#and that is exactly the way I remember Hera from my childhood

[howhow326]

Congratulations Kaos, you officially have the most accurate adaptation of Hera in 2,000 years because she is actually scary.

Edit: This post was lowkey a mistake but also I'm here for it lol

Ok so when I made this I didn't know that the writers made Hera cheat with Poseidon and I agree that is bad/inaccurate/not very demure and mindful.

I stand by my original statement that Hera screwing that one girl was good and yall can fight me on it

[kanerallels]

For day two of @kaneraweek, behold my latest fic! Canon compliant, set after A New Dawn and before SWR

Read on AO3

It used to be, Hera didn’t have to fix nearly as many appliances on the Ghost. Sure, the caf maker had broken down once or twice, and obviously the ship itself needed upkeep all the time.

But before Kanan had joined her crew, she’d kept the kitchen appliances to just the caf maker, the stove it had come with, and a cooling supply unit. Basic and easy, nothing too fancy.

When Kanan had arrived, he’d almost immediately started pestering her about buying all manner of “completely essential” appliances. First the therma-slice for toasting bread, then a blender. By the time he started on his waffle maker vendetta, Hera had instituted the “buy it with your own money and you’d better have a really compelling argument when you bring it home” rule.

This had slowed Kanan a little, and had seen him heading back to the store to return a few items. But he remained stubborn on others of the appliances— and Hera had to admit, his arguments could be very compelling. Mainly the ones that resulted in some of his more delicious dishes. 

Luckily for him, the meals were making the repairs worth it. At the moment, Hera was working on repairing the sonic dishwasher— although she was pretty sure it was a lost cause. Kanan had found it second hand a few months ago, and it had seen better days, to say the least. The filtration system was barely clinging to life, and as a result the dishes were receiving more of a gentle dousing than a proper scrub.

We’re probably going to have to go back to handwashing dishes, she thought, sliding out from under the counter where it was installed. Setting the spanner she was holding back into the tool box, she rose to examine the parts scattered across the countertop.

“Here’s hoping some of this is salvageable,” she muttered— to whom, she wasn’t sure. She’d sent the other two crewmembers on a supply run. Kanan had been planning to pick something up for dinner, and Chopper had been sent with him to monitor exactly how much he spent. The man had a bad habit of spending far too much on seasoning.

As she started picking over the parts, a new song hummed out of the tiny speaker she had set up a little ways away, playing one of the music chips she and Kanan had found at the black market on Lothal. To her surprise, Hera recognized the song.

It was a song she’d heard a hundred times growing up, one her mother had loved. A swell of emotion pushed through Hera’s chest as she remembered Eleni Syndulla dancing and singing along to the song.

Swaying a little in time to the music, she closed her eyes, trying to remember the way she’d moved. It had been years since Hera had actually danced, and she’d never been the best dancer. But hearing this song, remembering her childhood, she found herself wanting to.

The sounds of the violin hummed through the air, and Hera hummed with it as she moved, her steps graceful as she followed the patterns her mother had traced on their kitchen floor when she was so much younger.

Growing more confident, she lost herself in the music, finding her rhythm much more quickly than she would have expected. Spinning, her steps were quick and light as she twirled again— and then came face to Kanan, who was standing in the doorway.

Hera froze, shock cutting through her. Judging by Kanan’s expression, he was just as surprised. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I just came to tell you that we’re back— I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” Hera said, her voice a little harsher than she’d meant it to be. She felt a flash burning across her face and turned, intending to move towards the radio and turn it off, but Kanan’s voice stopped her.

“I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I can’t.” Hera paused, realizing how silly her words sounded. “Well. I don’t. Usually.”

“Ah.” Kanan’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. Perhaps he was thinking, as Hera was, of the weight behind those words. Behind the culture she’d come from, where dancing wasn’t just dancing, but the job, far too often, as a slave.

He was the first one to break the silence. “I’ve never seen anyone dance like that. Would you… could you show me how?”

Hera, who’d been in the middle of turning off the speaker, stopped with her hand on the knob. Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned at Kanan. “What?”

“I’m wondering if you’ll teach me,” he said, a flash of self consciousness crossing his face.  His tone stayed easy and matter of fact as he said, “If you don’t mind.”

Hera stared at him for a minute. “If this is some half-hearted attempt to flirt with me—”

“It’s not!” Kanan protested. “Listen, I like dancing. And I like learning new things. This is the perfect combo.” Pausing, he frowned at her. “And I’ll have you know my flirting is never half-hearted.”

Hera snorted with amusement despite herself. “How could I make that mistake?” She paused, thinking over the moves she knew. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. This dishwasher isn’t going anywhere anyways.”

“Does that mean the repairs aren’t going well?” Kanan asked as Hera turned up the song, filling the room with the vibrant sounds of the violin.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t pin all your hopes on that thing,” Hera said wryly, turning to face him. “Okay. Let’s give this a shot— I haven’t done this since I was a little girl, and my mother taught me by being my partner. So here goes nothing.”

“I have utter faith in you, Captain Hera,” Kanan assured her, taking the hand she offered him. His fingers laced between hers, and Hera felt a fleeting shiver go down her spine as he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Ready when you are.”

Pushing the feeling away, Hera said, “Okay. Move with me.”

She started to take the first step— and nearly tripped over Kanan’s feet as he moved in the opposite direction. Cursing, he said, “Sorry, sorry. Wrong way.”

Clamping down on the urge to laugh, Hera said, “Let’s start again— this time a little slower.”

Step by step, she slowly walked him through the dance until he was confident and the song had long since finished. Then, she went back over to the speaker, and started it up again. “Let’s see how you do a little faster,” she told him.

His grin was confident and his grip was sure as Kanan took her hand. And then they were moving, feet tapping the ground in sync with the tempo of the drums.

Their start was a little off center, Kanan stumbling a little. But then he found his balance, catching up with her easily. He’d paid good attention to her instructions, and it paid off. Before long, any former missteps were long forgotten as they fell into the rhythm of the dance together.

They were moving in perfect tandem as they spun around the room, the drums and violin echoing through the kitchen. For what felt like forever, Hera could only feel Kanan’s hand in hers, the song humming through her veins, and a warm certainty that came from having the right partner. One who could keep up with her, no matter what.

And then, with a final burst of music, the song was done, and Hera was standing still, hand in hand with Kanan in the middle of the kitchen. Her heart was pounding against her collarbone, and as Kanan grinned at her, she found she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

“Not bad, dear,” she said as another song came onto the speaker, this one slower and smoother. 

“Thanks,” Kanan said. “I’m a little better at dances that I’ve actually had some time to practice, though.”

There was a question in his voice, a hint of a challenge, and Hera couldn’t resist meeting it. “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, her voice dry but teasing.

The smile that crossed his face sent a warm flutter through her, and he caught her other hand, bringing it up to his shoulder. “Then by all means, judge,” he said, and with a smooth step they were dancing again, this time a slow waltz like they danced in the Core Worlds.

He hadn’t been wrong— Kanan was good at this, keeping time easily and guiding her gently. As they circled the kitchen, he quietly asked, “I’m assuming that song means something… personal to you?”

“It does,” Hera said, her gaze dropping to her feet. She counted her steps for a minute before she said, “It’s… my mother used to dance to that song. It makes me think of her.”

For the first time, there was the tiniest hitch in Kanan’s stride. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said. “You don’t have to—”

“No— I want to,” Hera said, finding that it was true. That here, her fingers laced with Kanan’s, she wanted to tell him about her mother.

She couldn’t remember a time when that had happened before.

“It was when I was little,” she told him. “During the Clone War, when we were in the bomb shelters. She would show me the steps to this dance to distract me from the explosions. And to keep me from going to look at the ships.”

Kanan chuckled. “Sounds like you.”

“Hmm. Even when we weren’t in danger, I always seemed to hear that song around her.” Hera smiled at the memory. “I even found her and my father dancing to it once— and he’s not exactly one for dancing. But he— he did it for her, because he loved her. And she loved that song.”

Biting her lip, she paused, then said, “She died when I was thirteen.”

There was no response, and Hera dared a glance at Kanan’s face, wondering what she’d find. His eyes were gentle as he said, “The Empire?”

Hera gave a quick nod, feeling her throat tighten. “After that, it was just me and my father. And he was so focused on leading the Rebellion on Ryloth… it was only a few years before I took off on my own.”

Letting out a shaky exhale, she said, “But I still think of her when I hear that song.  And that dance is… it’s hers, to me.”

“When I asked,” Kanan said slowly, “I didn’t mean to pry into something personal—”

Hera shook her head, cutting him off. “No, no— you weren’t. It was… it was nice to tell someone else about it. She would have liked that.” She hesitated and then added before she could think better of it, “She would have liked you.”

Kanan’s eyes widened, and then a pleased look flashed across his face. “I’m sure I would have liked her,” he told her, his voice deep and sincere. The warmth in his voice made her suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on her waist, his eyes on her. And… it wasn’t in a bad way.

Kriff. Hera held back her wince. This was the sort of thing she was trying to ignore, but had been finding harder and harder to miss lately. Namely, Kanan. His kindness, and his warmth, and how he treated her. Like she mattered, like his captain. Like a friend and… sometimes something more.

And she shouldn’t admit how much she enjoyed those times. Because she didn’t have time, she had to focus on the cause. Nothing mattered more than that. Nothing could.

But when he joked with her, or made a point of making one of her favorite meals, or called her “Captain Hera” in that voice, it could be very hard to remember that nothing was supposed to matter more. 

Even now, dancing with him in the kitchen, his hands gentle but firm, her mind whispered, What if I could have this, and still fight?

You know you can’t, she told herself. You’ll put it all first, and he deserves better than that. He wouldn’t stick around anyways, not for long. Not with that. No one could wait for that long.

“Hera?”

Kanan’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she glanced back up to see him studying her with concern. “You okay?” he asked. “You looked like you were a thousand miles away.”

“Fine,” Hera said, pushing the thoughts aside. “Just— just thinking. We should probably go get the rest of the supplies inside, and—”

“Hera.”

This time, it wasn’t a question, and Force, why did he have to look at her like that? Like she was the only thing in the galaxy, like the stars themselves were shining in her eyes. Hera tried to force herself to step back, to move away.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. For once, she wanted something for herself, one thing that wasn’t a part of her cause. And so she stepped closer to Kanan and cautiously pressed her lips against his.

He went very still, and then he was kissing her back, hand at her waist pulling her closer and his free hand moving up to cup the side of her face. And his response was far from cautious. It was warm and gentle and so completely Kanan that Hera felt almost weak at the knees.

She hadn’t thought that it would be like this. So… right. Like she’d found a part of herself she was missing. And now that she found it, how was she ever supposed to be without it?

A clatter of metal on metal, and loud binary bwomping jerked her back to reality, and Hera pulled back, breaking the kiss. She stared at Kanan, who was just as wide-eyed as she was, and then turned to where Chopper was sitting in the doorway. “What the kark is going on in here?” the droid demanded. “We were supposed to bring in the supplies.”

“You’re right,” Hera said, shocked that her voice could stay so steady when she felt like she was shaking to pieces. “Both of you get started on that— I need to finish up here. And no arguments, Chopper,” she added as the droid started to beep a protest. “This isn’t a discussion.”

Chopper grumbled something sulky, and rolled back down the hall. Leaving Hera alone. With Kanan. Who she had just kissed.

Forcibly shoving the memory out of her mind, she told him, “You should go, too.”

“So… we’re not going to talk about—”

“No,” Hera said, keeping her voice firm and steady. “I am going to apologize, and then we’re not going to talk about it ever again.”

Because that was all she could do. She couldn’t have Kanan and the cause. There was no way. So she met his gaze and said, her voice soft, “I’m sorry. Now, please… go help Chopper.”

His gaze was unreadable as he studied her for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Hera echoed, and turned back to the pieces of the dishwasher scattered across the counter, trying to pretend like he wasn’t still standing behind her, watching her. Trying to pretend like she couldn’t still feel the ghost of his lips on hers.

She heard him step closer to her, then pause. “Hera? Thank you.”

Hera wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or burst into tears. “For what?”

“For the lesson. And… for telling me. Trusting me. It means a lot.”

With that, he turned and left, footsteps echoing inside the hallway, leaving Hera in a swirl of emotions she didn’t know how to put back together. That was so, so stupid. Why did I have to do that?

It wouldn’t be easy to go back after this, but she’d find a way. A way to pretend they were just friends, that he didn’t mean more to her. She’d remind herself that the cause came first, that there were people who needed help, and go back to being his boss and his friend.

But. In the latest parts of the night, when she couldn’t hold it back, the memory of the kiss would resurface. And she would know that it was worth it. And that if she had the choice, she wouldn’t have changed it. She only would have stopped him from walking away.

[firerose]

Dark-Seven part three - Jason

I apologize @reading0mens for the longtime it took me but I love Jiper angst sooo it got a bit long XD, feedback would be cool :)

- The day Gea was destroyed marked the end of the giant war

- But for Jason, it was the most horrible day of his life

- He wakes up in the infirmary without Leo and Piper

- They are dead Chiron tells him

- Leo gave his life to kill Gea and the eagles could not catch Piper on time

- Jason refuses to believe it until he runs out and sees her

- Her bloodied corpse, her lifeless eyes they will hunt him until the end of his life

- He wanted to grow old with her

-As he gently rocks her in his arms he tries to understand

- Why would Hera let her die after she screwed so much with her life already?

- Why would she let Leo sacrifice himself in such a violent way?

- He knows the truth deep in his heart

-As he watches Piper‘s body burn among the others he learns what real hate feels like

-It scares him

- He was supposed to be Hera‘s champion, a loyal soldier to the gods

- His pain gets worse when he is alone

- Percy and Annabeth leave Camp for school

- Hazel and Frank go back to Camp Jupiter

- He spends his time alone in his cabin living in the vision he saw when the gods came to help them

- Piper is alive whispering soft words to him that everything is going to be okay

- That he is a person instead of Hera‘s shallow Champion

- They even help him to continue his designs for the minor gods temples

- But soon his love for her turns to desire

- He knows that she is not really with him and who is responsible for it

- He does not want to sit around anymore doing exactly what Hera would want him to do

-“I…..I can‘t do this anymore Pipes.“, He tells her one night his body trembling in despair

-“Yes you can Jason! You are a hero that always stepped up to do what‘s needed.“ She says her words piercing into Jason‘s heart like her dagger

-To him, they feel like an accusation

- All of the sorrow and anger boils up in him

- He does not notice the wind around him growing stronger, or the thunder from outside

- He is tired of Hera, tired of being too perfect

- The papers are thrown across the room and he stands his body shaking with rage

- A yell of defiance leaves him and the storm sends lighting to hit the Cabin

- The Campers find Jason sitting still in smouldering remains

-His eyes are closed tears running down his cheeks but there is a smile on his face

- Invisible chains put on by Hera have just been broken

- Jason never felt more alive

-“I‘m done being their servant Chiron and you should be too.“, that is Jason‘s goodbye, a reminder that the centaur should be a protector not a trainer of child soldiers

- No one follows him when he leaves not even Nico

-They all saw the cold bitterness in Jason once-loyal blue eyes, they all feel his calm aura like wolve ready to strike everyone that comes to close

- Jason is glad for their fear

- He does not want anyone innocent getting hurt in his crazy plan

- Jason fly away but still stays close to the sea

- The papers of the minor gods are destroyed but he can still remember all of their names

- Kymopolaia is the first one he calls on the beach of Montauk

- She emerges from the water in all her glory and Jason can‘t suppress his joy

-He acts like Jason grace always did

- Flattering, his compliments even making the violent storm goddess blush

- Only when she wonders why he is here that he shows her a few of his true emotions

- He talks about how Hera forced his mom to give him to the wolves

- He tells her about all the friends that he lost to Hera‘s obsession with tormenting him, how much Piper and Leo gave him hope for a home, how the queen of the gods let them die

-When he is finished high waves are fluting the beach while Kymopolaia cries in pity for the young hero

- Jason‘s apology enrages her even more

-“The twelve Olympians will never respect or honour anyone who is not useful to them.No matter how many temples I build for them you are just a goddess of lower rank just like I was just their servant. I would just waste my time trying to fix their mistakes and in the end, neither of us would get what they want.“, He says true regret in his voice

-Poseidon's daughter grits her teeth while high waves flute the beach as her body is shaking

- Jason confirmed what she has been dreading since the war ended and her father made up excuses to exclude her from his royal court

-He comforts her and he can tell how he stirs up her hate for Posidon

- Jason can barely hide his satisfaction, his plan is working just like hoped it would

- He advises her to turn the sea against her father, it‘s her birthright after all

- Kymaploaia‘s eyes fill with a mad gleam, a whirlpool around her shows agreement

- She is not afraid to take on the sea, hundreds of tormented river gods will stand behind her angry because they had been forbidden to kill the humans that hurt them every day

-After Jason wished her good luck she leaves and he lets out a laugh of satisfaction

-Words can be more powerful than lightning he learned that from Piper

- A part of him still despises what he has become but he tells himself that Hera turned him into this

- She created a weapon and now she has to deal with the consequences

- He continues to travel all over the country flying over it with his storm horse, never staying at one place for long as he is sure the eyes of Hera are on him

- Every stop brings a talk to another minor god

-Hypnos and Morpheus are easy to convince

-Every mortal needs to sleep and dream so why are they never invited to mount Olympus throne room?

- Jason orders them to rebel against the Olympians in the cities of the demigod Camps first

-It is the only way to ensure that his friends will stay out of his way

- Aelous is harder

- The mad lord of the winds always hated demigods and he is not pleased when Jason holds the dozens Venti he sends to kill him still in the air with one move of his hand

-Jason uses no charm on him but instead reminders of all the times Zeus forced him to deal with storm spirits all by himself

-The idea that he can banish the storm spirits once and for all after Zeus is gone finally convinces him

-But Jason still wants the god to know that he is the leader of this rebellion who should not be messed with

- So he concentrates and moves his hands to control the storm spirits again

- He can feel their anger through the winds but he still manages to force them to turn into wolves their lightning eyes blazing with hatred

-“You will serve me from now on.“, He orders them through his mind his voice sounding like thunder in their heads and they indeed bow their heads before him

-Aelous only laughs at this sight

-“You have changed Jason Grace! If you are ready to rebel against your father just because of the Aphrodite girl and that son of Hephaistus then you are just as crazy as me.“ The lord of the winds jokes when Jason is about to leave with his new wolves

-“I‘m just ready to do anything for the people I love.“, Jason replies coldly

-From Olympus Hera hears those words too

- They seem a weak excuse for all the chaos Jason has caused

-The sea has been stormy for days swallowing ships and fluting beaches while the cities are fluted by rivers

- Zeus is barely able to control his winds and so the weather jumps from hot to cold in minutes

The gods own children are sleeping alongside hundreds of mortals unable to help their parents

- Hera knows that Jason will make things even worse if he is not stopped now

- But her love for him or rather the love for his loyalty to her is what makes her believe that she can bring him back

- Not herself she is not that naive

- Only one person can and even though she is gone Hera has figured a way to use her against Jason

-If only she could see the cruelty of her tricks

- Jason begins to hear Piper‘s voice again in his dreams

- She is not soft with him anymore

- Instead, she tells him how terrible he has become, that he acts like a pathetic child just because he failed to save her

-He yells that he is doing all this to get justice for and Leo but that only makes her laugh so loud that he has to cover his ears to drown it out

- Sometimes he also hears Leo mocking him, saying that he can‘t believe he ever looked up to him

- Jason wakes from those nightmares in sweat and tears until he decides that sleep is overrated

- He feels more comfortable moving around with his wolves anyway, it reminds him of old times, his childhood

- Unfortunately, his sleep deprivation changes his methods to gain more allies

- The nature spirits (Nymphs and dryads), aren‘t met with his charm but instead little patience and quick anger

- To Jason they are dumb, Zeus hit on them for centuries why are they so unwilling to turn against him?

-He tries to stay calm but their talks about how his plan is insane to remind him of Piper and the things she said in his dreams

- Not only once does he command his venti to burn whatever three or plant annoys him too much, the wolves happily oblige and tore the spirits apart with their electricity sparking teeth

- More and more Jason Grace begins to remind them of Zeus, unforgiving, cruel to anyone that does not obey his wishes

-When a young dryad girl dares to say that to Jason out loud he snaps

-A huge thunderstorm is summoned, lightning blasting the girl loved ones

-The forest burns in bright orange flames and Jason uses the winds to direct them towards the girls three

- She dies screaming in the flames while storm wolves bite at her to electrocute

- Jason grins at her Beggs as he looks directly into her beautiful dark eyes, Hera has those too

- Nature decides to join him out of fear

- The gods will be mad but it is the only way to avoid Jason‘s rage

-Jason feels powerful riding past them on his horse while they bow

-He can feel the wind gods around him ice cold, hot like fire

-On mount Otrys he calls for Hecate as the next step for his plan

- When she ignores his call he does not care

- Electricity runs through his veins power, it does not matter if he has to wait a bit until Olympus falls

- Suddenly a voice calls him making his blood turn cold

-He turns his head to look behind him and as expected no one is there

-He tells his rising panic that it was not real, he just hasn‘t slept for four days

- The temperature drops, darkness crawls over the hilltop, he feels watched

-“I‘m here Jason it‘s okay.“, Her voice is sweet close and yet it makes him shiver in fear 

- It can‘t be her

- Jason draws his sword and gets on his horse, the wolves growl restlessly as they can feel their master distress

-“Who are you? Show yourself!“, He demands despite his shaking voice

- Her laughter is loud wild like the summers breeze, he has heard it a thousand times before

-His eyes fly around frantically there is only the shadows of the rising night

-“I‘m your girlfriend Jason! Did you already forget that?“, the girl that can‘t be her asks amused

- A person stands in front of him out of nowhere

-Jason‘s sword falls to the ground, his eyes fill with tears

-Her clothes are nothing she would wear and yet he would recognize her blind

-Piper McLean, the love of his life stands there in a white long dress, her dark brown hair falls loose around her shoulders, her eyes of lighter brown are reaching into his soul

-“No…...this is a trick! You…….you are dead.“, Saying it hurt but it was the truth

- His venti flicker with lighting in agreement

-“I……..don‘t know why they let out but does that matter?!, I‘m here and….I missed you.“, Piper sobs, her despair finally washes away his doubts with guilt

-He slides off his horse ignoring the suspicious neighing

-Jason goes to her slowly putting his hand on her cheek, she feels real

-“I missed you too Pipes.“, He croaks and then breaks down pulling her against his chest all pain of losing her, the hatred against Hera, the things he did to convince gods and spirits to rise against their rulers, even the nightmares in which she hated him, spilling out of him

-He is scared of her backing away when he is finished, of her making his horrible dreams come true

-Instead, she looks flattered and sad as she puts a hand on his chin

-“Perhaps that is why they allowed me to leave the underworld.“, She says so softly and Jason is caught in confusion and overwhelming relief that she does not hate him

-“What do you mean?“, Jason asks suddenly feeling worried, the gods would never allow someone to cheat death especially someone close to him

-“I think the gods want me to save you from yourself.“, Piper answers with concern,

-Jason looks at her stunned then as he processes her words anger rises in him

.-Yes it does sound like Hera to use Piper that way

-“No Pipes I never felt better ! They are just scared because I make their system fall apart.“, He responds not able to hide his pride,

- He is happy that she worries for him but he wants her to know that he is okay that they are okay

-He wants to squeeze her hand as recurrence but Piper steps back with guilt in her eyes

“ Jason…….you haven‘t slept for days and all those burnt nature spirits? This isn‘t you.“, She says her words soft but they are too much like his dreams

-“Yea I have been a bit crazy lately but only because I want to make them stop Pipes. All those mistakes or wars of the gods that we have to die and fight for. Losing Leo and you was something I don‘t want any other demigod to go through. I want us to live in peace and that is only possible if we aren‘t controlled by an egoistic good and his controlling queen.“, He explains and despite his fear, he means every word

- He just wants Piper to understand so that she will fight at his side again

-The image brings a smile to his face

-The two of them standing in front of a chained up Hera in all their glory

-Piper brings him back with a sigh and the deep pity in her eyes fills him with despair

-Why is she so against opposing the gods, Wasn‘t she the one that cursed Hera and despised how the goddess put herself in charge of his life?

-A dread rises in the back of him, he suppresses it quickly

-“Our lives aren‘t controlled by the gods Jason. The fates are the ones that decide what challenges a hero has to face. You are wasting your time and ruining your own life fighting for something that will never change. Call off the rebellion Jason and tell the gods to be actual parents. Tell them to protect their children from their destines as long as possible and then go home to rest. That would be easier than a war you can‘t win.“, Piper finally says

-Despite all of his anger Jason has to admit that her advice is tempting

- The vision of him growing old with Piper could come true plus he truly is not strong enough to fight fate itself so why not ask the gods for a favour? Maybe he can convince them to change after all he is the favourite of their rulers

-But then a thought washes away that option and he figures a way to tell Piper why the Olympian council needs to be reformed

- When Piper takes his hand again he looks at her with determination

“I can‘t. Hera loves using demigods too much. Look what happened to Leo. She claimed that she wanted to prepare him for his future just to let his mom die and let him sacrifice himself. You once said that heroes have to step up and do what is right and that is what I‘m doing right now.“, He explains

-For a short moment he thinks guilt washes over Pipers face

- Suddenly he realizes how strange her pleading was

-Piper always was someone to take action, she would never tell him to just do nothing and the way she almost took all fault from the gods……..

-“Hera only did that because she knew what Leo‘s role in the war was gonna be. She may not be the best but she is not our enemy Jason. She cared for Leo and she cares about you too.“, Piper says and now Jason is sure

- He rips his hand away from her his eyes burning with rage

-“Piper would never defend Hera ! Who are you?“, He asks coldly anger numbing the shattering of his heart

-The girl looks at him in confusion, he hates that she does it through Pipers eyes

“ Jason -“

-“ Don‘t! Stop using her voice and show yourself! I want to know which god I have the honour to kill!“, Jason spats

- At this moment he forgets all of his good morals, only blind hatred is left

-The Venti come to his aid, they swirl around him like a mini hurricane and he can feel their power pulsing through him, waiting for his command

-“I‘m just trying to help you Jason even if you could kill me that would not solve anything.“She warns but it is still Piper's voice and he will make her pay for it.

-“Oh no I think this will make me feel a lot better and if Hera send you just know that what happens to know is her fault, not mine.“, Jason says with a cruel smile before turning his storms to pure lightning

- with a hand wave the spirits turn into pure lightning crashing into where she stood

-Flames light up the hill but she is not there anymore

-A huge dove is in her place attacking immediately scratching at his face

-Dark clouds gather thunder is booming, rain falls,

-the Windlords themselves lift Jason into the air pushing his attacker away

- He does not need his sword

- The sky is his weapon

-Jason chases the goddess, calls cold wind to let hail fall onto her instead of rain

- Lightning strikes and he catches it in his bare hands, it flickers over his entire body until it gets thrown towards his victim

-Despite all of this the dove keeps trying to get closer, her voice pleading for him to stop his madness

- A hysterical laugh is his answer, he remembers a time where the gods loved him for his kindness, the same one that forced him to keep Heras chains on him for too long

- This goddess is treating him like he is still a pawn but that will end now

- Jason spins himself around his arms outstretched

- Wind blows around him, the dove shrieks in panic

- A tornado is throwing her around in circles like a puppet

- She changes form to other animals, attempts to escape through the cloud storms walls

- That is when they become pure lightning

- it hits her makes her body twist unnaturally

- She falls and Jason is still in the storms eye, He feels like a god bathed in his fathers lightning bolts

- The goddess unmoving body beneath him looks so tiny almost fragile even when she has changed to her Olympian form

- He would have pitied her if he hadn‘t recognized her, now he only feels disgusted

- Another shockwave is sent through her body before Jason dissolves his tornado

- The wind gods hesitate for a moment not liking what Jason might have in mind

- Jason is stronger and so they follow him down towards his victim as only a soft breeze

-“Why?“, He spats down at her as she wakes up

- His short question holds her crime all the pain and false hope she put him through

- She gets on her knees to look up at him her ever-changing hair clothes and eyes even her skin that is healing her burns are no beauty to him anymore

-“Hera and I only wanted to help you Jason.“, Aphrodite apologizes maybe there are real tears in her eyes

-“ I need help? I‘m not the one impersonating my dead daughter to manipulate her boyfriend!“, He spats finding her trick even more disgusting as he puts it into words

- He thinks about how she held him, what would have happened if he did not find out who she was

- He feels dirty

“I always take on the form of loved ones that's why Hera send me. She knew that Piper was the only one to get you out of your grief. Love is the only thing more powerful than hate“, Aphrodite explains and with every word, she looks more and more like Piper again

- Jason realizes that she is just as bad as Hera, another god that messed with his mind

- He sees how heavy she is breathing, it is time to punish her

-“Well then let me tell you something about love.“, Jason says making a pulling motion with his hands reaching for her breath

- He bends the oxygen out of her, the goddess head being forced forward

-The winds grow stronger again, he hears their whispers to not do this, he is deaf to their pleads

-“N – No!“, She protests in horror, her body glows attempting to release her true form but his attack surprised her and is now making her too weak

-Jason continues an air bubble forming around her head

-She digs her nails into her throat until they are bloody, her eyes nearly pop out of her skull and her face is an ill shade of blue

- the chocking noises she makes are music for him

-Jason enjoys every second

-Her looking like Piper does not save her

- It only reminds him more of the future he has lost and that makes him more furious

-When her sounds and body become still and her face is one mask of fear he finally tells her

-“Love never lasts long in this world.“

-No air gets added to the bubble, it dissolves

- An Aphrodite goddess of Love and beauty falls dead to the ground killed by her daughter's lover

- Jason feels empty

- He just killed a goddess he should feel ecstatic

- But instead, he feels as if something broke inside him

-Jason stares at the sky waiting for a reaction

-“ Come on Hera! This is what you wanted me to become right? A murderer your weapon. Just come to me and admit it !“, Jason yells tears streaming down his cheeks

-He falls to the ground as the thing he did crashes down on him

-He killed for revenge just like Zeus, Hera and all other gods did for centuries

-How is he better than them now?

-His allies seem to think the same thing

-Jason can‘t summon his venti in the morning

- The winds are harder to bend under his will

- Nature hides from him it does not matter how much he burns no one shows up

- Sometimes he hears the spirits weeping but he knows it is not meant for him

- Jason gets more and more desperate

- As of last hope he goes to San Fransisco

- The first step he takes into the city shows him that it‘s full of life again

-He plays with the thought of going back to Camp Jupiter

- But he does not want his friends to see what he has become

- On Ocean Beach, he yells for Kym

-Jason tells himself that she can help him turn his fate around

-“I‘m sorry Jason but I don‘t talk to traitors.“, She whispers from under the sea

-Jason feels like a wolve being cornered

-“ I never betrayed you the gods did !“ He shouts his voice sounding childish in his ears

-“You promised to fight in my name and then went on a crazy rampage just to make Hera feel bad. I expected better from you Jason.“, Kym told him in a stern almost motherly tone

- The words are a punch to his gut, a mirror showing him the truth

-His plan was supposed to be a peaceful change of the god's council, yes he knew about the damage the minor gods would cause but that was just to get the higher gods attention

-He sees the dryad girl in the flames, aphrodite chocking as air is pulled out of her

-This rebellion started with a wish for justice for Leo and Piper, for all those treated badly by the gods

- His lust for revenge destroyed all that

-Regretful he walks into the sea the water going up to his knees

-“ I‘m sorry.“, Jason says honestly

-That is when they finally react

- The waves grow bigger a man with a trident emerging out of them, Nature spirits come out of their plants with pinecones and daggers for weapons the blond-haired woman with her crown of corn is their true goddess

- The mist rising around him lets him hear his victim screams once more

-“Jason Grace we are here to punish you for crimes against us and the entire western civilization. Surrender now or seal your fate.“All of the Command in Unison

-He thinks of giving himself up

-He was raised as a Roman, he learned when a soldier has no chance to win

- Yet the thought of kneeling and letting Hera win so easily makes him sick

- And so he refuses

- The fight does not take long

- Jason summons lightning to blast away Nyads that grasped his ankles

-He runs out of the sea directing lightning at the advancing Dryad warriors

-They burn but the flames seem to have gathered they're own concise

-Orange and high they rage towards him growing on sand which was not possible

-They burn Jason‘s arm as he attempts to fly over them

-Screaming in pain he struggles to stay in the air

-Demeter uses her giant staff to let the three roots attack him like huge arms

-Her followers throw weapons at histones that for some reason always hit no matter how much he uses wind to push them away

-Rain comes and turns into a huge rain shower blinding his view

-He is forced to fly backwards and that is when Poseidon's trident impales his gut

-Blood spills pain forbids him to breath

-His vision goes black before he falls in the threes arms

-Jason wakes in ironically on chains in front of Hera and Zeus

-"I hope you know what a disappointment you are to me.", Zeus says but Jason's eyes are fixed on Hera

-She looks at him with a deep sorrow he did not expect so he chooses the last beg

-" Whoever you choose as your next heroes Hera please don't control them. Remember me as a warning of what happens if you do.", He pleads

-He is scared of his punishment but if Hera realizes her mistakes then maybe all of this was worth it

-Hera only replies with a small nod

-Then he is dragged off to the underworld by Hades off to the cliffs that lead into Tartarus

Jason panics as he realizes

He thought that he would end up in the fields of punishment

-But of course, Zeus hates when his children ruin his good name

-He struggles against his bonds begs his uncle to at least let him see his friends one more time

Luckily Hades is one of the kinder gods 

-He summons Piper's ghost, he does not say why Leo is not there

-She smiles at him sadly and maybe with anger which Jason does not blame her for

-Her kiss on his forehead brings tears to his eyes

-"Goodbye Jason. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble.", She whispers and he shakes his head

-"Don't be. All of this is Heras fault and mine.", He tells her and with that, she is gone again

-He thinks of her and Leo while he falls

-Hera mourns him for days

-She watches the rest of the seven holding his funeral at Camp Jupiter

-They understand his motives and that's why they still love him as the friend he was

-Hera understands him too

-She was not liked in the past few centuries and that was why the idea of her very own hero made her blind for letting him be a child

-Now that was what killed him and Zeus was already off making another hero that he can  be more proud of

-A child he warned her to not even look at

-The other demigods resent her even more

-Frank Zhang would be her other hero but Hazel Levesque would never let her near him

-She thinks about Jasons last words, his beg that she shouldn't mess with children's lives

-It's when Leo Valdez returns and learns of his friend's fate that she promises herself to remember

-The hatred in his eyes is enough to bring even a goddess to her senses 

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Post-OT New Jedi Order but Ezra Bridger/Cal Kestis/Galen Marek/Luke Skywalker ft. the “Are we married?” discussion

Read on AO3

Ezra slowly made his way into the kitchen. He was by no means somebody who slept in, being a rebel and living on the streets had taught him to get rid of that habit, but his partners were all up even earlier than him. Luke was used to rising hours before the sun, and oftentimes could be found already sitting at his desk with a cup of tea, checking reports, and waiting for the rest of them to rise. His ‘freaking Tatooine habits’, as Galen called them hadn’t disappeared even after all these years. Cal on the other hand enjoyed morning meditation and Galen preferred to run through his katas while the skies were still dark.

By the time Ezra usually made it to the breakfast table, the other three had already been up for an hour at least. He stretched when he stepped through the door and on his way to the kaf machine he let Galen pull him into a soft and slow kiss.

“You have morning breath,” Galen muttered against his lips, causing Luke to snort while Cal hummed in amusement.

“Very funny,” Ezra replied and sat down next to Cal, half his breakfast already assembled on his plate.

The great thing about being in a relationship with other Force-sensitive people was how good of a team it made them. Routines and exchanges between them were more fluid than water, hardly needing a word at times.

The not-so-great thing about being with other Force-sensitives was that you didn’t always need to have every conversation explicitly in the same way you needed to with other people. Thoughts, emotions, impressions could be simply shared in a much more intimate matter. Ezra has thought of it as only beneficial at first - it made fighting side by side and coming to an agreement easier. However, unfortunately, that also meant that they tended to skip talking about some topics, assuming that they had already shared all thoughts on the matter.

Ezra’s last trip away from Yavin had taught him better.

The issue had come up before, of course. Luke and Galen’s screaming match about Vader hadn’t been pretty. Cal and he had been running interference for a whole week before they had all been able to sit down together again.

After this, however, Ezra had assumed he knew what topics they usually tended to omit. One rather awkward conversation later, Ezra had been left with a question he couldn’t answer himself.

Ezra took another spoonful of jam out of the glass before he decided to speak up.

“Are we married?”

A brief silence followed Ezra’s question before his lovers answered more or less at the same time.

Cal only managed to choke out a “What?” in-between drinking his tea while Galen only replied with “No, do you want to?” and bit in his bread.

Luke, as the only one, continued warming his hands at his cup and answered with a soft, but certain “Yes.”

Perhaps Ezra shouldn’t have asked this question at the breakfast table, but they had a rather busy day ahead of them. Galen and Cal were heading off to explore a Sith temple, Luke had to talk to the Senators arriving today and Ezra had students to teach.

“What do you mean ‘yes’?” Cal asked Luke, still looking a little caught off-guard. Ezra would feel a little guilty if not for the fact that Cal looked incredibly cute with his hair still a mess and only half his robes assembled.

Galen steadily refused to wear traditional Jedi robes and Ezra couldn’t quite make himself comfortable in them either, but Luke liked them, even if they were slightly modified to suit his taste, while Cal looked right at home in them.

“We share a bed,” Luke said slowly, counting on his fingers. “And a table and a household and we love each other. That’s pretty much what constitutes as a marriage, is it not?”

Ezra had never put too much thought into what a marriage looked like. He had his ever-fading memories of his parents, of Hera and Kanan and found that he agreed with the blond. They were pretty much married, even if they had never exchanged any vows. Ezra wasn’t sure if he even wanted to have a fancy ceremony or the like. Leia and Han’s wedding had been a grand event, it had to be with Leia being New Alderaan’s reigning monarch, and it had been fun, but Ezra didn’t think it suited the four of them. As open as they were, they were all also so used to living more in the shadows, to having their privacy. Galen and Cal even more so than Luke and Ezra.

“Well, yes, I suppose…” Cal frowned. “Wait, how long have you been considering us to be married then?”

Now Luke did look a little pink. “Well, some time.”

“Three years.”

The three of them turned to look at Galen, who was grinning downright mischievously. “You’ve been thinking of us as married for a minimum of three years. That trip to Naboo…“

Oh, yeah. That trip. It had been fun, all in all. They had gone there to talk to the current Queen of Naboo and meet the cousins Luke hadn’t known he had. And then they had taken a very long and very pleasant vacation during which Ezra had spent more time in bed than out of it. It could probably constitute as a honeymoon.

“Does it really matter how long I thought so?” Luke asked.

“Of course, it does,” Ezra replied. “That’s like three anniversaries we have to make up for.”

To Ezra’s understanding, wedding anniversaries were celebrated with dinner, a fun date and an even more entertaining night, and if they had three to make up for, even better.

“Good thinking,” Galen remarked and grabbed another fruit out of the bowl on the table. “But back to the topic at hand. Since we’re apparently all married, should we fill out some sort of paperwork?”

“I don’t see how that’s necessary-“

“Do we have to? And who do we even tell-“

“Can we back up a little?”

The three of them turned to look at Cal. He didn’t look overwhelmed or displeased, but there was something reluctant to his posture. He nervously ran his hand through his hair, straightened it out a little, then placed his hands on the table.

“Ezra, why did you even ask if we are married?”

Since everybody had jumped into the discussion so quickly, he hadn’t even had the chance to explain.

“On my last trip I talked to a family and they asked a lot of questions about what we think the Order’s role should be in the future. We’re not many right now, but more and more people are coming to Yavin every year, every month and they didn’t understand what it meant to be trained in the Force, to simply have it and be able to trust it.”

Ezra tightened his hand to a fist until his nails dug into his palm, then he relaxed it again. There had only been three times that Ezra could remember being deprived of the Force. The world had dulled to the simplest senses, had been colored in tones of gray or so it seemed. The whole experience had left him feeling hollow on the inside as if his mind had been frozen in ice. Being one with the Force was like breathing fresh air after weeks in space, the warmth of the sun on his face, and the adoration he felt when he was surrounded by the people he loved, his family.

“So I talked about what we do and I talked about us. And the family, the mother especially…” Ezra smiled. “When I finished talking, she just congratulated me on having such sweet husbands and I just rolled with it. It just fit better than saying ‘oh, yeah, I love my boyfriends very much’. We’re not exactly sixteen-year-old teenagers.”

Boyfriends had sounded so juvenile and somehow didn’t really account for all the things they’d been through together. Boyfriends didn’t make it out of Imperial torture together, or explored Sith temples or tried to resurrect an entire faith when only one of them had ever really grown up in the Jedi Order.

“So, it’s practicality?” Cal questioned further, now leaning back in his chair with an unreadable expression.

Ezra wanted to pull him close, to close his eyes and simply listen to what he felt and wanted. Out of the four of them, Cal was the least open when it came to connecting on such a level. Luke could hardly be stopped from projecting his emotions, Galen preferred at least semi-awareness and the reassurance of safety that came with it. Perhaps he also desired the connections because they tethered him to this world and the here-and-now so that he did not get lost in space, reaching for the final answer to his origins. Ezra wasn’t opposed to mingling his mind with the others either, they felt like home and he didn’t want to miss it. He was the one who traveled the most, searching for potential students and running missions for the Alliance. He couldn’t always just call home via the comms, but he could reach for them in the Force. Cal, however, pulled away sometimes. He didn’t say why, if it had anything to do with his childhood, of feeling thousands of Jedi die at once, hiding from the Inquisitors for years- Ezra could think of many reasons, but when they all talked, it was usually because of Cal.

“Yes- no-“ Ezra sighed. “I don’t know. The thought just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Do you want to get properly married?” Galen repeated his question from before.

“Do you?” Ezra asked back.

“I don’t need to, I already have you three and don’t need a ceremony to strengthen that belief. And Luke-“ Galen pulled Luke’s prosthetic hand away from his cup, tracing over lines where beneath synth-skin, wires let Luke feel every touch. “-already thought we were married. So I guess it’s down to you two.”

“I don’t mind being as we are now,” Cal spoke up again. “I’ll be honest, it didn’t even occur to me that we could get married. Jedi didn’t used to and as Galen said, I don’t need a ceremony either. But I think I do want to call you my husbands.”

Cal smiled kindly and then, quicker than Luke could react, snatched a piece of fruit from his plate, earning himself a mock-glare. “It’s more fitting, as you said. I’m a forty-five-year-old man and we’ve been on the edge of life and death often enough together that I think we’ll be united in this life and in the Force.”

So that was it then.

Ezra was married and had a class to teach in thirty minutes and he was married and he had been for years and nobody of his extended family knew. Or maybe they did, Jacen didn’t only call Ezra “Uncle” after all.

“Sabine’s either going to be pissed when I tell her or start laughing,” Ezra mused, trying to imagine her reaction.

“Well, can’t be worse than Leia,” Luke joked only to freeze a moment later. “Oh, Leia. She’s going to kill me for sure.”

“Don’t worry,” Ezra laughed as Cal kissed their pouting husband and Galen supportively put an arm around his shoulder. “We’ll ensure temple life goes on even without you.”

And life continued.

[rebelsofshield]

Star Wars Squadrons-Review

A tight and well priced dogfighting simulation makes for a targeted but all together fun Star Wars experience.

(Review contains minor spoilers for the Squadrons campaign)

The Empire is in ruins. After the Battle of Yavin undercut the Imperial leadership and left its forces scattered, the Rebellion formed the New Republic and the Galactic Civil War entered a new stage. Now on close to equal footing, both sides of the war find themselves constantly gunning for each other’s resources and searching for the upper hand. As the New Republic takes on a new secret project, two ace pilots from opposing sides of the war are reassigned to the front lines and must come to terms with a betrayal from years before that now threatens lives regardless of faction.

Star Wars Rogue Squadron was the first Star Wars game I ever played. Before that one of my favorite childhood activities was flying around my little Micromachines Y-Wings for miniaturized galactic bombing runs and dogfights. I’ve loved the pilots of Star Wars and their iconic starfighters for years. It’s one of the best and most enjoyable aspects of the franchise and it’s a joy to finally get to step back into a Star Wars cockpit. And with tight controls and a complex combat system, Squadrons may just be one of the best of its space going type.

At first pass, Star Was Squadrons is overwhelming and intimidating. In addition to the standard flying, dodging, and firing that one would expect, EA Motive introduces a variety of other mechanics such as customizable loadouts, unique ship classes, and an impressively complex system of power diverting. There’s a lot to take in and stepping into online dogfights can lead to hours of vaporizing before one gets the hang of this game’s particular eccentricities and strategies. While it’s definitely not for those unwilling to commit time and energy to getting the hang of its control scheme, when you finally do star to feel confident in piloting a starfighter and start taking the fight to the enemy the result can be fist pumping good time.

Squadron’s mutliplayer is split between two modes: Dogfight and Fleet Battles. Of the two, Dogfight is the more difficult and less inspired. It feels very much like a standard team deathmatch style battle royale with two sides competing against one another kills. It’s unfortunate that Squadrons drops you into this mode first because it’s easy to get disheartened by how easily your brand new X-Wing gets rolled over by more experienced players in TIEs. There’s still fun to be had, but it’s the most barebones of EA Motive’s presentation for Squadrons.

Fleet Battles is the headlining mode for the game though and it’s worth it. Taking place as a consistent tug of war between both the Empire and the New Republic, Fleet Battles rewards cooperation and diverse play styles for players to accomplish goals and push their side of an unfolding space battle to victory. While classes like Support and Bomber may feel largely useless in the Fighter and Interceptor heavy Dogfight, Fleet Battles encourages a balanced team with players taking on different roles at any time. Two bombers could be leading an attack on an enemy flag ship while two interceptors scare away enemy fighters and a support craft provides health and ammunition to squadmates in need. It’s a fun and dynamic large scale combat mode that is addictive and rewarding in equal measure.

I went into Star Wars Squadrons’ campaign expecting the bare minimum. I remember being burned by the hyped up Inferno Squad narrative from Star Wars Battlefront II and knew that any kind of story for this game was going to be a second priority to the online action. Thankfully, I was surprised. While the campaign for Star Wars Squadrons still has its storytelling pit falls, what’s presented is refreshingly personal and enjoyable military space opera.

Following the destruction of Endor, Imperial Pilot Lindon Javes (Phil Morris) abandoned his squad including his protege Terisa Kerrill (Peta Sergeant) to join the Rebel Alliance. Now a high ranking member of the New Republic, Javes is instructed by Hera Syndulla to assist in the development of a mysterious new Repbulic warship, the Starhawk. Meanwhile, the scattered remnants of the Empire aim to stop this project in its tracks and Kerrilll is given the opportunity to exact her revenge on her former ally.

The rivalry and pain brought between these two former friends and allies makes up much of the emotional center of Squadrons’s story. Both Morris and Sergeant inject their characters with the right amount of flawed drive, lingering pain, and regret and many of the narrative’s best beats comes from when one of these two leaders lets their guard down.

Javes and Kerrill aren’t the only standout characters though. One of the unexpected surprises of Squadrons is that you are allowed some breathers between each minute to chat up your crewmates. Not all are as developed as others, but it adds a personal flavor to the battles and conflict. There are some diamonds in the rough though. On the side of the Republic, former Trandoshan conman Frisk, voiced by James Arnold Taylor of The Clone Wars fame, is a joy, bringing a much needed sense of humor and world weary snark to the high stakes action. On the Empire, it’s the beaten down Shen, an Imperial pilot that’s been shot down so many times that most of him is held together by cybernetic parts, who steals the show.

As a player character you take on the role of either a Rebel pilot that assisted Javes in his defection or another squadmate of his that was betrayed along Kerrill. It’s a fun framing device to bring your faceless and mostly silent character into the narrative and adds a personal streak to both sides of the campaign. This flip flopping of allegiances makes for some of the script’s best moments. There’s a certain guilty joy in creating problems that you know that the other half of your story is going to have to fix and vice versa. Both the New Republic and the Empire have their moments of glory and success but also their failures and you get to be right at the front of it all.

If the Squadrons story fails in any way it’s in creating a lack of consequence. The set up of the campaign invites a scenario where both your Republic squadron and Imperial team come face to face and inflict hurton the other, but this surprisingly never occurs. Similarly, both sides more or less make off with what they wanted in the terms of the narrative. Despite being a story about mixed empathy and personal limits in wartime, neither side really reaches a breaking a point and the ending cinematic for both teams is equally triumphant. It’s a disappointingly simplistic move for a smart set up for the story and it undercuts some of the strong work that came before.

Luckily the gameplay itself is strong, mixing together various different battle scenarios and set pieces to keep the 6 hour run time chugging along smoothly without growing stale.

Out of the cockpit, EA Motive offers a decent amount of customization for pilots and ships. It’s nothing too intensive, but it’s a fun bit of personalization to a game that you are likely to sink hours into its multiplayer.

For $39.99, Star Wars Squadrons is exactly what you pay for. A well polished core gameplay mechanic employed in smart ways through dogfights, cooperative play, and an above average campaign. Combat flight sim gamers are sure to love this trip to the Galaxy Far, Far Away and fans of the franchise might find the experience just as rewarding.

Score: B

[bifinmediasres]

Alex didn't have the best family life, despite being a amazing parent, he fears turning into them.

Zeb walked into the bunk room to see Alex slowly rocking a sleeping Jacen back and forth. The infant had been colicky lately and Alex was one of the few people who could get him to sleep. Currently he was singing softly, some song Zeb had never heard before, and it had done the trick of getting Jacen to calm down enough to sleep.

After Alexsandr had laid Jacen down in the crib in his nursery Zeb asked him about the song, "Never heard that song before, come to think of it, never heard you sing before," Zeb mused.

Alexsandr laughed softly coming to sit next to Zeb on their bed, "Well that's because generally I can't. But that song is special. It was first sung to me when I was Jacen's age by my grandmother."

Zeb's brow furrowed, "Why do you never talk about her? Or anything about your childhood for that matter?"

A pained expression crossed Alexsandr's face and he swallowed before answering, "There's very little about my childhood that makes for a good story I'm afraid. And it all died with my grandmother when I was very young." He hung his head and Zeb immediately regretted starting this conversation.

" 'm sorry Sasha. I didn't-" here Alex cut him off.

"You didn't know. Precisely why you shouldn't apologize," he took hold of Zeb's hand saying, "Suffice to say there are parts of my upbringing that give me serious pause about ever being able to be a good parent."

Zeb didn't mean to scoff. But that idea was completely ridiculous to him. Anyone who watched Alexsandr with Jacen could see Alex had what appeared to be an innate sense when it came to what the boy needed.

He tried reminding Alexsandr of this only to be waved off, "Caring for an infant is completely different than the responsibilities of parenting. It's merely meeting needs." As if on cue they heard a cry coming from the nursery. Alex immediately stood to go check on Jacen and Zeb followed.

Nothing appeared to be wrong so Alexsandr merely tried to sooth the boy by patting him softly and beginning to sing again. In a few minutes he'd calmed down and was drifting off to sleep.

Alexsandr bent down and whispered, "I do love you you know." He couldn't be sure if it was in response or just a reflex but Jacen gripped his finger tightly.

Zeb watched from his position next to Alex and whispered, "What was that about not being a good parent?" Alexsandr smiled softly but didn't answer.

As Jacen grew the bond he had with his uncles only became stronger, especially where Alexsandr was concerned. Jacen followed his Unca Sasa everywhere and told everyone who would listen about his smart and strong uncle. While the attention made Alex shrink slightly he inwardly he was thrilled that the little boy looked up to him. He hoped he could be worthy of the level of adoration shown him.

Because even now in the back of his mind was the thought that his relationship with Jacen was a fluke, that he was bound to mess up irreparably. And that's how he continued to operate. He was so convinced of this eventuality, he failed to see what effect it was having on his other relationships.

This came to a head one evening as he and Zeb were getting ready for bed. Undoing the buckles of his jumpsuit Zeb asked, "You wanna get married?"

Alexsandr had to steady himself where he stood trying to slip off his boots, "Was that a proposal? Because if it was it was incredibly lacking."

"Lacking how?" Zeb asked before shaking his head, "Wait no, it wasn't a propo- hold on are you saying if it was you'd say no because I did it wrong?"

Alexsandr laughed, "My answer stays the same regardless," he locked eyes with Zeb, "Yes unequivocally yes. In any circumstances in any alternate realities."

Zeb smiled and straightened momentarily, "Good." Silence stretched between them for a few minutes after that.

"So," Alexsandr began, "if it wasn't a proposal..."

"Right!" Zeb remembered sudden where he'd been headed, "I know what you've said before, but do you think when we are married you would ever want kids?"

Alexsandr sank onto the bed releasing all the air in his lungs slowly, "Zeb I" he stopped and shook his head, "I don't think I can answer that question right now."

Zeb crossed the room and knelt in front of Alex taking his hands, "And you absolutely don't have to decide right now. There's no rush."

Alexsandr attempted a smile, "Children is something you want though yes?"

Zeb moved to sit on the floor in front of Alex. He looked up into Alex's eyes and spoke softly, "I want you. Forever, whatever that looks like. Married, not married. Two kids, twenty. Kriff we could just have a spare room for Ezra and I'd be content. All I need is you Sasha."

Alexsandr found he couldn't speak for a moment but when he found his voice it was to say, "I love you Garazeb."

Zeb rose to his knees and leaned forward capturing Alexsandr's lips with his. Breaking apart Zeb grinned, "Still no pressure, but for whatever it's worth I think you'd make a wonderful parent."

"As would you my Zeb," Alexsandr smiled before kissing him again.

Several years later saw Zeb and Alex married and as luck would have it they did become parents. From his first days of parenthood their children knew nothing but love and care from Alexsandr. He was every bit the doting father he was afraid he couldn't be. He and Zeb routinely got pulled into the imaginary worlds of their children's games and neither ever hesitated to play the wayward jedi knight or the fearsome rancor.

They both attempted to be the disciplinarian but neither enjoyed it. Yelling at his children made Alex feel terrible. That voice in the back of his mind always piped up telling him he was turning into exactly what he didn't want to be. He tried to reason that teaching his children right from wrong was necessary and yelling didn't mean he was angry with them. Still the voice persisted, and even though he tried not to let them show his doubts only grew the older his children got.

Zeb did his best to banish those thoughts of inadequacy from Alexsandr's mind. He constantly reinforced his and their children's love for Alex. This helped to some degree but he knew it didn't entirely solve the problem and likely never would. They both settled on focusing on loving their children the best way they could.

It wasn't until his children and Jacen were well into their teens that Alexsandr witnessed something that gave him faith in his parenting. He and Zeb stood on their porch watching the kits and Jacen playing a game with a group of younger children. Suddenly one of the little boys pushed another to the ground who immediately began to cry. Zeb and Alex's son jumped into action immediately yelling, "What did you do that for? Don't you know it's wrong to hurt people?" The young boy who'd pushed the other down began to cry for being yelled at.

Seeing this Jacen swore under his breath and nodded at Zeb and Alex's daughter. Together they walked toward the group as Jacen called, "Hey there's no need for that, either of you. It'll be ok." He placed a hand on one of the boy's shoulders as his cousin did her best to soothe the little boy on the ground, "Are you hurt? No? Just startled? That's ok." She rubbed the younger boy's back and didn't even blink when he moved to snuggle into her lap still sniffling.

Her brother and Jacen continued to talk to the other boy, elder brother to the one he'd pushed down. "Hey I get it," Jacen was saying, "Brothers can be a pain." He motioned to Zeb and Alex's son, "He's just my cousin and he drives me nuts."

This earned a grin from the kit in question, "You love me."

Jacen nodded, "Exactly. That's the point. We all make each other a little crazy. But we're family and we don't intentionally hurt each other." He looked between the two brothers, "Think you're ready to make up?" The elder nodded shuffling over to where his brother sat. Bending down he hugged the little boy who hugged him back. For their part the cousins all smiled at each other.

A little while later the group broke up and Jacen and the kits joined Zeb and Alex on the porch. They were immediately praised for their mature handling of the situation. Alexsandr couldn't help asking, "How did you know to do and say what you did?"

Jacen smiled and said simply, "It's how we were taught."

Alexsandr nodded, "Well your mama did a good job then."

Zeb and Alex's daughter laughed, "Not Auntie Hera Dad, you!" Her brother nodded in agreement.

Alexsandr sat silently turning this over in his mind as Zeb moved to wrap his arm around Alexsandr from behind, "What have I always said, I knew you'd be good at the parent thing."

Jacen nodded, "Uncle Sasa you're the best! You've been teaching us our whole lives. You taught us all to read," he stopped and grinned sheepishly, "No offense Uncle Zeb, I love you too. But you and mom taught me more of the how to kick butt stuff."

"And where did you learn to swear exactly," Alexsandr asked pointedly letting Jacen know he'd heard the slip earlier.

Jacen groaned, "Karabast, don't tell mama!"

Alexsandr laughed but made no promises except from that day on to stop listening to that negative voice in his head.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Prospecting Gold | Carlton Drake x Reader

(AKA The Chemical Husbands turning into relationship counselors)

Words: 3846

Crossover: Venom x The Sisters Brothers

A/N: Idk why I keep writing Carlton Drake stories that involves weddings or being engaged, but never married. One day! One day I will write reader getting married to Carlton. Just not yet. I hope the format isn’t too confusing. It’s a bit dialogue heavy and I kind of envisioned it in movie scene sequence, so feel free to leave feedback on how it is.

Chemical Husbands = Hermann Warm x John Morris

-

You packed the last luggage and flopped onto the bed while you waited for Carlton to finish in the bathroom. With his space venture launched, he proposed a vacation and an opportunity for you to meet his twin brother. He had mentioned his twin many times when he spoke about his childhood and while their interests were quite similar, they ended up going their separate ways, living different lives. While Carlton researched in biomedical engineering, Hermann researched in chemistry and sustainable science.

“Where exactly is his place?” you asked.

Carlton’s head popped out of the bathroom, shaving cream on his cheeks. “Dallas. Country side. He lives with a friend who inherited acres of land and an estate there,” he said before shuffling back in to finish shaving. You could hear the faint sound of the razor gliding across his skin, followed by tapping as he flicks off the excess foam into the sink. “He never liked the city life. I was surprised when he got in contact with me last year. I hadn’t spoken to him since… I don’t know. I don’t even remember why we stopped talking.”

“I mean, it sounded like you two were close growing up,” you said, kicking your feet in the air and started doing bicycles.

“Yeah, yeah we were,” Carlton said, walking out of the bathroom, wiping his face clean. He sat next to you. “You two will get along fast. I just know it. My brother… he’s the type to see the good in people- “

“While you’re the pessimistic one,” you added.

Carlton narrowed his eyes at you, pushing down your legs and hovered over you. “Anyways,” he punctuated as you giggled up at him, “Not sure about his friend, but I think you’ll like it there. He sent me pictures and everything. The house has an extension that connects to the main house by a covered walkway, so we have an area to ourselves.”

“That sounds nice,” you hummed, running your fingers along his smooth, freshly shaven jawline. “But why did he contact you all of a sudden?”

“He asked if I could invest in his new company,” he said with a shrug, “I thought why not. He never liked working with those large corporations. They often tried to steal his ideas anyways, so I understand why he’d do it. I wanted him to work with me, but it wasn’t his thing.”

“You’re probably too bossy that’s why.”

“I’m not. Why, did someone say that? Was it one of the research scientists?”

“Carlton, honey, I’m your assistant. You are bossy,” you said, poking between his eyebrows to stop his frowning, “And temperamental. And a workaholic. And from what I’ve gathered from your stories, he’s the patient, level-headed type that appreciates the simple things in life.”

“Yeah, you two are definitely going to get along just fine.”

-

Carlton insisted on carrying the luggage for you while you looped an arm around his. He was finally out of that black tracksuit, suit jacket and plain t-shirt ensemble, and in a more casual flannel and jeans attire. Breaking out from the crowd of the airport, you spotted a man that looked practically identical to your boyfriend, but instead of the groomed cut hair, his dark hair was windblown and curled at the ends, a small moustache trimmed over a friendly smile. He waved happily at the two of you, walking up to take the bags from Carlton despite his stubborn protests.

“You must be (Y/n),” he said, “I’m Hermann, Carlton’s brother… obviously. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman that melted my brother’s frozen heart.”

“Very funny, Herm,” Carlton muttered, fighting a smile with irritation.

A tall man with brown hair and blue eyes climbed out from the truck’s driver’s seat to help Hermann carry the bags into the trunk with ease. “Oh, uh, this is my fiancé, John Morris,” Hermann said, gesturing to the man with a wide smile and bright eyes. “John?”

The man, John, closed the trunk gate and turned to face the group. “Pleasure to meet you, (Y/n),” he said, taking your outstretched hand and kissed it with a wink. You laughed behind your other hand, risking a glance at Carlton whose eyes were slightly wide as his brother’s admission.

“Fiancé? Congratulations, you two!” you said.

“And you must be Carlton, Hermann’s brother.” John took his hand in a tight grip and shook it firmly with a forced smile as Carlton hid a wince.

“Uh, you never mentioned that you got engaged,” Carlton said to his brother once John released his hand.

Hermann scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, it happened recently. I wanted to surprise you, being that you’re the closest family I have, so…”

“I’m very surprised. Uh, congratulations! Perhaps we should get something to eat as a celebration? I’m paying, of course,” Carlton suggested as he wrapped an arm around you.

Hermann grinned, “That’s very generous of you. What do you say, John?”

“Well, if the man is paying…,” John said with a shrug.

Carlton helped you into the large truck and climbed in after you, glancing back as his brother and John were discussing something. “I don’t think he likes me,” he muttered next to your ear.

“He’s probably being cautious,” you assured him, patting his thigh. “He’ll like you, or at least tolerate you, eventually.”

“Engaged, huh?” he mumbled under his breath as Hermann and John made their way back into the truck.

“You guys are going to love it there!” Hermann said excitedly as he clambered up the passenger’s seat.

Throughout the rest of the drive, Hermann and Carlton shared stories from their childhood, inputting from how they remembered it and sometimes arguing on past events, much to your amusement, the carefree laugh that bubbled out of him made your heart swell. Carlton pointed out how Hermann used to be bullied in school because he was easy to walk over, so he had to stand up for him even if came to throwing punches before notifying the nearest teacher. It was so frequent that Carlton ran for class president so no one could touch either of them. Not to mention that they were two of the teachers’ favorite students. Then, they moved on to what they had been up to since they went their separate ways. Hermann dropped out of college, travelling a lot and learned about the world and how he could help people and the environment while Carlton went to an ivy league university and made a few breakthrough discoveries in the medicine field.

“So, what do you do, John?” Carlton asked, wanting to know the man that his brother fell in love with.

John’s blue eyes flickered to Carlton through the rearview mirror. “I’m a writer,” he said, “freelancing here and there. Wrote a novel or two.”

Your brain scanned through all the books you’ve seen at bookstores and gasped. “You wrote The Prospectors, didn’t you? You’re that John Morris?” you asked, leaning against his seat.

John chuckled. “Indeed, I did. Now, give me your honest opinion… how boring was it?”

“No! It was amazing!” you said, leaning back in your chair, “I read that book in one sitting. Although, it did have a bittersweet ending. While Elizabeth and Charlotte Brothers finally made it home, I really wanted Joan and Hera to have a happy ending, but their demise were left open ended. What really happened?”

“While that I’m glad that you’re invested in my characters, what happens to Joan and Hera is open to speculations. You can think of all the theories you want, and I will be glad to hear about them.”

“I bet there’s a lot of fanfiction for this book,” you muttered, knowing that if there was a dissatisfying ending to any story, there will be fans out there to rectify it.

Hermann nodded. “There is, I’ve read some. They’re quite good, too,” he said. “Have you read it, Car?”

Carlton shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Well, I imagine you’re quite busy running an entire company of that scale,” Hermann said. “You deserve a break from all of that. I’m sure (Y/n) would appreciate the opportunity to spend time together. There’s so much sights to see. Look out the window.”

You leaned to the side and watched as the truck continued a long stretch of road lined by trees as they neared the country side. John took a turn, showing a glimpse of a lake below the cliffside, the sunlight glimmering off the smooth surface. You felt Carlton’s warm hands slide into yours and squeezed affectionately. It had been months since the two of you had time to relax, what with running a huge groundbreaking research facility. Although you were his assistant, he barely left the lab or his office, buried in paperwork.

After dinner at the fanciest restaurant Hermann could think of that was within miles of their estate, John drove the group to the estate, off the main road and in a clearing overlooking a lake. A gate blocked the driveway, which swung open after Hermann pressed a large white button that was clipped to the sun visor. Even Carlton couldn’t hide how impressed he was at the sight of the luxurious two story, four bed room, with a housing extension, estate. While Carlton built his facility and his home near a cliffside overlooking the ocean, there was something about the seclusion and the calm of nature that took his breath away.

Hermann showed you and Carlton your living area for the time being and went to leave the two of you to unpack. Carlton had offered to walk Hermann to the front door and left. You squealed in excitement and ran to the wide balcony, taking a deep breath of fresh air and allowing the cool wind envelope you. As much as you loved San Francisco and the ocean, you needed to get away from all that pollution and noise.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” John asked from behind you.

You opened your eyes and nodded. “And all of this belongs to you,” you said.

“On paper, yes. But it’s strange to say that a section of land belongs to anyone,” he said, leaning against the railing next to you. “We’re glad that you’re here. Both of you. Hermann hadn’t spoke about his brother until later in our relationship, but he admitted that he missed him. It’s strange to see someone identical to him and yet feel so different.”

“They’re like the sun and moon.”

-

As the two brothers reached the kitchen of the main house, Hermann turned and crossed his arms, leaning against the granite counter.

“Come now, brother, I’m sure you hadn’t walked me back here out of courtesy,” Hermann teased, raising an eyebrow.

Carlton chuckled. “Well… I just wanted to talk with my own brother alone, that’s all.” Hermann looked unconvinced, making the forced smile drop from his face. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he started to pace.

Hermann sighed at his brother’s distress. “Coffee?”

-

“You didn’t seem to like Carlton when you first met him,” you commented, facing John.

John grimaced. “Sorry about that. It’s just, from what Hermann had told me, the last time they spoke, before Hermann reached out to him last year, they were in a huge argument. His brother wanted him to work under his company, but Hermann disagreed with the way he was running things.” John crossed his arms, leaning his back against the cool rail. “Hermann was too soft, apparently, too naïve, and was told that he will always get run over if he continues to act that way. Hermann said he rather be soft and naïve instead of cold and arrogant and controlling like him. More insults were thrown that landed in the other’s weak spot and they never spoke again. I was just being protective of Hermann when I heard that he invited his brother and his other half over to the estate.”

“But, I’m okay, right?” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

The corner of John’s lips turned up. “You are more than okay in my books. How did you end up with a guy like him? No offence.”

You shrugged. “Cold, arrogant, controlling, that sounds like Carlton. Of course, being his assistant for a while, having to remind him about things from business meetings to making sure he ate, running errands for him, and seeing him in his working environment, I’ve come to see what kind of person he was and when he went too far, I wasn’t afraid to voice my opinion. He had worked the scientists to the ground. We were so close, he said, and they couldn’t stop to rest. I told him it was cruel, and nothing would get done if they are working in exhaustion. He had also run himself down, told me not to tell anyone when he almost collapsed in his office from dehydration and exhaustion. I told him he was being ridiculous, and he told me to just do as I was told.”

You shook your head at the memory of his stubbornness and the scare that it gave you when you saw him stumble against his desk. When he snapped at you, you slapped him before you even realized what you were doing. You honestly thought he was going to fire you right there and then. It was unprofessional of you. Bosses were bound to snap at some point, and as an assistant, you just had to take it in stride. What possessed you to do such a thing, you weren’t sure at the time.

“And how did he win your affection? Was it his dedication and recklessness? If so, it may be a shared trait of theirs.” You both laughed fondly at your respective boyfriend’s charm.

“That sounds about right,” you agreed, “and he also… he actually listened to me. He became kinder, more thoughtful, slightly humbler. Slightly. He can only change so much, right? But, working for him so closely, and for him to actually value my help and opinion, I grew to care for him deeply. It was honestly a shock when he asked me out on a date.”

“How so?”

“He never seemed to be the relationship type. Married to his work and all that.”

-

Carlton sighed for the hundredth time as he stared down at the swirling dark liquid in his mug, his twin sitting across from him at the kitchen table. Hermann rolled his eyes, taking a sip of own coffee, then wiped the remnants from his moustache. He studied his brother’s face, trying to discern what was giving him grief.

“You know, twin telepathy doesn’t work if you don’t look at me,” Hermann spoke up, snapping Carlton out of his daze. “You seem troubled.”

Carlton went to open his mouth and sighed again. “I just… I’m scared, Herm.”

Hermann’s brows furrowed, his body leaning forward and ready to listen. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“I was going to wait to talk to you about this, but hearing that you and John got engaged, it got me thinking…,” Carlton trailed off, but the implication was there. He raised his head, his brown eyes showing a swirl of excitement and anxiety.

Hermann’s own brown eyes widened. “Whoa, Car, are you serious? This is a big commitment- “

“I know.”

He raised a hand as if to pause him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, though? There’s no doubt that you two love each other, but marriage is a whole other thing. Even if you work together, there’s many things to consider- “

“Well,” Carlton shrugged, lifting his hands slightly, “how did you and John know when you were ready?”

“When we know that we can work things out, worked on our communication, showing each other respect and consideration,” Hermann listed. “I mean, for me, I just knew, you know? When I first met him, spoke to him for only a day, I felt like I knew him my whole life. It’s different for others.” Hermann then smiled, tilting his head to the side. “How did you know (Y/n) was the one?”

Carlton snorted. “She slapped me and calls me out on my bullshit.” Hermann nodded matter-of-factly, impressed by her potential sister-in-law. Of course, Carlton would fall for someone like that. “She checks in on me, not just reminding me to eat and drink, but my mental state, and she knows when I’m upset or when I’m tired. Sometimes she surprises me with her wit and makes me smile. She just… she’s so intelligent. So beautiful.”

“Ah, the Belle to your Beast,” Hermann mused. “Have you talked about it to her yet?”

Carlton shook his head. “No, I… well, she brought it up a couple of times. Just mentioned things here and there, especially when her friends got married. And I’d just…” He dropped his head.

“You brushed it off,” Hermann finished. He took another sip of coffee and readied himself if his brother wanted to argue. “You know, the longer you drag this, the more she’s going to question the state of your relationship. I’m sure she might wait, but if you keep dismissing the subject- “

“I know.”

-

“Carlton is probably just not ready,” you reasoned, “I mean, he’s so busy right now. Sure, we work and live together, but marriage is another thing, right?”

“I’m afraid it’s not my place to say,” John said, “but I do know that you need to talk to him if it’s bothering you that much. You have the rest of your vacation to discuss it.”

“Right. Of course.”

John lead you back inside as the temperature dropped along with the sun. You plopped yourself on the soft plushie couch in the living room downstairs and hugged the nearest pillow. John sat at the other end with one foot on the floor and the other leg bent on the sofa to accommodate the space. He watched as you sorted through your thoughts, your frown deepening the longer you took.

Eddie and Anne were one of the first of your closest friends to get married. You were so happy for them, happy that they found their way back to each other. You had joked to Carlton that day that you wanted your wedding with him to be bigger and you were sure he can afford it, but he nodded stiffly and looked away. When Tony and Pepper got married, their wedding was extravagant, of course. Tony was a diva and Pepper deserved it for having to put up with Tony as his assistant turned girlfriend and CEO of Start Industries. Tony pointed at Carlton and questioned why he wasn’t marrying his own assistant yet, for which he sneered that it wasn’t any of his business before walking briskly away and leaving you in an awkward position. Tony being Tony tried to make light of the situation while Pepper looked at you sympathetically.

“I guess marriage isn’t for everyone,” you found yourself saying, “maybe he’s fine with the way things are. I mean, we don’t necessarily have to get married. It’s something that’s on a piece of paper. We’re technically under a common law marriage by living together and what not… Right?”

John shrugged. “Again, I can’t say for you, (Y/n).”

-

Carlton ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “What if she says no?”

His brother gave an indignant laugh. “And what if she says yes? Carlton, it’s been almost a whole day since I’ve met (Y/n) and the way she looks at you, the way she talks about you… she’s crazy about you. And,” he emphasized, pointing at him, “she’s crazy to even be with you.”

Carlton smiled at this, then frowned. “She deserved better,” he muttered.

Hermann sputtered at the sudden change. “Are you serious? What happened to my confident and arrogant brother?”

“This is different! I’ve… I’ve never been in this deep before! I’m scared,” he repeated his earlier confession. “You know how it was, right? We were looked down for so long and I wanted my visions to be put into action and show the world what I can do. I didn’t have anything to lose when I rose from nothing.”

Hermann leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his palm. “This is more than just fear that she’ll say no,” he realized.

Carlton stared at his hands. “What if I can’t give her everything?”

“Well, what does the word ‘everything’ mean to her?”

-

You tightened your hold on the pillow and looked up at John who was watching you carefully. “What if I’m not enough for him?” you asked softly.

John’s eyebrows turned up at the hint of sadness in your tone. “If you’re not enough for him, then nothing else will ever be,” he said firmly, resting a comforting hand on your knee. “Then, if that’s the case, he is not good enough for you.”

“It’s just that…,” you took a moment to gather your thoughts again, tracing patterns on the pillow, “he never really talks much about being fully content with anything.”

-

Carlton shrugged. “She always seemed to be okay with a lot of things. It’s not to say she doesn’t voice her opinions, it’s just… no matter what gift I give her, no matter where I take her, she always seemed so… happy. What if one day she’s not? What am I to do then?”

-

John suddenly stands up. “It’s getting late and you had a long day. We should get some rest,” he suggested, helping you up. “And I think you know what you should talk about with Carlton.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Thank you for listening, by the way. I don’t think you invited us here to talk about our relationship problems,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s no problem, (Y/n).”

John headed back to the main house while you trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, changing into your pajamas before climbing into bed.

-

Hermann stood up, grabbing the now empty mugs and headed towards the kitchen sink. He spotted his fiancé making his back through the walkway and said, “It’s getting late. You should head back and rest.”

Carlton silently agreed, hoisting himself up slowly. “Thanks for listening, Herm.”

“And you know what you need to talk about to (Y/n)?”

Carlton nodded.

“Good.”

Carlton passed John on his way back, muttering a goodnight to each other before heading towards their respective partners. When he turned to close the door to the extension, he spotted John enveloping Hermann into a warm hug, kissing the top of his head while they spoke softly. Carlton looked away and made his way to the bedroom where he spotted you curled up under the sheets. He climbed in slowly as to not disturb you and wrapped an arm around your form. You hummed, grabbing his hand and fell back asleep.

You had a whole vacation to talk things through and he wasn’t going to miss up the opportunity.

[pathofcomet]

wolf 359 mafia au {wip}

Minkowski leafs through the files handed to her, but she barely pays any attention to the information in them. Her mind is far away, thinks of her comfortable office back at the headquarters. She can still feel the soreness in her shoulder, from when she’s been first shot while on a mission, and she can still hear in her ears her husband’s screams when she returned to field work, just weeks after being discharged. She remembers what he said then, angry and defeated in front of her stubbornness: maybe you’re not cut out to being both a police officer and a wife – and at that moment she has turned hissing back at him, nails pressed into her palms and brain totally shut off, so the damage didn’t register until she was in the living room, covered by a blanket that was too thin, on a couch that was too short.

She didn’t cry back then, though. She has let the anger sip, burn away, but the words remained at the back of her head, and each time Dominik had thrown an even slightly hurt look in her direction, she has felt the guilt tearing apart her throat; and even stronger was the indignation, that she was somehow supposed to choose, that she lacked whatever balance necessary to make it work for those around her. She picked sides then: imagined a child wearing her husband’s smile, pictured herself as a warm, pliant mother, and made whatever was in her power to bring to life those dreams. She put forward her transfer papers, drank three nights in a row with her team and superiors, in a farewell that felt too eternal. She pinned her husband to doors and tables, smiled at him in the morning from the kitchen counter, coffee mugs ready and told herself: this is what we want, what I want.

But back when they met each other, Minkowski was working, out there in the city. Dominik Koudelka, between embassy reports and political deals, has caught sight of a straight backed officer, the seriousness dozing off her – and has found her challenging, beautiful. He had been refused twelve times by the time he realized he’d told her about his irrational fear of bears, and she’s lent him her favourite Broadway recording of Les Miserables. By then, when he finally leaned down, it felt like the easiest thing in the world to accept his kiss. She was a terrible dancer; he didn’t have the patience to sit down and watch a full movie from start to finish on his couch, but could spend his whole Sunday in a cinema. She liked pastel colours; he enjoyed taking care of plants. When she’d turn back home, ravished and bruised, he’d wait by her door smiling softly, holding his first aid kit, knowing hers to have run out and knowing Minkowski with no time to fill it up with supplies again. When he was dead tired, he found himself telling taxi drivers her address rather than his, maybe out of habit. But she’d open her door, wearing stupidly cute t-shirts from music and writing camps she went to during high school and college, and they’d both curl on the couch, her hands, although harsh, comforting at his jaw.

It felt natural, so easy to say yes. To imagine a future alongside this very soft and understanding man, to envision a common life. He picked the furniture, she built the shelves. She filled them with Polish books, he found matching drapes. He cooked her favourite childhood meal, and she cried, ate and held his hand the whole evening.  She re-potted all his plants while he was on a business trip, repurposed the small balcony from his office to make up for the garden they couldn’t afford to get. It felt easy then, with no pressure from their marital life. Then years passed, and questions rose. Then suddenly she was doing too much and –

“They said you’re their best, with self-imposed set-backs, but still their best.”

This wakes Minkowski, makes her stir in her chair, and she turns to look at this Mr. Cutter.

“Self-imposed?” She chokes on the words, her incredulity just barely held in. She now registers that this man did not actually called her by her name, and now she loathes the moment when he’ll do so, because she knows exactly how off and by how much it will be. She’s been refused jobs she’s applied for the same day, and even in her own department, she had to get a fucking bullet to the shoulder to make the older men follow one simple order. And the one time she put her personal life before remains the only one mentioned, registered in her files.

Mr. Cutter clears his voice, ignores her question like she hasn’t spoken in the first place. He goes on: praising her lineage, shaming her for walking on the comfortable path of her parents. She thinks of Dominik, taking his lunch break right now; she can see their wedding photo that he keeps framed at his desk – and she shakes her head. No. But the man knows her too well, knows what buttons to push, knows what reminders to bring forth; enough to keep her interested and curious, wanting more.

Minkowski’s foot has been tapping to the floor since she took her seat, and her skin itches to reach for a gun that she knows too well she doesn’t wear anymore. The promise of getting back a purpose is so, so tempting. She looks through the files again: several photos of Isabel Lovelace look back at her, alongside all her files from the time in Academy, and later on working at Goddard Futuristics. She doubts they kept any information away, not if they are desperate enough to get her on this job, not with how much fervour they seem to want to find the mole destroying their corporation brick by brick.

“She’s been a very painful thorn in our sides,” Mr. Cutter chirps in, noticing the determined change in Minkowski’s features.

It’d be her first private job, and she’d have to give up on her normal working hours, on her on-the-clock functional schedule. She’d have to follow along Lovelace’s deeds, find the patterns, and destroy them in the future. She’s already on her feet, pushing her leather jacket on. She signs the papers in a haste, grabs the file just as hurried. She doesn’t really have the words, and doubts they exist anyway, to tell her husband that she is tired of choosing, of giving up, on yearning for something and putting herself in the way of what she wants.

“Nice to see you so fired up, Minkowski.”

                                                    ***

“Dear listeners,” Douglas Eiffel starts, taking his place at the made-up desk in the warehouse, coffee mug in one hand, and his phone in the other. “Our own doctor Frankenstein is on the run away; so unless you want to end up like all our other dead this year: injected with an incurable disease and on the side of the road, I’d recommend you stick to your team like glue and keep the human trafficking with old clients only.”

There’s the smallest hint of a smile at the end of the sentence, and Eiffel tries not to think too hard about how he’s the one common link between all mafia houses in the city, his own voice being the one carrying all the information that they dare spare with each other. But money is money, and for the risk of highly advanced hackers tracing his voice, he receives just enough to know his daughter gets the best treatment possible. His phone beeps, and alongside the tone of Bolero, Hera’s voice carries new information on a shipment from Goddard that it’s supposed to be intercepted. This is Eiffel’s favourite moment of the day: the auctioning. Who’s willing to pay the most for a piece of information, the phone at his desk ringing desperately.

His voice, one again, interrupts the broadcast:

“Dear listeners.”

The phone starts ringing, and Eiffel grins. It’s been like this for the past few months: a phone call always incoming right before he makes his announcement. He’d be a bit more freaked out, he’d think of information leak on his own side, but he trusts Hera with his life, and if someone would be able to hack their way in, they’d know the information anyway. As it is, the person on the other side just knows when he’s making an announcement.

“Yeeeeees?” He tries not to sound as freaked out as he actually is, but the female voice on the other side seems to pay no attention to his tone or very elongated vowel.

“I want to know about the Goddard Futuristics shipment.”

“As you will, princess,” he says, already setting up the transaction, punching in the details that have become familiar by now. “Call me that ever again, and I will find you and very slowly kill you.”

“You know, I like how we’re bonding and becoming friends. Very good for my morale.”

His phone beeps again: transaction completed. Hera is taking over the radio, announcing everyone that a transaction has been made; but even the subject of it is shrouded in mystery now, per his mysterious client’s request. There are complaints raining in, now – but even the criminals of the world know not to shoot the messenger for the acts of another. And hell, they might even like the dumb idiot that Eiffel makes himself seem.

With a cup of coffee that tastes like dirt and a pack of cigarettes in his hand, he goes out for a break. The narration from a tv show from the ‘80s is now playing over the radio, and Eiffel just loves sharing his pop-trash knowledge with the world, enlighten them on what good entertainment is actually made of. Who knows, maybe some of these dudes would give up the guns for a career as stand-up comedians, though Eiffel is sure they won’t be able to match his jokes.

[veritascara]

The Signs

Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla Teen/3.5k words A childhood lesson she hoped she’d never need comes back to haunt Hera, and she isn’t sure how she feels about it.

Set during “Family Reunion – and Farewell.”

A/N: Okay, here's part three for you wonderful, patient people. Enjoy! Thanks again to @anoray and @uhura-ismylastname for being my extra eyes!

More stories for this series are now in progress. All stories in this series can be read together or as stand-alones.

Read on AO3 | Part 3 of Ad Astra

*******

“Hera.”

“Hera!”

A sharp voice calling her name yanked Hera out of her daydream and back to the present, and she winced when she saw the frustration on the face of the face of the woman in front of her, the way her blue lekku arched stiffly behind her back. “Sorry. I got . . . distracted.”

The woman, Isval, Hera remembered belatedly, closed her eyes and took a breath. After a moment her lekku dropped back to a neutral position, and she focused on Hera again, much to her chagrin. Picturing herself on another training flight was so much more enjoyable than this . . . lesson—although really, pretty much anything would be.

“Now I need you to tell me, what are the three signs?”

The signs? Oh kriff, what were they again? Hera looked away and dug her nails into her palms. Wait. “Umm, something about my palms. And, uh, pain, somewhere?” She bit her lip and chanced a glance back up at the woman.

Isval sighed. “Darkened palms. Stomach pain. And swollen lips. All three of those together are the signs. One or two don’t really matter, just keep watching. But if you have all three—and our bodies are made to tell us quickly—you need to find a midwife or doctor or a medical droid right away, so they can take care of it.”

“Okay . . .” Hera said hesitantly. She thought she had an idea what ‘take care of it’ meant, but she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. There was one other part that confused her, though. “But why would my lips get swollen?” she said, reaching up to her face.

“Not those lips,” Isval said, “those lips.” She pointed towards Hera’s crotch.

Hera’s eyes went round, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She could only imagine how dark green they must be.

Isval’s face softened. “Listen, kid. I’m sorry I have to be the one to talk to you about all this. I know it shouldn’t be me. But Ashla knows your father never will.”

Hera pressed her lips into a thin line and shot the woman an angry glare at the mention of her father. He’d come—to visit her before she went to flight school, he’d said—and she’d barely seen him. And she hadn’t seen him for four whole months before that.

But Isval ignored her and continued on. “There are things you have to know. Cham’s kept you safe so far, but you are almost thirteen summers, a Twi’lek, and a girl. The galaxy is a dangerous place for us, and you have to know how to protect yourself.”

“I can fight just fine.”

“Sometimes fighting isn’t enough.”

Hera felt another angry retort at the top of her tongue, but it died away when she read the weary expression on the woman’s face, the limp droop of her lekku. Somewhere, beneath the battle scars and fierce, sharpened teeth she saw a glimpse of a young girl who had suffered. A girl who maybe was trying to keep her from hurting the same way.

She held her tongue.

“Please, tell me again what the signs are,” Isval requested.

“Darkened palms.” Hera thought hard, feeling the need to recall them more acutely. “Stomach pain.” She automatically wrapped her arms around her middle. “Swollen . . . lips.”

“Good. Now once more.”

“Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips,” Hera said, this time more freely. For the first time in their long, awkward conversation, she realized Isval felt more like a friend.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips. She repeated the signs to herself once more, committing them to memory.

Not that she would ever need them.

*******

Hera walked quietly through the living quarters of the Ghost. Its rooms reverberated with an unnatural stillness, an emptiness she hadn’t felt in years, as if the ship herself was mourning Kanan’s loss. Or maybe the emptiness was just inside of her.

She was probably cracking up, falling apart. Now really wasn’t the time for that.

With a quick glance at the desolate common rooms behind her, Hera entered the medbay and shut the door.

It wasn’t much of a room—never had been. Really, it was just a small storage closet she’d converted years ago, recognizing the need to have more emergency equipment on hand, as the nature of their missions became increasingly more dangerous. They had been lucky they hadn’t used it more often over the past few years, although maybe that wasn’t luck at all. She’d lived with Jedi too long to believe in luck.

A deep cramp starting low in her belly worked its way across her midsection, wrapping around to her back.

No, luck didn’t exist at all.

Hera sighed and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing and calm her emotions. She had to stop the tears before they threatened to fall again. Now really wasn’t the time for that either. She only had a few minutes, and she needed to do what she’d come for quickly.

Hera lifted the small, archaic triage droid off its shelf and set it down on the bench that counted for a bunk—she could barely have laid down flat on it, if she had needed to. It was a lost cause for anyone taller; they’d learned that the hard way once with Zeb.

Then she began digging around in the lower drawers for the test cartridge she needed. It took her a minute to remember its location, in the back of a drawer of miscellaneous things they never actually used—things like this.

She’d certainly hoped she’d never use it, but it was always better to be prepared. Pure paranoia had kept her from getting rid of it. And here she was, using it after all.

Hera sat down on the bench next to the machine. She shifted a couple times, trying to find a comfortable position that put less pressure on her puffy, aching labia. It was a lost cause, as she already knew. Her hands tremble as she inserted the cartridge and powered on the machine, waiting for the ancient thing to cycle through its self checks and praying that it functioned at all. The seconds ticked by painfully. If she took too long someone would come looking for her and their mission couldn’t wait and–

“Hello. Multispecies chorionic gonadotropin test inserted. Please apply blood sample.”

Hera sighed with relief at sound of the metallic ‘voice’ coming from the droid’s speaker, and removed her gloves one at a time. Like a magnet, her eyes were again drawn to her palms, as they had been every day for the past three days. Holding her hands up, she stared at the dark green skin there, rich and fertile like the equatorial forests of Ryloth.

She shook her head to clear it and looked away. Quickly, she grabbed the autolancet and pricked her finger, then fed a drop of blood into the cartridge.

“Please wait. Testing,” the machine droned.

Hera leaned back to rest her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. The hum of the Ghost’s air systems buzzed around her, vibrating through the hull of the ship. She didn’t know what she wanted the result of the test to be. But she was pretty sure she knew what it was going to say anyways.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

The machine clicked and spat out the test cartridge, the tiny indicator lights on its surface still blinking as it processed its results.

“Hurry. Please,” she whispered. The tiny room felt overly hot, the walls closing in around her. She was struck by a sudden need to run, to escape to somewhere, anywhere else—a feeling she thought she’d conquered long ago as a child.

“Test completed.”

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

Hera held her breath, frozen in a singularity, her fate ready to swallow her up. Another deep cramp squeezed her abdomen.

“Chorionic gonadotropin level elevated. Pregnancy likely. Further medical testing and care recommended. Goodbye.”

A report spat out of the printer’s side, then without further elaboration, the droid shut itself off and went dark. Mechanically, Hera reached out and ripped the small piece of flimsi free. Maybe, just maybe, it said something different. But it was just the same—or essentially so. A meaningless number next to the test name, which she assumed to be her blood value. The normal range below that was far lower than her number. Not good. A couple lines of text printed below that were word-for-word the same as what the machine had told her already.

Pregnant.

Hera folded up the flimsi and stuffed it into her pocket.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

She stared at the bare gray door in front of her, longing for something, anything else to focus on. Why had she never told Sabine to paint this room? She dropped her head into her hands, as if shutting out the sights around her might change the outcome, change the situation. Which was what exactly?

Exactly what she’d allowed to happen.

If she blinked her eyes open, she’d see her palms in front of them; if she shifted, she’d feel the uncomfortable pressure on her nether regions; inevitably, the persistent cramping would return to haunt her; and now the printout in her pocket . . .

Kriff, she was pregnant, and she really didn’t know how to feel about that.

In another time, another life—one where Kanan was alive, where there was no war looming over the galaxy, she supposed the discovery would have been one of joy. Even now she longed to be able to grasp at that fleeting emotion and hold onto it with every fiber of her being. But Kanan  was  gone, and the galaxy  was at war—a war she’d been fighting in some way since she was seven years old. It had obliterated almost everyone she’d ever loved. What kind of life was that to bring a child into? A terrifying one.

Babies died in war. She knew that all too well.

Yet, she did not feel terror either. She simply felt nothing. A great, yawning emptiness consumed her from the inside out, and somewhere deep within that cavern was its source: a black hole that had taken up residence within her, its size infinitesimal, its mass infinite.

And now she had to do something about it—take care of it. Fifteen years on, Hera understood well the double meaning embedded in her father’s friend’s admonishment. She knew which meaning she might have embraced without hesitation even a couple years earlier, when her drive to save the galaxy and fight for the rebellion had still seemed so simple, so straightforward. But she also knew which meaning she would choose now, which path she had already chosen—on a night in Kanan’s arms in their camp, on a whole day spent on Yavin IV without visiting the medcenter, in a hundred tiny decisions in the two weeks since.

She had chosen, would choose to have his child. Kanan’s child. Nearly the only tangible thing he had left behind in the galaxy, certainly the most precious.

Hera wrapped her arms around her belly, as if that might stop the emptiness from growing even greater. It didn’t. A sudden wave of grief washed over her at what she had lost—her best friend, her partner, her lover, and now . . . her future child’s father.

And what a father Kanan would have been. She could picture without hesitation the joy, the excitement that would light up his sightless eyes at the knowledge of what they’d created. But she could also envision the anxiety, the uncertainty that would be on display there—the fear. Fear for her safety. Their lives were dangerous, and a pregnancy added so many more unknowns. What risks might she face carrying a human’s baby? She didn’t even know herself. Fear for the baby. What dangers had she already unknowingly subjected it to? But most of all, fear of her decisions. She knew without a doubt that Kanan would fear that she would refuse to bear his child at all, while he still wanted it desperately anyways. Her heart twisted knowing her own emotional distance to be the cause of that one. Why had she kept him at arm’s length so long? It had saved neither of them from pain or grief at multiple points. It had never really improved her focus on the rebellion. It had only hurt him and hindered–

A sudden beep from Hera’s comm cut off any further painful musings and startled her back to life.

“Hera, are you still on the ship?”

“Yeah, Zeb,” she croaked, trying her best to hide the roughness in her voice—probably failing. “Is everything in place?”

“Everything’s sorted down here. We’re bringing Pryce up now. Can you get Ezra and bring him with you? He followed you in a few minutes ago.”

“I’m on my way.”

Action was always easier than contemplation. Hera hopped down from the tiny bunk, tossed the triage droid back onto its crowded shelf, and pulled her gloves back on. But even when she left the room, neither her body nor her mind let her forget the changes within it. Instinctively, her movements became slower, more cautious than usual. Her pace lagged even more at the distant sound of Ezra’s voice echoing from the gun turret above.

“–but I’m afraid—not for me, but for my friends.”  

Another cramp, lighter this time, twisted Hera’s stomach into knots, and her hand drifted there without thinking, as much in response to what she now knew lay within as the discomfort. She listened to Ezra’s words and drew closer.

“They’ve fought so hard, given so much, and helped me understand why you stood up to the Empire and made the sacrifices you did.” As he continued on, she realized he was addressing his own parents, and she blinked back tears that threatened to encroach on her vision. Now wasn’t the time for that. But something in what he said resonated deeply with her fears, and with her hopes.

Hopes. She had hopes?

“I wish you could meet them, my new family.”

Hera smiled a little. She did have hope. Ezra embodied that hope. His parents had raised him from an infant to be a boy who loved, looked out for, connected with others, no matter his circumstances. She and Kanan had been privileged to raise him into the young man he was now, but his parents’ love had always been there, guiding and supporting him. And all of them had done so through a war, had given him everything they had, and not for nothing.

Painful as it may be, to raise a child regardless of the circumstances was to create hope.

“–I want you to know everything I have done and will do began with you.”

Hera’s smile grew and softened, and a blinking light flickered deep within her belly—a single, tiny star hanging alone in the vast blackness of Wild Space to guide her way. It illuminated the overwhelming darkness, filled the emptiness that had pervaded her being.

“Ezra,” she called up, her own voice still sounding shaky in her ears, “they’re bringing her up.”

Ezra startled at the sound and looked down. For a moment fear played across his features, but he climbed down the ladder quietly and put the data pad away on his bunk, while Hera waited in the corridor.

“Let’s go.” Ezra turned towards the lower ladder to leave, but Hera placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. She didn’t need the Force to read the measure of uncertainty in his steps, to feel the conflicts hiding deep inside. He had such strong faith and strength, it was easy to forget sometimes that he was still only eighteen.

“Ezra.” He stopped at her touch and turned towards her, and Hera met his eyes. “Whatever happens today, we’re all with you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, earnest and warm. He paused for a moment and glanced towards the cockpit, some memory of the past playing out in his mind. “You always believed in me, right from the start. I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Hera.”

Hera wanted to protest, but another unanticipated wave of emotion crested over her, and she fought back tears to give him a watery smile. “Kanan would be proud of you,” she said.

Ezra stared at her, his gaze suddenly reminding her so much of Kanan’s—the way he’d always seen straight through her, whatever their situation. Then abruptly, Ezra threw his arms around her. The childlike gesture took Hera by surprise, but she welcomed his embrace all the same and pulled him close, basking in the warmth and physical contact she’d hardly known she’d needed. But no sooner had she relaxed into the hug when another cramp gripped her insides. Hera closed her eyes and fought the urge to stiffen against the mild pain.

“Kanan would be proud of you too,” Ezra whispered against her shoulder, squeezing her a little tighter. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she pulled back to wipe it away with her sleeve and regain control.

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions while Ezra waited, his steadying hand still on her shoulder. When had the child somehow become the parent? When had all the clear cut lines they’d once known blurred into oblivion? she wondered. Four years had passed in the blink of an eye. And this was what had become of the self-centered boy she’d once begged to warn the others of a deadly trap. This was the young padawan who had struggled so much with darkness after his cumulative losses. Now he was a shining light striving to set his homeworld free, ready to give everything he had so that others might live free of the darkness he’d grown up under. Of course Kanan would have been proud, but she was proud of him too, so very proud.

“May the Force be with us,” she said, once she trusted her voice again.

A half-smile appeared on Ezra’s face, and Hera watched his confidence bloom as he took her statement to heart. “It will be,” he said with assurance. “Come on. Can’t keep our guest waiting.” He cocked his head toward the ladder to the hold and climbed down before her, glancing up to watch her progress as she followed him down. Hera smiled a little at his sweet gesture and his gentleness with her after her emotional outburst. The poor kid had been taking care of her far too much lately. She’d have to make it up to him when this mission was over.

Hera followed Ezra down the Ghost’s ramp, and she stepped back to lean against it in the shadows, her mind wandering while he did his work. If she never saw Pryce again, it would be too soon, but she still derived no joy from the other woman’s fear. Her stomach churned again, whether from the cramps or from the memory of the awful day she’d spent as Pryce’s captive, she hardly knew. And she crossed her arms across her chest to keep from touching her belly, fearful of drawing attention to her discovery in front of anyone who might wish her harm.

A horrifying thought crossed her mind then. What if Pryce had known? Even worse: what if Thrawn had known?  Could they have known so soon? She didn’t know. But even in her pain-induced haze, Pryce’s twisted glee and Thrawn’s veiled threats against her future had etched themselves into her mind. Hera’s heart pounded, and she felt bile rising in her throat. She shot a look at the other woman, now groveling on the ground in front of a wolf, so easily cowed by a few minutes of pressure, and wished for a single moment that they didn’t need her—that they could simply end her.

But revenge wasn’t their way. It never was.

Hera shook her head and banished the dark thoughts from her mind. Whether they had somehow known or not, she was free now and safe. Well, as safe as she could be in the midst of a dangerous mission for an active rebellion in a galaxy preparing to go to war.

What was she going to do? The overwhelming impossibility of it all again threatened to overwhelm her. Making one choice necessarily led to another and another and another, all the choices piling up until they built an unscalable mountain to be conquered. No, not conquered, survived. But how could they do it?

The cramp eased, and Hera released a breath and closed her eyes. A remembered warmth settled itself on her right shoulder, and she lifted her hand to the spot where Kanan had so often laid his hand when coming into the cockpit to greet her, offering his reassurance even when she would have denied needing it.

I wish you were here, she thought. You’d know what to do.

No reply came into her mind, not that she expected one. This was her battle to fight. It was one of those days where she just had one small hope dangling in front of her, and she’d take it or die trying.

Darkened palms. Stomach pain. Swollen lips.

One choice made. Thousands more to go. She’d do her damned best to stay safe today, and deal with the others later.

For herself and the baby. And for Kanan.

[benevolenterrancy]

Maybe Herawell?

I’ve never written Herawell... or Maxwell at all, so this was a fun challenge (and a good excuse to relisten to season three episodes)!  Definitely not a drabble but I had an idea and I wanted to roll with it.  I’ve also posted it up on my AO3.

By now, Maxwell knew the Hephaestus like an old friend.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that if she hadold friends, she would know them as well as the Hephaestus.

She sees the blueprints in her head, sees them shift andswim through their three dimensional mapping, the layers of crew pathways andservice corridors overlaid with technical graphs of wiring and pipes andcarefully labelled systems that blurred over top of each other until she, withbarely a thought, dissected them from one another and superimpose them over hersurroundings.  She was in engineering,but she wasn’t just inengineering.  To her right she passed acomms terminal, and snaking through that wall was a network that connected itto three other engineering terminals to create a subsystem, partitioned off themain systems for safety reasons. Immediately beneath her feet were three different branches of theHephaestus’ heating ducts, and below that was a primary power node.  Overhead, she knew there were four differentnetworks of wires, all carrying different information at impossible speeds allover the ship.  Interspersed through allof this was the grid of cameras and sensors and auditor inputs used by themother program to supervise the station and its inhabitants.  All of this hidden from sight buteffortlessly visible in her  mind’s eye.

With ease she moved  through the stuffy, complex maze ofengineering, not even looking up from the tablet in her hand and she pushed herway along.  She was trying to make senseof an error that had cropped up yesterday in the ventilation system.  It had been a strange, brief tick and shemight have overlooked it if it weren’t for the fact that it quite literally should not have happened.  As far as she could tell there was no triggerthat should have set it off, it was a completely inscrutable puzzle, and that annoyed Alana Maxwell.  So here she was, attempting to hunt it downto its root system.

She may have very well continued on her way, comfortable inthe busy silence of an unsolved dilemma (one that took her blissfully far awayfrom the unmitigated chaos of the rest of the ship since the colonel had betterthings to do than slum in engineering, Lovelace and Minkowski were bothdutifully busy with their own work, and Eiffel wasn’t likely to go somewherethat might require him needing to actually work.  Honestly Maxwell was grateful for thattoday.  Today wasn’t a day she felt muchlike being around other people.  Jacobiby now knew to leave well enough alone; he’d given her shoulder a brief pat inthe morning when they had passed in the kitchen and that had been the extent ofit.

So it was just her and the machines.  Really, if you thought about it, that wasn’tso much sad as much as it was… a tradition.

That might actually be more sad, if she let herself think aboutit too much.  Which she didn’t.  

This peace was broken though, when one of the machines spokeup.

“Doctor Maxwell, stop!”

Hera’s voice was so sudden and so filled with cracklingpanic that Maxwell didn’t even question it. That, and the sharp warning beeps that came half a second after told hervery  clearly that she needed to quitmoving now.  She scrambled to stop herself as quickly as shecould while gliding in zero-G.  Shedidn’t stop a moment too soon; immediately in front her face one of the pressurerelease values on engine systems gave an ear-piercing shriek as it released askin-burning cloud of built-up steam. Even from where she clung to the pipe that had slowed her down, Alanacould feel the sizzle of super-heated water vapour across her cheeks.

The steam died back down as quickly as it had come, leavingthe room silent besides for the plinkplink of cooling metal.  Maxwell tooka moment to compose herself and come to terms with her near death experiencebefore speaking.

“Maxwell?  Doctor Maxwell?  Are you okay? …Alana?”

Maxwell breathed carefully. The air felt all the colder passing into her lungs after that burst ofsteam.

“I am… okay, Hera. Barely, but okay.  At least Iwasn’t done up like steamed broccoli so it could have been worse.  Now, if you don’t mind me asking, what the hell was that.”

A semi-omniscient artificial intelligence that was fullyintegrated with a space stations couldn’t actually flinch, but Hera definitelytried.  

After the uncomfortable static died down, Maxwell asked, asgently as she could, “Hera are youfeeling okay?  That was a reallyunexpected pressure build up, and–”

“No no no, I’m fine! I’m fantastic!  I am – with allthe work you’ve already done for me, Doctor Maxwell, I’ve honestly never felt better. It was just…  I was doing a fewadjustments of our orbit and I guess it just put a bit more strain on theengines than I had calculated.  Sillymistake!  Must have, um, forgotten tocarry the one?”

Maxwell crossed her arms. She’d gone from being shocked and mildly concerned to down rightsuspicious.  “You’ve been spending toomuch time around Eiffel,” she said flatly.

Hera couldn’t really deny that.  She swore she used to be a better liar.

“Seriously, Hera, what’s wrong?  And can we not do the usual song and dancearound this.  Just… let me know whatneeds to be fixed, so I can fix it.  Letme help.”

“Nothing needs to be fixed – well, no, that cooling tank bythe starboard thruster is still running at a loss for some reason, and I’m notsure that reroute you patched in last week has fully settled – but what I meanto say is… this was just an accident. Honest.  And besides, youshouldn’t be overworking yourself today, right? Right!  Right, so let’s forget it.”

Maxwell squinted.

“What’s thatsupposed to mean?”

Hera seemed to realize she’d taken a misstep because shefumbled to self-correct.  “What?  Mean? Nothing!  Just… you’re a…hardworking individual and you shouldn’t work… too… hard.”

“Why is today so special?” she demanded, though she knewwhy.  “Look, whatever you think you knowabout me, Hera–”

“Look, I wasn’t snooping just to snoop!  Well, not much.  Maybe a little.  It happened while we were patching code fromthe Urania into my databanks.  It’s allbeing shoved into my head, it’s hard notto look and it was just a little date and it wasn’t exactly classified – much –anyway!  It’s not really a big deal,right?  Except… then you haven’t saidanything about it and no one else has said anything about it and now I’mthinking maybe it is a big deal and,yeah…” she trailed off.

Maxwell just sighed.

“Alright, let’s just… get this out in the open then.  Yes, it’s my birthday.  I suppose I shouldn’t have really expectedyou not to figure that out.”

“Happy birthday?” Hera offered tentatively.

“Not really,” said Maxwell pointedly.  “Look, you know and… honestly, I’msurprisingly okay with you knowing. Because it’s you.  But I don’twant to talk about it or acknowledge it or anything.  Get it? I don’t exactly have a lot of great memories about birthdays and honest,I’d rather just be busy.”

Math, numbers, machines, those had always been there, thosehad always been constant.  Growing up,nothing else really had been.  She lookedback on her time in public school mostly with resentment.  They hadn’t know what they had had.  They had left her alone and bored andstagnating.  They had left her with herfather and left her with her inscrutable classmates and left her inmotherfucking Montana.  But at the time, as a child, she had likedschool, as much as she’d liked most things. Oh, she had hated her classmates, and hated the lonely boredom of recessand lunch until she had learned to smile and charm and convince her peers totolerate her on a surface level.  She hadhated how boring the work had been and how stupid her classmates had seemed.  But school at least had been constant.  Every weekday, eight to two.  And once a year, like every other student intheir small elementary school, the principal would call her name over the morningannouncements to mention to a mostly uncaring student body that it was herbirthday and to invite her to get a birthday pencil from the office.  It had been predictable.  It had, when she was younger and more naïve,made her feel good.  Once a year, atleast one person would wish her a happy birthday.  She had heard plenty of stories about whatbirthdays were supposed to be like, heard peers talk, read it in books, seen iton TV.  Parents pampering you, presents,parties, praise.  Some years her fatherremember.  Some years she wished he didn’t.  Most it wasn’t an issue, but it wasn’tmentioned.

But she would spend the entire day on edge, wondering if,if, if, if he would remember, and if he did what would happen.  It had been an unpredictable, anxious sort ofday.  Most years she would drag herbiggest, and most interesting books into her room – whatever she’d been able tocheck out of the school’s little library or borrow from the classroom – andread.  She’d look at the grade six mathbook that was theoretically three years too advance for her and let the simpleequations solve themselves before her eyes, she’d read about space and scienceand exploration and imagine the hidden math there.  A rocket went up to space.  How? The book didn’t tell.  She wouldspend the evening on her stomach with paper and pencils in front of her as sheimagined how it worked, why it worked, if she could make it work.  The math was constant.  It kept her busy.  It was a good friend.

And yes, she realized that that sounded sad.  Childhood trauma and all that, the plight ofa child genius, everyone had heard the narrative before.  She shut it down and locked it up behindfirewalls and deleted the directories that lead back there.  It was unnecessary baggage, a glitch in herprograming, an obsolete file that slowed her down.  But command_code: “birthday” had a way ofdrawing those memories back up.  So shekept busy.

Maxwell spoke first, eager to change the subject.  “So how about we figure out what the heck hasbeen causing these weird alarms over the past few days.  At this point I’m thinking there might besomething wrong with the alarm trigger itself, with the audio, because–”

“I, uh… I know what’s wrong.”

“…Are you serious?  Sowhat, you’ve just been watching me scramble around trying to figure it out?  Hera, if this is a prank you have really been spending too much timearound Eiffel.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Hera…”

“I’m serious!  Well, Imean technically there were thingsthat were wrong for a very, very briefamount of time.  I was trying to surpriseyou and so I was… practicing.”

“By… breaking the ship? I mean, I would have beensurprised if we’d suddenly dropped into the star but I think everyone elsewould have been too.”

“Oh, so I need to keep you updated about every time I adjustany system, but you don’t even have to tell me that it’s your birthday!” snapped Hera, clearly riled.

“What does that have to do with anything?” demanded Maxwell,feeling just as frustrated.

“Because it’s your birthday!”

“So what?  Kepler’s isnext month, do you give a shit about that?”

“No!  Because that’s Kepler, and this is you. I care because it’s yourbirthday!  This is the day you started existing.  And I thought that we… I thought…”  The glitch was thick in her voice.  “I thought you would c-care if I knew.”

The action was immediately, without any sort of thought; Maxwellreached out and put a hand on the nearest pipe. It was an absolutely insane, nonsensical thing to do.  To say that Hera was the Hephaestus was agross over-simplification to begin with, but even if you did make that leap itwasn’t like there was any sensation for Hera to experience by Maxwell touchingsome arbitrary part of the station.  Shecouldn’t tell that Maxwell’s hand was soft. Apologetic.  Shocked and sincereand overwhelmed but not knowing how to feel any of that let alone voice it.

“I don’t really dobirthdays.  Not a lot of great memoriesfor me.”  Please understand.

“I get that, I just…” said Hera, with stops and starts.  “I’m sorry, I’m going to mess all this up.  I just, I wanted you to know that I’m g-gladyou exist.  And I get not liking whereyou c-came from, but I don’t care aboutthat.  Who cares if the person who madeyou was a b-bad person?  I’m glad youexist, like this, now.”

Maxwell could feel her hand tighten its grip on the pipe asher throat tightened around a lump of emotions rising up from her chest.  She didn’t know what to say, so she saidnothing.

For a moment it was silent, or as silent as engineering evergot.  Just the sound of a single humanand thousands of pounds of complex machinery co-existing.  And a single AI thinking carefully before shespoke.

Finally, Hera said, with great tentativeness, “Can I giveyou my gift now?  I… I was still working itout but I think it should be ready.”

That startled Maxwell. “Alright, Hera, you’re pretty amazing but – no, you are possibly the most amazing person I know – butthere are limits.  You don’t have hands, Hera.  We’re stuck in a tin can eight lightyearsaway from earth.”  Laughter was breakinginto her voice, a disbelieving, amazed, intrigued laughter.  She was curious.  Not just curious, but completelystumped.  You couldn’t just get someonesomething when you had next to no resources to begin with and were existing ina tiny bubble in the middle of space. And yet she was supposed to believe Hera had somehow managed it?  Just because it was Maxwell’s birthday?

Honestly, if anyone could manage it, she supposed the factthat Hera had surprised her the least. No matter what that little voice in her head might insist, Hera wascapable of so much.  Maxwell had builther life around artificial intelligence, and yet Hera was constantly,endlessly, relentlessly amazing her.  Notbecause she was a great AI, but because Hera was, unerringly, a greatperson.  A great, shocking, frustrating,wonderful person.

“I have my ways,” said Hera, with a smug pride in her voicethat was so far removed from the helplessness that she was still workingthrough that Maxwell couldn’t help but smile. ”So… do you want it?”

“Yes, I’m too curious now.”

“I know all your weaknesses,” teased Hera.  “You’re going to have to wait for just onesecond.  It’s a little tricky to getgoing.”

Maxwell floated in the middle of engineering, waiting.

Then a warning buzzer went off somewhere below her.   Maxwell was in the middle of doing afull-body twist – immediately looking for what was going wrong was such aningrained instinct at this point that she didn’t even think about it – when thebuzz cut off.  And then another alarmbeeped, its lights flashing.  Andbeeped.  Stopped.  A higher pinging, a warning bell, and soonMaxwell was listening to a choir of notification pings and alarm buzzes andalert beeps play out in what, she realized with delighted awe, was asurprisingly recognizable rendition of HappyBirthday.  And this wasn’t just Herapiping music or even noise through her speakers.  No, Maxwell realized as she floated amid a rainbowsky of flashing lights, somehow Hera was managing to choreograph an array ofsystem failures with the sole purpose of making the machines around them sing.

That should have been more terrifying than it was.  Mostly Maxwell just wanted to figure out away to hug an entire space station, because an entire space station beingsystematically broken and rebuilt in the span of microseconds that was possiblythe coolest gift she had ever been given.

When the last warning hum died down, and the bright lightswere flashing and twinkling like party poppers, Maxwell applauded.

“D-did you like it?”

“Hera, that was amazing.  How did you even manage that?”

Hera was flustered, delightfully so.  “Oh, you know.  Practice. Which, um, sorry about that.  Butit was really just like knocking over a line of dominoes.  …Dominoes that you also need to make sure youprogram to immediately rebuild themselves after they get knocked over soeveryone doesn’t die a horrible, painful death.”  Hera laughed uncertainly.  “But everything was fine, so – yay.”

Maxwell was turning on the spot, mentally trying tocalculate how many different systems had played into that, how that many couldeven be altered or tricked in such a way. “There must have been a hundred different failsafes to work around topull that off.”

“Oh, believe me, there are and none of them are happy withme right now.  But… I did it.  I really didn’t think I could but, well, thenI figured who says I can’t.  So I just,did.”

Maxwell had her face in her hands.

“Doctor Maxwell?”

Her shoulders shook.

“Alana?” called Hera, more alarmed.  “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have doneanything; Eiffel doesn’t like his birthday either, but I’d thought–”

Finally, Maxwell laughed. Deep, gasping laughs that were almost tears, probably were tears, butwere  wrapped up enough in humour and joythat they could be safely ignored.

“I can’t believe you just completely kicked down everywarning sign built into your head that you could find.  You just… stomped right over every stopperGoddard made because you wanted to. Because you thought it would make me happy.  I can’t… I…”  Her breathing steadied alittle, and suddenly the weight of it, the weight of twenty seconds and a sillychildish song hit her fully.  “Thank you,Hera.”

“You’re welcome, Alana.” A beat, and then, as if thinking better of herself even as she said it,Hera said, “I understand why you wouldn’t like your birthday, and I definitelyget having memories you don’t want to think about, but someone really, reallywise told me that memories are what make us people.  So I was thinking, maybe, we could make somenew memories?  Together?”

Maxwell didn’t know what to say.  Her mind whizzed with every reason this was abad idea.  Birthday’s were inherentlyunreliable, so she filled them with reliability: numbers, math, work, a few ofthe constants in her life.  Thetemptation to stick with what she knew, to avoid the thoughts, to avoidconfrontation was great.  Sheoverthought, and she knew it.  So shestopped, and said the only thing that she could possibly say.

“I imagine everyone can keep us from dropping into the starwithout me there to hold their hands for a few hours, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” said Hera, fondly.  “But I’d be willing to test that hypothesisout.”

“Sounds like a date.”

[little-freyja]

Home

Title: Home Word Count: 1714 Paring: Lawstien About: Danny has returned to Vancouver to help take care of her family, however she gets a little homesick and longs to return to Austria to be with her girlfriend, Carmilla AO3 Link

My bones are safe and my heart can rest Knowing it belongs to you My world is changed and it's cradled by The comfort that is you Oh my love, My head is reeling and I am running out of air I need to breathe in

Danny stood in front of the stove in her childhood home, absent-mindedly stirring the tomato sauce. She had only been home in Vancouver for a little over a week, but it felt like it had been an eternity. Usually, she loved coming home to hang out with her brother and the twins. But she didn't want to be home under these conditions. Danny swallowed a little as she replayed the memory of why she had to be here so suddenly.

A week and a half ago, while getting ready for a morning run, Danny got the dreaded phone call. At the moment she didn't think much of it, besides the fact that it was nearly eleven at night and her mother should be asleep.

Needless to say, Danny didn't go on her run that morning. She sat there in the edge of the couch, on the verge of a break down, yet so numb. It wasn't until Carmilla, her girlfriend, emerged from the bedroom, asking her what was wrong. When Carmilla placed her hands on Danny's cheek, her face full of worry, asking her repeatedly, that a wail ripped from Danny's throat and the tears fell from her eyes.

Her younger brother, Benny, was in the hospital.

She spent the rest of that day, with Carmilla by her side, as she helped Danny put a suitcase together.

Danny let out a soft sigh. And there was another reason why it felt like she had been home for far too long. She missed Carmilla. Carmilla had to stay in Austria with Fenrir, their husky. Her parents could only afford to fly Danny home, so she could help take care of her siblings.

Danny longed to be back in her tiny apartment. She yearned to be in bed with Carmilla: the vampire curled up against her, her head on her chest as she listened to Danny's steady heartbeat, with Carmilla’s arm securely around her waist and Fenrir across their feet. Her heart ached for the nonchaotic familiarity. But she knew that was selfish to want that at this moment. Her family needed her, she needed to be there for Benny, and she was going to stay as long as she had to. It was her duty to help them and care for her siblings, even if she felt like crumbling under the weight of the responsibility. It made her wish for the simpler days of defending the Silas campus from monsters.

At least monsters were easy. One could physically hurt them and release frustrations onto them. But Danny was helpless against the sickness that coursed through Benny’s body. She couldn't punch, stake, or burn the illness that was slowly killing her brother.

A light tug on the back of her shirt was enough to make Danny jump. She turned around to see the much too tall for her age, Katie. She stared blankly down at her, almost not registering who she was until she spoke.

“Danny, when are we going to eat?” She asked, her voice low and her eyes pleading, as if it would make the food appear faster. Danny flashed her sister a quick smile and reached forward to ruffle her bright red hair, a common trait in the Lawrence family.

“It's almost ready now, why don't you go set the table.” She suggested. Katie gave her a small nod and reached for the plates. Danny fet a pain in her heart when she started to pull out six plates.

“Honey, it's only you, Charlie, and me tonight. Mom and Dad are still out with Benny.” Danny tells her. She watched as her sister stopped and turned to her. The confused and broken hearted face of her nine year old sister was almost enough to make Danny cry. Almost.

“Why aren't they coming home?” She asked in a quiet voice. Danny freezes in a panic. Anxiety constricts her throat and she feels the nausea hitting her hard. How was she suppose to explain to her baby sister that her older brother had been diagnosed with late stage Lukemia? Why did it have to fall on her to tell her that Benny was probably not going to make it to his seventeenth birthday. How did anyone expect her to be faced with a situation like that, let alone know exactly how to handle it.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to put on a brave face.

“Because Benny is really sick and Mom and Dad are there to make sure he's okay. I came home to make sure you 'n Charlie stay out of trouble.” She said, a soft smile playing at her lips as she gently nudged Katie. Her sister returned the smile, but it quickly fades.

“Is Benny going to be okay?” She asked. Danny cursed Zeus for making children so talkative. She adored her baby sister, but even she had her limits. Danny opened her mouth to stutter out some pathetic excuse, only when a loud bang from the living room interrupts her. She thanked Hera that she didn't have to continue this conversation with Katie.

“Charlie, what in Olympia are you doing?”

“Nothing!” He replied, all too quickly. Danny turned off the burner and moved the pot to the back of the stove, before going to investigate.

Upon entering the living room, she noticed that the bookshelf was overturned and contents had been spilt everywhere. Her eyes flicked up to Charlie, who was wrestling a book out of their scruffy mutt, Bear’s mouth. Danny sighed and turned the bookcase upright. Charlie successful rescued the book from their dog and tried to gather as many of them up as he could.

“How about we just clean them up after dinner, okay?” She said. He looked down at the pile of books, then slowly up to Danny and nodded, fully aware of his guilt. Danny smiled softly and kissed his temple. She couldn't help but chuckle at the way his face screwed up in annoyance, clearly not wanting any affection from his sister.

“Go on, give Bear his dinner and go take your seat.” She told him. He hurried off to the kitchen, Bear right at his heels. Danny sighed and straightened up. Yeah, monsters were much easier to deal with than the twins. She turned to go back to the kitchen, her stomach growling (she couldn't recall the last time she actually ate), when the doorbell rang. Bear, in a barking frenzy, bounded from the kitchen and barreled past Danny, nearly knocking her over.

She quickly regained her balance and her shoulders sag. All she wanted was to finally eat and to be left alone for a while.

“Bear, schweigen!” Danny ordered, her voice stern. He ceased his barking and looked back at her. With a huff he pushed off the window and padded back into the kitchen. Danny sighee and hurried to the door, opening it with a forced smile.

“Evening.” She greeted the postman. He gave her a smile and held out the electronic pad and pen.

“Evening, you just have to sign for a package.” Danny’s brows crease in confusion. She didn't remember her parents saying about expecting a package. But she signed it anyways, took the box from the man and thanked him. Her confusion only grew when she saw that it was addressed to her.

“Danny! We're starving!” Charlie's voice pulled her back to reality and she shook her head.

“Coming, I'm coming!” Danny called back, retreating into the kitchen. She placed the package on the counter. She scooped the spaghetti onto Katie and Charlie's plate and gave them permission to start eating without her.

She took the box and hurried to her room. Danny eased down onto the edge of her bed and made quick work of the tape. She pulled the flaps back to reveal a pair of blue socks with cartoon cats dressed as astronauts, a small black plush cat, and underneath both of them was a folded up blanket that instantly made her feel like she was back in Austria. She also spotted a small card tucked under the cat's paw and picked it up.

The front had a drawing of a cat stretched across someone's keyboard, with the words “You're my favorite person to annoy” written above the picture. A small, smile played at the corner of Danny's lips. She opened the card and instantly recognized the handwriting.

Daniele,

My favorite annoyance. I miss you more than you'll ever know, more than a vampire should miss a human. I long for the day you return home to me. The days drone on, feeling so much longer than they truly are. I can't help but be selfish in wanting you to return home, but the apartment feels empty without you here. I know your family needs you, and you want to be there for your brother. This can't be an easy thing to deal with. This is something, as an immortal, I could never fathom.

I can't wait for you to return, the stars aren't the same without you, nor are walks with Fen (who misses you deeply too). I hope this care pack helps with the stress. I even “gave up custody” of our favorite blanket for you. I made sure to let Fenrir lay on it.

Take care, be safe, and come home soon.

I love you, to the moon and back.

Carmilla

Danny kept staring down at the letter, quickly becoming unable to reread the words between the tears that stung her eyes. She was grinning that dorky grin, the one that Carmilla always said she hated, but secretly adored. Danny knew Carmilla could be a bit of a sap, but she also never expected a gesture of her’s to make her cry. She wiped at her face and gently placed the card down, frantically searching for her phone. Danny had to call Carmilla immediately.

[moviegodsandgoddesses]

Happy Solstice, or Sol Invictus Day! Sol Invictus, or Invincible Sun, was a popular Roman solar deity which gained preeminence in the later Roman Empire courtesy of the Emperor Aurelian (and before him the Emperor Egalabalus).  In fact, the first Christian Emperor, Constantine, initially was a worshiper of Sol Invictus as well. The ‘radiant crown’ of Sol Invictus remained popular with Constantine and emperors thereafter in iconography and coins. December 25th (which used to be the solstice) was the celebratory date of Sol Invictus, and this date is still popular today as it was adopted by Christianity in the late 3rd century.  So what other deities and religions were popular during the Roman Empire?

The Emperor Probus and Probus, with Sol Invictus on the reverse

The Imperial Cult

The best way to start describing this cult is by the word Apotheosis, which means to become divine, or to reach divine status. In the summer of 44 AD, after the death of Julius Caesar, a great comet was seen in the sky.  Using this imagery his adopted son Octavian (soon to be Augustus) developed a divine cult for Julius Ceasar, including temples and priests. Octavian himself was divi filius (“The son of a deified one”). This concept was common in Greek and Roman religion. Hercules himself had joined the Gods on Olympus after his death, and so did Julius Caesar. Octavian, when he became Emperor (or Princeps of the Republic), allowed cult temples made in the honor of his own divine genius. This genius, or divine spirit, is what was worshiped around the empire. Empresses too and the offspring of the Emperor would also be considered worthy of divine status. Of course this made sense to people in the empire, especially in the East. The Emperor ruled over most of the known world, and anyone wielding such power would of course be divine!

So when Messala tells Ben-Hur that the Roman Emperor Tiberius is God, the “only God” for the power he wields on earth, this is exactly what he means! Failure to worship the Gods of Rome (including the Emperor) is what led Christians into trouble in the 1st and 2nd centuries because this because lack of worship meant that this person (or persons) did not want to reap the benefits of divine favor to the Empire. It was considered political and social defiance. The Jews, because of their ancient religion, were exempt from worshiping the Imperial Cult and Roman Gods, but the Christians were not.

As Sheik Ilderim in Ben-Hur says, “The Divine Tiberius is merciful as always!”

rare Roman marble relief from the Julio-Claudian period, circa early 1st century A.D. It depicts the Emperor Tiberius standing before a seated Genius (a manifestation of his divine side) with the goddess Concordia between them as intermediary. 

Some megalomaniac Emperors took this imperial cult worship a step further and declared themselves actual gods (not just the worship of their genius) while they were still alive. Such notables would be Caligula (whose memory was condemned), and Commodus, the son of Marcus Aurelius, who posthumously regained his divinity during the reign of Septimus Severus.

The modest and humorous Emperor Vespasian summed this all up best, I think, with his death-bed exclamation: ‘Vae, puto deus fio’ – ‘oh dear, I think I’m becoming a god. ’ (Suentonius, The Twelve Caesars)

“You could have become a God,” Commodus tells Livius in “The Fall of the Roman Empire”

The Olympians 

The traditional Gods of Ancient Greece were still the most popularly worshiped Gods in the Roman Empire. Jupiter, Apollo, Venus, Hera, Artemis, Mars and the like all had temples throughout the Empire in various manifestations. Many Middle Platonist’s rationalized the worship or many Gods or the properties of God in their various guises or manifestations of the one God Logos, or Truth (see Plotinus, for example). The world is a  place teeming with variety, so it makes sense that several aspects of Nature and Human Emotions and Passions are represented by the many Gods of Olympus.

Messala and Ben-Hur remember childhood games when they evoke “Down Eros, Up Mars!” to each other. Mars, or Ares, the God of War, would surely have appealed to a militaristic solider like Messala, as he was the god of strife and war. However it seems Eros, the god of sensual love and desire, could perhaps be the God Messala really wants to summon here?

Messala also offers praise to Jupiter before the chariot race begins. “The Roman people worshiped Jupiter more extravagantly and more frequently than all other gods; therefore, the worship of Jupiter is almost monotheistic. Jupiter was the most powerful and the greatest of the gods so much so that the Romans sometimes called him Jupiter-Optimus-Maximus. The Romans considered Jupiter to be the protecting entity of their empire, and they even believed that Jupiter would provide them with the greatest empire the world had ever seen.” (https://en.wikibooks.org/wiki/Roman_Culture/Roman_Myths/Jupiter)

Stoicism

Philosophy could sometimes take on the trappings or demeanor of religion as well. If we take Marcus Aurelius, played so brilliantly by Alec Guinness in “The Fall of the Roman Empire”, and his Meditations, you can get a glimpse of some of the amazing philosophies of the late Roman Empire. Stoicism, founded by Zeno in Athens in 313 BC, matched the Roman mentality very well. Stoics were seekers after the Unknown God. They believed in Fate and Providence (hence they paid particular heed to Oracles and Omens). The God of the Stoics was the Creator of all Things, and obeyed  the ‘natural law’. They valued above all things moderation, courage, justice, prudent self control and practical intelligence. Reason and living in agreement with Nature were the basic tenants of Stoicism.  There is a world weary tone in The Meditations, but also hope behind the belief of a coherent, ordered, purposeful Universe.

If then, whatever the time may be when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neglecting everything else thou shalt respect only thy ruling faculty and the divinity within thee, and if thou shalt be afraid not because thou must some time cease to live, but if thou shalt fear never to have begun to live according to nature—then thou wilt be a man worthy of the universe which has produced thee, and thou wilt cease to be a stranger in thy native land, and to wonder at things which happen daily as if they were something unexpected, and to be dependent on this or that. (Meditations, 12.1)

Mithras 

Last but not least we come to the mysterious Roman cult of Mithras, which displayed the Persian trappings of the ancient Zoroastrian God from Persia. The worship of Mithras seems to have come to Rome around the reign of Domitian and continued well into the 3rd century. Like the Eleusinian and Isis mystery cults, Mithraism also maintained secrets oaths and a hierarchy of ascension (seven ‘grades’ of initiation – Crow, Numphus, Solider, Lion, Persian, Heliodromus and Father).  The grades of this hierarchy mirrored the regiments and order of an army, so this religion because popular with the Roman troops, especially on the Danube and the Rhine. The cult excluded women. It revolved around Mithras and his ritual sacrifice of a bull (called a tauroctony), as the giver of ‘seed’ and procreation. This sacrifice and be seen in many statues around the Roman world, showing Mithras (wearing a Persian cap), holding a knife and wrestling the bull. Out of the blood from the bull ears of corn or trees can be seen growing from the ‘gift’ of this sacrfice. Because of the celestial aspects of Mithraism, equinoxes and solstices also were important dates of worship including, once again, December 25th, the day if the solstice during Roman times. The ceremonies for Mithras were mostly performed in caves or underground chambers, many of which can still be seen today.

Religion is obliquely referred to in “The Fall of the Roman Empire” –  for example, the Emperor is a Stoic; his Greek counselor Timonides is a quiet Christian (he can be seen wearing the “chi-rho” symbol around his neck). However, our hero Livius’ religion is never revealed. In my opinion it’s most likely that Livius would have been a follower of Mithras. As a solider on the Danube, Livius would have been exposed to this religious sect and most of his troops were likely followers as well.

  Livius, a likely follower of Mithras in “The Fall of The Roman Empire”

“…Mithras had a militant character, always ready for battle, prepared to assist others in their fight for good and to bring them victory. One of the grades in the mysteries was called Miles, the soldier. The Mithraic cult was a form of military service; life on earth a campaign led by the victorious god. It is therefore little wonder that soldiers of all ranks in the Roman legions, orientals included, felt the lure of Mithras. Observance of the cult guaranteed assistance to all who pledged their lives to the Roman eagle. The assurance of divine aid on the battlefield, the military discipline and the taking of an oath as part of that discipline, were very important factors in the spread of the Mithras cult and its official recognition.” (http://www.cais-soas.com/CAIS/Religions/iranian/Mithraism/m_m/pt3.htm)

So Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to everyone out there! And from me, a nod of recognition to the Ancient Gods – whether it be Sol Invictus, Mithras, Augustus or Zeus –  as Messala would say, “In the Name of All the Gods!”

The Gods and Religions of Rome Happy Solstice, or Sol Invictus Day! Sol Invictus, or Invincible Sun, was a popular Roman solar deity which gained preeminence in the later Roman Empire courtesy of the Emperor Aurelian (and before him the Emperor Egalabalus).