s an honor to meet the mother of his children.”

Satine swallowed, “Will you tell him I’m here,” Satine asked, “will you let me go?”

“Not cheaply,” Hondo answered, “but he knows you're here, he and Skywalker might come to collect Dooku.”

Khaami walked right up to the bars, “You must let her see him.”

“I’ll think about it,” Hondo hesitated, “I am very interested in this story if you must know.”

“Please,” Satine begged, “please.”

The pirate looked at her once more before leaving.

“Please,” the Duchess yelled, “please!”

It took two months for the Republic to decide what needed to happen, and by then, Satine knew she was pregnant again. Prime Minister Jaru was coming for Tarrei Vizsla, Pre had already been sentenced for life, and it was likely his father would face the same charge. Anakin and Obi-Wan were coming for Dooku, Satine knew lots of money had been exchanged. For some reason, no one had a plan for the Duchess. Korkie had been staunchly advocating for her return, being forced to take on many of her duties and claiming it wasn’t his place to do so. However, the asking price for the Duchess was so high, that Mandalore couldn’t pay it without suffering financially.

“You’re cruel.” Satine decided, speaking to Hondo.

“I might be,” the pirate shrugged, “but business is business.”