#and didn’t have a weird short T Rex arm

[rebelrayne]

Liam, you will never be Hamish 🙄

[izzyhandsrightglove]

The Izzy Hands Is Autistic PowerPoint Essay

(this is the essay i submitted to the above all else zine (@izzyhandszines ), the exclusivity period of which just ended. enjoy!!)

Hello!!

I would like to start off by saying I’m absolutely fucking terrified to write this essay for a variety of reasons. But I want to express my love of Izzy Hands and how important he is to me, and the best way I’ve found to do so is to express the weird ways I relate to him as an autistic person. I’ve joked in a couple friend circles that I was going to make a PowerPoint presentation about why Izzy’s autistic (hence the title) but I decided to write an essay instead.

Disclaimer: I’m not diagnosing anyone, nor do I want this essay to be used as a diagnostic paper. This is by no means an academic paper, it cites exactly one (1) study, it’s based on my own experiences, light research, and the experiences of my fellow autistic friends. I’m just a dumbass who likes imprinting themselves onto the characters they hyperfixate on.

Reason one why I think Izzy is autistic: because I’m autistic and I said so. *cue end credits*

I’m kidding.

The real first reason comes from Izzy’s interactions with Stede FUKIN’ Bonnet. For one, Stede hates Izzy almost the second he meets him. Now, you could argue that it was because Izzy “stole” his hostages but we’ll set that aside for a sec. It’s been proven that people inherently don’t like autistic people if they don’t realize they’re autistic (Neurotypical Peers are Less Willing to Interact with Those with Autism Based on Thin Slice Judgements by Noah J. Sasson (2017)). Traits that are often put towards “untrustworthy” or “creepy” people tend to describe autistics too. It’s entirely possible Stede caught a vibe and hated Izzy because of it. Stede is kind of an asshole after all (and we still love him for it). Another reason is Stede’s entire existence throws a wrench in Izzy’s routines as a First Mate. He whisks Edward away to do pirate-y things while Izzy is left to deal with a crew who frankly want nothing to do with him because he’s introducing structure on a ship that didn’t have any to begin with. Sure Izzy came off as an asshole (emotional regulation is a bitch) but he’s just a lil guy trying to follow his routines so nobody dies. He has the worst case of sense of justice. He’ll complain that an ambush is “unprofessional”, he’ll play fair in a duel even if it’s to his detriment, he’ll chase Edward around asking for a plan because Bad Things happen without a plan, the list goes on.

I’d like to dedicate this section to his stimming/eye contact/other little habits that make me think he’s autistic. Izzy has a tendency to touch his face when he’s stressed. Not just that, he’ll wrap an arm around himself and rest his hand on his chin so he can fidget with his beard, as if to self soothe. When he’s talking to people, unless he’s threatening them or yelling at them, he doesn’t look them in the eye. Often he’s not even facing them. When he is facing them, he often looks down at their lips, as if he’s struggling with eye contact. He walks around with his hand resting on his sword either because he’s short and the sword will touch the ground if he doesn’t or because it’s more comfortable for him to have his arm up near his chest. This is often referred to as T-rex arms and a lot of us find it more comfortable than letting our arms rest at our sides. He’s a little pyromaniac, he seems to use candle fire to soothe himself. He’s done it at least twice, once while he was lying to Edward about Stede’s response to meeting Blackbeard and once while talking to Spanish Jackie about Stede in her bar. He sleeps in his underwear like a WHORE (affectionate) which could be argued is temperature regulation because a lot of autistics (myself included) H A T E being overheated. Then there’s the ooh daddy scene. From my little list I made prior to this essay, “ooh daddy scene (thank u conbert), yes i have an explainiation for this. a weird ass intimidation tactic? sure. however what if he can’t read social queues and doesn’t fully realize how fucking weird it was to do that”.

Then there’s his glove. I could dedicate an entire essay on speculation on that fucking glove. Is it hiding something? Is it just to look cool? Is it a sensory thing where he doesn’t like the texture of his sword so he wears the glove to make sword fighting easier? We may never know. Or we might in s2 who knows. Speaking of sword fighting it could be argued by me that because Izzy is supposed to be the best swordsman in the world, sword fighting could be his special interest. He probably spent hours perfecting every move until he got to the level of carving his name into a man’s shirt without leaving a single scratch on him.

We’ve seen Izzy have at least one meltdown re: the duel. He’s losing the duel, the crew are jeering at him, Stede isn’t helping, he finally screams at him before his sword breaks. We’ve also seen him have a shutdown where after Edward goes below deck after realizing his plan against the Spanish isn’t going to work because it’s a leap year, Izzy is in the foreground of Frenchie and Lucius staring off into space. It’s possible that after everything he went through that day and the realization that he’s going to die made him completely shut down.

I have no proof of this since we never really see izzy by himself but I don’t believe in the entire time Izzy has been subjected to the constant torture of being alive and autistic in the late 1600 early 1700s he has unmasked even once. When living in such close quarters with other people and being First Mate to the physical embodiment of ADHD he probably doesn’t get a lot of time to himself. Therefore he has to cope with his existence in other ways, as mentioned above. And the crew of The Revenge have ruined almost every way he uses to cope and manage his autism. We’ll have to wait and see what other horrors unfold for this poor little autistic man, but for now all we can do is pick him apart and see what’s under the hood.

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean.  She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

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

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

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

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

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

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

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

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

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

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

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

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

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

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

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

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

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

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

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

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

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

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

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

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

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

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

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

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

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

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

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

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

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

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

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

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

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

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

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

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

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

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

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

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

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

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

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

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won’t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

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

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

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

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Aaaaa this is a fic request, where kondraki is with an s/o where they are a normal civilian and is completely oblivious to whatever is going on, until she got curious and snooped around, found out about the foundation and confronted kondraki about it, now he has too make her forget and give her anesthetics and it might lead to some really good angst >:)

‘With All My Love, Kondraki.’

[Dr. Kondraki X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, angst]

[AN: it's 4.1K words. lots of love and the pacing is weird]

When you first met Benjamin Kondraki, you had never been so confused on how a peach so sweet could be related to a lemon so sour.

“Miss Reader, Miss Reader!” The buzzling little boy at the dining room table began to prod. He jumps excitedly, almost spilling his orange juice as one of his mothers packs her bag up, getting ready for her long work day. She continues to move, currently looking for things she may need when her front door opens, revealing a woman dressed appropriately for the warm summer day.

“Hi Mrs. Wei,” you greet, kicking your shoes off at the door, and placing the keys back into your bag. You notice she’s searching - probably for her car keys.

The black haired woman looks up from her current task and beams. “Reader! I’m so glad you could make it. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” she says as she briefly waves at you. “Nia originally had the day off but something went wrong at the lab and she has to go in, and I have to be at the salon today-”

You smile and wave her off, reaching over on the sofa for her car keys. You cross the distance and hold the keys out to her. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t miss spending time with this special little guy for the world,” you chuckle, looking over to the happy little boy as he scarfs up his breakfast. Looks like today was waffles.

Mrs. Wei takes her keys and heads over to her son, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. “You be good for Miss Reader, okay?” She reminds him with a small smile as he happily gazes up at her. “Again, thank you for coming on short notice.”

You wave her off with a small chuckle. “It’s nothing. Have a good day at work.”

Mrs. Wei opens the front door of her house, once again waving to her son before nodding at you. “Nia will text you when she’s coming home. You two have fun,” she says, the door closing after her with a soft click.

Shortly after that as you sit down at the table with Markl, you hear her car come to life and peel out of the driveway. Your attention is now on this special little boy. “So, are you ready for a fun day?” You inquire, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice.

Markl nods, his dark eyes shimmering in the light. “Super ready!” He exclaims with a wide smile.

You can’t help but giggle. “What do you wanna do today?” You hum. “We could go to the beach, or the mall-”

“I wanna go to the park,” he interjects in a way that only five year olds can. “There’s a boy I’m really good friends with and I want to see him again.” Markl begins to rattle off, excitedly telling you about all his adventures only pausing to finish up his food or drink some more orange juice. He’s beaming.

You listen to him with such a large smile, every now and then reminding him to finish. When he’s done, it’s barely 10 in the morning. Markl wanted to watch some TV and then get dressed and ready for the park. He’s a big boy, so you trusted him to get ready by himself without your help - and he’s developing a quick sense of style. Right now, tiaras and t-rexes are all the rage.

In the meantime, you check the weather. Looks like today is going to be a really nice day. “Hey, Markl?”

“Yeah?”

“Which park are we going to in order to see your friend?”

“The one with the really big rocketship,” he calls out.

You hum. Okay, that’s the one by the beach. “Sweetie, you want me to pack a beach bag? Planning on going in the water?”

A slight pause before you can hear the little boy go ‘uh-huh!’

You turn off the TV and begin to pack, quickly moving through some of the rooms for some beach things. Luckily, you already have some of your own beach things in your car. Markl finally comes down the stairs right when you finish packing and you see he’s got a dinosaur swim top on, some shorts, and his favorite flip flops paired with a plastic tiara he won on the last day of school. “Lookin’ good,” you compliment as you glance over the house, once again fishing around for your keys.

Markl beams and hops down the stairs to be at your side. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” you answer, opening the front door.

Markl practically hops out of your car once you make it to the beach side park. You have to tell him to hold his horses and he pouts for a moment because apparently, his friend is waiting for him. You lean in the backseat and get out the beach bag. “Okay, okay, we can go now,” you say as you sling it over your shoulder. It’s warm, almost impossibly warm. Thank goodness you’re by the sea.

You watch as Markl speeds off towards the giant rocketship, kicking up sand as he does so. He’s calling out for another little boy - “Draven? Where are you?” He calls out.

You watch with curiosity as Markl runs about the playground, moving past the other kids. You tilt your head slightly and take a seat on the bench, watching as Markl runs around.

“There you are!” He finally cries out happily, running up and smacking into another boy similar in height. He’s got curly black hair, much like Markl, but much lighter skin. They instantly wrap arms around each other before running off to play on the giant rocketship.

Smiling, you pull out a book from your bag and begin to read, listening every now and then to the boys as they play. You’re glad Markl has a friend.

The warm summer day begins to tick by and around noon, you hear small steps padding up against the sand to come see you.

“Miss Reader,” Markl starts, peering over your book. “Can we go play in the water?” He asks, eyes akin to that of a puppy.

You bookmark your page and nod before pausing. “Oh, what about Draven? Does his mom say it’s okay?” You ask, not wanting to run off with some other person’s kid.

Markl and Draven share a look at each other before pulling at you. “Let’s go ask!”

You raise your brows and hurriedly get your things together, crossing the sandy playground to the other side where some man sits. He’s got dark black hair, slightly curled, and looks exhausted.

“Daddy, daddy!” Draven calls out, happily bounding up to the man you now recognize as his father. “Can I go play in the water?”

The man raises a brow, looking at his son and the boy he recognizes as his son’s friend. “She gonna be watching you?”

You bristle slightly. ‘She’? You press your lips into a tight line. “You do realize I have a name, right?” You say, resting your hands on your hips.

The man blinks, a huff escaping his lips. “Apologies.” It’s said in such a hollow tone. “I’m Benjamin Kondraki, most people call me by my last name.” He holds his hand out to you.

You narrow your eyes and center yourself. “Reader, Reader Last,” you reply, taking his hand. You put on a smile and then let him go. “I’ll watch Draven,” you say.”

“Don’t you wanna go in the water with them?”

You blink. “I guess?” It was an awfully hot day. Maybe he has a point.

“And you can’t do that while you’re holding all of these things, right?”

You nod.

Kondraki stands up, stretching his limbs before he ruffles his son’s hair, and then Markl’s who laughs loudly and joyously. “I’ll take a seat on the beach, watch your stuff.”

You spent the rest of the day swimming with the two boys, tossing them into the water and playing with them. Markl was happy you were able to play, and Draven was just pleased he was able to go in the water. Normally, Kondraki didn’t let him go in! At one point, Kondraki became the judge over a sandcastle contest between the three of you and Markl ended up winning!

“You did put in good effort,” he said, a sly grin on his lips as you flicked the water droplets off your hand at him. He laughed.

Draven and Markl hugged each other tight, trying hard to spend more time with each other when it’s time to go. Both you and Kondraki struggled to get the boys apart from each other. But, sleepiness from a long day affects even the strongest of bonds and the two were peeled away once the yawning commenced.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you say over your shoulder as Kondraki rests a tired Draven in his arms.

“Sure,” he hummed. “Have a nice evening.”

You warmly smile, almost displeased he’s not returning the gesture.

What an odd man.

Shortly after coming back to Markl’s place, Nia had texted she’d be home soon and right when you were cuddling with Markl on the couch to a fun movie (he’d insisted on watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron).

“You two look like you’ve had an eventful day,” she smiles, kicking off her shoes and getting ready to relax in her home. She brushes her fingers upwards and takes out the hair tie, letting her braids fall down her back.

“We did,” you say as Nia sits down on the couch next to her son, her gentle arms taking him into her arms. “Met Draven’s dad.”

“Konny?” Nia perks up. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “He is? But he’s such a d-”

Nia laughs, her smile widening. “I know,” she giggles. She brushes her fingers through Markl’s hair. “He’s not a bag guy, promise.”

You roll your eyes and relax against the couch. “Sure.”

Nia only snickers in response.

The next time you see Kondraki is at Markl’s birthday party. And it’s safe to say that this time, you and Kondraki got along just fine. There were a few shifty glances thrown, but ultimately? Ultimately, the two of you sat at the table, had some cake, and poked fun at certain things. He made you laugh, and seeing him with Draven made you admittedly more friendly than you were expecting to be.

“Y’know, you’re not too bad,” you say, a small smile on your lips.

Kondraki chuckles under his breath as he hands you another glass of iced tea. “Should I be offended?” He jokes.

You lightly slap his shoulder and take the tea from him, sipping at it slowly. “Are you a dick to everyone you meet?”

Kondraki laughs this time, it bubbles up from his throat and exits like bubbles. His eyes crinkle slightly. “When am I not like that?” He grins.

“For work?” You hum, eyes shifting to Markl and Draven running around the backyard with other kids. You fail to notice how Kondraki freezes, a slight fear washing over his system before he clears his throat.

“Yeah, for work,” he says, attempting to keep up the light tone.

You sigh slightly in response, that same smile on your lips as you look back over to him. “I get it,” you say. “I can be a bit of a witch too.”

Kondraki playfully rolls his eyes. “Sure, like you have a mean bone in your body.” He takes a long sip at his drink.

“Could always change that if you leant me yours,” you absentmindedly say, not even realizing the implications until Kondraki practically chokes. A heat rises over your cheeks as Kondraki struggles to compose himself. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” He laughs, practically doubled over as your face heats up even more.

You pout and cross your arms over your chest, heart beating like a drum. You rake \your fingers across your face and take in a deep breath.

Kondraki grins wildly as he comes back up, brushing his fingers through his hair, his emerald colored eyes shining in the remaining sunlight. “So, what are you doing next Friday?”

You’ve been dating the man for three years now. A simple Friday date turned into another, and then another, and after that, it was breaking the news to Draven who was more than excited to have you in his life. Now? Now you’re about to make the biggest step in your relationship so far.

“And you’re sure you’re comfortable with this?” Kondraki asks as he rests his arm over your shoulders, looking at your cleared out apartment save for the plethora of brown boxes that litter the room. It looks so empty, and the echoes of both your voices is the clearest reminder. “Because like, I don’t want to force you into-”

You turn your head to the side and press your lips warmly to the corner of Kondraki’s mouth, making him melt into the simple touch. “We’re gonna be just fine,” you begin. “I am going to be just fine. You’ve been asking me this question ever since you first proposed that I move in with you,” you tease as Kondraki shifts, his hands resting warmly on your waist. Your fingers reach up to thread through his dark locks, eyes getting lost in his. “I hate being apart from you,” you murmur into his chest.

Kondraki hums warmly, his lips pressing to the crown of your head as he swats the two of you. “I know, I know,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed or like I’m forcing you, y’know?” He attempts to explain as he averts his gaze for a moment.

You furrow your brows and flash him a knowing smile. “You don’t need to worry about me like you did-” her “it’s nothing. I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” you giggle, once again tilting your head upwards to press your lips to Kondraki’s.

He chuckles deeply, thankful you didn’t mention her name and squeezes you against him. He revels in the feeling of your hearts beating in sync before gently and reluctantly peeling away from you. “C’mon, last of these boxes?”

You grin. “Last of these boxes.”

“Is that the last of it?” You huff, dropping the box onto the living room floor.

Kondraki wipes back the hair that’s fallen over his brow and nods. “Yeah, I think we’re in the clear.” He stretches his arms a bit, then his back, and takes in a few deep breaths. “Who knew such a small apartment could hold so much stuff.”

You chuckle heartily, “I know, right?” You check your watch. “Oh! Your turn to pick up Draven,” you say as Kondraki glances to his own watch, brows shooting up in surprise.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says as he pulls open the front door again. “Be back in a bit, love you,” he says as he rushes out the door.

“Love you too,” you call back, watching as a sly smile spreads onto Kondraki’s lips, listening to the car start off in the distance. You hum as you get to work, already familiar with the house as you begin to move things around.

It’s honestly relatively mindless work considering a good portion of your things have already been moved to the house in preparation for this day. You’re about halfway through getting your clothes into the drawers Kondraki cleared out for you when you hear a ping. Curiosity gets the better of you and you stand up, looking for the pings. Multiple of them. Sounds like an instant messenger go off, but you’ve never heard that type of notification sound before.

You begin to search the room, crouching down and playing an odd sort of “marco polo” with the thing until you check the closet. There, hidden behind piles of out of commission sweaters is a laptop. Weird, how have you never noticed that before, especially with all the times you’ve spent in this specific room? You shake the thought off and begin to move the sweaters aside and grasp for the laptop. It looks new, like, really, really new. There’s no company mark on it either. Silver chrome, in good condition, you raise a brow.

‘Should I really be doing this?’ You ask yourself as you debate on prying open the laptop or not. You bite your lip and sigh before deciding that yes, you’re going to be nosy even if your boyfriend might not appreciate it. You’ve never gone through his things without his permission prior to, and this was just to stop the notifications that kept incessantly going on. You pry open the laptop, pupils constricting slightly with how bright the screen is.

Of course, it’s locked.

Curiously, the little chat bubble is still open, and you’re able to read the correspondence. You read over the names, there’s three. Gears, Bright, and Clef. Must be coworkers? They seem a tad worried.

Gears: You cannot keep spamming him in hopes it will work.

Clef: the hell I can’t?? He needs to get his ass over here

Bright: I’ve tried call him and it’s not working

Bright: which is weird because when was the last time you saw him off his phone

Gears: Dr. Kondraki, you are needed almost immediately.

Dr? You raise a brow and scroll upwards in the chat, hoping to get some type of answer. And it keeps going, hundreds of messages about work and things you’re just barely piecing together. Luckily, there’s a little button that allows you to go all the way to the top - or at least how far the logs go.

What is all of this? Images are sometimes shown about files or strange creatures. How is this even allowed out? Your mind begins to spin.

While you scroll through the chat, you look up things through your phone, whispers of things called ‘SCPs’ and containment procedures, and of course, you find next to nothing. Is this just some elaborate Dungeons and Dragons campaign? Your head is spinning further and further as you go down the rabbit hole.

Apparently, Gears, Bright and Clef need Kondraki for something in regards to SCP 239, and it may or may not break ethics code. The things they’re planning on doing… You’re not sure what to make of it. You’re so immensely confused, head practically tearing apart at the seams when the front door opens and you hear Kondraki step back inside, a long sigh on his lips.

“Reader? You in?” He calls out. “Sorry for coming back so late, Draven’s mom, she uh,” he chuckles uncomfortably under his breath, “Draven’s not gonna be with us this weekend.”

You panic and slam the laptop shut, struggling to get the room back in order as Kondraki makes his way to the bedroom.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asks, brow raised as he leans in the bedroom doorway, arms slightly crossed.

“I was just putting away my clothes!” You rush out, smiling at him.

“Sure,” he says with a small chuckle. His eyes scan over you before he realizes you’re sitting in front of the closet. His heart begins to sink. “Reader…”

“Konny-”

“How much did you see?”

You bite your lip. “I didn’t see anything,” you say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kondraki can practically feel the lie radiating off of you. “What did you see?” He asks again.

You feel shivers running up and down your spine, your heart is constricting. “...What is SCP 239?”

A long sigh leaves Kondraki’s lips, his eyes slowly moving from you to his wardrobe. The top drawer, the one you can’t reach, the one he’s told you is nothing more than a coin holder… It has the amnestics. He blinks a few times, heavily walking over to the bed and plopping down on it. “C’mere, I’ll explain it to you,” he says, patting the space beside him.

You hesitantly stand, hand resting in his.

Kondraki rests his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he begins to weave to you the tale of everything you should have never known. Like the first humans in the garden, you were tempted by the snake and ate of the fruit that should have not been eaten. Knowledge is your damnation.

It’s exhausting, entirely exhausting. The weight of all this knowledge - you can’t help but lay back on the bed and listen to Kondraki’s heart, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“Are you tired?” He asks softly, his nose buried into your hair.

You nod ever so slightly.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

You feel tears welling in your eyes as Kondraki’s grip around you tightens. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

He hums deeply, lips peppering kisses to the crown of your head. “Of course I will.”

“You promise?”

A slightly prick snaps at the base of your skull.

“Yeah baby, I promise.”

You wake up the next morning with tired eyes and a heavy body. You yawn, stretch, and crack your back, eyes narrowing at the sound. Crisp. With another small yawn, you sit up and look out your window, pleased to see that there’s little to no traffic outside. You wonder if you’ll see Sophie soon. Her fathers would be pleased to have the day off, after all. You reach over for your phone.

10 AM on a Saturday? You briefly panic, wondering if you’re missed any baby sitting appointment with your favorite gal when you see a text from Dylan.

Philip: hey sugar cube, Dylan’s mother cancelled the visit for this weekend. Won’t be needing to watch Sophie this weekend. Have a good one

Came in at 7 AM. You let out a breathy sigh before falling back onto your bed. Thank goodness, you would’ve felt awful for leaving them hanging! You sit back up again, thankful you can spend a Saturday to yourself.

Has work really been that hard? Blank spaces begin to make themselves known in the back of your head, a mosaic that you can’t quite place together, but it’s not blatant. Why would it matter?

You brush off the strange, bubbling thoughts before swinging your legs over the bed, sleepily heading to your kitchen. Same tiny apartment, same shitty walls. You run your fingers over your scalp before finally entering your kitchen. Why does it feel so… strange? You blink the feeling back.

There, on the countertop, is a cup of your favorite breakfast drink. It’s resting on top of a slip of paper in a handwriting that feels so familiar, yet hazy.

You try to bite back the horror that someone was in your apartment when you were asleep but shakily reach out to the note anyways, not realizing that your eyes are beginning to water as a response.

‘Nice to see you’re up, Reader. Always were a late riser. Look, I’m not supposed to be writing this to you, not after what happened, but I know you’re going to be confused to hell and back. Our use of ‘medicine’ can only go so far, and you’re bound to go spotty now, and a few months from now. You’re going to be confused, and you’re going to feel things that you aren’t supposed to because at one point, you really did feel them. When that happens, I need you to call this number - XXX-XXX-XXXX.

You’re really confused now, huh? Wouldn’t expect anything less, you never should’ve found out about this in the first place.

I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. For failing to protect you, for taking away so much and not even being allowed to tell you what it is I’ve taken away. Perhaps if that day had gone differently, if I didn’t spend that time talking to her, I would’ve made it back in time to stop you.

You deserve better than this, truly. I wish I could have been that for you, and I’m so, so sorry that it had to come to this. Our protocol is strict, and I couldn’t bear to put you through what I’ve-... Some things are better left unwritten, but just know that it was better this than putting you through what we’d call hell on earth.

I’ve never broken a promise to you, not in the four wonderful years I’ve known you and the three I’ve loved you. I’ve managed to keep them all, but I fear this is the first I will break.

Call the number when things get weird, maybe we'll meet again.

With all my love, Kondraki.’

[movieexpert1978]

Oooh if you’re still doing fanfic prompts, would you write anything for Doc Ock? Cause I would like to request the hurt/comfort part 2 either 4 or 8 with him

Hello anon !!! I finally got a story written for you!!! I hope you enjoy it. I went with #4 "You don't have to be so brave when you're with me." The list is posted by @creativepromptsforwriting

There is some angst here, mention of character death, violence, blood and swearing. The perfect Doc Ock fic, lol. I hope you enjoy it.

Different Stages

She had met him more by accident when she had just finished a job. She was tucking her rifle away when she heard a constant thudding. It reminded her of the T-rex arrival in Jurassic Park. She kept her gun out as he arrived. She had seen the papers and he was the infamous Doctor Octopus as they had labeled him. Two mechanical arms were on the ground while the other two hung around his shoulders protectively.

“Are you going to shoot me?” He asked curiously.

“No, I don’t kill people for free.” She shrugged, lowering the rifle. He took off his sunglasses to look at her.

“You don’t look like an assassin.” He said.

“I know Doctor. That’s why I do it.” She smiled. An eyebrow arched curiously at her comment. “So just passing through?” She asked.

“Actually yes.”

“Well Doctor I won’t keep you. Have a nice day.” She said before leaving.

“Yes that was weird.” Otto said to the arms. There a few more encounters like that until he finally got her one quiet night.

“Are you stalking me Doctor?” She teased.

“Call me Otto.” He answered. “And…yes I supposed I am because I would like to know your name.”

“Call me Evee.” She answered.

“Like the Pokémon?” He asked surprised.

“Oh nice…you’re a bigger nerd than I thought.” She smirked.

“I’ve got a lot more time on my hands.” He shrugged.

“My full name is Evelyn, but I prefer Evee since I always have to change my look at times for a job.” She said, showing a wig. Her hair was short but had some dark orange highlights in it.

“Why the orange?”

“Fall is my favorite season.”

“It’s September.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas person?” She huffed.

“No I prefer summer.” He stated.

“Hey if they can do fucking Christmas in July and have Christmas trees out at the end of September then I sure as hell can do my Halloween at the start of August.” She said defensively. Otto let out a genuine good belly laugh.

“Fair enough. That’s true.” He chuckled as he walked closer to her on his own legs.

“Why the sunglasses?”

“My eyes were damaged in an accident.”

“Oh that failed energy fusion thing?” She asked.

“Yes.” He nodded quietly. He noticed her eyes were an interesting shade of green. The arms stared at her curiously as well. One inched up to her and she held out her hand. It nudged it and she traced her fingertips along the metal.

“Are they alive?” She asked.

“In a sense yes, artificial intelligence.” He explained. “They’re surprised you’re not scared of them.” He added.

“I’ve seen people do a lot worse.” She shrugged.

“Is this your style, hanging on roof tops and shooting people?”

“It’s the most effective method.” She answered. “And I’m quite good at it.” She winked. “Can they come off?” She asked pointing to the arms.

“No.” He turned around and showed her the outer spinal column that had been fused into his spine. “That happened during the accident too.” He said before he turned around.

“Ouch, I’m sorry.” She said with sympathy, but he only shrugged.

“I can do a lot more now.” He said. “So Evee, do you live in the city?” He asked.

“Why ? You want a date?” She teased. He actually blushed.

“No, I just wanted to ask since we keep running into each other.” He said quickly.

“Well yes I do.” She smirked. She took out a notepad and wrote something on it. She walked over and put it in his coat pocket. “If you ever want to drop by.” She winked before she left.

Xxxxxxx

The October chill was starting to come and things were getting wet with the rain as well. Evee had finished another job and she started to walk home. Her rifle concealed in it’s long back pack. She stopped and sniffed the air. “Mmmm…rain is coming.” She said. She also noticed the smell of bad after shave as she started walking again. She knew she was being followed as the rain started to fall. She walked down a few back alleys she knew and tucked her rifle in a corner she knew wouldn’t be disturbed. She walked calmly as her other two guns hung on her hips under her long jacket. It wasn’t long before she heard footsteps. She wouldn’t be surprised if more people pooped out so she had to keep her eyes open.

“Fuck it.” She whispered to herself. She spun around with her guns and started shooting. She took out two before more men charged at her from the sides. She ducked and spun around one guy, using him as a shield as his companions still fired and killed him. Evee got off a few more shots before she was punched at from behind. She growled as she grabbed his arms and elbowed him right in the face and broke his nose. He shouted in pain as she shot him in the head. Evee shouted when one man plunged a knife deep in her hip and dragged it to make her bleed.

“Fucker!” She shouted and punched him right in the throat. He started gasping for breath as she shot him. A few more shots and the group was finally down, leaving her breathing hard. “Fuck!” She gritted as she stared at the infernal knife. She couldn’t take it out until she got to her apartment because that’s where her medical kit was. She was limping badly as she made her way back home and finally closed the door behind her. She stumbled into her bedroom and yanked the comforter off. It wasn’t the first time she had nights like this and it made her invest in black bed sheets to help deal with the blood. She got into a tang top and cut her pants off before grabbing the medical kit.

“What happened?” Someone spoke. Evee grabbed the knife at her nightstand and threw it. It was easily knocked out of the way by one of the arms.

“Otto…fuck…sorry…act first…think later.” She sighed.

“No hard feelings.” He said as he came over to her. “What happened?” He asked again.

“Got jumped by a few pros. They didn’t make it.” She smiled.

“Is this normal for you?” He asked.

“Happens at least once a year. People do it to cover their tracks or just want to get rid of the completion.” She shrugged. He couldn’t believe she was so casual about the whole thing, not to mention the knife still in her. “You wouldn’t happen to be a medical doctor too?” She asked with a smirk.

“I have picked up a few more medical skills. Could I tell you if you hit a vein? No. Could I stitch that up if you asked me…yes.” He stated.

“Thank you.” She sighed. He took his coat and gloves off, along with his sunglasses and rolled up his sleeves. “I’m not going to talk you through it.” She said.

“I don’t need you too.” He replied.

“Good, because I’m taking a shot of morphine.” She said as she dug through the bag.

“You’ve got morphine in there?” He gasped.

“Yeah, never leave home without it.” She grinned.

“Easy.” He said taking her hand. She looked at him and for the first time since they fight was she able to finally catch her breath. “You don’t have to be so brave when you’re with me.” He said gently.

“Thank you Otto.” She rasped quietly. After a few moments he helped her take her shot and laid her down on the bed. “Next time we have to have dinner first.” She mumbled before she fell asleep.

Xxxxxxx

She woke up with a hiss of throbbing pain in her leg. She looked down and saw a blanket on her. She pulled it off a bit and saw her wound all bandaged up. She looked at it puzzled for a moment as she started to remember last night.

“Thank you Otto.” She sighed.

“You’re welcome.” He answered as he came into the room. She looked up to see him holding a plate of breakfast for her. While one the arms held a gall of orange juice for her.

“Awww.” She smiled weakly as he came over to her. “Hey can you hand me that aspirin bottle please?” She said pointing. Another arm handed it to her and she couldn’t help but giggle. “They’re so cute once you get used to them.” She said.

“They say thank you.” He said. She took her pills and started eating.

“Thank you for your help last night Otto.” She said quietly.

“You’re welcome Evee.” He smiled.

“Can you…can you stay with me for a little bit…please?” She asked almost like a frightened child.

“Of course.” He nods and sits next to her. After she finished her food she snuggles up to him and he doesn’t question it.

“Did you eat already?” She mumbled.

“Yes. Your apartment is very nice. I’m guessing you own it?”

“Yup.” He started rubbing her back and she hummed softly. The aspirin helped with her throbbing leg. She felt warm and safe in his arms. She couldn’t help but cling to him a bit more tightly.

“Are you ok? You’re tense.” Otto said.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt safe with someone.” She answered honestly. She looks up at him again as he gazes at her. “I know that probably sounds weird coming from me right?” She laughed weakly.

“No.” He said shaking his head. “I’m glad you feel safe with me.” He smiles. She leans in a little closer and so does he. She’s hesitant to go further, but he does it for her. He gently kisses her and she eagerly responds to his touch. She moans softly against his mouth as he lays her back down while his hands cup her face. When he finally pulls away her vision is blurry as she tries to catch her breath. “Evee what’s wrong? You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” He asks concerned.

“N-no.” She says, surprised that’s she’s crying. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve felt a connection with someone.” She admits.

“I understand.” He nods. “I lost my wife, Rosie, in the accident. I thought it was all over…but they…talked to me.” He said pointing to the arms. “And then I kept running into this assassin who named herself after a Pokémon.” He laughed. She couldn’t help but join in.

“I hope I get to meet her sometime.” Evee teased. Otto leaned into her again and gave her another tender kiss.

“Can I stay here for a little bit…please?” Otto whispered. She could hear the pleading in his voice.

“Of course you can.” She smiled. Otto pulled her back into his embrace gently. The arms wrapped around Evee carefully and protectively. She felt him kiss the top of her head before she fell back to sleep to the hum of the metal and the beating of his strong heart.

AN: Just in case, Pokémon isn't mine along with Doc Ock.

[jurassicsunsets]

T. rex emojis, as rated by a palaeontology student

by popular request, a sequel to the sauropod one!

apple

off to a really poor start here. it’s standing in a tripod stance. now, they couldn’t walk in this position, but standing is a possibility and nothing looks objectively wrong about the posture, so i’ll let that slide. however, the torso is far too short, and the head is wayy too rectangular. it looks overall like it stepped out of the 30s, and that’s not a compliment.

score: 3.5/10 mediocre

google

this looks like they intended to do a velociraptor, but didn’t know what velociraptor looked like so they just based it on jurassic park. as a T. rex it could be worse - it’s got a recently correct posture, and looks more out of the 90s than the 30s. so some points there. the “dewclaw” on the foot is pointing the wrong way, the wrists are turned a way they couldn’t in life, the torso is too short, the head isn’t quite shaped right and is shrink-wrapped, and its tongue shouldnt be so muscular. if it seems like i’m being too harsh on it, that’s because it’s not too far from being decent.

score: 6/10 could be worse

microsoft

bucks the green trend! some points for that. it’s attractively outfitted in brown with a tan underbelly and stripes. it’s pretty simplistic but not overly so in my view, but it’s got broken wrists and that downward-pointing tail that makes it look outdated, but it certainly doesn’t seem too horribly so.

score: 6/10 but in a different way

samsung

this is just a knockoff of the apple one.

score: 0/10. academic dishonesty

whatsapp

some effort put into perspective here, which i appreciate! its dewclaws seem correctly oriented, and its tail is correctly raised off the ground. however, its wrists are broken, and its leg muscles lack definition. its metatarsals are far too long for an adult T. rex. the head is also not quite shaped right, as the eyes seem to be raised up above the nose, and the back is too humped. however most grievously it has THREE FINGERS PER HAND. this is not a T. rex, it is a neovenatorid. accept no substitutes.

score: 4/10 an impostor

twitter

oh no this one has three fingers too! ouch. it’s elegantly simple, with pleasing curves, and is brown rather than green. but this emoji is specifically meant to be T. rex, and a T. rex it is not. its head is too rounded, and it has too long of arms with three fingers. this is a carcharodontosaur. its metatarsals are too long, and its wrists are broken

score: 5/10 for pleasing curves

facebook

i’m real torn on this one. a lot of attention to detail was put in, but into the wrong things. the head is excellently shaded and has a defined shape. it’s just the entirely wrong shape. it’s very clearly based off of the T. rex from jurassic park, which looks little like a real T. rex. the metatarsals are too long, the wrists are broken, the back is humped. however it does have correctly placed dewclaws and correct posture, so it regains some points. 

score: 7/10 i wish it were better

joypixels

now what the hell is this? the tail is glaringly short, like they ran out of space, and the neck and torso are also too short. the neck is attached to the bottom of the head rather than the back. these things combined have the effect of making it look like a human in a suit. the tongue is too muscular, and the head is too jurassic park-based. the mouth seems to be open way too much, but I’m not positive how the weird neck placement affects my perception of that. on the flip side, the legs seem decently muscular and not too horrible. they’re the best thing about this one.

score: 4/10 behold! a man!

openmoji

NO FACE NO FACE NO FACE

okay seriously, what? i guess they were going for cartoony. that’s fine, I get that. but why not give it a face? some teeth?? eyes at the very least??

score: 5/10 baffling

emojidex

this looks suspiciously familiar, like it’s been plagiarised from a plastic toy. which it has. specifically this one, which is itself plagiarised off of jurassic park. emojidex has shamelessly copied the pose, but here’s the thing: they didn’t even manage to do that right. they gave the damn thing three fingers. aesthetically, it’s horrible. the torso looks like a predatory slug erupting out of the hindquarters of a dinosaur. it’s unpleasant to look at. it’s a game of telephone that’s three steps removed from anyone looking at an actual dinosaur. this is what you get. it may resemble a dinosaur from forty paces, but this is no dinosaur. at least, not anymore.

score: -100/10 a wretched hive of scum and villainy

emojipedia

wha-- who the fuck? how do you get worse? how do you do this badly? how do you mess up so much? how do you put this much effort into defining the shading and textures but absolutely none into making it look remotely like a dinosaur??? it’s got a heavy gorilla-esque brow that overhangs dead, soulless eyes. its hands have clearly been slammed in a cartoon piano. the legs — my god, they’re like ugg boots. each foot has ONE TOE. ONE. the body looks round like a sausage, and the tail is a cone that’s been superglued on. i can’t imagine caring this little about something

score: -100000000/10 i cant wait for the asteroid

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Klaus x Powered Reader

Summary: Reader is part of the umbrella academy but came when they were 12 due to parents needing help for them, ya know controlling powers and whatnot. They can shapeshift into any animal and their senses are heightened n such.

Warnings: bloody, fighting bad guys, bit of Klaus fluff

You know that moment in a movie where they freeze frame and then the character says something like “you’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Yeah with Klaus you have those moments more times then you could count. In fact, if you had a dollar for every time Klaus has gotten you into a freeze frame moment. (And you’ve thought about this often.)

You could probably afford a real nice apartment with actual food in its fridge. Instead of living at the Academy with some apples and Klaus’ latest alcoholic beverage.

But alas, here you are in a back alley as Klaus’ bodyguard waiting for some Italian mafia members to come get their money that he owes them. Well that’s what you’re assuming but Klaus insists they’re just some moody tough guys. Okay sure.

You watch Klaus as he paces back and forth in front of you counting his cash for about the 50th time in the past 10 minutes.

Klaus stops abruptly and turns to you with a smile, “You know what I love about you, Y/N, every time I think things could get worse I look at your pretty face and I know you got me.”

Sighing in knowing annoyance you look up at him, “Are you short.”

Klaus snorts, “No actually I’m pretty long.” He says with wink.

You look up to the sky trying not to crack, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction even if it was funny, not the time or place. Especially considering his dumbass is short some cash he definitely owes very soon.

You look over to Klaus again and raise an eyebrow.

“Alright how much?”

He twiddles is fingers while avoiding your curious gaze. “Oh you know...a couple hundred or so.”

“So that’s why I’m here, emotional support my ass”, You say rolling your eyes a bit amused nonetheless.

Klaus may be an idiot but he’s funny and kind and you love him. Also you do enjoy beating up gangsters or whoever these thugs of the hour are.

Folding your arms while giving Klaus a smirk you tell him, “Well your friends better get their asses here cause when they do. I’m gonna knock their teeth in for making us wait in this shit ally. I’ve been suppressing the urge to vomit for 10 minutes.”

He nods in agreement, glad you’re not about to rip him a new one for his latest antics.

“Wait, does it really smell that bad, I mean the dumpster is at the other end of the ally.” He says in confusion.

You put your hands on your hips glancing at the dumpster and then focusing on Klaus.

“I’ve got the whole animal kingdom inside me Klaus, I know you can kinda smell that dumpster from here, but listen. For me it’s 1000x worse and let me tell you it doesn’t smell like a bath and body works around here.”

Klaus laughs scratching the back of his head, “Right, right, sorry.”

Suddenly a sketchy looking black car rolls into the ally, coming to a halt as three angry looking men walk out. Clearly hiding something within their coats, the “leader” it seems steps up and speaks.

“You betta have that 1,000 you owe us right fucking now you little theif, I don’t appreciate you takin’ my mother’s gold necklace, rest her soul.” He growls.

Klaus raises his hands up, “Listen buddy, you stole that from your own mother at her funeral...and let me tell you she’s not to happy about it.” He says looking to his left where you assume this guys dead mother is standing.

The bald guy behind him shakes his head and says, “So fuckin what? We needed that shit for other important purposes raccoon eyes.”

Klaus now lost as to where this situation is about to turn looks over at you clearly needing assistance. While mouthing “help me”.

Walking past him you hold your hands up showing you have nothing to hide, “Now that’s not very nice, a real shit personality, your mother would be very disappointed in how you’ve turned out. Cause let’s be honest it’s not like your looks are doing anything for you either.” You say snickering trying to see how they’ll react.

The first guy smirks reaching into his coat to pull out a nasty looking knife. “See this right here, I’m a good old fashioned man, I don’t believe in guns.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “Oh well in that case we should all be quite relieved then.”

Looking behind him you notice as his two friends pull their own weapons out, which consists of a hammer and some type of meat hook.

“Klaus couldn’t have picked an easier bunch of idiots to fuck up then these psychos.” You thought.

The bald one begins to move brushing past the first guy looking like he’s seeing red.

“Jesus, man I didn’t mean to offend, I’m just making friendly conversation.” You muse.

Baldy begins to charge holding up his hammer ready to strike. “Come here you bitch, that’s my husband you’re talking to.”

He swings as you side step him, tripping him as he falls directly onto the concrete. Conveniently dropping the hammer in the process. Klaus being the ever troublesomely fantastic sidekick, picks up the hammer and throws it at you.

Gripping the hammer tightly, baldy rises from the ground faster then you’d expected mouth bloody and boiling with rage.

But in a hot second his bearded buddy in crime sprints towards you with his meat hook seemingly out of nowhere.

Klaus yells for you to watch out but you didn’t even need to look, this guys heart beat is louder then a firework and you’re faster then a viper, your senses on overload. As you turn around in record time to grab the guys right arm with the meat hook.

With your left hand tight around this guys beefy one you hold on and push his assault giving him more power. Effectively fulfilling your plan and leading the hook right into baldys chest. Who was fortunately running towards you.

A split second later with the hammer in your right hand you swing it forcefully into the guys shins. Hearing a sweet sickly crunch sound and the wild howls protruding from your assailants throat.

“Sorry I didn’t know you were married.”

“Fuck you!” He screams.

You look up hearing the sting of metal being swung in the wind, to see a knife heading straight for your throat.

With lighting reflexes you grab his wrist, the knife inches from your vulnerable skin.

Klaus gasps in the background terrified and relieved at not getting your throat slit.

You turn your fingernails to sharp cat-like claws that dig dangerously into his flesh, causing hot blood to drip out. The man drops the knife and grimaces in pain.

“I don’t know about you but I don’t think my boyfriend owes you three motherfuckers shit.” You growl, eyes beginning to glow an electric blue while the whites of your eyes shift to black, something that happens when you start to use your power.

“Fuck you, and fuck that thieving piece of junky shit crying in the corner.”

Your mood darkens, “Wrong answer.”

Letting go of his bloody wrist you grip his throat with your left hand lifting him off the ground. He begins to choke and struggles against your tight grasp.

“I know you’ve heard of me from other friends of yours, so listen very closely. If you touch Klaus again or anyone else around here who’s just trying to survive in this city. I won’t be so generous next time. Or maybe I should rip your fucking face off right now.” You squeeze tighter drawing blood.

“Y/N.”  Klaus says softly.

“Let’s go home.” He asks with pleading eyes and you snap back to reality smelling the iron scent of blood on your hands.

Sometimes you can get carried away feeling the rush of the hunt, a taxing side affect of your power, one you’ve always struggled to control.

Letting the man go he slumps to the ground coughing and sucking in straggled breaths.

“ Alright, me..me and the boys...won’t do nothing....you have my...my word....no bullshit nothing....I swear.”

“Good cause your friends are gonna need more then some stitches.”

You quickly leave the ally and start walking down the street towards the Academy.

Breathing heavily, you look up at Klaus who’s at your side as you start to feel a bit embarrassed that he saw you lose it a little.

He holds onto your arms stopping you, “Don’t worry, we’ll have a bath and watch some movies...hey you like that Museum one?”

“The Night at the Museum.” You say smiling still feeling off.

Klaus’ face lights up, “Yeah that one, with the big T-Rex skeleton and President Roosevelt on a horse.”

He links your arms together and you both begin walking again.

“Y/N, I’m not afraid of you, you know. I never have been, I actually find it pretty sexy of you to beat up bad guys for me and keep the neighborhood safe-er. Ben thinks so too, minus the sexy part of course. Only I get to enjoy that.”

You relax more into his side and once again start to feel a bit more at ease with yourself.

“Oh wait a second, here put these sunglasses on, your eyes are still playing mood rings with us. Don’t wanna freak out the civilians” He laughs.

“Thanks, I did wonder why that kid back there looked like he just saw a ghost.”

Klaus winks, “Maybe he did, cough cough..Ben...cough cough.”

“You’re an ass.” You say while rolling your eyes

“Yes indeed my love but remember I deal with the supernatural of all sorts, from ghosts to monsters, nothing phases me.” Klaus states proudly.

You laugh, “ Okay Van Helsing, this monster wants a bath with her hunter then.”

Klaus kisses your cheek, “That can be arranged my dear.”

Smiling up at him you hold him tighter and think to yourself how weird your life is, but you wouldn’t change it for anything.

- okay wow alright, first story ever I hope it’s good or at least some people like it. It was honestly fun to write ngl.

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

The Strange Saga of Spinosaurus, the Semiaquatic Dinosaurian Superpredator

I’ve been captivated by dinosaurs for as long as I can remember. My parents tell me that I told them that I wanted to be a paleontologist as early as age four. Naturally, then, I had lots and lots of books about dinosaurs when I was a boy growing up during the 1980s. One of the dinosaurs that always fascinated me the most was Spinosaurus aegyptiacus. Found in 1912 in the Bahariya Oasis of the Western Desert of Egypt (could anyplace sound more exotic to a small-town kid from upstate New York?!), Spinosaurus was originally known from a highly incomplete but also very large and extremely distinctive partial skeleton found in a middle Cretaceous-aged (roughly 95-million-year-old) rock layer in the oasis. Among the few skeletal elements known were part of a strangely shaped (for a dinosaur) lower jaw, some crocodile-like teeth, and most strikingly, several back vertebrae that each sported tall spines, some of them measuring nearly six feet. These spines clearly impressed Ernst Stromer von Reichenbach, the German paleontologist who studied the skeleton and gave the animal its name in a 1915 publication. Tragically, however, that original Spinosaurus skeleton—and all of Stromer’s other dinosaur fossils from Egypt—were destroyed during the Second World War, more specifically in a British Royal Air Force bombing of Munich on April 24, 1944. The story of Stromer’s lost dinosaurs found its way into many a children’s book, including several that I read cover-to-cover. As such, the tale took on near-legendary status for me, and, I’m sure, many other young dinosaur enthusiasts around the world. Here was an absolutely extraordinary dinosaur from a faraway land, similar in size to the gargantuan Tyrannosaurus rex, but clearly very different from all other predatory dinosaurs known at the time – and it was represented only by a few teeth and bones that had been blasted into oblivion decades ago and so now existed only as pictures in books.

A scan of my photocopy of plate I of Ernst Stromer’s original 1915 publication on Spinosaurus aegyptiacus, showing some of the teeth and bones preserved in the holotype (= name-bearing) partial skeleton, discovered in 1912 in Egypt’s Bahariya Oasis. Check out the long spines on the back vertebrae at lower left!

Stromer’s conception of Spinosaurus, as depicted in a 1936 publication and on a glass slide of his that colleagues of mine scanned during our visit to the Paläontologisches Museum München in Munich, Germany in 2001. Stromer knew this animal was big, as evidenced by the human skeleton he included for scale. Interestingly, too, he reconstructed Spinosaurus with unusual proportions for a carnivorous dinosaur, such as an abnormally elongate torso and short hind limbs. We’ll come back to those odd proportions a little later…

When I arrived in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania in 1997, one of the first things I did was make a lengthy list of all the paleontological sites I was interested in exploring, ranked by their potential (in my mind, at least) to produce scientifically significant finds. The Bahariya Oasis and the search for a ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ quickly rose to the top of the list. Amazingly, no one had ever found—or at least officially reported—new dinosaur fossils in the oasis in the more than half-century since Stromer’s beasts were obliterated during that fateful airstrike. A need to keep this post to a reasonable length prevents me from describing the stars that had to align to make this happen, but in January 2000 I found myself in the Bahariya Oasis—one of the places I’d dreamed about going since I was a small child—as part of the first significant ‘dinosaur hunt’ to take place at the site since the early 20th century. It was bittersweet, though, in the sense that we never really found that ‘replacement Spinosaurus’ I’d fantasized about – all we ever discovered of that creature were a few isolated, fragmentary teeth and bones (and, in a very different location, a couple previously unpublished photos of the original skeleton in a Munich archive). We did find and dig up a gigantic new species of long-necked, plant-eating sauropod dinosaur, Paralititan stromeri, a creature that to this day is one of the largest land animals of any kind that’s ever been found, anywhere – but that’s another story for another time.

One of the rare contributions that I personally have made to scientific knowledge of Spinosaurus: a glass slide showing the only known photo of the right dentary (tooth-bearing lower jaw bone) of the original, name-bearing partial skeleton from Egypt. Like all of Stromer’s Egyptian dinosaur material, this specimen (including this bone) was destroyed in a British air raid on Munich during World War II. Several colleagues and I ‘rediscovered’ this photo—which nobody apparently knew existed—in an archive at the Paläontologisches Museum München in 2001. We published it and one other previously unknown photo of the Spinosaurus type specimen in a 2006 paper in the Journal of Paleontology.

A much younger yours truly digging up the incomplete left humerus (upper arm bone) of the gigantic sauropod (long-necked herbivorous dinosaur) Paralititan stromeri in the Bahariya Oasis of Egypt, February 2000. Paralititan is one of the largest dinosaurs ever discovered – a nice ‘consolation prize’ given that we didn’t find much of Spinosaurus during our expeditions to Bahariya. (A cast replica of the complete right humerus of Paralititan is on display in PaleoLab at Carnegie Museum of Natural History.) Credit: Josh Smith.

Back to the matter at hand, meaning Spinosaurus. Fast-forward to 2011. I had the honor of serving as the external thesis examiner for Nizar Ibrahim, a promising doctoral student at University College Dublin in Ireland. I’d known Nizar for years, ever since he reached out to me by email while an undergraduate at the University of Bristol, England, to discuss our mutual interests in African Cretaceous dinosaurs. Nizar’s Ph.D. thesis was on dinosaurs and other middle Cretaceous-aged vertebrates from the celebrated Kem Kem beds of southeastern Morocco, a set of rocks that had yielded a fossil fauna very similar to, though seemingly more diverse than, that of the Bahariya Oasis. Among the many finds that Nizar documented in his colossal thesis were intriguing new remains of Spinosaurus. I went to Dublin to participate in his successful thesis defense, and afterward, he and I hit up some of the city’s finest public houses to celebrate (no surprise for those who know me). Over a pitcher of yummy Irish stout, he told me an exciting story – he and his team had lately discovered not just isolated bones of Spinosaurus in Morocco, but parts of a probable new skeleton. If so, this find would be the first skeleton since Stromer, and moreover would be exceedingly important given how little was known about Spinosaurus, even as recently as the early 2010s. The more parts we paleontologists have of a given fossil animal, the more we can generally learn about it, so the prospect of a new and relatively complete Spinosaurus skeleton—in other words, many bones belonging to a single individual dinosaur—was thrilling to say the least.

Again I’ll skip details for brevity’s sake, but fast-forward once again, to 2014. I was contacted by an editor of Science—one of the foremost scientific journals in the world—to peer-review a paper that had been submitted by (you guessed it!) Nizar and a long list of collaborators describing that new skeleton of Spinosaurus that he’d told me about over beers in Ireland three years before. Nizar and team had revisited the quarry and it had panned out in a big way. From this one, single individual Spinosaurus—again, the first associated skeleton of this dinosaur to have been found in roughly a century—they had bones from the skull, backbone (including a few of those famously long-spined vertebrae!), forelimb, pelvis, and hind limb. More importantly, these ‘new’ bones revealed that Spinosaurus was even more bizarre than anyone imagined! We already knew, from Stromer’s specimen and other, isolated finds made through the years, that the shapes of the skull and back were really weird for a predatory dinosaur. Now, the new skeleton showed that the bones were remarkably dense, the hind legs were oddly short, and the hind feet may have been webbed! All of this led Nizar and colleagues to propose that Spinosaurus may have been semiaquatic; in other words, that its lifestyle was much more comparable to that of a modern-day alligator or crocodile than it was to a more ‘typical’ land-living predatory dinosaur such as T. rex. Other evidence for an affinity to watery habitats had been found in Spinosaurus and closely related dinosaurs (known, perhaps unsurprisingly, as spinosaurids) before, but this was, in my mind, the most convincing case yet made that these animals spent significant amounts of their time at least partly submerged in lakes and rivers. The paper was published in Science a few months later, accompanied by a cover story in National Geographic magazine and a special on the venerable PBS TV series NOVA. Almost exactly one hundred years after it had been named, Spinosaurus had become a celebrity.

Nizar Ibrahim and colleagues’ initial conception of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus in the flesh, released to coincide with the publication of their Science paper in 2014. Two aspects stand out: as Stromer already knew (see his skeletal reconstruction above), the animal is enormous, but it was more oddly proportioned than even he had imagined. Note also the ‘regular-looking’ (for a dinosaur) tail, and read on. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Semiaquatic Spinosaurus chowing down on a tasty lungfish in what is now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Italian paleoartist Davide Bonadonna has produced some of the most beautiful and accurate modern depictions of this extraordinary dinosaur, and I’m grateful to him for letting me reproduce his art here.

But the story didn’t end there. Some prominent paleontologists criticized Nizar and colleagues’ semiaquatic interpretation of Spinosaurus. These opinions weren’t a final judgment. Instead, this is just how science works: we scientists propose ideas, or hypotheses—in this case, that Spinosaurus lived and behaved more like a crocodile than your garden-variety carnivorous dinosaur—and then test these hypotheses by reevaluating the existing evidence and/or bringing new information to light. If a hypothesis repeatedly stands up to testing, then it gradually gets incorporated into the body of knowledge. Other paleontologists presented evidence that they claimed refuted the semiaquatic hypothesis, but Nizar and team eventually countered with new data of their own. In late 2019, another prominent scientific journal—this time it was Nature—came calling, asking me to review a second paper by Nizar et al. on Spinosaurus. What, I thought, could these researchers have to say about this dinosaur that they hadn’t already said before? Well, as it turns out, Nizar and colleagues had kept digging at their Spinosaurus skeleton site, and incredibly, they’d continued to find important new bones belonging to the same specimen. Among these post-2014 finds was the almost complete tail. When I saw what it looked like (via an illustration in their paper), I literally laughed out loud with surprise and delight. Somehow, the shape of the Spinosaurus tail Nizar’s team had discovered—the first even reasonably complete tail of this dinosaur to have ever been unearthed—was simultaneously both unexpected and predictable. It looked really dissimilar from the tails of other predatory dinosaurs, but it was nearly exactly like what one might expect for a dinosaur that used its tail to propel itself through water. In other words, the tall, fin-like tail of Spinosaurus looked more like that of a supersized alligator or newt than that of T. rex.

Nizar and team’s Nature paper on their Spinosaurus tail was published this past April 29. Is it the last word on this dinosaur and its mode of life? Most certainly not, but the evidence is now stronger than ever—in my opinion, very strong—that Spinosaurus spent more time in the water than any other non-avian (= non-bird) dinosaur that we currently know about.

The modern view of Spinosaurus, not as a ‘regular’ predatory dinosaur, but rather as a specialized semiaquatic hunter that spent much of its life in the water. Self-serving side note: the three smaller, spiky-looking fish are Bawitius bartheli, a polypterid (an archaic, still-extant group of thick-scaled ray-finned fishes) that several colleagues and I named in 2012 from fossils found in the Bahariya Oasis. The larger fish at lower left is the giant coelacanth Axelrodichthys (sometimes called Mawsonia) libyca. Credit: Davide Bonadonna.

Two Spinosaurus invite the sawfish Onchopristis numidus to lunch in what’s now northern Africa some 95 million years ago. Look at those fin-like Spinosaurus tails! Credit: Davide Bonadonna/National Geographic.

Nizar (who’s a Research Associate here at Carnegie Museum of Natural History), myself, and our many colleagues and collaborators are continuing to study the mysterious dinosaurs and other fossil vertebrates from the middle and Late Cretaceous of northern Africa. Indeed, Nizar and I have several collaborative papers in the works right now, and I’m also working with an amazing team of paleontologists at Mansoura University on multiple new Egyptian fossil finds. It’s a good bet that African Cretaceous dinosaurs even stranger than Spinosaurus are still out there, waiting to be discovered!

Further reading/watching:

Nothdurft, W. E., with J. B. Smith, M. C. Lamanna, K. J. Lacovara, J. C. Poole, and J. R. Smith. 2002. The Lost Dinosaurs of Egypt. Random House, New York, 256 pp.

Smith, J. B., M. C. Lamanna, H. Mayr, and K. J. Lacovara. 2006. New information regarding the holotype of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus Stromer, 1915. Journal of Paleontology 80:400–406.

Ibrahim, N., P. C. Sereno, C. Dal Sasso, S. Maganuco, M. Fabbri, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, N. Myhrvold, and D. A. Iurino. 2014. Semiaquatic adaptations in a giant predatory dinosaur. Science 345:1613–1616.

Bigger Than T. rex (NOVA documentary): https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/video/bigger-than-t-rex/

Henderson, D. M. 2018. A buoyancy, balance and stability challenge to the hypothesis of a semi-aquatic Spinosaurus Stromer, 1915 (Dinosauria: Theropoda). PeerJ 6:e5409.

Ibrahim, N., S. Maganuco, C. Dal Sasso, M. Fabbri, M. Auditore, G. Bindellini, D. M. Martill, S. Zouhri, D. A. Mattarelli, D. M. Unwin, J. Wiemann, D. Bonadonna, A. Amane, J. Jakubczak, U. Joger, G. V. Lauder, and S.E. Pierce. 2020. Tail-propelled aquatic locomotion in a theropod dinosaur. Nature 581:67–70.

Matt Lamanna is Mary R. Dawson Associate Curator and Head of the Section of Vertebrate Paleontology at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum staff, volunteers, and interns are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[big-dong-zhong]

Chapter 1 has received a buff and has been posted to Ao3. Here is the link for those who want to view it there. For those who don’t, the modified chapter is under the cut. Apologies for any formatting errors, it doesn’t copy/paste to tumblr very well.

1 - Melt

[This is the First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Words: 2,648

Rated [T+]  - Here is an explanation of my rating system.

Childe/Lumine, fluff (i guess?), sorry I really don’t know what to say here.

Lumine is ill-prepared for Snezhnaya’s weather.

Tartaglia lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been years since he had last slept there, and the scratching of the wool against his skin gave him a nostalgic sorrow, like he had left something behind. The other bed laid empty, another single wool blanket carefully draped over it. He put his arm over his eyes, wondering if it had been a good idea to return so soon. One day wasn’t quite enough to spend any meaningful time with his family, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for having any kind of time with his family or if he regretted making the trip at all. He supposed that worrying about it wouldn’t do him any good; they were leaving first thing in the morning anyway. Regardless, his restless mind was robbing him of his much needed sleep.

The sound of the bedroom door opening quietly distracted him from his thoughts. He listened as light and hurried footsteps traveled over the rug and to the other bed. The wood frame creaked under the weight of someone sitting upon it for the first time in years. A loud huff. Tartaglia could feel eyes on him. It was nearly impossible not to crack a smile, but he would pretend that he was asleep for now unless she addressed him.

"Tartaglia?"

"Lumine?" He grinned and quickly pulled his arm from his face and turned his head to look in her direction. Lumine was sitting upright on the bed, completely wrapped in the wool blanket with only her face visible, and she was pouting. Her cuteness caught him off guard and his heart may have skipped a beat or two, but he quickly regained his composure.

"It's cold," she grumbled, pulling the blanket even tighter around herself. Tartaglia laughed at such on obvious statement.

"Of course it's cold! We're in Snezhnaya. I really hope you didn't forget that somehow.” Lumine grumbled and turned her head defiantly to deflect his insult.

“Aw don’t be like that,” he sang. “You could always come over here and I'll keep you warm." He turned to his side and lifted up his own blanket flirtatiously, inviting her to share his bed.

"No!" Lumine whispered harshly. "No way! I am not sharing a bed with you!" She shook her head as she declined.

"Well I guess you'll just freeze then," Tartaglia conceded and rolled back over with an exaggerated sigh. "A shame too. How will I ever be able to explain this to the Knights of Favonius? I guess I'll just have to run away and change my identity. They'll surely come after me if they think I let something happen to you out here." The sounds of the other bed creaking, and then footsteps toward him.

Got her.

"I didn't tell them," she said. He turned to face her again, this time he was confused. What did she mean she didn’t tell them? His puzzlement must have shown on his face because she repeated it.

"I didn't tell anybody I was coming here. Not the Knights of Favonius or even the Adventurers’ Guild. Let me tell you, it was hard enough to convince Paimon to keep this just between us.” Lumine shook her head as she spoke. “It's not everyone's business what I'm doing every second of every day. I'm allowed to do things on my own, contrary to popular belief."

Her gaze was serious. He had thought that when she reluctantly agreed to come to Snezhnaya with him for leisure that it would be a one time adventure, that she only did it because she had promised Teucer. He figured she would have told each one of her friends every tiny detail about the trip as a precaution in case the Fatui made a move on her, but now he was feeling unsure of her intentions. Had she really trusted him, a Fatui Harbinger, enough to travel so far from her other friends without telling them where she was?

Tartaglia snorted, then laughed at the situation. Everyone really wanted a piece of her, didn't they? This girl who looked like a dumpling wrapped up in his brother's old wool blanket pouting at him was so important that several organizations felt the need to constantly keep tabs on her. It was only fair though, he figured. She was incredibly strong, not to mention nobody knew where she came from. She was very intriguing. He wanted to know more about her.

She sniffled. Tartaglia could see that her nose was getting red, and she kept scrunching her face like she felt a sneeze coming.

"Come on," he chuckled, "you can bring the blanket with you; just get in." Lumine glared down at him and very reluctantly sat on the edge of his bed, her back toward him. She scooted herself back on top of Tartaglia's blanket then lifted her legs into the bed and laid down, never once removing the blanket she already had around herself. He laughed.

"Well this isn't exactly what I had in mind. It's not going to make a lot of difference if you're still under just one blanket."

"Then give me both of the blankets," she mumbled.

"Now that's cold, Lumine. You would let me freeze in the night? And after my family showed you so much hospitality. Imagine how upset my poor little siblings would be to find me frozen solid in the morning: a big brosicle!"

"Argh, fine!" Lumine seemed to have finally had enough of him telling her what to do. She jumped out of the bed and threw the second blanket she had wrapped herself with onto Tartaglia's face. "Make it up however you want, just do it fast okay!"

He laughed as he sat up, grabbing the blanket and spreading it out to toss over his own to create a double layer. Once he was satisfied that it was good enough he glanced toward Lumine and saw what she was wearing. A very short, white night dress with a frilled hem and collar, the latter of which rested halfway down her shoulders, exposing bare skin as well as her collarbones. He could see how delicate her legs were beneath the hem, which only barely covered the tops of her thighs. The fabric also seemed to be quite thin; silk from Liyue perhaps? Her arms were crossed over her chest so he couldn't gauge exactly how sheer it was. Unfortunate, but he could live with the mystery for now. He grinned.

"Well no wonder you're cold," he teased her and lifted up the blankets. "Come on now before you freeze." Lumine glared down at him in contempt.

"I'm not going to do anything weird," he insisted with his sweetest smile. She lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Promise?"

"Maybe I wouldn't go that far-"

"I'm sleeping with Paimon and Tonia," Lumine said as she began to turn around.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I promise I won't do anything weird," Tartaglia urged. She pursed her lips into an unsure frown and climbed into the bed, this time facing him directly. He nearly forgot to breathe in that moment she was so close. Her toes brushed against his shin for a moment and he felt how ice cold her skin was. The sensation made him jump.

“Really? You’re not even wearing socks?” he interrogated, moving his shins further away to avoid her toes.

“I can’t sleep with them on,” she rebutted as she continued to pursue his warmth until he finally gave in to the momentary discomfort. She really hadn't prepared for this trip, had she? At least it was just a short leisure trip and she wasn't alone. Tartaglia took comfort in the fact that this exposure would better prepare her for the future.

The future… That was right.

Peaceful moments like this won’t last, he thought to himself. He had enough political knowledge to realize that the world was spinning into chaos, but not enough to know how to stop it. His folly in Liyue Harbor was proof of that. Even the man he felt he had grown close to as a friend was only using him as a pawn in a much bigger scheme, just as so many others had. It wasn’t safe to put his trust in others anymore.

Tartaglia was pulled from his thoughts when Lumine shuffled her arm to her front and placed her hand between their faces, her fingers curled except for one in particular.

"Pinkie promise me you won't do anything weird to me in my sleep."

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Is what he said, ironically, but she had to trust him to an extent. She wouldn’t be there with him in that moment otherwise.

She pushed her hand closer to his face. Lumine was really serious about a pinkie promise, wasn’t she? He was tempted to lightly nip at her finger just to get a reaction out of her, but he knew she would be furious if he did. He wasn't too keen on the idea of chasing her down in the snow in the middle of the night, so he elected not to bite her this time. He sighed with a small laugh and brought his own hand to meet hers. He hesitated at first, his heart skipping a beat when their fingers first touched.

She doesn’t know.

Of course, the traveler from another world wouldn’t have the same knowledge used to trick him over and over. Rex Lapis had fooled her just as well. Would other archons try to use her to their own ends as he and Barbatos did? Tartaglia couldn’t watch that happen.

“I’ll make this promise: I’m going to keep you safe,” he told her in a hushed voice as if any notes of affection in his tone needed to be kept secret between the two of them. “The Knights, the Guild, hell even the Liyue Qixing won’t have to worry if you’re with me. Whether it’s money or strength, you can always rely on me when you’re in need.”

“W-What the hell are you talking about?” Lumine stuttered as her face grew red. “Is this some kind of confession?”

“Hmm,” Tartaglia hummed in response. “Try not to think about it too hard.” He gave her a wink and grinned as he watch her face flush all the way to her ears. He was proud of himself that he managed to get her to make such a cute expression.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “As long as that promise includes not doing anything weird to me in the night.”

“I said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” A loaded promise, but in the moment he didn’t care.

“How am I supposed to know what your definition of that is?”

“I just don’t want you see you hurt,” he confessed. Lumine’s expression softened into a more serious gaze.

“Just stick with promising me only for tonight, all right?” she sighed.

“All right,” Tartaglia replied to her with a tender smile. In his heart he knew he would promise more, however. He wanted to be by her side more than just a night.

"You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life," he started.

"You break a pinkie promise," Lumine continued and narrowed her eyes, "I throw you on the ice." Their little fingers wrapped around each other.

"The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend." He tightened his grip, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. He wondered if she noticed how fast his heart was beating, and if hers may have been as well.

"The frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again." They unclasped their little fingers and let their hands rest between them, not quite touching, but Tartaglia could start to feel her body heat under the blankets.

"Feeling warmer now that you're with me?" he asked with a smug grin. Lumine nodded and let out a small, breathy yawn that tugged on his heart strings. He wished he could fall asleep as fast as she did. Now that she had fallen asleep, laying next to her made him even more anxious. Every time she let out a deep breath he held his, unsure of what to do. Of course he knew he should just close his eyes and go to sleep, but he couldn't stop looking at her. She looked so small and calm, unlike the fury and excitement she radiated while awake. Tartaglia liked this side of her too. He stroked her arm with the tips of his fingers, feeling the warmth radiating off her skin, the sensation making his heart beat faster. He had promised he wouldn't do anything weird, but he still wasn't sure what Lumine's definition of weird could be. She stirred in her sleep, startling him to pull his hand away from her. It may have been just a nursery rhyme, but he knew Lumine would literally cut his tongue out if he broke his promise.

He held his breath, waiting for her to wake up and scold him, but she didn't open her eyes. Instead she moved even closer to him. One of her legs slid between his, which in turn caused her dress to ride up and expose her abdomen to his own bare stomach. Her hand slid over his navel and reached around to his back under his shirt. The sensation of her smooth skin sent what felt like a bolt of lightning through his body, though somehow far different from any electro powers he’d used. Her face was only inches away from his. Lumine was so close to him that he couldn't breathe for fear of waking her. Yet, the anxiety he felt was invigorating. It was a new and foreign kind of excitement to him that he never even dreamed of experiencing. In fact, he'd never given any thought at all to this kind of intimacy with another person. Lumine. Her thoughts, her feelings, and her body; they were a whole new battlefield for him, one he wasn't sure if he could ever conquer, but that made the idea all the more exciting.

Tartaglia's breath finally escaped his lungs, involuntarily shaky and vocal. He moved his tongue around inside his mouth to get rid of the dryness that had taken hold. Luckily the cold had made it so he wasn't sweating from all of the new sensations he was experiencing. He was starting to feel lightheaded from all of the times he'd held his breath, but that in turn with their combined body heat had also started to make him finally feel sleepy. His breath steadied and Tartaglia was finally starting to relax. Lumine was definitely fast asleep, and it didn't look like she was going to wake up to any small movements he made. He decided that wrapping arms around each other wasn't anything weird and moved his arm to cradle her back.

He already knew that he liked her. Since the moment he'd met her he had wanted to be involved in her life, and fighting her had brought him exhilaration he could have only dreamed of. Now he felt that they could have something even more. Lumine was in his home, in his bed with him, the rest of his family sleeping soundly within the house. She didn't belong and yet she fit in so well. He didn't want to let her go. If they could lie there and hold each other forever he might even have been happy with just that. The tiredness was finally beginning to take over. He was as relaxed as he had ever been in her embrace.

Tartaglia shifted to grace Lumine's forehead with a long and chaste kiss, holding her body against his own. He rested his forehead against hers, and finally he was able to let sleep take him.

[dusky-dancing]

What Grows in Winter

Rating: T

Length: ~4500 words

Pairing: Felix Hugo Fraldarius / Byleth Eisner

Tags: Mistletoe, Hand Warming, Kissing, Holiday Tropes, Fluff, Pining.

Summary: Fodlan’s coldest winter and a gruesome war greet Byleth upon waking from her five-year slumber, and while an improvised winter celebration is in the works, she’s more drawn to a familiar stability. Surely, whatever grows in the harshest seasons can survive anything.

This is my Felileth Secret Santa gift for Rex a.k.a Smoke n’ Milk! Check out their art twitter if you’re craving some Felileth. I hope you all enjoy, and have a very Merry Christmas!

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Snow made sparring more challenging. Byleth already knew this, but to do so with Felix only a month after she’d awoken from her five-year slumber was much harder than she’d imagined. 

It didn’t help that the weather had been relentless that year, and missing Red Wolf Moon meant missing wolf-hunting season, which would’ve supplied their soldiers and allies with the pelts and meat they needed to survive the cold. The guilt tugged at her mind at all times. So many from both the church and the Kingdom had quickly joined the cause with her name, yet she had nothing to show for it besides barely fending off an Empire assault. 

Perhaps sparring Felix grew difficult because he’d grown stronger, or that Byleth had just grown weaker. No matter the excuse, her chill-stiffened muscles struggled to stay mobile against her opponent’s relentless strength. 

“You’re slow.” He lunged swiftly, barely giving her time to parry his sword to the side and force an opening. His body pivoted with the movement, however, and their swords clashed before she could move forward on the offensive. 

“It’s called a warm-up, Felix,” she panted.

“Maybe you’ll finally buy a coat, or make actual use of the one you already have,” he smirked and sliced at her sleeves that dangled unused from her shoulders. “Or admit that I’ve finally surpassed you.”

“Nah,” she said. “Match isn’t over, Fraldarius, and I doubt you’d accept victory that easily.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled before assuming a ready stance and waiting for her to move first.

Byleth almost accepted his bait out of spite until she felt something tickle her hair. Old habits kicked in, and she spun towards their intruder, which in turn startled Felix. Her sword swung for whatever had snuck up on them, but met only empty air, then a small fishing line. The culprit, a small tuft of twigs, leaves, and red berries, fell to her feet.

“Woah, woah! Easy!” Sylvain yelled from above. The paladin had somehow managed to climb to the roof with a fishing pole without alerting either Felix or Byleth to his presence. Maybe Byleth really had lost her touch.

“Sylvain, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Felix shouted. 

With that, Sylvain leapt from the roof, dusted himself off, and held his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you! You two must’ve been really distracted.” He eyed the severed end of his fishing line. “How did you cut this with a wooden sword?”

“What do you want?” Felix asked. “We’re busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

Byleth’s eyes drifted to the small green shrub lying in the snow. “And what is that?” she added.

“Oh, this?” Sylvain smirked and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers. “Glad you asked. Annette and Merci tasked me with getting everyone into a more... festive ...spirit.”

Right, the mages’ mission to lift everyone’s spirits with an improvised winter celebration. The Lions had reunited, as had many of their allies, but Dimitri was far from a kingly state, their supplies ran short, and the monastery’s defenses were unprepared for another Empire incursion. The millenium-old walls had been worse for wear after five years of war and neglect, but their fortress, like their resolve to carry on, held together.

Mercedes and Annette had immediately called for a celebration of Byleth’s return, though she argued they had many more reasons to celebrate. The Millenium Festival marked their reunion, but the decorations, the music, the feasts, and the bright firelight that contrasted with the white snow had been absent. The two women were making up for that now, and most of the Lions had agreed to help. 

“Sylvain, you know you’re supposed to hang up decorations, not flail them around on a fishing rod, right?”

“Ah, but this isn’t a decoration, my good friend.” He tied the bundle to the freshly-cut end of the fishing line and wiggled it between Felix and Byleth. “This, here, is a mistletoe.”

Byleth didn’t know what any of that meant, but if Felix’s reaction was any indication, it wasn’t any good. His annoyed narrow eyes flew open, and his cheeks that surely must have been freezing in the falling snow flushed red. 

“See? Felix knows! I knew you’d-”

“Get lost, Sylvain.” Felix ducked away from the plant as if it was a deadly poison.

“Not until you two follow the tradition.” Sylvain’s unyielding grin told Byleth that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Few were immune to Felix’s sudden outbursts, and Sylvain was likely the most seasoned in navigating the swordsman’s temper. 

Despite the dread hanging in the air, Byleth was curious. “What tradition?”

Felix spun around and pointed his glove in Sylvain’s face. “Don’t tell her!” He didn’t address Byleth directly, but nodded to her. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing our stupid traditions.”

“Great idea, Felix, why don’t you tell her!” Sylvain nudged his friend as his voice nearly sang. Their moods couldn’t be more opposite, but Byleth knew whose taste aligned more with her own. 

Felix grunted. “Let’s just get back to training.”

In their brief repose, Byleth’s muscles had only stiffened by remaining stagnant. And she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “I’m not participating in any weird Faerghus traditions, but I should still know what they are.”

Sylvain’s smile grew all the way to his eyes while Felix scoffed with a look of betrayal. Maybe he wished that she’d push Sylvain to drop it. After a few tense moments, however, he yielded and turned back toward her. Even so, he kept his face turned away from her.

“When two people are caught under a mistletoe, the dumb tradition says they have to...kiss.”

“Oh,” was all Byleth could say in response. If Sylvain was watching her for a strong reaction, he wouldn’t get one. But that was only because her insides were imploding.

Sylvain wanted him to kiss her? Had he chosen them on purpose, or had it just been coincidence?

Did she... want to kiss Felix?

The man didn’t give her time to ponder the sensation any further. “But like I said, it’s dumb, it’s cold, and we’re busy. So get lost, Sylvain.”

“Oh, you’re busy . I see how it is.” He reeled in the mistletoe and swung it over his shoulder. “You two are the first to refuse, you know. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a sign. A mistletoe is an omen of peace and protection from death. They grow even in the harshest winter. The fact that some began sprouting on the shrubs throughout the monastery is good, no?”

Felix’s face flared red, either with seething anger or pure embarrassment. “Then go find more willing participants and tell Edelgard the war’s over because of some weeds. Leave us.”

Sylvain threw his hands up in defeat. “All right, all right, I surrender. Consent is important, anyways.” Before he pushed the training ground doors open, however, he turned and gave them one last of his dazzling smiles. “You never refused, though. All I heard were excuses.” And with that, he shrugged and moved through the doors.

“Don’t waste that fishing line, Sylvain, I’ll need it later!” Byleth shouted before the doors slammed shut. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Byleth was sure her fingers had fused to her sword hilt. “My hands are freezing,” she said in an attempt to break the tension and turn the conversation elsewhere.

When his eyes met hers, however, he almost looked apologetic. He’d never apologized for his outbursts in the past, so why did he look so regretful now?

Oh. 

Oh.

Her attempt to pull his attention away from the awkward situation appeared to work as he strode over to her and removed a glove. Atleast, it worked until his bare hand touched hers, and her cheeks flared with heat. Maybe it was just because his hand was exceptionally warm compared to hers, or maybe it was the sudden close proximity. Regardless, their brief reprieve from recent events was short-lived.

Felix pulled his hand away quickly. “Well, damn, of course they are. You’re gripping a wooden sword in the freezing snow, bare-handed. Will you buy some gloves already?”

“I suppose I’m not used to the cold.” She leaned her sword against a nearby pillar. Relieved that it hadn’t frozen stuck to her palm, she rubbed her now-free hands together for warmth. “It’s worse this year than I remember. Gloves are hard enough to come by, and I can’t...” she paused, recalling how many at the monastery were even less equipped for the cold. “I can’t let myself get comfortable yet.”

Felix sighed, still keeping arm’s distance from her. A moment later, he offered her both of his gloves. She was in the middle of exhaling warm breath against her hands and froze at his sudden gesture. 

“Here, you’ll get warmer faster, then we can get back to work.”

He’d never demanded that she borrow anything of his before - not his coat, his gloves, and certainly not his sword. But she knew better than to leave him hanging for too long.

“Thank you,” she said before taking them. Her hands already felt warmer just holding the thick hide fabric. His gloves outsized her hands noticeably, and she didn’t miss the chuckle that came from him when the tips of the fingers flopped over. 

But they were extremely warm. Instinctively, she clasped her hands together and brought them close to her face, and she inhaled the scent of pine and sword oil.

Was this how he always smelled?

“Felix?” she asked. He was doing everything in his power to not watch her, but his head turned toward her curiously. “You were right. Traditions are stupid,” she smirked. 

His shoulders relaxed, and a half-smile to match her own replaced the scowl that had been present since Sylvain’s provocation. “I get why people have them, but there’s no point to just follow them blindly.”

“Even if they’re just for fun?” she asked.

“Sylvain should know better than to ask me to do something for fun .”

She smirked, “Yes, but he doesn’t know better than to push your buttons. There, I’d say he succeeded.”

Felix scoffed and turned away. As Byleth’s hands warmed, she realized she’d never really taken the time to notice how much her former students had grown. The one before her certainly had. He was taller and stronger, sure. She knew that enough from training with him, but he’d grown in his own mind as well. He’d hardened himself, likely from the war, yet at the same time his gaze had softened towards her and the other Blue Lions, save for Dimitri.

Maybe his vindication, knowing he’d been right all along about the prince, had brought with it a tragic sense of peace. 

Back when the prince’s demons had begun to show themselves, Felix had been the only one she could approach about it without getting excuses or looks of pity. That was five years ago, though it still lived freshly in Byleth’s memory.

Five years. She’d seen the growth of her former students, but how had their view of her changed during her absence? How had Felix’s? If he’d thought her to be dead, perhaps he’d simply tucked away memories of her next to Glenn and sought out another rival to overcome. If he’d thought she lived, maybe he’d searched for her and had become more concerned and angry as time went on. Felix hadn’t volunteered which side he’d leaned toward yet, and truth be told, it didn’t matter to Byleth whether he’d believed her to be alive or dead. The fact that he was sparring with her now was enough of an answer.

She learned one more crucial piece of information - that the thought of kissing her made Felix absolutely flustered, not annoyed or irritated.

Despite how everything had changed, Felix remained a source of stability for her. Training with him brought her down to her humanity again, away from the realm of the goddess, nobles, and crests. A second thing she learned - the thought of kissing Felix made her flustered as well. 

Amidst the realization, her hands had regained feeling. The growing impatience of her opponent made itself known in the way he paced with folded arms and tapped his bare fingers. Or maybe similar thoughts refused to leave his mind as well. 

There was one way to find out.

When Byleth returned to Felix his gloves, she raised herself onto her toes, leaned in, and pecked her lips onto his cheek. He immediately pulled away like she’d just stabbed him, with an eyes-wide look of shock. His cheeks flushed red, and his sword fell from his grasp.

Byleth had seen Felix do many things when caught off guard, but she’d never seen him drop his weapon.

“Wh-what the hell was that for?!”

She retreated a step, doing her best to maintain her calm exterior. “As a thanks, and a way to fulfill that stupid tradition.”

He didn’t respond again, which made her second guess her own judgment. He’d looked like he’d wanted to kiss her, right? She hadn’t imagined the way he let her borrow his gloves, the way he watched her when they sparred.

“I-I’m sorry. I just thought that...you know what? Nevermind. I should go eat. The cold’s obviously getting to me.” She began to back away, but his bare hand caught her wrist. When she looked back in shock, his gaze was still fixated on the ground.

“It-it’s fine,” he croaked and cleared his throat before finally meeting her gaze. “But that’s not how the tradition goes.”

Byleth paused. Why did Felix suddenly care about the rules? 

Unless…

“It doesn’t work with...just that.” He stepped closer, keeping a hold on her arm. “You have to…”

Oh.

Did he actually want to kiss her? The way his eyes held her screamed yes , with a taste of caution and a lingering question floating within them. So she answered with the smallest nod she could muster, afraid that moving too quickly would break whatever trance they’d found themselves in. 

He didn’t move to touch her anywhere else, but heat flooded her every fiber as he leaned closer and tilted his head to the side. Her eyes closed themselves, overwhelmed at the sight, and then a warmth brushed across her lips. It was brief, if a little ticklish, and she responded in kind before the sensation quickly retreated.

Her eyes remained shut for too long, afraid of the image that would greet her. Would he look happy? Angry? She feared that he may have already turned his back and walked away before his calloused grip on her arm reminded her that he was still within reach. 

Finally, her eyelids gained the strength to open, and indeed the sight would’ve made her heart race if it hadn’t been permanently unbeating. Felix watched her intently, searching her for emotions. Her self-expression was still muted, but he’d become one of the few people who could read her subtle changes, and she hoped that his intuition had remained with him after all those years.

What his eyes communicated, on the other hand, was as clear as day to her. Though he watched her, his gaze was soft with his eyelids hanging lightly. She cursed the snow that fell between the few inches of space between them, interrupting her view. She’d never denied that he was handsome in the same way she’d never deny his skills with a sword, yet now he looked to her almost as a lover would. Not quite open and comfortable enough to freely steal hazy glances, but enough to ask another question.

Is this really what you want?

A question that went unasked, as the words that came from him brought her thoughts to a halt. “Now it counts,” he spoke plainly, as if he were commenting on her sword technique. 

They avoided one another's gaze once again, with his eyes darting down and hers upwards. She scanned the roof, suddenly paranoid that their prior company hadn’t completely left, and swore she saw a second, fresher disturbance in the snow that blanketed the roof. Whether the redhead would earn himself a few more weeks of stable duty wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, however, compared to the man retreating from her.

“I thought you hated traditions.” She turned her wrist in his grasp so she could return his hold, telling him he could stay if he liked. 

Or possibly ask for more.

The thought of kissing him again, fully aware and able to better-prepare herself, erupted butterflies in her chest. She wondered if this was the closest she’d feel to a racing heartbeat.

“I do.” He kept his tone, but his expression held the same question as before. His voice dropped when he spoke again. “But I don’t...hate you.”

She tried to stop the snort that escaped from her nose to no avail, so her free hand came up to cover her face. Now Felix just looked offended, but the way his face continued to redden as he turned away told her that he wished he’d chosen his words better.

But she didn’t. Felix wasn’t the type of man to overthink his words. It was one of his traits that allowed him to be honest and insightful, even if his words stung. Regardless, she knew that I don’t hate you from Felix meant more than the words themselves. 

Her grip on his wrist held firm, and she ran her thumb along the fabric of his sleeve. “I don’t hate you either, Felix.”

He seemed to just notice her touch, for his attention turned to their interlocked arms. Facing her again, he made her the flustered one when he slid his fingers down to take her hand instead. It surprised her how quickly he could turn the tables against her.

“Byleth…”

Familiarity hit her as he stepped closer again, only now his other hand caressed her shoulder, his warm gloves discarded somewhere in the snow. The gaze in his eyes, however, had shifted drastically. Where previously he approached her like a stray cat, now his eyes resembled a wolf - hungry and knowing exactly what he wanted. Her breath hitched, and she managed to rest her free hand against his waist. He was warm as always, but she swore he was shivering. No, trembling.

“Felix…”

Whatever words tried to spill from her were stopped, but not with the crashing of his lips against hers like she’d imagined. Instead, the doors to the training grounds burst open. 

The wolf-like expression before her switched from hunger to anger. He pushed her away sharply, but she took no offense as she’d probably have done the same. Her attention turned to the entryway, where she expected to see Sylvain. She was partially correct, but the paladin wasn’t alone. 

Ashe ran to the front and nearly collapsed into the snow, out of breath. “You aren’t going to believe this, Professor! I was scouting and-”

“Slow down, Ashe, you’re hyperventilating!” Mercedes patted his back and offered him water. Indeed, his face was beet red, and his breathing short. He panted as if he’d just run several miles up the mountain, which would be true if he’d been scouting.

“Let me finish.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Professor, we won’t have to worry about blankets and pelts this winter, because a herd is approaching! A herd of...llamas!”

The surprise threw Byleth in many different mental directions. She suddenly became aware of her and Felix’s state. They’d tried to appear as if they’d just been sparring like any other day, yet their bare hands, long-abandoned swords, and fresh shoeprints in the snow gave away their close proximity only moments ago. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone had picked up on those details. Ashe, though a skilled scout, was too winded and had let his senses drop within the safety of the monastery. Mercedes and Annette hadn’t noticed. So that just left-

Sylvain didn’t even try to hide the grin plastered on his face. He stood unnoticed in the back of the group, just so only Felix and Byleth would catch his gaze. Byleth felt heat rise to her face, but retained her well-practiced stoic facade. Felix, however, failed to hide his flustered annoyance, and his face grew brighter with every second. Luckily for him, the other students were only looking for their former professor’s reaction.

“We’ve never hunted those before,” Byleth said.

“You don’t hunt them!” Annette jumped to gain everyone’s attention. “You shepherd them and use their fleece to make blankets! They can even protect themselves and other livestock from wolves!”

“I don’t recall llamas being around when I was teaching.”

“They’re native to south Fodlan, where the climate is a little more friendly to them.” Sylvain finally broke his painfully teasing silence. “I guess the combination of the war in Alliance and Empire territory with the thinning human population around here drove them this far north.”

“That’s great news.” Byleth managed a small smile. One of her burdens - helping her friends and comrades survive the brutal winter - had been lifted. 

“Yes!” Annette beamed. “No one will be cold this year!”

“Does this mean we’ll have to cancel our winter festival?” Mercedes asked.

For whatever reason, they looked to Byleth for an answer. She found the gesture sweet, that they still looked to her for guidance or permission for things she was barely involved in. 

She already knew her answer, yet still scanned their faces. Annette and Mercedes begged with their eyes, and she resisted chuckling at their collective adorable nature. Ashe was beginning to regain his strength, seeming to just notice the other people present. It wouldn’t be long before he’d realize the awkwardness of the situation he’d just barged in on. 

Sylvain looked to her curiously. She and Felix had practically cursed holiday traditions earlier, though Byleth had nothing against holidays or celebrations themselves. He was scanning her to see if she’d prioritize fun or practicality.

Well, why not both?

Finally, she turned to the man beside her. Felix waited for her reaction as well, though he’d probably only taken in half of the conversation. The flush of his cheeks had begun to subside, and he shot her a half-smile with folded arms. He knew the answer she was about to give, and was savoring the wait as much as she was.

“Of course not.” She could practically feel the collective sigh and smiled before facing the rest of her audience. “There are plenty of hands looking for busy work. I don’t see why we can’t handle both. Marianne is good with animals, so I’ll appoint her to lead.”

“We should clear a pasture for them, so they’ll know where a safe place is,” Annette added.

Ashe just laughed, seemingly still in disbelief of the day’s events. He definitely wasn’t the only one.

“Oh this is wonderful!” Mercedes clasped her hands together. “I hope they’ll come back next year, and the year after that! Imagine if it were safe enough to let children see them!”

“If they do, we’ll make it a-” the last word caught in Byleth’s throat, and her attention was immediately drawn to Sylvain’s smirk, somehow even larger than earlier. She swallowed and cleared her throat, looked to Felix, then back to Sylvain, and finished her thought, “-a tradition.”

Sylvain snickered, which confused everyone but the swordsmen. Felix’s flush quickly returned. It really wasn’t that hard to get a rise out of him, was it?

“Changed your mind on traditions, Professor?” Sylvain asked with his hands on his hips. “Could it be because some of them might work-”

“We got damn lucky,” Felix interrupted, letting loose his thoughts for the first time in this conversation. “You said it yourself: the war, the low population - that drove them here. Not your stupid mistletoe.”

“Oh, you took out the mistletoe!” Mercedes exclaimed. “You’re the best, Sylvain!” 

“Just doing my duty.”

“Wait.” Annette tapped her chin. “Did Felix actually kiss someone!”

Byleth had done her work to keep the attention off of Felix thus far, but now he’d thrown himself to the wolves. Even Ashe’s eyes lit up. Byleth couldn’t help her amusement.

“No!” Felix shouted and stomped off to gather his sword. No one stopped him.

Sylvain, despite the endless dancing on Felix’s thin ice, came to his friend’s aid. “Alas, even I cannot get Felix to kiss anyone.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“What about you, Professor?” Mercedes asked. “Did you kiss anyone?”

“I’m not kissing anyone who still calls me ‘Professor.’” Also not a lie, since Felix hadn’t addressed her by that title since their reunion.

“Good point,” Mercedes giggled. “I just can’t bring myself to call you by your first name yet.”

“Yeah,” Annette said. “You’ll always be our professor, first and foremost.”

“Well, someone’s kiss brought survivability to the monastery, that’s all I’m saying.” Sylvain shrugged his shoulders and shot both Felix and Byleth winks from the back. 

Byleth could practically feel the heat radiating off of Felix, compared to the chilled falling snow around them. Luckily for them, Sylvain pushed it no further. Unluckily for them, the rest caught on.

“Felix, are you okay?” Mercedes asked. “You look like you’re catching a cold.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just want to get back to training. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a war.”

“I suppose we should go count the herd’s numbers,” Ashe said, “and start learning how to use their fleece.”

“Oh! I’ll come!” Annette skipped after him. 

Mercedes eyed Felix suspiciously, not in the way Sylvain had, but like a concerned mother. She looked to Byleth, almost to communicate, make sure he takes care of himself , and Byleth affirmed her with a nod. Sylvain was the last to leave, simply offering the pair one last wink and a salute before closing the doors to the training grounds.

Being alone with Felix once more, they couldn’t ignore what had happened. Her exposed skin suddenly forgot all about the cold, and the supposedly fearless Ashen Demon couldn’t bring herself to look in the eyes of the man who’d kissed her.

“I should go, too,” she said. “I need to ask Marianne to take on her role and...other things.”

Felix was silent as she retrieved her training sword and hung it on the weapon rack where it would be protected by the roof’s overhang. 

Perhaps he was still as flustered as she was, or he’d lost his courage to act. Or perhaps...he’d regretted it all.

Before she reached the large double doors, however, a firm hold pulled at her wrists and spun her around. Amber eyes met hers again, with a familiar hungry expression. 

“Before you go,” he hummed, only audible by their proximity, “just know that I…”

He took a moment to search for the right words, his darting pupils betraying his thoughts. In the end, he gave up on talking and simply kissed her. Damn him for catching her off-guard again, but she wouldn’t hesitate a second time. She pulled her wrists free in favor for grasping his fur collar. Soon she felt his hands at her waist, and knew he wouldn’t retreat.

So warm. He was so warm, and suddenly surviving the harsh war-torn winter didn’t feel so improbable.

[sherrybaby14]

Roar

Summary:  Valentine’s dinner with Steve gets crashed by an unusual guest

Warnings:  Smut, violence, background death

Words:  1700 (Just a drabble)

A/N:  I was doing all those sabotages, and in a weird mood, so enjoy this piece of crack.  Happy Valentines Day! 

   The classical music drowned out the sounds of the workers cleaning dishes in the kitchen.  You took another sip of your wine and eyed your paramour across the table.  

   “What?”  He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.  

   “You’ve been acting strange all night.”  You set the wine glass down.  “You know they probably want to close soon.  We’re the last table.”

   “Well maybe I’ve been acting strange since I am nervous.”  Steve picked up his glass and took a chug.  “And the only open reservation they had was for the end of the night.  They shouldn’t have taken one at all if they were going to kick us out.”

   “Back up.”  You crossed your legs and you leaned forward.  “Steve Rogers is nervous? Do tell…”

   “We’ve been together for about six months now.”  Steve ran his hands over his hair. “And to some that wouldn’t be a long time, but for me...well I’ve lost so much time, I don’t want to waste another second.”

   Your stomach began to flip at what you thought he was going to ask you.  You had to break eye contact, not sure you wanted him to continue.  You looked at the window behind him, trying not to freak out.

   “You’re a special girl.  I trust you, and I trust myself around you.  We have a deep level of comfort with each other.  A peace I’ve never known before.”  Steve took your hands.  

   There was a movement on the street.  Strange.  This wasn’t a busy area.  Was that a car?  Were you imagining it?  You tilted your head and squinted your eyes.  

   “I know this might take you off guard, but heck, I try to be open with you.”  He let out a deep breath.  

   “Steve…” Was that what you thought it was?  You blinked.

   “No, don’t let me lose my nerve here.  I need to finish.”  Steve squeezed your fist.  

   “Steve.”  You stood up from the table.  The ground shook.  

   You looked at the plate on the table bounce.  Steve rose with you and pulled you closer.  

   “This is important.”  He grabbed your chin and tried to focus your vision.  “What I’m trying to ask is…”

   “STEVE!”  You grabbed his chin and turned it to the window.  

   “WHAT THE????”  Steve grabbed your hips right when the window shattered.  

   ROOOOAAARRRRRR!  The noise was loud enough the glass shattered.   You both hit the floor with a smack and crawled on instinct to the back of the room.  

   Razor sharp teeth began to snap and a shriek left your throat as you slid across the floor.  Your chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate as you slid under a booth.  A giant snout following your movement.  

   The creature was too large to make it further into the establishment, but you and Steve both tried to curl into the far wall as another roar left the thing’s mouth.  

   “Huh?”  The door from the kitchen swung open.

   “NO!” Steve shouted.

   “RUN!” You added.

   But the beast had noticed.  It’s snout moved away from you and the last thing your heard was the worker’s scream before giant jaws crunched his bones.  

   “THAT’S A FUCKING T REX!”  You grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him out of the booth.  

   “HOW???”  Steve ran with you as the monster lifted it’s head, slamming it into the ceiling of the restaurant.  

   The two of you dodged it’s tail as you made it on to the street.   Another roar went loose as the creature swung back to the street, taking out bricks and collapsing the building with it.  

   “RUN!”  Steve kept pulling you.  

   “NO!”  You couldn’t pull him to a stop as you heard the giant footsteps behind you.  “Haven’t you seen Jurassic Park?  It’s vision is based on movement.”  

   “Jurassic WHAT?!?!”  Steve turned you down an alley.  

   “You don’t run!  You hide.”  You dove behind a dumpster.  “Stay STILL!”

   The T-Rex was at the alley entrance way.   Steve’s chest was heavy.  

   “Captain America doesn’t hide.”  His eyes flashed at you in the darkness.  

   “You can’t fight a fucking dinosaur!”  You tried to pull him back down by you.  

   “I’m going to get it’s attention.”  Steve touched your cheek.  “You sneak back and call for help.”

   “No!” You tugged at his arm.  “That thing will eat you!”

   “I can take him.”  Steve was too strong for you.  “Get help.”

   Before you could object he pressed his lips to yours, the man much too strong to hold back.  

   “HEY!”  Steve waved his arms as he went back in the alley.

   Your boyfriend was about to take on a dinosaur.  What world were you living in?   How was this happening?  

   Whatever help Steve imagined you calling for was probably well on it’s way and besides that would just result in more deaths.   You looked around the corner in shock as Steve ran full speed at the thing.  It’s jaws opened wide and it bit at Steve, but he dodged it, ran for the leg and climbed up.

   The T-Rex started growling and chomping, trying to knock Steve off, but your boyfriend managed to get up to it’s neck.  He started to punch at the thing.  

   Was this a dream?  

   “YOU THINK YOU CAN RUIN MY VALENTINES DAY?” Steve kept hitting.  “EAT MY WAITER?”

   This was it, the most bizarre situation your brain could think of.  You were probably dead and hallucinating.  That was the only rationale explanation.  

   A glittery red circle began to form out of nowhere.  Was this the gate to the afterlife?  Coming to summon you to the otherside.  A floating man came out with a giant green medallion.  

   “Apologies for the interruption.”  He looked at you.  “HEY!”

   The man waved his arms and both the dinosaur and Steve stopped to look.

   “FOLLOW ME!”  He was getting the T-Rex attention with a bunch of crazy movements.  

   He ran through the circle and the monster followed,  with Steve gripping on tight to it’s neck.  

   All three went through the portal and it sealed shut.   The loud sounds silenced and you found yourself alone in the alley, sirens approaching.

   “What. The. FUCK???”  You hit your heel into the ground.  

   The glittery ring began to appear again.  You walked to the front and saw the portal head on.  There was sun on the other side and you had to hold your hand over your brow.  

   Steve walked out.  His dress shirt and pants gone.  He wore a pair of tight shorts.  The clean shaved face you saw seconds ago replaced with a full beard.  There was a handsome jagged scar on his cheek.  

   “I’ve missed you.”  He walked right up to you and grabbed your waist, pulling you in for a deep kiss.  

   Strong, demanding even.  You gasped into his mouth, but he didn’t ease up as his tongue coaxed yours.  You had so many questions, but Steve commanded your attention on the kiss.  You moaned into his mouth as your adrenaline mixed with confusion. Finally he broke the kiss, pushing his forehead to yours.

   “What is happening?”  You ran your hands over his beard.  

   “It’s been seconds for you.”   He kissed your neck as his hands ran up your body.  “Two years for me.”  

   “I...I don’t understand.”  Steve dug his fingers into your hips before flipping you around.  You braced yourself against the brick wall of the alley as he pushed the bottom of your dress up over your hips.  

   Steve being adventurous?  Public sex?

   “I know you don’t.”  His hand rounded your ass before yanking your panties down.  The cool air made you gasp, but his finger traced your slit before teasing your hole.  “Strange needed my help in the past.  Jurassic era.  We fixed everything.  The world is still here.  My world.”  

   “Wha….”. You squealed as he dipped a finger inside of you and brought your mouth to your hand, biting down to stifle your noise.  

   “You always were so ready for me.”  Steve pushed his shorts down and you felt his cock smack your ass.  “I’m glad nothing has changed.”

   “Changed?”  You felt your eyes roll back as Steve kissed and bit your shoulder, his cock sliding inside of you.  

   “You’re so tight Doll.”  He moaned as he bottomed out.  “Better than any memory.”  

   None of this made sense, but your brain was too clouded with thoughts as Steve started to rail into you in the alley.  Your body took over.  You began to push back against him, the sound of you two smacking into each other echoing off the bricks.  

   “You feel so hot.”  Steve grunted as his hand snaked forward and found your pearl.  He started to rub as he fucked.  “Deliciously inviting.  My world.”  

   A haze settled over you as you fucked against him, loving the way his cock filled you and his hand worked you.   Then his other palm came up and found your breast.  He began to squeeze over your dress as he nipped at your back.  

   “I’m going to cum.”  You began to hump wildly against him with no pattern or reason other than your own finish.  

   “Cum on this dick baby, your dick.”  His teeth dragged your skin away.

   “Fuck.”  You moaned as you came undone, exploding around him while falling into the wall.   Your head spinning with pleasure.  

   “So good.” Both of Steve’s hands went to your hips as he pulled you down against him and thrust up.

   The stretch of his cock burned in such a pleasing way you let out a purr as he filled you with his cum.   You tried to get your breath when he started to pepper your back with light kisses.  

   “What were you going to ask me?”  You looked over your shoulder at him.  

   Steve licked his lips and brought his finger to his mouth.  He sucked the digit in hard and you got a tingle in your core at the sight.  It was like he was a new man.  

   “I’m not going to ask.”  He held his glistening finger out and brought it behind you.

   Your eyes shot open as he started to circle your rear passage.  

   “You’re going to love it.”  

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 2

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Read Chapter 1 first

***

Doing nothing but sitting in the roadside diner, situated on the road leading up to his hometown, made Launchpad want to squirm. Someone was going to come in and recognise him. There was no one here he wanted to talk to – apart from his parents. To top it all off they were wasting time. The Thunderquack was parked a few miles away, out in the desert, where it wouldn’t be found. It was close enough they could call it if needed. Drake had driven the sedan the rest of the way in. After Launchpad had tried to rouse him from sleep. And after Drake had said he wasn’t moving until the sun came up.

Then Drake had insisted they stop for breakfast. “If we tear in there,” he’d said. “Your parents are going to wonder how we drove here so quickly. Just relax. A couple of hours won’t make a difference. I need coffee; my sleep schedule is way out.”

Not that coffee had been a bad idea. On his third cup, Launchpad was finally starting to feel the effects. He’d managed to grab a nap whilst he waited for DW to wake up and then again as he’d driven into town, but the caffeine, now that was really doing the job. Being a bit more awake didn’t make him any less apprehensive about waiting though.

“Launchpad, you haven’t touched your breakfast,” said Gosalyn. “It weirds me out when you don’t eat your food.”

Launchpad prodded a short fat sausage around his plate half-heartedly.

“Yeah, I think you need to level out the caffeine, buddy.”

“Huh?”

Drake pointed to Launchpad’s leg, which bounced up and down under the table.

Gosalyn snorted. “Yeah, better eat something before the diner thinks a T-Rex is coming. Rar.”

Launchpad forced his leg to still. Why did this whole thing make him so nervous? But he couldn’t even explain what he was doing with his life over the phone. In person? He wasn’t sure whether he’d rather his parents realised he was hiding something or thought him a failure and a deadbeat. He’d wanted to come visit. And that was the worst part. He’d wanted to, but still hadn’t made the effort. They made it difficult, and DW made it difficult, and he’d wanted to find some way to make it work but it had always been impossible to broach the subject. Either with DW, or his parents. Now, he was here and he wasn’t ready. But still, helping his parents with whatever trouble the Negaverse Launchpad had caused was plenty good enough reason to put up with all the stress. He could deal.

The bell above the diner’s door dinged. Launchpad cringed down in his seat just in case it was someone who might recognise him.

A young woman entered. She was decked out all in bright pink, inclusive of her armoured motorcycle jacket. She removed a hot pink helmet and shook out her hair, then looked inside the helmet, sniffed, and made a face. “Bleh. I hate long rides.”

Launchpad shot to his feet. “Loopey!”

His little sister, not so little anymore, turned at the sound of his voice. “Ee! Launchpad!” She pelted across the diner. They met in the middle of the floor and Loopey threw her arms around her brother’s neck. “Mom and Dad didn’t tell me you were coming too.”

“Short notice,” Launchpad mumbled into her hair. Even with the definite smell of motorcycle helmet he caught the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo. He’d always thought of it as what pink should smell like. He squeezed her tight for good measure then set her back down on the floor. “Wait, coming too? Mom and Dad invited you? Now?” Surely, they didn’t want his kid sister’s help with some weirdo from another dimension.

“Yeah, they’ve been bugging me to come visit for the last month of two. But you never seem to come when they invite us so I just assumed…” She shrugged. Then slapped him on the shoulder. “But this is going to be so much fun! We can go out flying together. There’s this real neat place I can bet you haven’t flown yet and I’ve got to show it to you.”

Gosalyn stepped around Launchpad’s hip and looked Loopey up and down with a frown. “Launchpad, is this your girlfriend?”

Loopey grinned. “Ew. No. This stinky weirdo? I’m his sister, Loopey.”

Gosalyn’s face brightened. “He is stinky, isn’t he?” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Gosalyn Mallard. Pleased to meet you.”

“This is Drake, my housemate,” Launchpad said, as DW wandered over to the join them. Better make things clear before Loopey got any ideas into her head like his mother seemed to.

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

“You’ve never asked me about my sister.”

“LP, how can I ask you about someone I don’t know exists?” Drake cut himself off with a huff. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m going to grab a bagel and a coffee then head to Mom and Dad’s. If you don’t mind waiting we can arrive together. I think they’d like that. And, you know, if you want some extra backup. Though I see you made sure to bring some.” Loopey winked.

Well, he had already resigned himself to waiting, what was another few minutes? Launchpad retrieved his coffee then trailed Loopey up to the counter. He waited while she ordered her breakfast then reached out and brushed her sleeve. “Hey, did Mom and Dad tell you they had someone visiting?”

“Yeah, they said it was someone you knew. But they didn’t give me much details beyond that.” Loopey studied his face for a moment. “Okay, big bro. You going to tell me what’s going on? We’ve got a guy visiting whose name is also Launchpad, which is weird, especially because there aren’t too many families who give their kids aviation themed names. And you look like you’re a thousand feet up and just remembered you forgot to fill the fuel tank. What, is he like your evil twin or something?”

Launchpad pushed his nearly empty coffee cup around the counter. His hand trembled against the white ceramic. Which was totally from the excess caffeine on an empty stomach. “Not quite. More like my severely messed up and slightly dangerous twin.”

“Mom and Dad never said we had another brother.”

“Not like that. It’s like, well, the entire universe has a twin. It’s complicated, and I’ll try and explain it to you, or maybe get Drake to. He’s better at it.” And smart enough to make it sound plausible whilst leaving out all the Darkwing stuff. “But I came back because I was worried about Mom and Dad. I just want to make sure he isn’t causing them any trouble.”

Loopey put an arm around his shoulder. “Well then. You’ll definitely want me for back up, huh?”

***

Launchpad let Drake drive again. He was still tired and he could feel his hands trembling. Stupid caffeine. The grass and gardens greened as they pulled up outside his parents’ house, to that little circle of garden that everyone who lived on a large property out here had decided was an acceptable radius to maintain. The house itself was low-set, with a big wrap around porch. It was a strange mix of nostalgia and pure dread that sat in the bottom of Launchpad’s gut.

Beside them, Loopey’s motorcycle rumbled to a stop. Gosalyn stared longingly at the machine. “Would’ve been funner on a motorcycle.” She was pouting because Drake hadn’t let her ride with Loopey. Which apparently she should’ve been allowed because she rode a far more powerful bike all the time. Drake had pointed out that was with her own helmet and Loopey had only brought one.

With any luck, the Negaverse Launchpad would just need a good talking to and DW wouldn’t need to get involved at all. Launchpad drew in a breath, steadied his hands, and got out of the car.

The front door slammed and their mother came barrelling off the front porch. “Launchpad! Loopey! You’re both here!”

“Mom!” Loopey saved him from the embarrassment of the first hug. She pelted past him and threw her arms around Birdie McQuack.

“Hey, sweetheart. Launchpad…” Still clinging to Loopey, Birdie reached out a hand towards her son.

Launchpad felt a smile tug at his lips. “Hi, Mom.” He wrapped his arms right around the both of them. Then introduced her to Drake and Gosalyn.

“You are both welcome here anytime. Any friend of my son,” Birdie said with a knowing wink, “is like a son to me.”

Launchpad flushed. “Mom.” He had to forget the awkwardness. There were other things to deal with. “Where’s the other Launchpad? What’s he gone and done? If you need me to talk to him, or move him on out of here just let me know and…”

Birdie put her hands on her hips. “Now, Launchpad. That poor man needs help. Not to be tossed out in the cold. I think he’s still dealing with a lot of things. He seems to be getting better this last month of so, but…”

“Wait, last month? How long has he been here? I… I thought…”

Birdie bit her lip and, suddenly, she didn’t seem to want to look her son in the eye. “Um, well… it’s probably been about… two months now?”

“Mom! I thought… well, so he was okay, and then he’s done something just now like…”

Birdie shook her head. “I told your father this was a bad idea. No, he hasn’t done anything. Well, just minor things. Like mess with my rosebushes. I don’t know what got into his head but I gave him a firm talking to and he seemed to get the message.”

Launchpad’s fists tightened. “You said on the phone he was making you uncomfortable. If he hasn’t actually done anything why’d you call me out here?” Not that he didn’t want to grab the other Launchpad by the collar and demand to know what he’d been thinking. But he’d been worried! He’d been stressed the whole flight here.

“You know, I really do think he could use your help again. He couldn’t stop talking about what you did for him back in Saint Canard. I feel like your father and I have done all we can for him. But that’s only part of the reason we wanted you here. The other, well, it was mostly your father’s idea…” She trailed off and lowered her gaze.

“Mom,” prompted Loopey. “I thought you told me you just wanted us all back here to spend some time together and all you had to do was convince Launchpad and…”

The gears ground and grated into place in Launchpad’s head. Far too slowly. How could he be such an idiot? “Convince Launchpad,” he said, coldly. “You mean by lying to him and telling him you were worried his potentially dangerous double might do something to hurt you?”

Drake put a hand on his arm. “Okay, LP,” he said, voice low, and a cheesy fake grin on his face like he was trying to convince everyone else that it was, in fact, definitely still okay. “We’ve been here like five minutes. Cool down. Give your parents a chance to explain, and maybe, you know, maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

Launchpad fists unclenched a little and he forced himself to breathe. His mother opened her mouth to say something, but then the growl of an engine cut into the morning air. It wasn’t a plane. A heavily laden down Gator buggy - twin seater, offroad with rollover bar - struggled over the crest of the small hill leading up to the house. The struggling engine let up as it made its way down the gentle slope towards them and grumbled to a halt.

“Okay, buddy, if we both go for the seatbelt at the same time we are never going to get out of this thing.”

“Hang on, Mr McQuack. I’ll get yours first.”

Ripcord McQuack and the Negaverse Launchpad were both crammed into the Gator. It was designed for two people but they were clearly pushing it to its load limit. Launchpad stuffed his fingers down between their legs to find the seatbelt release.

“Ow!” Ripcord just about rolled out of the driver’s seat. He rubbed at the side of his leg. “If you insist on wearing those things could you at least file the blasted spikes down?”

Launchpad’s double pushed the studded bracelet around his wrist self consciously. “Sorry.”

Launchpad swallowed and his hand went to his beak. Gosalyn had patched him up good and those wicked looking spikes hadn’t left any permanent marks. But it was hard to forget the sting when they'd torn into his beak, wrapped around his double’s fist.

Ripcord smiled faintly. “Come on. I’m just kidding, son.”

Son? Launchpad felt his fists tightening again.

The other Launchpad caught sight of him and grinned. “Hey, if it isn’t my better half! Didn’t think I’d get to see you again.” He undid his seatbelt and swung out of the Gator. The whole machine rocked.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

Ripcord stopped just short of Launchpad and flexed his hands down by his sides, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. He forced a smile. “Hey, son.”

Launchpad swallowed. All he had to do was open his arms; that’s all his father was waiting for. Ripcord wouldn’t barrel into a hug if it wasn’t something his kids wanted. All he was waiting for was an invitation. Launchpad kept his hands stubbornly at his sides. “Hi, Dad.”

The faint smile faded. “It’s good to see you again. How long has it been?”

Yeah, try and make him feel bad. “You two seem to be getting on really well. Which is great, but Mom kind of gave me the impression you were worried he was going to cause trouble.”

The Negaverse Launchpad held up his hands. “Hey, woah. I told you guys, I know I’m a bit rough around the edges, but if I do anything you don’t like all you’ve gotta do is tell me.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” said Birdie. “You haven’t done anything.”

Ripcord locked his gaze with Launchpad’s. “Well, we had to do something to get our son to actually come visit us once in the next decade.”

Birdie put a hand to her face. “Rip, no.”

Ripcord jerked at the sound of his wife’s voice, and then flushed.

“I knew it! I came because I thought you guys needed my help. Now I find out its just Dad trying to trick me!”

Drake winced. “LP…”

His father wouldn’t quite look at him. “I wasn’t trying to trick you, it’s just… well what was I supposed to do? And seriously, how fast did you drive here? Your mother called you yesterday. So apparently it isn’t that difficult to get your butt out here.”

“Because I was worried! I can’t believe this!” Launchpad stomped past his father.

The Negaverse Launchpad raised up his hands. “Hey, listen, I never meant to cause any trouble. I just needed somewhere to go, and…”

He’d been heading for the Gator. But Launchpad stopped and glared at his double. “Why are you even here,” he growled, voice low.

“You told me not to go back to Saint Canard! I needed help, I couldn’t think of anyplace else to go.”

Launchpad stabbed a finger into his chest, hard, and didn’t really care that the jab brought a very dangerous look to his double’s eyes. Yeah, go on. Get violent in front of his family. But it stayed just that, a look. “Stay away from family. You’ve got your own, don’t you? Maybe go back to them.” Then he hoisted himself into the Gator, started her up, and tore back over the hill, towards his family’s hanger. He needed to clear his head. And there was only one surefire way to do that.

***

“Dad, this is super awkward,” Gosalyn whispered.

Her father flushed. “Gosalyn, shush!”

Everyone ignored her anyway. Loopey made the first move. She went over to her father and put her arms around him. “Hey, daddy.”

At least, as far as she could get around his broad torso anyway. Ripcord broke into a smile, one that was not forced like the one he’d given Launchpad, and engulfed his daughter in his arms. “You’re trying to be cute to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

“Totally.”

It was probably the right thing to do. The poor guy definitely looked like he needed the hug. Gosalyn wasn’t sure what had gotten into Launchpad. Sure this was awkward, but he was kind of being a jerk to his father. She fought with her dad her all the time. But if she hadn’t seen him in ages she’d at least give him a hug and be happy about it.

Loopey turned to the Negaverse Launchpad. “I’m still not real sure what’s going on here. But I’d… I’d like to talk to you. I just think I need to go talk down my actual brother first.”

Launchpad smiled faintly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Well,” said Birdie, “Lets go inside and we’ll get your something to eat.” She gestured for them all to follow her. Ripcord trailed inside behind her. He still looked down in the dumps.

The Negaverse Launchpad fell into step beside her father. “Um listen… ah… Drake. I’m real sorry about, you know, trying to light you on fire. We’re going to have to spend time together here anyway so… we don’t have to be friends. But I’m not your enemy is all I’m saying.”

Drake scowled up at him. “Well, I guess you’ve managed to behave yourself here for the last few months. As long as you don’t do anything that requires a certain dashing superhero get himself involved, I’m willing to give you a chance.”

Gosalyn huffed. Her father may have been fooled but she was not so easy to trick. She shouldered past the Negaverse Launchpad, which kind of hit him in the back of the knee, and just resulted in spinning her around. She recovered, and fixed a glare on Launchpad’s startled double. “I’ve got my eye on you,” she hissed, and then turned and ran into the house.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” she just caught Launchpad saying as the screen door slammed behind her.

Well, he wasn’t so dumb now was he?

The next half an hour was… weird to say the least. First Birdie showed them pictures of Launchpad as a kid. Which was about the only interesting part. Gosalyn grabbed the pictures off her and shuffled through them. Baby Launchpad was so cute, and chubby, and falling over in nearly every photo she imagined that, at that age, when he crashed out of something, he’d bounced. “Dad, where are your baby photos?”

“In a box. Which I burnt. Then sunk.”

Ripcord was pretty quiet but every couple of minutes he’d fidget, get up, and ask something like: “I’m going to the kitchen, does anyone want another cup of tea. Or a snack?” Then go and push a few things around in there, even through no one actually wanted anything. Then he’d come and sit back down and stare forlornly at the centre of the table.

Birdie and her Dad seemed to be having a fairly normal, if boring, adult conversation. At least until Birdie asked: “So, do you and Launchpad have any plans for the future?”

“Er…” her father absentmindedly stirred the tea he’d finally let Ripcord get for him after he’d asked for the third time. “Pardon?”

Ripcord put a hand to his face. “Birdie,” he said, voice low. “For the last time they’re not a couple.”

Drake turned pink. “Wait… what?”

Gosalyn shot to her feet. “Mr McQuack, I think I will have that snack after all.”

“Sure, kiddo. You want me to come and…”

“No, I can get it.” Gosalyn ran into the kitchen. Her shoulders slumped and she let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” She made her way out the kitchen door and onto the porch. She breathed deep the desert air. It was a little dry, but better than awkward adult conversations. She rubbed her hands together. “Now, what trouble can I get into around here?”

***

Chapter 3

[lilrexsoka]

Second Last day...

I’m going to be honest and say I have yet to even start working on the last prompt. Oops. Oh well, what happens happens. 

I also changed the rating of the series to a ‘T.’ You’ll see why. 

Tagging: @officialrexsoka

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698138/chapters/65370835

Read it here, or below:

Rating- T

Tag Warnings- Strong Implications

It had just been another after-battle celebration, one filled with victorious ramble and laughter as the troops retold their latest fight. It had gone right for the Republic once again and there were promises of drinks upon their return to Coruscant. Nothing seemed strange, rather than the fact that the Generals had rushed to return to the cruiser. Rex had merely assumed another problem had arisen.

What he hadn’t expected was being summoned by the Jedi, along with his men, for a briefing. This wasn’t a normal mission; instead, Anakin told them that special guests would be arriving with a cry for help. He suggested they remain prepared, in the occasion that efforts were to be taken, while Master Kenobi gave his battalion their own orders. It was only when a shiny spoke up, questioning who the supposed visitors were that Rex truly realized what was happening.

“Good question,” General Skywalker told the trooper with a sideways smile. “I’m happy to say that Commander Tano will be paying us a little visit with some friends of hers.”

Ahsoka. She was… returning? After all those months… she was finally coming back to her men. Permanently? Likely not so… but there was always a chance. Rex knew how hopeful he could remain with situations that leaned heavily on the bad side of the odds.

He couldn’t think about that then. She was coming back, finally. What had she been up to? Where had she been all that time? Had she changed? Had she figured herself out, or was there another reason behind the visit? Anakin had said she would be arriving with troubles… what could those struggles possibly be? And who were the mysterious ‘friends’ the General had referred to?

The clone did not ask any of the many questions running through his head. He needed to focus on the things he knew, and that was the fact that he would get to speak to Ahsoka once again. His heart beating with nervous excitement, he let his men mingle and whisper conspiratorially. Maybe they were just as ecstatic to hear the news as he, but he doubted they really felt as deeply for her, nor did they truly understand the importance of seeing her again.

But it didn’t matter. They would all show equal happiness to see her once again. Rex knew it would be selfish to pretend he was more important to her than anyone else. So, he did the only thing he could think of to ensure that he didn’t do anything idiotic or completely unexpected. “Hey, men. How about we all do something for the Commander before she arrives?”

The clones spent the remainder of that time before her entrance busily leaned over buckets and tins of paint, painstakingly laying down every detail of the facial markings that Rex could clearly see in his head. It was as if, with every stroke of the paintbrush, he was slowly bringing her to him faster. It did help; time flew by, and it seemed like he had painted more buckets than the Kaminoans by the end.

She arrived shortly after sixteen hundred; Anakin brought her forward and revealed the troops, shining and standing at attention with their newly painted buckets. Rex hadn’t been keen on getting rid of his Jaig Eyes, but he did hold one of the helmets he had decorated himself. It clearly didn’t matter to her; she was all speechless and starry-eyed at the sight of her former men gleaming with the same markings upon her face.

Rex's mind blanked at first when he saw her; his breath hitched in his throat when the good days with her came rushing back once more. The highlights of the war, he called them, and there hadn’t been many since she had left. But now, here she was, tall and slim and radiating with the skillful power that a Jedi couldn’t let go of.

Their initial reunion was over quickly, interrupted by the blaring of alarms and a new mission. Many words were left unsaid, but Rex held his tongue. It was not the time. It hardly registered when he was promoted to Commander and shipped off to Mandalore because his hopeless brain was cheering over the fact that he would get the chance to fight by Ahsoka’s side once again. He stood through the endless meetings on the way toward the Mandalorian planet, his thoughts and eyes still on her. Sometimes she would look over, catch his gaze and give a small smile. It told him that she was waiting for him as well.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Ahsoka tapped his pauldron and smirked when he turned around and found her. “Do you have a moment, Commander?” she asked with a purr over the last word. It was still weird to hear; Ahsoka had always been the Commander.

“Yeah, I do.” He wasn’t going to deny this chance at finally doing what he had longed to do since that day she had left; speak with her once again, laugh and joke and make everything feel normal again.

She dragged him to one of the war rooms, clearly still knowledgeable of the locations of each room on the cruisers. There was a certain impatience to the way that she dragged him along as if she had something crucial to say.

“What’s with the haste?” the clone had to ask as she let go of his vambrace and turned to face him with wide eyes.

Ahsoka scoffed, already bringing back too many memories. “We haven’t seen each other in months, Rex. Why aren’t you hastier?”

It was a joke. Already, as if there had been just a short span of time between their last meeting, they were exchanging banter. Rex realized that he already felt more comfortable with her now than ever. But things had to feel different. They were both different people, and this was a different time. Could they really go back to how it was? “Well, I have time to take things slow,” he answered. “You’re back now. I don't have to spend each day waiting for you.”

The Togruta suddenly frowned. “I… don’t know if I’m going to stay, Rex.” She bit her lip and then sighed. “I promised Bo-Katan that I would help her take back Mandalore and capture Maul. But after that… I’m not sure.”

Rex set his bucket down on the console beside him and carefully reached out to brush his hands down her arms. He took that moment to really admire how she had grown. She’d nearly caught up to him in height if her montrals were to be considered. Her face had thinned with age, and she was incredibly… stunning. She was beautiful, even if he couldn’t say it out loud. “Could you handle leaving once again?” He hadn’t meant for it to be spoken out loud, but it was better than what he had wanted to say; I don’t think I could handle it if you left again. The Togruta grabbed his wrists in return and shook her head sadly. “Probably not. But I don’t know what will happen,” she answered honestly. “We never do.”

Rex wondered if she wanted to return, even if she was given the chance. It seemed she was happy to see him again… but yet she didn’t seem to want to give a straight answer about anything. “I know what will happen,” the clone murmured. “I’ll miss you.”

“It has been difficult for me as well,” she protested, her gaze hardening. “I was alone for a long time, and being away from you was just as hard. I felt hopeless at a certain point. I had no rock to lean on, nothing. The only thing that kept me motivated was the thought that I would one day see you again.” The Togruta chewed her lip and ducked her montrals. “Which is stupid. I should be excited to see everyone. I am… but you were the one on my mind.” Her gaze returned to his bashfully.

“I get it,” Rex whispered soothingly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he inched her closer to him, close enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m your friend.” And so much more.

Ahsoka lifted her head again to look into his eyes, her bright irises gray in the dim light. She answered him with a smirk. “I thought I told you not to put a label on our relationship.”

It was a tease, of course, but Rex was brought back to that day she told him that there was something between them. Were those words held true to this day? Maybe she still thought that they were something more… though the thought of that squeezed his chest with joy. “Right,” he replied with a chuckle. “Because anything can happen.”

“Yeah,” she sighed breathlessly. Her arms danced up Rex’s and rested on either side of his neck. “Anything.”

Before he knew what was happening, she had pressed her body against his and moved her face closer, until he could feel her breath brush his cheek. There was a moment of hesitation where she was testing his reaction. He couldn’t find the motivation to protest at that moment. So he didn’t.

She pressed her lips to his, tentatively at first. Rex closed his eyes and savoured the contact, something he had only imagined before. Curling his fingers over the swell of her hips, he made sure to hold her close. He had to make this moment count since it was the very first… and possibly the last.

Ahsoka pulled away for a second, running her fingers along the bottom of his jaw. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” she admitted huskily.

Smirking, the clone squeezed her teasingly. “I’m not complaining.”

There was only one other person in the world at that moment, and Rex was holding her in his arms. He’d never truly identified his feelings for her until she had kissed him, and never noticed she must have felt them back until he caught her hint and lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as his arms supported her. Their kiss deepened and Rex stumbled backward under the sudden weight, right into one of the walls where he leaned for support.

He’d never seen Ahsoka in such a light, but now that he had he felt he could never go back. Having her this close, engaged in such an intimate embrace, he let himself forget everything but her. If one of his men had walked into the room, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. The meeting had gone unexpectedly. Rex had assumed they might have talked about the events that had led up to that day, or even shared a tearful hug at most. This was far more than a hug, but there were no complaints to be found.

If there had been search parties looking for them, or meetings going on without their knowledge, it had not stopped them from ignoring everything and having each other for almost a breathless hour.

“This is a better reunion then I could have asked for,” Ahsoka purred, pressing further against his bare chest, straddled over his lap as he sat in a chair. Her skin was delightfully warm against his, almost surreal against the cool, stale air of the room.

And Rex agreed. Of all the years he had spent imagining their future, he had never expected such an outcome. Whatever she called their new relationship, or whatever it would become, she was right. They were not friends.

[aleheartilly]

Squinoa drabble prompt #175, please? :)

Prompt: 175. “Yes, it is a real dragon, but I can explain everything…”

REMAKE

Squall knewit was a bad idea to trust Irvine with leading his team. He just thought Zelland Rinoa would be able to balance out his… weirdness, for lack of a betterword, but he was sorely mistaken.

So now hewas watching his girlfriend and his two best friends… and apparently, their newpet.

Except for alittle, trifle fact: it wasn’t exactly a pet.

“Irvine…it’s… I can’t even…” He dragged a hand down his face. Urgh!

Zellshadowboxed, trying to avoid eye contact. Rinoa took Squall’s hand in hers andsqueezed it. Irvine casually touched his hat.

“Yes, it is a real dragon, but I canexplain everything…”

Squall narrowed his eyes at him. “Youbetter be convincing.”

Irvine cleared his voice. “Yeah. Sobasically a month ago Selphie told me about her new crowdfunding project forTrabia Garden.”

“What of it?” asked Squall. Hestarted to realize that maybe it was a bad, bad idea trusting Irvine. IfSelphie was involved too…

“She told me she wanted something bigbecause they need a lot of money and a concert simply would not cut it. Weneeded something unexpected because we’ve already tried everything we couldimagine. That’s when the girls had their girl night.”

Squall sighed. “You better beconvincing and short.”

“So, you were in Esthar with Zell.Rinoa was all alone and invited the girls over. They watched your father’smovie.”

Oh boy. Squall had the sinkingfeeling he wouldn’t like this. At all.

“Of course Seph was all excitedbecause she saw your father slay a dragon in the movie and she thought it wouldbe such a great idea to remake that movie with a real dragon. Rinoa approved!”

“What!!!” Rinoa and Squall screamedin unison. “I didn’t approve. Selphie just heard the first part of thesentence. She bolted out before I had a chance to finish!” said Rinoa, quicklyturning to her boyfriend and squeezing his hand, for good measure. She reallyhoped Squall didn’t think she was involved in that crazy idea…

“Yeah sure, anyway Seph came to myroom to explain this idea of the movie’s remake. She says, don’t you think it’sa great idea, Irvy, and I say, of course, darling, you have the best ideas. Thenshe says-“

“Irvine, convincing, and short.”

“Yeah, ok, ok! Jeez, I just wanted toexplain everything. So fast forward to two days ago when you assignedthe mission to me, Zell and Rinoa. I go to Seph and say, hi darling, I have amission, and she says, yay Irvy, where are you going? I say, the Island Closestto Hell, and she says-“

“I said short. Please.” Squallpinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a massive headache incoming.

“Ok Commander Grumpy. She asked me tocapture a dragon for her movie-“

Zell stopped shadowboxing. “Just forthe record,” he said, watching Squall, “I said it was a stupid idea.”

Great, even Zell thought it was astupid idea…

“Yeah, well you’re a party pooper so itdoesn’t count-“

“And I also said it was a crazy idea”Rinoa interrupted, squeezing again Squall’s hand. He absentmindedly squeezedback, though it lacked its usual strength.

“Yeah, yeah, duly noted, you both knoweverything. Anyway, we captured the dragon, and basically, here it is!”

Squall watched Irvine’s grin beforedragging his free hand down his face. “You seriously thought it was a good ideacapturing a Ruby Dragon to keep it as a pet?!”

“Not as a pet! We’re not so silly,”said Irvine, crossing his arms on his chest, almost offended. “As an actor!”

Selphie chose that precise moment torun out of Garden and launch herself in her boyfriend’s arms. “Yay, you’reback! Oh my gosh, you brought the dragon too! Thank you thank you thank you!”In her enthusiasm, she let Irvine go to crush both Zell and Rinoa in a painfulbear hug. “Thank you, guys!”

Finally, Selphie turned to Squall. “Wecan keep it, right? I need it for my movie remake! We’ll have a blast! And we’llraise money for Trabia, too! Can we, Squall?”

Squall sighed. He surely wasfacepalming a lot that morning. “It’s a Ruby Dragon,” he said.

“Yeah, so what?” asked Selphie,blinking.

“It’s dangerous. There are childrenin Garden…”

“But Trabia is our sister Garden!They need us! And we need that to help them! Please, Squall! Can we keepit? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Selphie…”

“Two cherries on top!”

“Selphie stop, you’re not making anysense. We need to – hey wait a minute,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Yousaid we’ll have a blast? You don’t mean-“

“I mean exactly what you think Imean. Tee-hee! You’ll be a wonderful knight! Just don’t slay the dragon forreal, ok? It’s soooooo cute, I think I’ll call it Cherry.”

“Selphie-“

“Rinoa will be the Sorceress, of course.Don’t worry Rin, your boyfriend will keep you safe! And Irvy and Zell-“

And so Selphie kept talking and Squall was not able to stop her anymore,and Balamb Garden admitted its first Ruby Dragon pet.

*********

“It was nice of you, you know,” saidRinoa when they finally got back to their apartment, after hours of Selphieplanning her movie remake and Squall trying to convince her it wasn’t such agreat idea keeping an effing dragon in the premises of Garden.

“What?”

“Letting Seph keep the dragon for hermovie,” she answered, throwing her keycard on the coffee table. “It means a lotto her, you know.”

“I’m kind of worried. There are smallchildren here. And the Training Center wasn’t built for monsters like a RubyDragon.”

“Well, you keep T-Rexes in there…”

“Yeah, but dragons are stronger.”Squall pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. He could try and lower thedragon’s strength level with GFs… maybe close off a specific area in theTraining Center… reinforce rules about training for SeeDs and students… it couldwork, but first-

Feeling Rinoa’s eyes on him, Squall openedhis own to watch her curiously. “What?” he asked, a little wearily. She hadthat smile on her face, the one she always sported when she felt she hadfigured something out before he did. It was usually true.

“You’re thinking about what you coulddo to make this safe for everyone and humor Selphie with her movie. Right?”

Squall sighed and nodded.

“You’re so sweet,” said Rinoa, comingcloser to loosely wrap her arms around his waist.

“Trabia is our sister Garden,” heanswered, embracing her, while she raised on her tiptoes to brush her lips againsthis. “If this can help them, then we should at least think about it.”

They were silent for a little while,him thinking about security and her watching him.

“What?” he asked again.

“You always think about people andwhat they need and how to help,” she answered, watching him with love-strickeneyes. “That’s why I love you.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching hishead with his hand. “I love you too.”

“And you don’t realize how you looklike your father when you do that! You’ll be perfect for the movie!”

“…now you’re pushing it.”*******

Author’s note: so, I had fun with this one. Hope it was fun foryou, too. English is my second language and I just checked this one withGrammarly, no beta-reader, but of course I’ll gladly correct mistakes if you’llbe so kind as to point them out.Thanks for asking and sorry for the really late reply

[queenmylovely]

Wedding Party II

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. A game night between friends will surely take off the tension from whatever’s going on with you and Ben. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cussing, building tension, charades 

A/N: This is the third and final (multiple) part(s) of my 500 follower celebration!! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been a minute, whoops. I was planning three parts for this, but I got into the charades so we’re looking at four instead! (p.s. if you want to try to guess the charade movies before the characters do that’s how I tried to write it lol) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part I, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(yet again wonderful gif by @mrbenhardys) 

💖💖💖

Ben couldn’t believe how close he had come to kissing you the other night. He had diverted it last second by kissing your cheek, but even that teetered too far over the line of what was supposed to happen. If fucking someone at Rami’s wedding wasn’t allowed, then developing a full-on crush wasn’t either. But boy was he.

Even though you were the one that had mentioned hearing about him when the two of you first met, he was surprised to see that all of the references to you by his friends hadn’t failed to live up. In fact, he would probably say that what they said didn’t do you justice. Though he wouldn’t advertise it, he had also done a quick instagram stalk and thought you were even more beautiful in person.

Rami hadn’t slipped up like Lucy and mentioned your name specifically when telling him not to sleep with anyone at the wedding, but even so, Ben found all of his focus on you when it came to that rule. Whether it was because you had known of but never met each other for so long or simply because of who you were, you fascinated him.

Which he knew was dangerous in this particular situation. But he reminded himself that he would only have to see you at the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding, and reception. He thought that maybe after that something more could develop, but until then he would have to stay on track.

_

But when Ben got out of the car to head into Rami and Lucy’s building and held the door open for someone behind him, his whole plan was ruined when that person was you.

“Oh, hi!” you said cheerily and he said hi back; you were trying to mask the mixture of excitement and dread you were feeling. Excitement at seeing Ben and spending time with him and dread at seeing Ben and spending time with him.

The two of you walked across the lobby and to the elevator. Ben pushed the button and you waited together. He had the same internal dilemma going on but he just smiled and said, “I can assume you’re going to game night too then?”

“That’s a safe assumption. Haven’t seen you at one of these before,” you pointed out, trying to make casual conversation. The elevator dinged and you both got on, Ben again hitting the button for the correct floor.

“Yeah, my last film had a lot of night scenes and stuff so I was always busy. But that’s in post and my next one will be mainly day shoots so I’ll be able to come to more of these,” Ben explained as the elevator doors opened and the two of you walked into the hallway.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” you commented during the short walk to their front door. You reached up and knocked twice.

“Yep.”

Then at the same time, the two of you sighed. Your heads whipped towards each other in confusion and you were both about to say something in response or question when the door opened.

“Ben! Y/N! You made it, and look at you arriving together, already practicing for the wedding, huh?” was Joe’s excited greeting when he opened the door.

“Hey mate, good to see you,” Ben told Joe, giving him a hug.

“Hey Joe,” you said with a smile as you hugged him. Then you teased, “Did Lucy and Rami hire you as their butler or do you just really enjoy opening doors?”

Ben laughed at what you said even though he didn’t have the full context and you felt your cheeks heat up.

As the three of you walked into the apartment Joe just barked out a laugh and told you, “You’re hilarious.”

You smiled at him, “I try.”

Once you reached the living room, you saw both Rami and Lucy there, setting up the snacks. Gwilym was there as well, but he was pouring a couple glasses of wine. They all put down what they were holding and came over to do the usual greetings and such. Apparently, it was only to be you six because some of the other regulars had other obligations.

After everyone had a little plate of snacks and a glass of red or white, Rami began his usual little spiel at the beginning of game nights, “Alright everyone, welcome to game night. We will be playing team games, so partner up now.”

“Dibs on Gwil,” Joe called out, looking directly at you with a smirk. If only he knew how good he had really gotten you.

You shot back, “That’s fine by me. I’m sure Ben will be a great teammate.”

All the same, Ben shot Joe a quick look that he didn’t understand and you shot Lucy a quick this-wasn’t-my-fault look that she accepted with a nod.

Rami continued, “Great, we have three games lined up, but we can play as many times as we like. Lastly, remember that this is strictly a friendly competition, so no sore losers when Lucy and I beat all of you,”

“Oh it’s on,” Joe replied. Then he and Rami got into a little trash-talk.

Ben laughed and turned to you, “Are you competitive?”

“Well… I suppose that’s something one could say about me,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“I hope I’m not too big of a disappointment then, I’m not the best at these types of things,” Ben said with a slightly awkward smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” you said, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Anyway I’m not nearly as competitive as them.”

You nodded towards Rami and Joe who were jokingly getting in each other’s faces, unable to hold back their own laughter. Ben and you burst into laughter, joining Gwil and Lucy’s at the sight. It took you a second longer to realize that your hand was still on Ben’s shoulder. You only did because Ben had looked at it and you removed it before it became so awkward you had to leave.  

Luckily, Rami and Joe were done with their shenanigans and everyone was ready to start the first game. It turned out to be charades and little slips of paper were quickly divided between the three groups.

Rami and Lucy went first and both were ridiculously quick at guessing each other’s answers. You supposed it came with living together and such as well as being actors.

Then Gwil and Joe were up and they didn’t fare quite as well. For some reason, Joe was being far too elaborate with his acting and would mime putting on a swimsuit, putting on sunscreen, swimming, and then being chased by something just to get Jaws. Gwil was good at the charade as soon as he actually started, but he seemed to overthink every word before he started.

Finally, it was you and Ben. You went first, saying before you started, “Sorry I’m literally the only non-actor here.”

Ben waved you off with a laugh. Then Lucy flipped the timer over and you quickly opened the first slip. It said Jurassic Park and you breathed a quick sigh of relief. Then you pointed at Joe, put your hand to the height of a little kid and did T-Rex arms.

“Jurassic Park!” Ben exclaimed and though Joe said something about that not being fair, you moved on.

Next you mimed taking a ring off and holding it up to your eyes, staring at it intensely.

“Lord of the Rings, next!”

The next one was harder, but you got going. First, you pretended to be eating toast and coffee. Second, you did some characters: one with crossed arms and a frown, one flexing muscles, one reading a book and pushing up glasses, one flipping their hair and giggling, and one pulling their hair and shaking their head.

“Okay, okay, eating and drinking, a meal? Breakfast? Breakfast. And these are different people? I don’t know that first one. Then a jock? A nerd? A pretty girl? Oh, oh! The Breakfast Club!” Ben shouted, looking proud of himself for getting it and you couldn’t help but smile before moving onto the next one.

You ended up getting five before time ran out, just one less than Lucy had on her turn. Now it was Ben’s turn to do the charading and you were ready to be the one guessing.

As you switched spots, Ben whispered to you with a smile, “Good job.”

Trying not to show your happiness at his little praise, you just nodded and returned a whisper of, “Thanks.”

Ben got ready, doing a little jog in place warmup as a joke and you probably laughed harder than necessary. Then Lucy counted down from three and flipped over the timer.

As Ben picked up the first slip, you leaned forward to pay attention.

With a nod, Ben started his first charade. He mimed someone in the shower and for a quick second you pictured what he would look like in the shower. But once you said shower, he moved to the next part, getting out of the “shower” and then whipping back the curtain and pumping his from near his head to in front of him again and again. Then you realized that he was pretending to stab someone.

“Psycho!” you yelled and Ben grinned.

After picking up the next slip the first thing Ben did was scrunch up his face in a snarl, crouching down to all fours and making a hand into a claw, stalking closer to you. You felt a weird mixture of apprehensiveness and something else as he got closer and had to remind yourself this was a clue.

Ben was only about a foot away from your legs before you blurted out, “Cat, uh, lion, tiger!”

Tiger was the one so Ben stood up and then mimed rowing a boat. You thought for a second before quickly stating, “Life of Pi.”

Two more slips later, you were only two away from a tie with Lucy and Rami and you had about thirty seconds on the clock.

Ben snatched up another slip and read it, a frown taking over his face for a second. Then he recovered and started miming drumming. Next he did guitar and keyboards then singing.

“Drums. Ok, guitar, keyboards, oh a band!” you said and Ben nodded before moving on.

Next he started dancing, which you could hardly stop from laughing at, but just because it was cute. He was doing lots of 70’s moves like the hustle, YMCA, John Travolta’s move from Saturday Night Fever, and others you didn���t know the name for.

“The hustle. Um, YMCA? The Village People? Disco?” you said as you tried to stifle your giggles.

Ben nodded quickly and then motioned to keep going.

“Um… a disco… band?” you questioned and got another carry on gesture from Ben. “ABBA?”

After a thumbs up, Ben mimed the sign for movies and then singing and it came to you and you jumped up, “Mamma Mia!”

“Yes!” Ben exclaimed right as Lucy called out time. He came over to you by the couch and brought you into a tight hug that almost lifted you off the ground and you laughed out loud in surprise.

Lucy cleared her throat and you and Ben let each other go quickly, turning to look at her. She just raised an eyebrow and smirked, “You know you two didn’t actually get enough to tie me and Rami.”

“Good thing it was just a friendly competition,” you pointed out with an equally fraught with meaning smile.

“And we have two more games to try and beat you guys,” Ben pointed out, with a regular smile.

“Actually, I think you mean that you have two more games to lose to us,” Joe cut in, breaking all the tension and making everyone laugh good-naturedly.

_

The night went on and in the end Rami and Lucy did win because while they lost to you and Ben in trivia, they beat everyone during taboo. Poor Gwil and Joe didn’t win anything, though they claimed that was because they were out of practice.

Once the games were done, music was turned on and everyone got to chatting. You were talking with Joe and Rami about New York and the other three were talking about their upcoming projects more in depth.

Then you realized your drink was running low and excused yourself to go refill it. What you didn’t see as you were walking over to where the wine was was Ben jumping up and excusing himself to do the same.

Just as you were reaching to grab a bottle, you heard him say, “Allow me.”

You turned to realize he was standing just a step behind you and you slowly placed the bottle in his outstretched hand. Then he reached around you to set down his glass and grab yours and you sucked in a breath at the feeling of him just barely brushing against you.

Ben started pouring the wine and as he was doing so, looked up at you with a hint of a smirk on his face.

You realized you were probably just staring at him with your mouth open so you fixed your face and said, “So is this becoming a thing? Are you always going to make my drinks for me?”

Ben laughed lightly and handed your glass back to you. As he picked up his glass, his arm grazed your waist and you had to physically take a step back so you wouldn’t take one forward and kiss him.

Then you heard loud laughter coming from the couches and you both looked to see Rami sitting on Lucy’s lap, both of them laughing so hard they could barely breathe. You smiled at the joy and Ben looked at you with a smile.

“They’re so in love,” he commented and you nodded, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“I’m so excited for the wedding. It’ll be beautiful,” you replied. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings and not everyone’s meant for it but they are.”

“Really?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, some of them are more in it for the wedding than the actual marriage you know?” Ben nodded. “Luce and Rami want a special day, but it’s more important to them who’s there than what it looks like.”

“I had a mate from primary who must’ve had over 300 people at his wedding. I didn’t even get to talk to him and we had been best mates when we were young, so they’re definitely doing the right thing with quality over quantity too,” Ben told you.

“Wow, yeah. I guess along the same lines I can see what Lucy means. But it was a little much to tell me we couldn’t--” you stopped yourself right before revealing that you weren’t allowed to sleep with Ben to Ben. You hoped that Ben didn’t notice your abrupt stop, but he did, his brows furrowing.

“We couldn’t…?” he asked, his thoughts flashing to his conversation with Rami.

“I just-- we, like, the guests, couldn’t-- well shouldn’t-- or it’d be better to--”

“Hey Y/N, who was it from our class that got married recently with that wild theme wedding?” Lucy called over to you, and you quickly took it as a chance to get out of this conversation with Ben.

So you turned to Lucy and as you spoke, and slowly walked over to where they were, leaving Ben to either stay where he was alone or join everyone else in the conversation, “It was Amanda. And the theme was that elf… village? From Lord of the Rings, the one where Cate Blanchett lived.”

“Lothlórien,” Gwil informed everyone.

“Sure. Some of it went over my head, but it was pretty,” you commented. By that time, Ben had taken a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours. The conversation turned into a debate about theme weddings but it was hard to stay fully focused with Ben’s warmth interrupting your thoughts. Those damn thighs aren’t fair, you complained to yourself.

_

This time, you were the first to get up to leave since you had brunch with a friend the next morning.

“Are you good to drive?” Lucy asked since you had had three glasses of wine.

“Oh, I took an uber here, so I was just going to take another one back,” you answered.

“This late at night?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

“Well I always kinda take ubers this late…” you mumbled.

“You know what? I have something tomorrow too, I can take you home. I’ve only had a glass and a half,” Ben suggested, holding up his half full glass as proof.

“Oh, you don’t have--” you started but were interrupted.

“Per-fect!” Lucy said with a smile and you resigned yourself to accepting the ride.

You and Ben gathered your things and then said your goodbyes, getting hugs and kisses from all, especially Lucy who was four glasses in and a little tipsy.

Then you and Ben walked out of the apartment, following the same path you had taken together only a couple hours ago. You chatted about this and that but you were more focused on how your hands would brush against each other every fifth step or so than the conversation.

That is until Ben said, “So you’ve never used my number.”

You weren’t expecting that so you coughed in surprise before answering, “Well, I texted you saying it was me so you had mine too.”

“Well… okay,” Ben said a little sheepishly.

“Okay,” you responded before pulling out your phone. You went to your Instagram dms and found a meme that you thought he would like and sent it to him. “There you go, I used it.”

Ben took out his phone when he got the notification and opened it, laughing when he saw what it was, “Oh my gosh, this is so cute. You know I have a dog.”

“You do?” you asked, getting excited.

“Yeah her name’s Frankie. Here,” he replied, going to his home screen where you could see a picture of just about the cutest beagle you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my goodness, she’s adorable. Ugh I love her,” you said, going a little goo-goo at the sight of the dog. It helped that owning a dog was always an item on your pro list for guys.

“She’s the best. Oh, here we are,” Ben said, gesturing to his car.

The two of you got in, but before he turned on the engine Ben said, “Here, watch this video of her.”

Ben leaned over the console to show you and you met him halfway, both of you turning your eyes down to the phone to watch Frankie running around what you would assume is Ben’s apartment, fresh from a bath. You and Ben laughed at her antics and when she jumped up on the couch and wiggled around on her back, Ben’s groan in the video and groan in real life synched up and you lost it.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh too, but he said, “Hey, that left a stain, that’s a suede couch.”

That just made you laugh harder and soon both you and Ben were leaning on each other for support as you tried to catch your breath. As your laughter finally died down, you looked up at Ben, whose face was only a few inches from yours and as a couple more giggles passed your lips, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ben’s. You looked back at his eyes and caught him doing the same, biting your lip in anticipation. Both of you leaned a little closer, a little closer, until you were so close you could feel Ben’s breath on your lips.

Then your phone’s ringtone went off, louder than reasonable and you both jumped in surprise. You picked it up again and saw that it was Lucy calling.

“Yes, Lucy?” you answered with a bit of a sigh, your rational mind returning and reminding you that you weren’t supposed to kiss Ben.

“I forgot to tell you to text me when you get home!” she practically yelled and you held the phone away from your ear. You could hear Rami shushing her on the other end.

“Okay, I will, don’t worry, Luce,” you reassured her before saying a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Ben had turned on the engine and was starting to pull out of the parking space.

“She just wanted me to let her know when I get home,” you explained.

“Yeah I heard,” Ben said with a laugh. “Just, uh, tell me where to go.”

“Oh yeah,” you replied, remembering that he was taking you to your house and not back to his.

💖💖💖

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