#but also their general culture being taken away from them since they were adopted into a white family

[fregget-frou]

Big thoughts on this in tags GRRR/pos

Alright, I'll bite. (Sparked by this post) I'm gonna preface this with some context: 

First off: I'm Black in case you're unaware

Huxley is my favorite speaker. Full stop. You ask me to choose, it’ll always be him. 

Likewise, you ask for my favorite listeners, I will say Starlight and Darlin'. (I'll save my Starlight rant for another day)

My designs for both Huxley and Darlin are Black.

With this in mind, I want to be clear from the jump: I don’t have an inherent problem with these headcanons. If I did, I wouldn’t have chosen then myself. That said, I have noticed that Hux and Darlin are, more often than not, the characters that get headcanoned as POC (specifically Black) in design rosters. In some cases, they are the only POC designs present. Why is that?

Furthermore, the more often I notice this pattern so to speak, the more I sit and think about why those headcanons are so popular. I find my answer when I think about the characters I see headcanoned as white most often. Tell me why it’s "practically canon" for Lasko to be pale with light/white hair. Tell me why white Sam "just makes sense". Why? Because Lasko's a nerdy ball of nerves that stumbles over his words? Because Sam’s a sweet Southern man at heart? Those are not inherently white attributes.

Except they're treated as such. They go virtually unchallenged because they're so widely accepted by fandom. People see these personalities and character details and come up with their vision. So, let's apply that to Huxley and Darlin, shall we?

Huxley: Athlete. Canonically implied to be big, as indicated by statements made by him and other members of the DAMN crew. Classified as a himbo with parallels in Imperium highlighting how some will view him as stupid. Overall chill vibe.

Darlin: Reckless with their safety. Known to lash out/lose control of their emotions when they’re not actively hiding them. Gets injured often because they’re too stubborn to run from trouble. An overall intense demeanor that makes them difficult to approach (at least at first). 

Explain to me why this screams Black to so many people. Is it because Huxley's a dumb jock who you imagine gets stoned all the time? Oh, is it perhaps because Darlin is just so aggressive compared to your Golden Retriever-coded Asher, needing to be calmed down by everyone around them? And here's the thing: I can already imagine people saying, "That's not why I made them Black". Then explain why it "just makes sense" for them to Black. Why them out of a sea of characters? Make it make sense.

Now let me make this clear as well: I'm not expecting every headcanon to have elaborate thought behind it. For one, I get that some people take a more casual approach with designs and such. Not every choice has to have a reason or justification behind it. But when literally 95% of the Huxley designs I see are Black and half of y'all don't even know what a fucking durag is? Saying it leaves a bad taste in my mouth is putting it lightly.

You know what I wish I saw more of? Black Huxleys and Darlins with attached nuance.

Give me a Black Darlin who struggles to articulate how they feel with the people in their lives because they haven't been readily given the language to do so. You want to pair a Black Darlin with a White Sam? Why not talk about how POC have an insanely difficult time getting support from the medical system so not only does it explain why Darlin is so resistant to go to healers, but also gives an extra weight to the fact that Sam was their absolute last resort when injured? Give me a Black Darlin who has been taught their entire life that no one will have their back, that they need to learn how to depend on themself alone, and that's the reason why they struggle to feel like the pack would've cared when the Quinn shit went on.

You wanna talk Black Huxleys? Let's touch on how he's learned to control his emotions/anger because he knows how people will take it if it comes from someone who looks like him. Talk about how his moms teaching him not to use violence speaks to a deeper desire for him not to be viewed as a threat because they fear for his life otherwise. In one of his BAs, he mentions how a lot of people used to sleep with him/flirt with him solely because of his body and he could tell. Do you know how often black men are sexualized and fetishized? Why not talk about it through him? I see people explore that concept through Gavin constantly, where's the energy for Huxley? You wanna make him Black so bad, why not actually put some thought behind it? Because right now, it seems like he gets the "luxury" of being the token Black guy in the DAMN friend group at best.

I know a lot of people are probably going to dismiss this post. I am already anticipating that as I write this. But I'm so tired of pretending like this shit doesn't get to me. Because it does. I've got no intentions of leaving this fandom because I have met so many amazing people and adore Erik's content immensely. But what I am going to do is talk about the widespread normalization of attributing certain personality traits to certain racial groups. Because the non-white people in this fandom deserve better than that.

[wheresmycontent]

Modern Life [Castlevania]

Alucard, Hector, Sypha, Trevor

C|TW: mentions of suicide,

ALUCARD

His mother loved him unconditionally and spoiled him with affection. She allowed him to express himself, never forcing him to bottle his emotions because of his gender. She was the reason Alucard loved learning history even though she had a career in science. The day she was murdered after being falsely accused he genuinely believes he died too. He’s never felt anything other than sadness and despair and it’s been years since she was taken from him.

Alucard couldn’t go to his father for comfort because he was dealing with depression. Any attempt to talk to him was met with silence or something being thrown close enough to scare him off. Although he wasn’t the best father to him, Alucard was still traumatized to find his dad bleeding out in his bedroom. The suicide was already enough to shake him but seeing his father dead in his child-sized bed was forever ingrained in his mind. For this reason, he’s always slept better on couches.

Inheriting generational wealth from his father, Alucard didn’t have to attend college or get a job but he decided to become a historian. His career takes him around the world as he researches artifacts and gives lectures at universities across the globe. The reason Alucard is dedicated to his work as a historian is mostly due to his unbearable loneliness. The minute he steps away from his work he’ll be reminded of his unfortunate childhood and the lack of friends he has.

Outside of his career as a historian, he visits museums, bookstores, and any place that has a bit of an educational experience. It gives him time away from his empty home and forces him into socializing, even if it’s a short conversation. That’s how he was able to meet Sypha. It was the first time in years that he enjoyed someone's company, meanwhile, he could’ve lived peacefully without meeting Trevor. He found him annoying and would bicker with him until Sypha forced them to separate but they’ve come to care about one another deeply.

HECTOR

Having a neglectful father that was absent for plenty of his childhood and a mother that despised him for it caused Hector to become detached from other people. He thought he was a burden to people and would be better off keeping to himself. That’s why he loved animals, not that his parents cared. Hector was lucky that the old neighbors were willing to let him come over to play with their two kittens. Eventually letting him have one since he was right next door, but that didn’t do him any good since his mother forced him to return it.

At first, Hector studied to be a mortician. He was able to handle corpses and grieving family members without being morose. It was also enough for him because he didn’t have a goal in mind, simply going with the flow and doing what he needed to pay bills. It wasn’t until he realized he could be a veterinarian that Hector suddenly switched career paths. It made him feel complete, caring for furry companions and being able to work with animals. He doesn’t adopt a pet of his own because he keeps himself busy with work and in his free time volunteers at animal shelters.

Hector doesn’t have a lot of confidence in himself and still believes he’s better off being alone but people genuinely love his company. His kindness and natural humor are enough to have people invite him to parties and hang out outside of work. It makes him feel fuzzy and warm knowing he’s not as bothersome as his parents made him feel. Though he’s still careful to not be too trusting since people take advantage of his kindness, the only person he can call a true friend is Isaac.

SYPHA

Sypha comes from a family of scholars and was raised humbly even though the family has a comfortable amount of money. She has been fascinated with history and art for as long as she can remember. Her family would travel around the world to teach her about other cultures and traditions, teaching her to be respectful of each one regardless of the differences. It was no surprise to her family when she studied to become a museum curator, also dabbling in psychology because she loves helping people.

Whenever she has the time off she loves to have road trips to different cities, never having a goal just wanting to eat around new places and meet people. She loves to collect different mugs and postcards from each place, often sending them to her family letting them know that she is doing well. Even though she’s wildly popular she likes to take these trips alone so she has her own schedule and isn't forced to move at everyone else’s pace. Besides she’s always in the company of others, it’s the perfect time for her to relax and have time to herself.

The only time she’s had a road trip with friends is after meeting Trevor and Alucard. Both are rough around the edges and seem to be in need of a break indulging in food and enjoying the scenery. She regretted it immediately, the two bickering and purposely getting on each other’s nerves. Sypha was quick to drop them off on the side of the road forcing them to figure things out unless they wanted to catch a bus home. It was a good time nonetheless she just wouldn’t do it again.

TREVOR

The lone wolf bounty hunter with a grudge against the police department and government. His family has served the country for years working as officers and soldiers, loving to protect the people around them. Once his father realized how corrupt his superiors were and pushed to have them removed his family was targeted. Most lost their jobs and pension, and few were murdered as a warning. Trevor hates how his family was wrongfully treated for calling out injustice and has held a grudge against government workers for as long as he could remember.

He’s no longer able to join the police or military force because the minute they see his name they’d throw his application in the shredder and send hell his way. Yet that hasn’t stopped Trevor from being the protector he is. He still hunts down fugitives that have done heinous crimes to make the world a bit more bearable and to collect money. When he does have to encounter officers of any sort there’s always a thick tension because he doesn’t hold back one bit and openly lets his hatred be known.

His idea of a fun activity is going to a bar and getting drunk. He tries not to do it often but because of his life, he’s always had trouble putting down the bottle. It helps him be numb for once. Trevor acts like he doesn’t care but all he ever thinks about is the problems of the world and his life. When he drinks he’s able to have a brief moment to be somewhat happy. That’s why Sypha tries to help him find happiness in places that aren’t a bar. So at least then when he does have his low moments he won’t think to drink his sorrows away.

[thesubtextis]

Could we hear about the royalty au for the wip ask game please?

YES!!

This one has been very fun for me to play with, and the only reason that I haven't devoted myself to it entirely is because I promised that the next thing I posted would be an update to Conquered By Love.

So for this one, we have a (historically inaccurate, because I am too lazy to do real research) Regency ABO type setting. Omega Dick, Alpha Slade, etc etc.

Dick is titled, through Bruce, and should be a catch, except that he knows there's no way Bruce is ever going to approve of a match for him. Bruce keeps him around to raise the younger kids, since Bruce doesn't have an omega of his own (he courted Selina, but she was already widowed and had the privilege of remaining single. He's technically mated to Talia, but she lives with her family of origin in another country. It's generally considered that he "put her away" by the ton, because they are unfamiliar with Talia's culture, and the fact that they (society) annoyed her too much for her to find it worth staying with Bruce. Being both rich and foreign, she had the power to leave him in the way local omega did not). Assuming that Bruce stops adopting kids, by the time the youngest child is raised and out in society, Dick will be considered a spinster, despite being attractive, likable, talented, and rich. He doesn't expect that he will ever marry, and he is sad about it. He tries to be grateful to Bruce for taking him in, despite it coming the apparent price of raising a nearly infinite stream of other people's children, and never getting to shine on his own.

The story starts during Tim's first season. At this point, the fact that Tim is out in society and Dick is still neither married nor courting (despite several offers for him) is cluing people into the fact that he's destined to never marry, and he's feeling the beginnings of social isolation from his former peers.

Enter Slade. Slade is "newly" (like 15 years ago) titled by the King, and somewhat lacking in the refined ways of the rest of the Ton, even though he's just as (if not more) rich as the rest of them. His kids, unfortunately, are also lacking in some of the base education of society manners, in part because Slade can't be bothered and in part because Adeline died before they could learn. The Wilsons usually keep to themselves, but Grant (alpha) has decided that he wants a wife/omega, and so Slade has to return to society to help him make that happen.

Grant says something with Dick takes as an insult, and so Dick responds by openly cutting him. Slade takes notice, gets into a polite verbal battle with Dick, and rather than it ending with Dick's humilation (as Slade intended), Slade is reluctantly impressed and kind of wants to court Dick himself. He makes overtures, and is rejected by Bruce, as all of Dick's suitors have been.

This only makes Slade want him more. He starts watching for Dick, and is more and more taken (obsessed) with him.

In watching Dick, he starts watching the Waynes. He sees Roy (omega) and Jason (beta) go off together, and catches them in a compromising position. This is a significant scandal, because Roy is married to Kory (alpha). Dick catches Slade when Slade catches them, and begs Slade to keep it quiet. They're all in love, but society doesn't allow for throuples, so Jason is unfortunately stuck as a secret third. Slade tries to use this as blackmail to get Dick to agree to marry him, thinking that Dick's reluctance is why Bruce said no. Dick reveals that (while he doesn't want to marry a blackmailer), Bruce would have said no to Slade even if Dick were madly in love with him.

Slade manages to maneuver the conversation so that now the two of them are (inappropriately) alone. Dick is frustrated, and Slade encourages him to get physical, provoking Dick into trying to hit him so that he has an excuse to manhandle Dick in return. Dick is so focused on helping Jason that he doesn't realize that Slade has intentionally isolated him and made him look debauched. At least, he doesn't realize it until Slade "accidentally" knocks something over, and the loud noise leads to them being discovered.

Bruce is forced to agree to the match to avoid scandal. Slade is smug, and content to keep Jason's secrets. Dick is horrified, and humiliated. He quickly determines that he's traded Bruce, who wanted to use him to raise his kids, but who at least loved him, for Slade, a relative stranger who wants to fuck him, but who also wants to use him to raise his kids.

Insert their trainwreck of a marriage here. Slade is constantly manipulative, but does genuinely like Dick, and is more or less willing to be benevolent in his victory. Dick is fucking furious, and resentful, and honestly pretty scared of how far Slade will go to achieve his goals, but also upset because... this is kind of what he secretly wanted? He just needs to figure out how to manipulate Slade back.

Most of the fic that I have written/ outlined is the early days of their marriage, with Dick struggling to find his place, and to decide whether or not he hates Slade, wants to fuck him, or both, and Slade realizing that yes, he *has* Dick now, but also, his life would be a whole lot less hellish if he could convince his omega to like him.

[curculiostultus]

RANT

so... not me creating an entirely new account so no friends of mine see this lol. I know tumblr is probably not an ideal place to say this, but I honestly don't feel like I can talk to anybody about this?

So, I'm a first generation immigrant - I will not disclose where I'm from, but both of "my" cultures are Slavic, all you need to know. I spent my first seven years of life in one country and then we immigrated to another country. I never went to school in my home country. Basically all of my development and growth happened in my adoptive country. Honestly, my parents couldn't have chosen a worse age for moving away. I was right at that age where a child's identity is built and when the child needs stability and an anchor more than anything and I.. didn't have that. I was taken away from home and brought to a place where I didn't understand the language and where people glared at me. And even when I started speaking the language, I was still bullied and heavily alienated. There were other immigrants around us, but none of them shared my experience- they were either second generation, or older when they moved away - they had an identity, a country to call their home. I didn't. I still don't. I know I'll never be like my peers in my adoptive country, but I also can't relate to people from my home country - I changed to much. I don't have one culture - I am a blend of two. And somehow.. not enough to be either. Do you know how frustrating it is to not even have my own language? I can't fucking speak my first language properly, because I never went to school and I borderline can't even read in it. But I know I' ll never be like a native speaker in my second language. Both of my languages are fucked up! I don't have even the most basic thing for any human being! I just.. I feel incomplete. Like there's a piece missing. Whenever I see little kids outside, I think about how my life could have been different, had I been born here. Would I be happier? Would I finally be whole? Would I at least not feel like a stranger in my own city, in which I've lived in since first grade? Would people stop laughing at me anytime I mess up a word or my accent comes out? I just feel so small. I fee like I don't even have a right to have a home here. Like I'm a..well, an outsider. And people might say that it's ok that I mess up words sometimes, because everybody does! But I know it wouldn't have happened if I wasn't different. If I wasn't a foreigner.

It fucking sucks.

[the-ghost-king]

wait Apollo isn’t originally greek? thats so interesting 👀👀

Where ever did you hear that? /ij

Definitely putting all of this under a read more, it’s a long one!

Cw: Greek statues, they're naked :/

But yeah, Apollo was actually an inherited god, it’s likely that because of this as well he was a blending of multiple different gods to some extent. It’s also good to note that Apollo’s name is unknown, meaning that nobody really knows what exactly Apollo means, which is pretty weird all things considered about the Greeks who placed such importance on the god’s forenames (ie, phoebeus, acestor, age’tor, etc). 

"Though Apollo was the most Hellenic of all gods, he derived mostly from a type of god that originated in Anatolia and spread to Egypt by way of Syria and Palestine." (X)

There’s a couple of different things which point to Apollo being a Anatolian god (or being of, coming from him) named Appaliunas, and it is said they were on opposite sides of a war most beloved of their people during the fight. It’s important to note that it’s believed Appaliunas means “father light” and that he shows some level of importance over drafting peace treaties (which Apollo has some reputation in as the bringer of civilized order). We don't know too much about their connections however, because the documents are incomplete.

This theory also makes sense, because the name Leto (Apollo’s mother) is Lydian in origin, and there’s decent connections to her having been worshiped on the coast's of Asia Minor. And it is known the Greeks have adopted Anatolian gods into their religion before, see Cybele (sometimes called Cybele-Rhea), and the origin of Kore (later Persephone). There's stuff which points also to an Anatolian goddess called "Artimu" (Artemis) who is often confused to Cybele for some reason, and again this bears connections to the Lydians which worshipped Leto. There's information which points to Hekate being a goddess from Anatolia as well, which shows significance considering she is Apollo and Artemis's cousin (leading to my personal question of was Phoebe Anatolian in origin?). Apollo's divine number being 7 shows Babylonian or at least Mesopotamian Origin.

The Geographical location of these two places also bears similarities, they are close to one another, and it's known the Greeks had decent travel capabilities over water. There's also the fact that both of these lands border Troy, which is shown to have significant values in Greek culture and mythology, as well as the Greek belief that the Anatolian gods were present at Troy as well as the Greek gods.

(It's also notable the similarities in naming traditions, Alaksandu for one such example, does not sound too far off from the later Latin name Alexander, which came from the Greek name Aléxandros).

The other possible origin given for Apollo is Aplu (Apulu), a Hurrian god (of people who lived in Anatolia, Syria, and Northern Mesopotamia). Aplu and Apollo bear semblance to one another in more than name, Aplu was the god of plague (bringer of the plague more specifically) and he bears a large amount of resemblance to Apollo Parno'pius/Smitheus and Aplu's main story provides reasoning as to why Apollo may also be the god of healing and Medicine.

The story of Aplu involves the idea that the individual which brings the plague, must also be the one to banish it. This makes Aplu both bringer of plague(s) but also, protector from plague(s). From this we learn Aplu's name means "son of" (please note here Apollo's iconographic connections to "youth" and "sonship" among the Greeks, as the god of kouros), but the connection of "the son of" was a title granted also to the god Nergal (worshiped by many different people(s) across Mesopotamia) who is at least in part someone who holds power over the sun, and holds connection to Shamash (Utu).

Aplu is also often depicted naked (ya know) but wearing a laurel leaf, and part of a cloak... It's funny how these images are Apollo though:

Aplu is also symbolized by a staff and laurel a twig(s), while we know Apollo to be associated closely with the laurel because of Daphne, and Apollo having iconography related to staffs involves him giving his away to Hermes- which perhaps has to do with the caduceus being interpreted as the symbol for medicine, or the connection of Apollo to Asclepius and the rod of Asclepius.

Aplu isn't isolated necessarily either, there is also the Etruscan goddess Aritimi (Artume, Artames, or Artumes) and she oversees animals, human assemblies, and is considered a hunting deity. As well as scrolling through this list, you'll note more than one Greek/Roman mythological figure.

There's also a ton of stuff from Etruscan mythology (Hurrian mythology is just a subsect of Etruscan mythology) which overlaps with Greek mythology, some sources even state Etruscan -> Greek -> Roman mythology (I wont comment on that because I don't know well enough).

There's some other places Apollo's name might have come from, but those are probably the two most likely under the assumption that Apollo is a collective of many gods.

These are the specifics of the Anatolian god's Apollo may be born of/from, but there's a variety of things which point to him and mythology around him being of other origins as well (Minoan, Dorian, and Proto-Indo-European... yeah)

You may have heard one of Apollo's sacred animals is dolphins, Apollo Delphinios/Delphidios, this is because of a Minoan god named Paiawon (Paion) who was worshiped on Crete and also originated in Delphi. In the second part of Homeric hymn to Apollo, Apollo would transform his shape into that of a dolphin and carry the new priests to Delphi for the transfer of religious practices:

"Phoebus Apollo pondered in his heart what men he should bring in to be his ministers in sacrifice and to serve him in rocky Pytho. And while he considered this, he became aware of a swift ship upon the wine-like sea in which were many men and goodly, Cretans... Phoebus Apollo met them: in the open sea he sprang upon their swift ship, like a dolphin in shape, and lay there, a great and awesome monster, and none of them gave heed so as to understand but they sought to cast the dolphin overboard. But he kept shaking the black ship every way and making the timbers quiver. So they sat silent in their craft for fear, and... so they kept sailing on; for a rushing south wind hurried on the swift ship from behind... They wished to put their ship to shore, and land and comprehend the great marvel and see with their eyes whether the [dolphin] would remain upon the deck of the hollow ship, or spring back into the briny deep where fishes shoal. But the well-built ship would not obey the helm, but went on its way all along Peloponnesus and the lord, far-working Apollo, guided it easily with the breath of the breeze..." (X)

Apollo Delphinios was largely only worshiped by people of Crete and surrounding islands, but this is also largely where Paiawon was worshiped as well. There's also many things from early Grecian history which simply state Apollo to be Paiawon or of Paiawon, or at least doesn't bother to specify which god is being talked about.

In the earlier parts of Greek history, seventh-sixth century, there was distinctions made between the pair:

"and in Solon's opinion it is Apollo who makes a man a μάντις (soothsayer) but healers do the work of Paion" (X)

The whole thing with Apollo being descended from Paiawon however, is that Paiawon may not be Minoan but Mycenaean in origin, which means even if Apollo is originated in Minoan culture one of the gods who has influenced that origin wasn't even necessarily Minoan but taken in. Others believe Paiawon was Minoan or Aegean in origin but very far in the past, since his songs used a meter of pre-Greek origin.

You'll also not the commonalities between Paion (a spelling of Paiawon) and Paean (also spelled Paian), Apollo's original name according to Homer. It could mean a variety of things but "who heals illnesses through magic" and "pre-greek" are the most common translations of the word Paean, but it is also associated with music (most specifically a song sung by Thetlas who cured the Spartans) and is said to denote hymns for Apollo.

"PAEAN, that is, "the healing," is according to Homer the designation of the physician of the Olympian gods, who heals, for example, the wounded Ares and Hades. After the time of Homer and Hesiod, the word Paian becomes a surname of Asclepius, the god who had the power of healing. The name was, however, used also in the more general sense of deliverer from any evil or calamity, and was thus applied to Apollo and Thanatos, or Death, who are conceived as delivering men from the pains and sorrows of life... From Apollo himself the name Paean was transferred to the song dedicated to him, that is, to hymns chanted to Apollo for the purpose of averting an evil, and to warlike songs, which were sung before or during a battle." (X)

In regards to the possibility of Apollo having been of Minoan origin, one must consider not only his origins but the origins of the gods and goddesses around him and how they may have developed over time.

In this case Britomartis (Diktynna) is of particular interest, she was the Minoan "mistress of animals", she was a goddess (or sometimes nymph, or oread) of the mountains and the hunt. There's points to the name meaning "sweet maiden" or other similar things, but it is debatable.

Eventually Britomartis would become the goddess of nets in Hellenic myths, and would simply be closely identified with the goddess of Artemis. However, to the Minoans Britomartis wandered alongside a bow-wielding male hunter who's name has been lost, it is likely that aspects of this hunter were absorbed into Apollo; when the introduction of worshiping Artemis was brought to the island of Crete where Britomartis was also worshiped they were compared and quickly said to be of one another.

It is also said in some variations the myths of Britomartis that she was taken to the mainland in the nets of men after fleeing Minos, this seems like a euphemism for her as a goddess of worship being brought by fisherman to mainland and taken into their culture and worship, more so than it sounds like a goddess's story. Perhaps this led to her becoming Artemis, although most myths seem to agree Artemis gave Britomartis immortality... So who knows, but it's a point of particular interest for me.

Also I know I mentioned proto-indo-european origins for Apollo and I could analyze gods and goddesses relating to Apollo being a Minoan god like Aphaea, but I am not going to lie I am rather sick mostly of sourcing everything and I don't like to talk about stuff without stuff to back me up because I don't want to come across like I'm pulling information or ideas out of thin air because that's how misinformation spreads... But yeah, here's a somewhat simplified piece on Apollo's possible origins as a pre-Hellenistic god, and I hope you enjoy because I know you sent the ask a bit ago <3

[vindelllas]

the beauty of shatabhisha ✨⭕️

✨elizabeth berkley: shatabisha chandra

*A MAJOR TW FOR JUST ABOUT ANYTHING!! please put your mental health first and understand that nothing online is more important than your mental state love*

please also read my post on the mythology of rahu and ketu prior to reading this. it will allow you to better understand the nature of shatabhisha:

https://vindelllas.tumblr.com/post/643640120238555137/rahu-and-ketu-in-vedic-astrology-horoscope

👄 shatabhisha lies in the heart of the aquarius rashi. aquarius, being ruled by shani, creates a beautiful juxtaposition of exotic and hypnotizing features that garner the attention of the masses. in general, they could have basic features, but it is almost as if a magnetic film adorns their body to attract the attention of others. their facial structure is typically quite chiseled. shani is said to govern the bones, so they will particularly have great bodily structure overall, especially since aquarius is said to rule the legs (particularly the lower part of the legs). they prefer to have very prominent brows, depending on their time frame, their eyebrows are either very thin (1940s-60s, 90s-00s) or quite bushy (70s, 2010s-). rahu rules the mouth, lips, and teeth. you will notice that many shatabhisha natives will have famous scenes that involve the use of their mouth. such as, sarah michelle-geller’s famous kissing scene in “cruel intentions”, alicia silverstone’s famous chewing gum scene in “clueless”, winona ryder chewing licorice in “heathers”, etc.. even shatabhisha native cindy crawford was known for her pouty lips and has her own lipstick campaign. thanks to the suggestion of the lovely @/vediclover8 on twitter, popular model khawlah al anezi, shatabhisha chandra, has very prominent lips and often takes close-up pictures with her lips being the vocal point of the photograph. according to the bible, the lips denote the interior things of a person, their internal worship, from which is adoration, it is even used to represent a prophet. in the given passage below, the prophet’s lips were touched, and, thus, his iniquity was taken away and his sin expiated. this action is representative of our interior being signified by the lips, denoting charity and its doctrine.

💋Jehovah shall smite the earth with the rod of His mouth, and with the breath of His lips shall He slay the wicked (Isa. 11:4).

✨khawlah al anezi: shatabisha chandra

💄 there is great abundance within the lips. some cultures even believe the lips of a person to be the karaka of their soul. you may tell a great deal of a person based on their lips. hence, why shatabhishas (and other rahu natives) typically obtain larger lips, or other dramatic facial features in general. they wish to transcend cosmic perfection and embody the surreal beauty that almost hurts to look at. they want to be a dream-like being. it’s not unusual for them to favor dramatic facial features, as shani bestows this naturally to his nakshatra natives. however, rahu adds this insatiable and vain desire to obtain his wishes. this insatiable need to embody the collective desire influences them to work hard to obtain what they view to be perfection. they are no stranger to plastic surgery, intense work out routines (they typically have a good respiratory system for this, as rahu is the karaka of the lungs), and makeup and skincare. think of the shatabhisha natives like rihanna who owns tu the multimillion fenty skincare and makeup company or kesha who owns kesha rose, a new makeup line.

✨alicia silverstone: shatabhisha surya

🐉 however, shatabhisha does not want to embody the male fantasy or the status quo. unlike ardra, who wants to devote themselves to their partners, and swati, who naturally embodies the male fantasy. shatabhishas attract high levels of sexual attention because they cater to their own fantasy. this is because shatabhisha is the veil that separates us from the physical and astral plane. this veil subconsciously draws in the adoration and favor of the masses. recall prince, frank sinatra, and elvis presley—who are all shatabhisha natives. they have this highly transcendental nature that transports you to a time of simplicity and deep love. the masses view shatabhishas as this ideal being, this causes many of these natives to feel a great deal of pressure and have many cyclical patterns in their shadow state. what once gave them freedom becomes an entrapment ⭕️. this is why we see these natives reach a level of despair or destruction in their lives. their rahuvian fantasy they created becomes adopted by the masses and popularized. due to the grossing popularity of the traits that once brought individuality to the shatabhisha native, it loses it’s appeal after awhile and people are left continuously craving more from them. examine the undertone shifts of shatabhisha’s music below. you will notice this freshness and unique quality to their earlier music and a dull sense of finality in their later works:

🐎 elvis presley (shatabhisha chandra): “jailhouse rock” (1957) and “blue eyes crying in the rain” (1976)

🐎 prince (shatabhisha chandra): “raspberry beret” (1985) and somebody’s somebody (1996)

🐎 THE MOST SHATABHISHA ARTIST - johnny cash (shatabhisha surya and buddha): “i walk the line” (1957) and “hurt” (2002)

✨alice pagani: shatabhisha surya

⭕️ as discussed earlier, shatabhisha is the cosmic circle. they either have the choice of remaining in this cyclical state or transcending the confines of repetition. because shatabhisha is the height of rahu, the planet of obsessions, they fall prey to many behaviors and tools that rely on addiction and fiendish behaviors. the undoing and unraveling of these natives will be because of their craving for escape from being the middle man between the astral and physical planes. this escape typically comes in the form of addiction to drugs. drugs give these natives the false illusion of breaking the cosmic cycle and finding expansion in imprisonment. prince was addicted to percocets; michael jackson (shatabisha lagna) was addicted to opioids; johnny cash was addicted to cocaine; elvis presley was addicted to opiates and codeine; even the first men to have written about the scientific usages of cocaine, amerigo vespucci had shatabhisha ketu and karl koller had shatabhisha surya and shukra. the most famous drug lord billionaire pablo escobar had shatabhisha lagna. you will also find the primary reasoning for shatabhisha’s death is drug-related. this correlates to the meaning of ouroboros.

✨samantha robinson: shatabhisha chandra

🐍 the insatiable head of rahu and the cyclical expanse of the cosmic circle itself is reminiscent of ouroboros. ouroboros is an ancient symbol depicting a serpent or dragon eating it’s own tail. this symbol originated in ancient egyptian iconography, the ouroboros entered western tradition by greek traditions and became a prominent symbol for gnosticism, alchemy, and hermeticism. the term ouroboros derives from the greek term οὐροβόρος, οὐρά means 'tail' and βορός means'-eating'. it is a symbol often interpreted as the eternal cyclic renewal or the cycle of life, death, and rebirth (themes of shatabhisha). it’s symbolism has been used to describe the kundalini. the yoga-kundalini upanishad, defines this correlation as “the divine power, kundalini, shines like the stem of a young lotus; like a snake, coiled round upon herself she holds her tail in her mouth and lies resting half asleep as the base of the body”. the shedding of a snake’s skin also symbolizes the renewal of self, the snake biting its own tail is a fertility symbol in some religions, and the tail of the snake is a phallic symbol, the mouth is a yonic or womb-like symbol. which correlates to rahu being symbolized by the mouth; shatabhisha being of the most feminine and expansive yoni: the horse yoni; and rahu’s mahavidya, chinnamasta.

✨samara weaving: shatabhisha chandra

🩸 according to the panchatantra grantha, once parvati went with her friends, dakini and varnini, to take a bath in the mandakini river. parvati was elated and enveloped with love, causing her complexion to darken. her friends became hungry and asked parvati to give them some food. parvati asked them to wait and said that she would feed them soon and began walking. soon, her friends once again asked her for food and told her that she was the mother of the universe and the children. they used this reasoning to demand that their hunger be satiated immediately. the lovely parvati laughed and with her fingernail slit her own head. the blood immediately spurted into three directions. her two friends drank the blood from two of the directions and parvati herself drank the blood from the third direction. because parvati cut off her own head, she is known as the tantric mahavidya chinnamasta. chinnamasta is said to symbolize the courageous efforts needed to make the most inconceivable sacrifice for those you love. parvati’s severed head symbolizes the liberation of shatabhisha. as a person’s individual identity is a state of conditioning or limitation, dependent on qualities, think of shatabhisha natives’ susceptibility to illusions and narcotics. the action of decapitation reveals the true maternal being of the feminine yoni that is shatabhisha. which is unconditioned, infinite, and boundlessly free. this symbolism of freedom is reinforced by the aquarius rashi (the natural eleventh house of limitless gains) and chinnamasta’s nudity. her nudity symbolizes that she cannot be covered or contained by any garment, due to her finding abundance in infinity and self-government. to chinnamasta’s left, dakini is black and, to her right, varnini is red. chinnamasta herself is white. these three colors, black, red, and white, represent the three gunas. all three gunas belong to prakriti, the principle of materiality of all nature itself. it denotes that nothing exists or is birthed without the mother (parvati). it is she who is responsible for the limitless abundance of earth and satiates her children with her warm blood, like the milk of a mother or prana.

✨winona ryder: shatabhisha chandra

*i understand that many of you do not follow me on twitter so i want to include a revised thread on shatabhisha i made recently*

🌌 shatabhisha is the nakshatra of limitless possibilities. it is symbolized by the empty circle and a thousand stars/flowers. the deity of shatabhisha is varuna, the deity of the cosmic and terrestrial water, the sky and earth. he is the mystical healer and the lord of maya (illusion). shatabhisha is the final vimshottari nakshatra of rahu. it is here, rahu is calmed by shani, as shatabhisha lies in the aquarius rashi. aquarius is the natural auspicious eleventh house of the zodiac, the house of gains and strong income. it is the house of one’s aspirations and desires. indastro says the the eleventh house is the 5th from the 7th house, which represents our desires, thus, it refers to the fulfillment or the defiance of desires, which is why it is called the house of gains. the eleventh house is also representative of your social environment. this is why shatabishas, which lies in the heart of aquarius, naturally are aware of the desires of others and help you realize what you wish to do in your lifetime. friendship is important to them and likely comes easy to them, almost to the point of obsession.

💐 in the netflix show “baby”, shatabhisha surya native alice pagani plays an underage pr*stitute who ends up befriending an “innocent” and seemingly kind girl (chiara). alice lives a life of not caring about the consequences of her actions, failing school, drinking alcohol, and being an esc*rt. chiara lives a life of craving perfection, great grades, and promise. alice’s character exposes chiara to her world of sugaring. although reluctant to the lifestyle at first, chiara begins to become obsessed with the sugar lifestyle and it becomes the only thing she wants. alice’s character starts to slowly feel trapped by that lifestyle and no longer wants to participate in those behaviors. in the movie “une fille facile”, sofia (played by shatabisha surya native zahia dehar) plays an esc*rt who stays with her innocent cousin in the summer. sofia is promiscuous, care-free, and marches to the beat of her own drum. whereas, her cousin is depicted as a nervous, intelligent, and “pure” person. sofia enjoys taunting older men and enjoying the luxuries of sugaring. her cousin idolizes her lifestyle and wants to be exactly like her, copying her style and even getting her exact same tattoo. chiara and alice pagani’s characters get matching tattoos as well (more on rahu’s tattoo symbolism below). sofia’s cousin becomes obsessed with sofia and, due to amounting circumstances, sofia can no longer take her wanton lifestyle and up and leaves her cousin.

⛓ in “baby”, we saw shatabhisha native alice exposing her friend to the world of sugaring. in “une fille facile”, sofia, another underage esc*rt, exposes her innocent cousin to the world of sugaring. in both storylines, the innocent friend becomes entrenched by the enamoring powers of such a dangerous and expansive lifestyle of shatabhisha and becomes obsessed with both them and their lifestyle. whereas, the shatabhisha natives eventually wake up and realize that the life they are living is what they no longer want. however, their friends are now completely obsessed with their newfound taste of freedom and take issue with leaving their the shatabhisha old friend’s lifestyle. the shatabhisha native ends up feeling trapped and reaches a breaking point and leaves. this is because rahu is the planet of obsession and desires. he is quickly fueled by the magnetic popularity he receives in the eleventh house, but these natives quickly feel trapped and restricted by what they once regarded as their friends.

🪞see, varuna reminds me of the esoteric meaning of the mirror, i know the mirror is said to be inherently venusian, but there is power in the vibrations of your reflection. mirrors are directly linked to the astral plane and are a neutral, but illusionary, device as well. it is all about the vibrations you put into the mirror, because you will receive it directly back. the obsession of one’s appearance and outer reflection is here in shatabhisha. until, eventually, they either embrace the ouroboros and kundalini powers of maya or snap. the limitless expansion within themselves creates this unnerving attraction and causes many individuals to crave to see the shatabhisha native they so wholeheartedly desire staring back at themselves in their reflection. it is like the expansive nature of shatabhisha causes those around them to become consumed and reborn by the shatabhisha native’s ether. it is literally like they give life (whether it is positive or negative) to people. people will resent their unbelievable beauty and carefree nature and people will then walk all over them for it. how the shatabhisha native reacts to this is entirely up to them.

🔪 some other examples of this is are shatabhisha chandra native alice silverstone as ‘cher’ in “clueless” (as suggested by @/vanillemercure on twitter). cher is depicted as a popular and upbeat teenager who has a special penchant for fashion. cher decides to makeover the new girl in school: tai. she tries to make tai into a popular, more fashionable girl. tai was originally quite impressionable and looked up to the opinions of cher. once she was made over, people began to notice her more and fawn over her beauty. this eventually goes over her head and causes her to start to neglect cher and not care about her. due to cher and tai’s fight over a boy, cher reaches a breaking point and realizes the life she truly wants to live and the love she longs for. in “cruel intentions”, shatabhisha chandra sarah michelle-gellar plays kathryn. kathryn seems like your stereotypical shallow rich girl with dark tendencies. she does not care for following the rules and lives as she pleases. she makes a seductive deal with her frenemie sebastian to see if he can take the v*rginity of the new headmaster’s daughter. only, once sebastian starts to get to the know the headmaster’s daughter, he realizes the cruelty of their wager. kathryn is outted for her terrible and harsh past and habits. her reputation (illusion/maya) is completely shattered and destroyed. winona ryder (shatabisha chandra) played ‘veronica’ in the film “heathers”. veronica is a part of the most popular clique at her high school, but she disapproves of the other girls' cruel behavior. when veronica and her new boyfriend, j.d., confront the leader of the popular clique and accidentally poison her, they make it appear a suicide. veronica realizes that j.d. is intentionally killing students he does not like. eventually, she too reaches a breaking point, after stopping j.d. from killing the whole school. she stops trying to fit in with popular clique and realizes life truly has both none and infinite meanings. the same applies to her character in the movie “girl, interrupted”. shatabisha chandra samara weaving plays ‘grace’ in “ready or not”. grace could not be happier after she marries the man of her dreams at his family's luxurious estate. however, she must hide from midnight until dawn while her new in-laws hunt her down with guns, crossbows and other weapons. grace desperately tries to survive the night and continuous comes up with clever ways to save her life. once grace survives the night, her in-laws still continue to try to kill her. however, they are unsuccessful and all attempts are ceased when they start to blow up in front of her. she laughs at their attempts, while she is covered in their blood. she has broken free from her in-laws heinous acts (the cyclical force) against her and embodied the devil himself (prying the veil between the physical and astral plane). shatabhisha is all about you reap what you sow. they are the expansive reality of maya. they are fully aware of the presence of the divine collective and the power of consciousness. they do not care about what is inherently evil or divine, as they know that life is essentially both. it transcends the need for labels. shatabhisha is rebirth and renewal. it’s obsession and transcendence. once they pass the defining stage of their life, they realize that most of the people in this world are just hollow shells bending to the will of the divine collective.

🌠 recall that the aforementioned characters are known for their independence, exactly like chinnamasta. people look to these natives and wish for them to behave as parvati, the cosmic mother. they want these shatabhisha natives to pour their essence into them to feed their uncontrollable longings. like dakini and varnini, their friends and the masses will continuously remind them of their needs and wants (recalling the eleventh house) and feel as if the shatabhisha native owes them happiness and fulfillment.

✨sarah michelle-geller: shatabhisha chandra

💉 rahu is also associated with tattoos, especially the ardra nakshatra. as ardra is the planetary intermingling of the energies of rahu and buddha. buddha, who is also known for bestowing a love for tattoos, is a friend of rahu. rahu is illusionary in nature so the natives of rahu pay great attention to their appearance. in ardra, we see the use of tattoos to simply express who they are. like ardra native margot robbie who has stated many times she enjoys tattooing smiley faces on the toes of her friends. in swati, we see them using tattoos to help reinforce their image. think of swati native adriana lima who has a curved, sharp tattoo on her left ankle. she reportedly got this tattoo during her “rebellious” years and wanted something to commemorate it. in shatabhisha, we see these natives want to adorn themselves with something that is unique and conveys who they truly are. think of erykah badu (shatabhisha surya) who infamously got “allah” tattooed in arabic on her bare shoulders. rihanna (shatabhisha surya) who got the egyptian goddess isis under her breasts to pay tribute to her grandmother and matching star tattoos on the back of her neck to match her ex. this matching tattoo phenomena is a theme of shatabhisha. remember the matching tattoos in “baby” and “une fille facile”. victoria beckham (shatabhisha shukra and brihaspati) and david beckham got the same quote tattooed for their sixth anniversary. sophie turner (shatabhisha surya and mars) and joe jonas have several matching tattoos. macaulay caulkin (shatabhisha chandra) and paris jackson (shatabhisha brihaspati) got matching spoon tattoos. this all correlates to aquarius being the house of great friendship and rahu’s inclination for foreign bodily adornment and niche subcultures, birthing a significant need for finding themselves in hidden meanings (like tattoos, ouroboros, or other occultic topics).

✨drew barrymore: shatabhisha surya

👁 in shatabhisha, you either free yourself from the demands of others and the cyclical nature of life (chinnamasta) or drown in illusion (varuna). i want to close with exploring more of the meanings of ouroboros. in norse mythology, the ouroboros appears as the serpent, named jörmungandr, one of the three children of loki and angrboda. jörmungdar grew so large that it could encircle the world and grasp its tail in its teeth. according to the legends of ragnar lodbrok, the geatish king herraud offers a small lindworm as a gift to his daughter, рora town-hart, the lindworm grows into a large serpent which encircles his daughter’s bedroom and bites itself in the tail. the serpent is then slain by ragnar lodbrok who marries the daughter. ragnar later has a son with another woman named kráka. his son is born with the image of a white snake in one eye. the snake encircled his iris and bit itself in the tail, and, thus, the son was named sigurd snake-in-the-eye. amongst the indigenous people of south america, they believe that the waters at the edge of the disc-shaped world are encircled by a snake, particularly an anaconda, biting its own tail. even in the book of leviathan, the leviathan is a singular creature with no mating partners, whose “tail is placed in its mouth". the phenomena of ouroboros even goes back as far as the poems of kalir (a hebrew poet who wrote classical verses) in the 6th-7th centuries CE. the indigenous people of south america’s emphasis of the circulation of an anaconda around the earth is reminiscent of varuna (the deity of shatabhisha). varuna is the god of the oceans like the anaconda snake who theoretically encapsulates the ocean. varuna’s vehicle is the makara (the crocodile) like the movie “lake placid vs. anaconda”, starring yancy butler (shatabhisha ketu). it is a cheesy film about a town sheriff who has to find a way to kill a gigantic crocodile and anaconda before they kill and destroy the whole town. this is the essence of the uncontrollable nature of varuna. he is a deity that believes in the equilibrium harmony between the “good” and “bad”. these descriptive adjectives do not even exist to varuna, as he is the fluidic being of ether and water. he will allow you to reach your fullest potential and guide you through your earthly desires. hence, sigurd snake-in-the-eye who was born of the earthly desire of his father to move onto another woman. the child received a snake in his eye, both symbolizing the circulatory nature of shatabhisha and rahu’s bestowment of mesmerizing and maya-like (illusionary) eyes. this is due to the eyes being reportedly a “window to the soul”. the more captivating and mesmerizing your eyes are, the more intoxicating and beautiful your soul may seem.

✨cindy crawford: shatabhisha surya

as always, i am open to any constructive criticism! i tried to touch on the appearances, manifestations, and symbolism of shatabhisha and i hope i did these hypnotizing natives justice! shatabhisha is genuinely such an expansive, captivating, and transcendental nakshatra ⭕️🐍 these natives seem to always give off a completely otherworldly presence via their exotic features and them being the cosmic veil. if you are looking for more information about shatabhisha, get to know the overrulers and supreme deities of saturn, yama (god of death) and prajapati (the creator) and rahu, durga (the goddess of power) and the serpent god. also—and i cannot stress this enough—familiarize yourself with the deity of this nakshatra: varuna. if any of my placements or information are incorrect please feel free to let me know! also, i am fully aware of the origins of vedic astrology and if i was in anyway disrespectful to hindu culture, i will take down this post immediately xx

**all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (risings) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

**i take absolutely no credit for the invention of vedic astrology-based appearance profiles. please watch claire nakti on youtube or look into @/cn0bles, @/lovejustlied, @/dh4nishta, and @/vanillemercure on twitter for more in-depth analysis on vedic astrology xx

[testingcheats0n]

Massive Dream SMP Fic Rec!!

Hey- Hi, I just feel like there are a ton of fanfiction that's really underrated in this fandom- so I'm going to dump it on your dash!!! Most of it is going to be Tommy-centric or SBI-centric, but they are very good!

Source: Me

Finished Fanfics:

Multi-chaptered Fanfics:

that's, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade

Hard-hitting, but has a happy ending, though I recommend reading the prequel (in the same series) first, otherwise, it's lowkey depressing.

MORE RECOMMENDATIONS BELOW THE CUT!!

you’ll rise above (crowned by an overture bold and beyond) by azvremoon

Tommy is not sixteen. He has faced too many open wounds, dripping ichor onto blood-stained warzones, to be just a child. He is Blood and War and needless Death, an all-in-one special of everything that can ruin reality.

(Tommy is the blood god. No one should know, but this server can't stop pushing him over the edge.)

+2 more Works that were Inspired by this one

Tommy is a BAMF and Dream, Technblade, and Phil get fucked it is what it is.

Responsible Forever by SilverWing15

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” /////

“So,” Techoblade says, slow and deliberate, his face shows clearly just how unbelievable he finds all of this, “you saw a boy last night, in the middle of the night, living with raccoons and eating our garbage?”

“I know how insane it sounds,” Phil says, “but I know what I saw. We need to help him, who knows how long he’s been out here?”

“Okay,” Wilbur interrupts, “let’s say that raccoon-boy is real. What is it you want us to do? We can’t go searching the woods for specific bunch of raccoons, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Phil but there are a lot of them out there.”

“Going out and hunting him isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Techno says, “we have to let the raccoon-boy come to us. He’s already come once, you know how tenacious raccoons are. If they came to the garbage pit once, they’ll come again. We just have to set a trap.”

“Those raccoons aren’t gonna know what fucking hit them,” Wilbur mutters.

Or: RaccoonInnit taken well beyond its logical conclusion

Tommyinnit is a Raccoon boi that lives with other Raccoons

Protecting the Traumatised Youth by spookyserpent

Sam blinks. “What?”

Even behind the mask, Sam has the distinct impression that Dream is grinning at him. “A week and he was begging for my attention, even after I stole and burnt his armour, even after the beatings. He couldn’t stand me leaving him because I was the only one to show up, to pay him attention. It was hilarious.”

Sam is going to be sick.

Or, Sam decides to ask Dream about his intentions and ends up becoming a big brother to Tommy and Tubbo. All the while, Dream and George fight, Niki and Jack plan child murder and Ranboo is slowly getting adopted into the SBI.

Awesamdad written back when it was possible... ahhh

Chaos In a Bottle by Lovetribable

After a realization, Tommy leaves the pillar, but instead of going to Techno. He just disappears, leaving everyone to think he's gone.

It takes a war to bring him back.

+2 Sequels and an Alternative Ending

Dadinnit!! + A Sympathetic Dream

Absolutely Anything For Them by Numanum

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, Tubbo,” Dream sighs, meeting his eyes cooly. Tubbo, back against a tree, shudders at his tone, at the look on his face.

The sword at his neck skims across his skin as Dream shifts his grip on it, and he flinches back into the rough bark behind him. Dream smiles at his reaction, seeming pleased- like the cat that’s been toying with a mouse that always tries to run no matter how many times it’s caught. And, despite this being his first encounter alone with the man, he thinks that the comparison is fairly accurate; Tubbo has never felt smaller than he does now. There’s supposed to be a buddy system to prevent things like this- he shouldn’t be alone here, stuck in this situation.

Or: Tubbo becomes a traitor to save everyone and has to struggle with his choices

Traitor Tubbo, but it has the happiest ending possible since it follows the rest of the story.

Where Did You Come From, Kit? by KadeAK (zacixn)

Hybrids are an ancient species of humans crossed with animals, blessed with the favour of nature. They used to live in peace on the SMP’s land, but ever since the dawn of humanity’s modern culture, they have become ostracised and hunted by their once-brethren. Now, the once-thriving subspecies of hybrids have been reduced to ashes, the majority of their peoples struggling to survive in a city capital that can't stand their presence.

To the members of L’Manburg, General Wilbur Soot is just another mildly prejudiced human being, stuck with a hybrid fox kit for an adopted child. However, that assumption could not be farther from the truth. As it turns out, there's a reason why he is the man he is today.

This fic is entirely pre-L’Manburg.

Part of a series, very good.

Take It Easy by sweet_magnolias

Five times Techno scared Michael, one time Michael scared him, and the resolution of those fears.

AKA - Techno learns how to be an uncle.

Technoblade's POV, so expect some Tubbo bashing on the margins of all that Michael fluff.

I suppose it’s never my time to die, is it? by Birb_Whale

The first time it happens, he barely remembers. The second time is when he realized. The third... Twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern

“It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy”

Messed up, but not unrealistic. Purely for the Hurt/Comfort lovers.

This Wasn't Planned, But It'll Work Out by Anonymous

Dream isn't sure what to think when he finds a kid on his doorstep, but he can't just leave him there, now can he?

(He doesn't know what he's getting into, or what he's gotten the kid into, either)

Long, and angsty, with a bittersweet ending Imo.

let's play a game by Aria_Cinabun

Tommy was once a slave. That's gone now - shoved in his past with the memories of blood and gore and death. He wants to forget who he was; what he has to do to survive. Of course, the Elementalists will always come back to haunt him. They aren't the ones who killed his mother, but they're close enough. And now he and his brother have been dragged into the mess, as Elementalists with their own, separate covens, to find the Pit - the place where he'd lived and killed and hurt for the first twelve years of his life. His coven can't know. Can't know who he really is, what he can really do. Can't know anything about his past. He doesn't want a coven full of Elementalists who don't trust him; one of whom he's pretty sure despises him. He doesn't want that life. He wants the life of a pickpocket, on the streets, because nobody questions street kids, and nobody comes asking about his past and pushes him to tell his secrets that he holds closest inside. Tubbo tries to tell him to trust people. But trust is how you die.

Good fantasy AU, has SBI, and is thus fluffy.

Turn of the Tide by SilverWing15

Tommy’s fins twitch at the mention of Dream’s ancestors. Dream talks about them a lot, how they made their fortune hunting down mer pods, how they were cruel and greedy. Nothing like Dream is. They’ve both overcome their roots he says.

Tommy is nothing like the wild mer out in the ocean, who spend their lives scraping by just to survive, who kicked him out of the pod when he was a baby because he was too small. He’s also better than the pit mer, who can’t overcome their wild instincts and know nothing but fighting.

He’s different from them, he’s better than them. He’s Dream’s. //// OR: Change is like the tide, when it comes, you can only sink or swim. You would think that a mer would be better at keeping afloat.

Mermaid AU Pooog. Part of a series.

One-Shots:

Snapped by AmberRunnel

“You don’t know what I went through in that prison cell.”

Jack burst out laughing, blinded with rage and the overwhelming urge to hurt Tommy, to give him everything he deserved. “Oh, is the poor child traumatized? You want pity now?” He twisted his blade, and Tommy’s axe was sent clattering to the ground.

“If the prison was so awful, why don’t I send you back there?”

-|-

Jack doesn't handle Tommy's revival well. There's a simple solution, though. Kill Tommy, and Dream revives him right back into that cell. Problem solved, kid dealt with.

It takes a few confrontations for Jack to realize he's an asshole.

It's fucked up, but god does it hurt in a good way.

the sky is coming down blue by salinesolution

An imagining of New Milo's perspective throughout the Skyblock Randomizer adventure. What did he think of the world he found himself in, and how did Wilbur's feelings and actions change things for him? Here's my way of answering those questions.

He made the fish think, funniest shit I've seen.

You told me to be a hero (so let me die like one) by spiromachia

"You told me to die like a hero," the blond interrupted, spinning on his heel to face the others, holding his arms wide open, "So why not fulfil the ending that was always meant to be."

Across the battle field, through the chaos and destruction, a tree burned.

Even the sound of explosions and cries and bloodshed felt distant enough for the world to become silent for a few moments, each individual slowly coming to the same conclusion, each of their bodies tensing.

Tommy's face broke out into a grin as he lowered his head, glowering at the people around him, and Philza's face flashed with recognition.

"Kill me."

Or... In the middle of Doomsday, Tommy decides to ask Technoblade to be the Lycomedes to his Theseus.

Heavy and dark, but at least Dream gets it.

tomorrow night by meridies

Tommy is desperately searching for his missing brother. Techno is the reluctant psychic who unfortunately got dragged along.

or, two people, more alike than different, learn what it is to have a family at their side.

It's cute what can I say :]

maple syrup by itisjosh

"We could run," Tubbo stares at the sun. "We've got everything we've ever wanted right here. We could run."

"Yeah," Tommy agrees, feeling his head swim. "We could."

(or, tommy and tubbo run away together)

Children get away from toxic adults :)

Why’d it have to be so sunny? (The sun shouldn’t shine without you.) by AToZRainToBe

‘A realisation hits Phil in the face like a truck. “Wi- Ghostbur,” Phil says, turning to his grey-scale, translucent, actually-dead son. “You definitely told Tubbo that Tommy’s alive, right?”’

To get away from Dream, Tommy agrees to fake his death, going with the cover story that he jumped from the pillar in Logstedshire. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Tubbo.

Misunderstandings are one of my favorite tropes.

sugar and ice by princedemeter for Aenqa

“He is my son,” Philza says. “Mortal or not, I would see him grow strong.”

Technoblade looks down on earth, at the tiny, angry bundle of cloth and pinking, wrinkled skin. This mortal child, he thinks, lungs filled with breath from the king of gods himself, will not grow strong.

It's mostly centered around Technoblade and Wilbur with Phil being a shitty dad. Pog Gods AU.

a matter of time by meridies

Tommy is twelve years old when his wings first appear, and he is twelve years old when Phil tells him, "All it takes is time and patience, Tommy, and soon you'll be flying even better than me."

or, Tommy grows up feeling like a failure, and it takes him a while to figure out where he's happiest.

Tommy is just finding his place in the world. Powers AU.

That Time a Baby Decided to Raise a Baby by Scitrust

Tubbo wasn't good at making excuses, so when Schlatt asked him why he was leaving in the night, he made something up on the spot. That had been months ago.

At least he sort of had an alibi for that, now.

Or, in which Tubbo finds a baby in the woods on his way to see Tommy, and promptly adopts it.

Part of a collection!! Read it all.

spider lily by blue000jay

Wilbur has a body.

The freckle on the base of his left pinky finger (shared with Techno). The scar on his chin from when he was twelve and over ambitious, diving into too-shallow water. The scar on his throat from the final control room, and the puckered skin on his shoulder from the poisoned arrow that killed him next. Various other nicks and things that litter his skin from years of rebellion and living wild, a kid thrown into a vicious world with too little self-preservation.

(Resurrection AU, for when/if Wilbur comes back.)

The author knows how it's like to live with chronic pain, and it shows :(

Hands tied loose by rabiddog

"Let's run away, Tubbo." Tommy breathed; a wide grin split across his face as his hope grew. "Let's get out of here – far away. We can go anywhere, can't we? Let's just go, you and me right here, right now."

-

Tommy needs to leave. He has to get out of L'Manburg, he has to leave the Dream SMP for his own sanity, and he wants Tubbo to come with him.

But Tubbo has a family now, a better life - something that he can't give up... not even for his best friend.

Unhappy ending :(

The serpent underneath by rabiddog

Tommy and Techno sit at the memory-filled bench and talk. Technoblade reminisces, he talks, he admits his pent-up feelings, he cries. And Tommy? Tommy listens. (That's all he can do.)

-

“I’m sorry for everything, you know? For all of it. I’m so sorry about... about the first war, about the withers and the fighting, about...” Technoblade's fingers began to curl around Tommy’s blonde locks. “About Wilbur and everything after. I'm so, so sorry.”

:((((((((

Damning choices by rabiddog

Ranboo would have never expected to find himself in a horrifying situation such as that one - quite literally sandwiched between a rock and a hard place, with three lives dangling over his head and the answer on the tip of his tongue.

Tubbo, Michael, Tommy.

It's his choice. He chooses who lives, and who dies. His new family, or his first friend. But Ranboo... Ranboo already knows.

-

"Ranboo," He hissed out, voice cracking and somewhat staticky, "It's not your fault. It's not. You had no other choice; I know that, okay? I- I know that- I know- I know..."

:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Jealousy is a disease by rabiddog

Tommyinnit isn't new to the idea of jealousy. He understands it completely. He understands the way it runs rampage through his body each time he catches even a glimpse of Tubbo and Ranboo's new relationship, he understands that the emotion makes his heart clench uncomfortably from time to time. He sees it, feels it, and yet he doesn't care.

He doesn't care at all.

-

"You took Tubbo away from me. You took him away. You took my best friend, and now he's- now he's not my best friend anymore, and I-!"

:)

Word of Honour by rabiddog

Tommy could only stand and stare as Technoblade agreed to hand him over to Dream - as his brother traded him off like he was nothing. Like Tommy wasn't important.

-

Technoblade was a man of honour. He was a man of pride and sticking to his word. He knew that he owed Dream a favour, and no matter what that favour might be, he'd be compliant with it. Nothing would change his mind. (Not even Tommy.)

Almost canon. F.

Sweet Repentance by rabiddog

Perhaps Tommy should have told Phil about his arguably life-threatening injury the minute his father had opened the door. But of course, Tommy being Tommy, did not.

Dying seemed like a nice enough option as long as he was with his family.

-

Tommy just wanted acceptance, forgiveness, and peace. He wanted to close his eyes for the last time and finally be able to let go.

Tommy dies painfully.

A White Tulip by astervoid

He picked the white tulip from the bottom of the stem, standing up carefully as he held it pinched between his fingers. It would die now, inevitably, but Tommy relented and held the flower to his chest. What a silly, stupid thing to ground him. He almost hated that it made his breaths come easier and his steps feel lighter. Almost.

Tommy & Ranbooo chill on the bench.

lying to the authorities (again) by touchgrass

"Please tell me that my right-hand-man, my soon-to-be vice president, one of the people I trust the most on this godforsaken server, did not lie straight to my face and tell me he was twenty-fucking-years-old.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but then closes it shut at the furious look on Wilbur's face. Oops.

~

It is the day of the elections and Wilbur Soot could not have chosen a worser time to realize that half his staff is underage.

The ONLY fic with this premise I've seen on Ao3.

Dear Theseus by rabiddog

Tommy had thought that they'd won - thought that they'd finally beaten Dream, and that everything would be okay. As it turns out, however, apparently Dream had called in that favour from Technoblade after all.

-

“Please,” Tommy whispered after a beat, quivering hands edged upwards to hesitantly press against the tip of the sword striking through his chest. Why, why, why? Why him? Why now?

Tommy almost wins.

A Shifting World by AplusIsRoman

How was Wilbur supposed to know it would end like this?

The smoke hung in the air and soot clung to his skin. His brother - adopted, but older by two minutes - stood back-to-back with him. The chilling cries of people and the calls of the withers rang through the air above the chasm that was once his home.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

How could he have known this would happen?

-

Sequel to A Child's World

Age-swap AU. Has a prequel.

heart of the sea by RyDyKG

Here is the secret that he barely thinks about, a secret that he shoves deep and far down in himself:

Wilbur Soot is a siren, and he’s not exactly proud of that fact.

Wilbur-centric. Urban Fantasy AU.

He knows, ok? by Ralli

By some means, Techno has given his raccoon younger brother some cotton candy. It doesn’t end as well as either of them would like.

Very, very cute :)

that's it, it's split (it won't recover) by Jk_Kat

Tommy has always been the fighter.

He has never been the fought for, and he knows it, with every whisper Tubbo directs at Ranboo, with every glance thrown his way- Tommy knows, the way he wishes he didn't, that they think he's dead.

If they're so convinced he's still dead, maybe the one good thing left he can do for them is die.

---

Or, Tommy gets addicted to being dead and thinks that nobody cares about him. The people who very much do try to pull him back from the brink before Dream can't resurrect him anymore.

Messed up, but with a happy ending.

Hugs 'n PTSD by rabiddog

Ranboo knew from the start that the recovery process would be hard - that moving on from quite literally being beat to death would be something hugely difficult to step away from, and that's if Tommy could even manage it at all.

He knew that it would be stressful and arduous, demanding and tough... he just hadn't expected to be holding Tommy through a PTSD-induced panic attack only days after his release from Pandora's Vault.

-

Ranboo isn't typically an overbearingly protective person. But for Tommy? He just might be.

I love this author if you can't tell.

Big Men don't cry by Shiny22Snivy

The room is small and warm, almost stifling compared to the cool openness of the ravine. It’s cosy and candlelit, and a chest sits open in the corner, full of what looks to be burnt rags of a former smart suit. And sitting in rumpled blankets on a bed, cradling a mug of something steaming, sits Tubbo.

At first, Tommy forgets all about Niki’s vague warning. He’s just so happy to see his best friend again, alive and well and all in one piece. Tubbo’s okay. Tubbo’s okay, and in front of him, and suddenly everything bad in the world is gone, if only for just a moment.

“Tommy?”

And then Tubbo turns to look at him.

Clingyduo fluff.

sins of the father (i broke all my bones that day i found you) by ryter

The thing that hurt Wilbur most was when he saw Fundy tear down the walls of L'Manburg. After all, those walls had gone up to protect his son. But in this world, Fundy trusts his father just a little bit more, and it ruins him.

Or: there's only one way Wilbur never becomes the villain. It's unclear whether this was the better path.

SOME VIOLENCE WARNINGS/BLOOD MENTION. CHARACTER DEATH. SO MUCH ANGST.

Sad, but cathartic.

REVIVED TOMMY HEADCANNONS AHAHAHAHA by racooninnit

i’m dropping ALL the fucking revived tommy headcannons on you guys today get ready for some ANGST

this is different from what i usually post but it was fun

i don’t think there’s a lot i need to put warnings for, obviously there are mentions of the way tommy died and the aftermath of that (i.e. injuries and trauma), but if there’s anything that needs a warning please tell me!

What it says on the tin- not really a fic.

Unfinished Stories:

Ongoing (Less than a month since the last update):

Over the River Styx by CorpseArt

I feel like we should name him.

There’s a scuffle at the back of his mind as he rolls up, curling tight with a shiver despite the heat of the flames licking up his back.

I mean, he’s like – us, but like a worse version clearly because oh man, this is just weirdness. There’s a flare of a tangle of emotions, complicated and fearful, resentful and livid with anger. I can’t believe this is what I’ve been reduced to, stuck in the mind of this- this child.

He’s like your age, Tommy. Are you calling yourself a child?

I mean, I am one so fucking duh. Child murderer.

-

Or: trauma bonding in the most unconventional of senses.

Just- Read it. Show the writer your support, it's unique, it's amazing and there needs to be more of it.

If history is dead and gone by iregretallmydecisions

“Don’t come any fucking closer,” Tommy shouted, startling Phil into stepping back. Tommy was still looking around wildly, like a trapped animal “Don’t fucking do it.” ---- In which Tommy finds himself faced with his splintered family, while it was still mostly whole. The past is not an easy place to be when the future was not kind. His family is forced to deal with the fall out.

It's better than Rewind, but you didn't hear that from me.

Wilbur Soot's Redemption (OR Ghostbur's Retry) by luckykitty0523

Wilbur had many regrets in his life, being lost in his madness and the urge for revenge drowned leaving a shell of who he once was. It was only in his dying moments that he regained himself but it was already too late for him leaving him drowning in wishes and regrets. However waking up in another different universe where wilbur was never born and family soulmates exist, so when wilbur said he wanted to fix the mistakes he never expected this turn of events.

OR

In one world wilbur dies and he would return as a ghost missing his memory and trying to fix what he did in life but in this one wilbur dies and wakes up in another world where soulmates exist and the wilbur of that world was never born so wilbur/ghostbur takes his place and tries to make up his mistakes to the other version of his friends.

Wilbur adopts SBI + Fundy + Dream.

A Talk Long Overdue by penink

Tommy has his first therapy session with Puffy.

Tommy gets therapy.

Into the Night by Interjection

“Don’t touch me,” Tommy hisses, leaning against the railing. “I will - I will-”

They’re a hundred stories up. Wind lashes against Phil’s face. Next to him, Sam makes choked noise.

“But why?”

Tommy looks up to meet Phil’s eyes, terror struck so deep in those pale blue irises Phil thinks they must hold all the world’s fears within them.

“You’ll die,” he whispers. “And then I’ll die. But I’ll come back.”

“And I don’t want to come back.”

Others have the freedom to live. Tommy doesn’t even have the freedom to die.

But maybe they can teach him that living doesn’t have to be so bad.

---

(Superpowers AU where whenever someone touches Tommy, they both die. But Tommy will always come back to life eventually. He just wants it to end - but instead, he’s on the run, terrified of how his power will be exploited if he’s caught.

A few people reluctantly team up to save him.)

Funky SBI dynamics + a Sam that cares. Also a lot of angst.

[pascalpanic]

Mirdal’ika (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader takes care of the Razor Crest and the child while Mando is out hunting. When Mando doesn’t return when he’s supposed to, the book-smart reader has to learn some street smarts and help her Mandalorian.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Okay, I’m a nerd, a certified nerd as if that wasn’t clear. This is my love letter to the nerds out there, to the ones who had their first kiss a little late, who stayed in and read books rather than partying. I love you, you’re cool. Italics are for emphasis and internal dialogue, but in some places also to show that another language is being spoken. Hopefully that’s clear! Oh, also: mirdal’ika is a word of my own creation. No Mando’a word exists for “nerd” that I could find, so this is my interpretation of the language using my best etymological skills!

mirdala= intelligent, clever -’ika = suffix meaning small or little mirdal’ika = intelligent little one; Mando’a slang meaning nerd.

Growing up, you were the kid who had her nose buried in a book at all times. You rarely interacted with the outside world. While the other children on Tatooine made sandcastles or played games, drawing in the sand, you read encyclopedias and fact books, learning about the other planets in your systems and other cultures. Your fixation at age 12 had been on Mandalorian culture, fascinated by the warriors that were like faraway, mythical knights to your young self. As a child enraptured by fairy tales and stories of intergalactic heroes like Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, you’d somehow always been enchanted by the bad-boy type, the dark and mysterious man who reluctantly saves the day, more along the lines of Han Solo. Naturally, the fact that Mandalorians never showed their face was mysterious, and you’d admit that you dreamed of being swept away by the Mand’alor and having the privilege of being the sole person to see their face, of being a queen and finding true love. You later moved on to research other cultures, even teaching yourself various galactic languages should you ever get the chance to travel. That didn’t seem likely, growing up on a planet where the only claim to fame was Luke Skywalker’s brief residence a few towns over. Your knowledge of Mandalorian culture was part of what made you so special to Mando, your employer-friend-coworker-roommate-co-parent whose name you had yet to learn. You never asked questions of him. Never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked him what was under it, never asked anything too personal, understood that the helmet could only come off in front of members of his clan. You’d cut him off and finish a sentence when he’d explain something of his customs to you, stunning him with your knowledge. He liked it, and by association he liked you. You had bore much of your life story to him, and he gladly would’ve given you some of his. He had come to like you, to trust you even, but you never asked. For fear you wouldn’t want to hear it, he held back. You even spoke Mando’a, though he didn’t know that. It always brought a smirk to your face as he’d turn his back after calling you some sweet words in his native tongue, thinking you’d be oblivious. It shocked you at first; you didn’t expect such a stoic and silent man to be so openly flirtatious, but after a while it most certainly grew on you. You would tease him equally in another tongue, calling him handsome or dashing in Pak Pak or Bothese. It was fun, the way he’d try to guess what you were saying, usually assuming it meant something negative.

With your vast knowledge of languages, you’d both expected that you would be able to interpret the words of Mando’s adopted son, that his babbling would be easily deciphered into some species’ tongue. Eventually you realized that he wasn’t speaking a language yet, simply regurgitating syllables like any child would. He was a baby, after all. You set out to make it your mission to teach the child languages when Mando was away, and he had begun to identify the meaning of words, even if he couldn’t say them himself. He could identify body parts on himself, you by your name, and Mando by his; well, the name you called him, which you knew wasn’t his real name. Mando had taken you on as a crewmate for the Razor Crest a few months ago now, and you still knew next to nothing about the beskar-clad warrior. He was a forward man, so you assumed he would tell you things when he was ready. That’s about all you knew: he was a man, and he was a Mandalorian. He wanted to tell you everything, especially the fact that he had been enchanted by your intelligence and wit since the first time he met you, stopping on Tatooine for a bounty and encountering you when he asked a fellow villager who the most knowledgeable person around was. The tiny green thing he held was a menace, and you cared for him while the Mandalorian man went and hunted his bounty. The child was hesitant to leave you, getting attached after a quick few days of staying in your hut, and the man had decided you could be valuable. Just before he walked through the door, he turned and offered you a job. You were shy when you accepted, and had nursed a crush the whole time you two had traveled together. You couldn’t believe the situation, just like in those trashy novels you’d read when you were interested in his culture. Now that you lived with him and the tiny green thing, you stayed aboard his ship while he hunted and cared for the kid, cleaned, fixed up the piece of junk, and generally ran the almost-household. It was enjoyable; you liked the man, especially once you came to find his sense of humor similar to your own, and you absolutely adored the child in your care. Your little ragtag crew fell into a rhythm after the first month or so: Mando would leave on a hunt for a few days. While he was gone, you’d play with the baby, feed him and care for him. You washed the blood and dirt from the man’s clothing and the child’s bile from the clothing belonging to you and the baby, taught the child new words, and generally… well, raised him. The baby felt like your child when you two were alone, but when the Mandalorian came home, he was the only thing visible in that child’s round black eyes. It was all about him, sitting in his lap, babbling incoherent words to him, playing with him. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian is on a hunt. You and the child sit in the bed compartment; you lie on the mattress and the child rests in his mesh hammock above the entry. At the last port, you picked up as many books as possible to entertain both you and the child. He loved listening to your voice, and so you happily read aloud to him as you rest together. The Mandalorian should be home tonight, you figured, since he told you that this was a rather easy bounty and that it should take him no more than 3 days. It’s now a couple hours after the third day, but you’re sure it’s fine. The child’s eyes droop closed as you read to him, flawlessly translating the book from the Pak Pak it was written in. The Basic words pour from your mouth, and the little thing gives a gentle yawn before curling up with his favorite blanket and silver ball and passing out. Looking up, you laugh at the sight softly and transition to reading in your head. Not long after the kid falls asleep, you follow. It was unintentional, but reading soothes you, and the perfectly cozy bed that smells like Mando draws you in further and further until sleep washes over your body. You hug one pillow to your chest as you sleep, imagining it was the man’s body you cuddled up against. - Mando is 24 hours late. You’ve been pacing in the ship since you realized it’s officially a day later than he said he’d be back. Dammit, you’re going to find that man. You’re not unaccustomed to violence, having been in scuffles as a child and teen, fighting off Jawas or unsavory men in Tatooine cantinas. You need to track him down and find him. First, you go up to the cockpit and look at the comm watch he gave you. It has a two-way tracking device; one for him to find you, and one for you to find him. Mando has the technology to see where you are built into his vambrace. You, however, have nothing. After searching the cockpit, you find and crack open a tracking fob he used in the past. You open the back of the comm watch, finding the bit with the tracker and wire it to the fob. As you connect two wires, the fob suddenly blinks with light. Laughing at the fact that you made it work, you relax a little. Now you can track the Mandalorian man down. After slipping the fob into a pocket of your pants, you scoot back down the ladder and to the cargo hold’s back wall: Mando’s arsenal. You can do this, you tell yourself, and dare to open Mando’s personal armory built into the wall. You strap a holster to your thigh, adding a vibroblade there. A belt with two guns rests on your hips. An ammo belt drapes across your chest, settling between your breasts and pulling your black tank top tight, the back of the leather sash holding Mando’s backup pulse rifle. You take a look in the mirror of the refresher, and you have to admit that you look badass. Weapons and homemade tracker at the ready, you set out to find him. You leave the baby with a trustworthy woman at the hangar, one who has babysat him before for Mando, then enter the bustling city. - Following the blinking and beeping of the fob, you find your way to the opposite end of the city, to a building located near the outskirts. It’s run down and looks abandoned. It makes perfect sense that someone would hide here. As you approach, the beeping of the fob encourages you; the Mandalorian is definitely here. You disable the sound on the fob and slip it in your pocket, grabbing one of the blasters from your hip. As you approach, the building is silent. The roar of the city is quiet but present, and you slip through an open doorway quietly. You scan the rooms, blaster held in front of you and ready to shoot. You take inventory of the first floor and find nothing. The staircase looks terribly old, and you wince as you take your first step onto it and it makes a noise. Now or never, you tell yourself and quickly run up the steps, knowing the noise can’t be avoided, so you’d better make it quick. You reach the top of the steps, pulling out your other blaster, and find a male Twi’lek standing over  a pile of silver and black on the floor. Mando. He’s most definitely unconscious, maybe even- no, he can’t be dead, you can see his slow breathing and the way it makes his body rise and fall. “Fuck,” you say out loud, and the Twi’lek turns towards you. The man is large, much larger than you. He’s overweight and dressed in combat clothes, his face battered and bloody. Your heart sinks as you realize this man is the bounty Mando was going for. You need to start thinking on your feet, and quickly. The man starts to move toward you and you hold out both blasters. “Easy there, nerra,” you tell him in Twi’leki, calling him ‘brother’ to attempt to put him at ease. It doesn’t have the effect that you hoped. “Why are you here?” he asks back, also in Twi’leki, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t draw,” you threaten and inch closer. He was a bail jumper, Mando had informed you before he left, but not for a petty charge; he had escaped in order to avoid several charges of murder. He was a former bounty hunter, who Mando had encountered once. The idea strikes you. “I’m here for him,” you say and nod to the lump of beskar behind the man on the ground. “There’s a bounty on his head. I… heard whoever turns him in gets to keep the beskar too,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “You going for him too?” The Twi’lek man shakes his head. “No. He was coming for me. Thought he could beat me.” You seize this opportunity. “From what you look like, I don’t think anyone could. This one is worth a lot of credits. Enough to run away to a pleasure planet… twice over,” you say, inching closer. Mando makes a soft groan and it breaks your heart as he gains consciousness. He must notice you; he starts to moan out words, but you know he can’t speak or he’ll expose you both. “Silence, Mandalorian,” you say again in Basic, words holding acid. “Twice over… let’s bring him in together. Find some wonderful planet to share that bounty on…” you offer, raising an eyebrow and slowly creeping closer to the man. “What’s your name?” You ask. He tells you his and you tell him yours, then give him a seductive smile. The man’s face falls into a smirk. You put both blasters in your belt once more and his posture relaxes fully. “Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful.” “Wow. For a jaded bounty hunter, you’re more foolish than one could ever believe.” Before the man can process your words, you’ve slung the pulse rifle over your shoulder and pull it into position. You shoot a pulse and it finds its target in his chest. He groans in agony and falls backwards, directly on top of Mando. Wincing for the man beneath the hulking Twi’lek, you grab a blaster, shooting the man in each leg. “Mando, hey, it’s me,” you tell him as you roll the behemoth from on top of him. “I’m here,” you murmur. He starts mumbling back, but it’s in Mando’a. That makes sense, you suppose, that he’s reverting in such a moment of crisis. “How hurt are you?” you ask, beginning to speak Mando’a to him in hopes he’ll understand you better. Mando’s brain works through the fog, hearing your words and recognizing that it’s you. “Real bad,” he groans out, speaking his native tongue. You touch his elbow, unprotected by beskar, and he whines. “No, no,” he whimpers, sounding almost like a child. You sigh. This was going to be harder than you expected. “Fuck, how am I going to get you out of here?” The brain function that the Mandalorian has left is your saving grace. “Speeder bike. Hidden down there. We can get on.” “Yes, but how are we going to get you downstairs?” He doesn’t respond, simply groans in pain. If this was going to work without immense pain on his part, some kind of miracle was going to need to happen. “I’m going to drag you down the stairs as carefully as I can, okay? We’ll let gravity do the work. Do you have a good arm?” “The left one… so clever, so smart, pretty girl,” he breathes out, words rasping. You blush at the words but chuckle. He’s in so much pain there’s no way he can think straight now. “I’ll go get the bike, then we’ll get you down there.” This is the hard part, you think to yourself. First, you run down the steps and search for the speeder bike Mando mentioned. You find it and sigh in relief. It’s a piece of junk, but it should do. You position it at the bottom of the stairs and then run up them again. “Okay, this is going to hurt. Can you roll yourself?” “No, shoulder’s all fucked up,” he mumbles and you groan. “Well, I’ll have to drag you on the good one. Get ready.” Taking his good arm, you begin dragging him towards the steps. He groans and you wince. “I’m so sorry, you’re doing so well,” you tell him as you move him. “Here we go.” Once he’s at the top of the steps, you hold him under his armpits, blushing at how close you are. He’s so strong, even injured, and you smile softly to yourself. You lower the two of you down the stairs with careful movements and manage to hold him long enough to get him seated on the speeder bike. He leans forward onto the handles. “One moment,” you tell him. Running up the stairs once more, you shoot another pulse into the bounty. He gives a dazed nod, clearly not understanding anything through the pain he’s in. You can’t let Mando leave this man behind. You’re sure he’s unconscious, so you repeat the same movements as before but with next to no gentleness. You toss him on the back of the speeder bike, where the gunner would sit, and tie him down with ropes before covering him with a blanket. “Alright, back to the ship as quick as we possibly can,” you inform Mando and get the speeder to a door wide enough to fit it through. Once it works, you hop on between Mando and the handlebar and start it up, moving as quickly as you possibly can. Soon enough, you’re back at the hangar that holds the Razor Crest. You enter the back way, using the speeder bike entrance. You hop off quickly and park it by the Crest. “Stay right there, I’m going to get this asshole into the carbonite,” you tell Mando. His consciousness hasn’t been clear for at least a day. He didn’t even process the fact that you had grabbed the bounty. “What? You got him?” “One of us had to,” you tease, enjoying the fact that the two of you are finally conversing in his native tongue. You’ve always loved Mando’a, the way the words sound rolling off your tongue. You untie the man, still unconscious, and haul him up the ramp of the Crest. You’ve seen Mando work the carbonite freezer once or twice, and you hope you press the right buttons as you force the man onto the slab. “Come on, baby,” you murmur to the machine, hoping it’ll work. With one final button, there’s a hiss and cold air blows from it, freezing him. You sigh in relief. You return to the main hold and pop out a cot for him to lie on. Running back down the ramp, you find the dazed Mandalorian in the exact spot you left him in. “I’m going to carry you into the ship,” you tell him, grunting with effort as you lift his practically deadweight body off of the side and into a standing position. You drag him up and immediately shove him onto the cot. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you cringe as he moans in pain at the contact with the cot. “One more thing and we’ll get some bacta in you.” The owner of the hangar is waiting for you outside the ship, holding the kid, both confused by the commotion. You very quickly and hurriedly explain to her that everything is fine now, thank her and pay her a generous amount of credits, and rush back onto the ship with the baby. “Keep the speeder!” You shout behind you as you close the ramp. - A full day and a half later, the Mandalorian awakens from a deep slumber with a pounding headache. He sits with a jolt, which only makes the headache worse. He looks around to find that he’s in the Razor Crest, the familiar hum indicating that he’s in hyperspace. The events of the past few days begin to manifest in his memory and he groans, lying back down on the cot. You climb down from the cockpit as you hear him stirring and find him on his side. “Good morning,” you say softly as you sit on the edge of his cot, the kid in your arm. You set the child down and he toddles off elsewhere.  “You were out for a good day and a half,” you tell him and stroke his side softly. “How do you feel?” “Like shit,” he groans, rolling to his back again. He’s hyper aware of your touch, the way your fingers drag down his- oh shit, he’s shirtless, armorless- skin, avoiding the bruises. “You… thank you,” he says, gravelly voice soft. It sinks in that he’s wearing just a pair of shorts and his helmet. You must’ve undressed him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His breath catches in his throat. You nod and stroke his good arm. “Of course. That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?” you tease. He chuckles, but it’s clear that takes effort. “Really, thank you. And you got the bounty too! Shit, mesh’la, I-” he says as he starts to sit, but you push him back down with a hand to his chest, caressing the side of his beskar helmet. “Nayc, stay down,” you tell him, chuckling softly. “Rest. I’ll bring you some water and go back up to the cockpit so you can take off the helmet,” you say with a soft smile, standing and going to where you keep the food and water bottles. As you move, he mulls over the events that led him here. He got knocked down and beat by the man that was supposed to be his bounty. That never happened. You came to rescue him and- wait. You just told him no, nayc, in Mando’a. In fact, you were speaking Mando’a to him the whole time you rescued him, reassuring him and directing him in his native tongue, which he had no idea you spoke until just now. You return with a nutrient bar and water bottle, setting them next to his side on the cot. “I’ll head back up-” you start to say, but he stops you by grabbing his wrist. “You speak Mando’a,” he says simply, looking up at you with wonder behind his mask. “Yeah,” you chuckle and admit, face flushing with warmth. His is equally heating beneath the beskar. He sits up slightly but instead you come to his level, sitting on the edge of the cot and pushing him down with a firm palm to his chest. He chuckles softly. “So you’ve understood me every time I’ve called you beautiful,” he says, a tinge of shyness in his modulated voice. Nodding, you tuck a stray hair back from your face. “I… yes, I have,” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. “I hear you talk in Mando'a in your sleep too, sometimes.” Even his chest is flushing with warmth now. You look away, at a corner of the ship “You talk about your life. People from your past.” The silence hangs between the two of you, your hand still resting in the center of his chest. You slowly drag it to his good shoulder, and down his arm. He clasps your hand in his when it reaches his fingertips. “Have you heard the name Din?” He asks in his native tongue, and you shake your head softly, truthfully. It never came out. “That’s… my name. Din, Din Djarin,” he admits to you, hand squeezing yours softly. You gasp softly, not expecting that information from him. A smile settles on your face after a moment. “Well then. Hello, Din.” You lean down and press your forehead to where his lies beneath the metal. A keldabe kiss, you know, the most intimate gesture a Mandalorian can do. It truly melts his heart, the organ pumping frantically in his chest. “Hello to you too, gorgeous. Wait,” he stops and pushes your face from his, gently. He returns to speaking Basic with a chuckle. “How many languages do you speak?” You look upwards, mentally counting. “Uh. 8 and a half. I’m still not finished with Ubese,” you say and turn back to face him, a shy smile gracing your face. “Wow. You’re a mirdal’ika,” he tells you, the smile evident in his voice even though you can’t see it through the mask. Separately, the syllables make sense. You understand the direct translation, but it’s odd, and you cock your head to the side as you look down at the Mandalorian- no, Din. “Little clever one?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Yes, well, that’s the direct translation. It’s really more of a slang term.” “For?” “In Basic… I believe the equivalent would be… nerd.” “Din!” You squeal and laugh, smacking his good shoulder lightly with a backhand. “Excuse me, that’s rude,” you chuckle, the smile growing even wider on your face as you look down at him. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you give a soft sigh. “Well, you need to drink that water. I’ll head back up to the cockpit,” you tell him, really meaning to leave this time, the smile falling. Once again, as you stand and try to move, he grabs your arm. “I… I think I’m going to need help with that,” he admits, almost ashamed. “Please. Stay.” You nod, but then realize what it implicates. “No, Din,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t do that to you, you and that helmet, it’s… it’s your everything, I couldn’t possibly-” “Please, cyare,” he asks in his native tongue again, and your heart melts. “I want you to see me. I need you to see me.” Heart pounding, you take a beat before you respond with a nod. You sit down once more, hands slowly tracing up his sides, then his chest and up to the base of his helmet. “You’re sure. Positive,” you ask. “Of course I am.” With a nod, you allow him to bring his hand to the side to unlatch the lock. Once it releases, he lifts his head just above the pillow and you slide off his helmet, catching the back of his head with one hand and easing it back down to the pillow. You make sure the helmet rests on the floor before you finally look at him. He’s gorgeous, truly. His tanned skin, which you saw when cleaning his wounds, is covered with dark stubble and a mustache on the lower half of his face, broken by two plush lips. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you take in his softly hooked nose, his dark eyebrows, his dark and messy hair, but most importantly, his eyes. His eyes are a beautiful chocolate brown, set gently into his face and looking at you like you’re a shimmering supernova, no, something even more beautiful. For a moment, you get caught up staring at him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Din,” you mumble in Mando’a. He just gives a soft smile and murmurs his thanks. After you finish staring, you shake your head quickly. “Sorry, the water,” you chuckle nervously, turning to grab it from your other side. Din’s hand catches the side of your face. “The water is a secondary need,” he says softly in Mando’a, turning your face back to his. “I took this off for something else.” His eyes hold a question as he looks up at you. You bite your lip for a moment before breaking into a smile and nodding. The Mandalorian pulls your face down to his, and, ever so gently, your lips finally meet, real and warm and absolutely delicious. You sigh softly, putting a hand on the side of his face too. His lips are softer than you’d expected, while yours are just as beautiful as he dreamed about at night. You both continue for a moment, his hand drifting to your neck, completely lost in each other. A moment later, you pull back and giggle. “I have to admit something, Din,” you tell him and lovingly stroke the side of his face. “It better not be that you’re secretly engaged,” he asks teasingly, a soft smile on his face and raising an eyebrow at you. “No,” you laugh and run your hand through his curls, carding your fingers between the surprisingly soft locks. “That…” you gulp and look away before looking back at him. “Was my first kiss,” you admit and bite down on your bottom lip. He laughs softly but there’s love in his eyes. “A girl as beautiful as you never dated when you were younger? Never went out and flirted with her classmates?” You shake your head. “I was generally too busy at home, reading or teaching myself the language of the man who’d eventually be my first kiss.” You both laugh at that and you grin. His hand rests on the side of your face, gently sweeping his thumb across the skin beneath his fingers. “Of course you were. My little mirdal’ika,” he laughs, bringing your face to his to kiss you once more.

[owl-with-a-pen]

Kara had been putting on a brave face all afternoon. Alex figured it would have been a little more obvious to everyone had it not been for the fact that they all were.

Each of them had been affected by the Phantom’s fear visions to some degree, but in typical Super Friends fashion, they’d found the remedy to those fears in each other’s company.

It almost felt too normal, gathering at Kara’s apartment, playing board games, eating and drinking, laughing and pretending that the last few weeks had been nothing but a bad dream.

Nothing was that easy, though, no matter how hard they tried. After all, it didn’t escape Alex that Lena had more than overindulged in her fair share of scotch since her arrival, or that Nia had practically remained glued to Brainy’s side the whole afternoon, fiddling with the life projectors beneath his shirt as they lay curled against each other on the couch. Brainy held her just as tightly in return, as though he was afraid to let her go. It was clear he was way more on edge than normal, hyper-aware of his surroundings, startling at just about any loud noise. So much so that the pop from the champagne cork earlier that day had very nearly sent him reeling right out of the room. After that, Alex had put the group on a strict twist off cap rule for any future bottles that were to be opened in Brainy’s presence.

Alex knew that Kelly had seen something awful there as well, but her girlfriend had been doing everything to keep the morale of the team boosted, instead assuring her that she was working through it on her own terms, and that she wanted Alex to feel comfortable talking to her about her own nightmare as well.

As much as Alex wanted to take Kelly up on that offer - right now - sitting there with her friends, drink in hand and her sister’s head resting on her shoulder… this was how she was getting by. She didn’t need to talk it out, at least not in that moment. Being in the presence of her family, feeling the soft fibres of Kara’s cardigan between her fingers, this was more than enough to keep her fears at bay.

But, she knew that Kara was struggling.

Despite the strength Kara was trying desperately to maintain, Alex could see the strain behind every smile. Even now she was home safe, decked in sweats and curled up under her favourite blanket, it didn’t take from the fact that whatever she’d seen in the Phantom Zone still lived within her. Providing all the comforts in the world wasn’t going to change that.

Still, having a chance to focus on family, junk food and stupid card games was at least beginning to alleviate some of the tension in the room. By the time day rolled into night, the laughter they shared together felt that much more genuine, and Alex was even able to goad Kara into a very competitive, high-stakes game of Trivial Pursuit.

Brainy and Nia won, not like the room stood much of a chance against a twelfth-level intellect who had also taken the opportunity of studying even more pop-culture references since his stint in 2009. But, with the alcohol running through everyone’s systems, the match had been closer than any one before it.

Eventually though, it was time for the Super Friends to head home for the evening. Well, everyone apart from Alex. She’d been pretty clear from the moment game night had been proposed that there was no way in hell she was leaving her sister alone that night.

If anything, Kara had seemed relieved at the idea. Alex knew she was still processing everything that had happened, but the horrors of that place were still fresh on her mind. Maybe she hadn’t been alone, maybe she had found family along the way, but that didn’t take from the awful things Kara had witnessed, even with her father at her side.

Alex wasn’t sure what to think of Zor-El quite yet. J’onn had given him a place to crash at the Tower while he gathered his bearings on Earth, and she knew he’d likely be contacting Argo very soon with the news of his survival. Kara hadn’t spoken much about her father since getting back, but then again, she’d spoken so little about her time in the Phantom Zone that Alex didn’t think it strange. She was looking to move past this.

They all were.

Just… moving past it wasn’t going to be as easy as they were hoping for. Kelly was already trying to encourage everyone into a group session to talk things out, although the bottle of wine she’d toted had probably made her sound a little too eager about the idea at the time. In any case, Alex hadn’t missed how Kara had shrunk into the sofa at the suggestion, or how quickly she’d diverted the subject before Kelly had a chance to go into any details.

She’d have to talk to someone eventually, and privately Alex hoped that Kara might let her in. Since Brainy and Nia had gone back in time, Alex couldn’t help but fall back to those years when she’d left Kara behind for college, how anchored she’d still felt to her sister’s life even from miles away. There were times she’d blamed Kara for everything in her life that wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t take from the moments, however small, where things had been just that.

Perfect.

The longer Kara had spent in Midvale, the more she’d opened up about her home world. Alex had found the topic all kinds of uncomfortable at first, serving as yet another reminder that she was responsible for this alien tween that had somehow stumbled into their lives, disturbing her otherwise normal existence. But, Kara had been able to fill every one of her stories about Krypton with such wonder. Even when she hadn’t been fully confident with English, she’d still managed to describe her planet with such passion that Alex could even imagine those great glass spires for herself, could see the vast cities that glimmered in the distance from Kara’s old bedroom window.

Kara had never managed to get through one of those stories without crying.

Alex could still remember clambering over to Kara’s bed in the dead of night, bundling her adopted sister in her arms, expecting it to feel so alien, so wrong. But, it hadn’t. If anything, it had been the most natural thing in the world.

She’d whispered to her then, rocking her, telling her oh so gently that everything would be okay.

Kara had believed her every time.

Now, though?

Now, Alex wasn’t so sure.  

Once the party disbanded, neither one of them had the energy to say much to each other, but that didn’t matter. Sharing one another’s space was more than enough. Assuring Kara that she wasn’t alone tonight - that was enough. It had to be.

When Kara headed to bed, Alex set about making herself comfortable on the couch, curling beneath the duvet that Kara had left out for her.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, which only made it all the more alarming when she was suddenly jerked awake some hours later.

Alex’s throat was dry, and there was a crick in her neck where she’d been lying awkwardly across the sofa’s arm. She groaned out, raising her hands in a half-assed defensive stance that would have been way more threatening had she actually had a firearm to grab a hold of and not a medium sized throw pillow.

“Alex?”

Kara’s voice, trailing feebly in the dark. Alex blinked, finding her sister’s bright eyes staring at her in the dim setting of the apartment. Even with no visible source of light, they still managed to shimmer, like tiny beams of sunlight had been captured within her irises.

“Hey,” Alex managed, clearing her throat with some effort. She frowned, reaching for her sister’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Kara’s lips trembled into a weak smile. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“Figures,” Alex said, noting the state of her sister’s hair. It was tied up into a messy bun that had clearly fallen victim to Kara’s violent tossing and turning habit. Alex forced herself into a half decent sitting position, glancing towards the kitchen. “What d’you think, will tea and honey cut it?” she asked, feigning a dramatized yawn. “Or, do we have to pull out the big guns?”

Kara’s smile widened. “Oh, big guns for sure.”

“Hot cocoa it is.” Alex grinned. “You can boil the water.”

                                                          ---

Ten minutes later, Alex found herself sat on Kara’s bed, legs crossed as she nursed her piping mug of hot cocoa, enhanced with a generous splash of whiskey. Kara did the same, taking a sip before she closed her eyes, leaning her back against the head rest.

“Oh Rao that’s good,” she murmured.

“Y’know, I think I’ve even improved upon mom’s recipe,” Alex mused. “The student becomes the teacher, or whatever.”

“Don’t tell Eliza that, she’ll kill you.”

Alex pulled a face. “God, never. She’ll take that recipe to her grave.”

Kara chuckled, sobering slightly. She pressed her lips together, staring down into her mug. “I missed this,” she murmured. “When I was… trapped there… everything felt so bleak. Like the world was trying to suck the happiness right out of me.” She shuddered, tightening her grip around her mug. “I tried to hold onto happy memories, the taste of my favourite foods, anything that’d keep me grounded. But, the longer I was there, the more I thought I’d never find that happiness again.” She breathed out sharply, forcing a smile. “That I’d never taste hot cocoa again.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like,” Alex said softly. “I mean… we were only there for a few hours and look how badly it affected us. You were there for weeks and I—” Alex choked, shaking her head. “Things got pretty bleak here, too. And, well, let’s just say I didn’t need a Phantom to start losing hope.”

“Alex-”

“It’s not your fault,” Alex said automatically. “So don’t you dare go apologising for this.”

“I- I wasn’t.”

Alex gave her sister a pointed look.

Kara’s face fell. She shifted uncomfortably, drawing her knees up towards her chest. “Okay, maybe… so maybe I was. But- I don’t know what else to say, Alex! I am sorry. Sorry any of this happened. That we lost each other.”

Again.

“We always find our way back,” Alex said firmly, pressing the warmth of her mug against her chin retrospectively. Her lips curled. “That might as well be the Danvers’ sisters motto at this point, right?”

Kara snorted into her own mug. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“We could make t-shirts.”

“Okay, that’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But you kinda love it, right?”

Kara’s nose crinkled when she grinned, one of those classic Kara smiles. So simple, so easy, as though she wasn’t holding the weight of the world on her shoulders at any given moment.

It didn’t last long, but when Kara looked back up at her, Alex thought that a little of the pain behind her eyes had begun to ease.

Then, Kara yawned.

Alex’s smile faded. “Okay, you really need to get some sleep.”

Kara bit her lip, glancing away. “I know. I just…” She blinked with a sudden revelation, turning back to Alex in the same motion. “Would you stay?” she asked impulsively, patting the sheets at her side. “Here, I mean. While I sleep? Like old times?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Alex said, already scooting over towards the empty space. “Of course I will.”

                                                           ---

The last time Alex had laid in Kara’s bed, she’d been alone.

When the wound had still been fresh, her heart was so heavy that Alex had needed to feel Kara there with her somehow. She’d used the spare key to get inside, curling up beneath her sister’s sheets, still smelling of Kara’s watermelon shampoo, and hugged her pillow close to her chest, burying her face into the soft cotton.

Now, Kara lay at her side, and yet Alex still had to fight to prove to herself that this was real. That Kara was home. 

She hadn’t told anyone about what the Phantom had showed her just yet - not even Kelly. To think how terrified she’d been of not being the first face that Kara saw, that somehow her stubbornness might ruin everything, that to get Kara back, she’d have to sacrifice herself, because it was her job as the older sister. Even when she’d faced those fears, when she’d chosen to let herself go to keep Kara safe, it didn’t take from the horrible all-consuming vacuum that had surrounded her. The unforgiving, ice cold chasm of space that had crushed her body the moment she’d been pulled from the ship’s sheild. 

But, when Kara had barrelled through that door, Alex had seen her light at the end of the tunnel. When Kara had wrapped her arms around her, nearly forgetting her own strength, squeezing the breath right out from Alex’s lungs, her fears had all but evaporated alongside it. Instead, she’d only hugged her sister tighter in response, whispering nonsensical reassurances into Kara’s ear as she’d crumpled beneath the weight of everything she’d seen, breathing heavily into Alex’s throat.

Now, Alex ran her fingers through her sister’s hair, tugging the elastic out so that she could knot the blonde strands into loose plaits. She’d taught Kara how to braid her hair in a similar fashion when they’d been kids, playing with her hair for hours in front of the mirror, going through every style she could think of in some of her mom’s old magazines. Alex had never been a big fan of dressing up, but Kara had been so excited to learn about Earth fashion and Alex had been seldom to disappoint.

It wasn’t long before Kara relaxed into the gesture, her back curving against Alex’s chest as she sank deep against her pillow, pressing her face into it with a soft exhale.

Alex didn’t know what kind of nightmares Kara had faced the last time she’d fallen asleep, but she vowed that she’d do everything in her power to give her sister the peace of mind she deserved.

When Kara finally began to doze and soft snores escaped her lips, Alex wrapped her arms around her front, burying her face between her sister’s shoulder blades.

She was warm in her arms, solid and real. Alex could feel every rise and fall in Kara’s chest, could hear the steady rhythm of her pulse beating against her forehead.

The girl of steel had always needed to appear unbreakable to everyone, but what people rarely thought about was how that so often extended even to Kara Danvers. After all, it would be Kara Danvers, not Supergirl, who would be turning up at CatCo in the next few days, pretending as though she’d been out getting the scoop of the century.

No one outside of her family knew what she’d been through, and so none of them would offer her the proper time she needed to heal.

And, as much as it hurt, Alex knew that by tomorrow, Kara would already be flying around National City again, reassuring the world that Supergirl was still there for them all.

But, in small moments like this, Kara could at least let her guard down. She didn’t need to be anyone’s saviour right then. She was Kara Danvers, Kara Zor El. And at the heart of it, she was still Alex’s little sister. No matter what happened, nothing would ever change that.

Maybe she couldn’t protect her sister from whatever tomorrow brought with it, but she could make damn sure that not a single nightmare touched her tonight.

That would have to be enough.  

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 1: La Seine no Hoshi (1975)

1. Introduction

Well, dear reader, here it is. My first ever official review. And, as promised, this is one of the pieces of Frev media that you have likely never heard of before.

So, without further ado, sit down, relax, grab drinks and snacks and allow me to tell you about an anime called “La Seine no Hoshi” (The Star of the Seine).

“La Seine no Hoshi” is a children’s anime series made by Studio Sunrise. It consists of 39 episodes and was originally broadcast in Japan from April 4th to December 26th of 1975.

Unlike its more famous contemporary, a manga called “Rose of Versailles” that had begun being released in 1972 and is considered a classic to this day, “La Seine no Hoshi” has stayed relatively obscure both in the world of anime and among other Frev pop culture.

Personally, the only reason why I found out about its existence was the fact that I actively seek out everything Frev-related and I just happened to stumble upon the title on an anime forum several years ago.

So far, the anime has been dubbed into Italian, French, German and Korean but there is no English or even Spanish dub so, unfortunately, people who do not speak fluent Japanese or any other aforementioned language are out of luck ( if anyone decides to make a fandub of the series, call me). That being said, the series is readily available in dubs and the original version on YouTube, which is where I ended up watching it. The French dub calls the anime “La Tulipe Noire” (The Black Tulip), which could be an homage to the movie with the same name that takes place in the same time period.

Unfortunately, while I do speak Japanese well enough to maintain a basic conversation and interact with people in casual daily situations, I’m far from fluent in the language so the version I watched was the French dub, seeing as I am majoring in French.

So, with all of this info in mind, let’s find out what the story is about and proceed to the actual review.

2. The Summary

(Note: Names of the characters in the French dub and the original version differ so I will use names from the former since that’s what I watched)

The story of “La Seine no Hoshi” revolves around a 15-year old girl called Mathilde Pasquier - a daughter of two Parisian florists who helps her parents run their flower shop and has a generally happy life.

But things begin to change when Comte de Vaudreuil, an elderly Parisian noble to whom Mathilde delivers flowers in the second episode, takes her under his wing and starts teaching her fencing for an unknown reason and generally seems to know more about her than he lets on.

Little does Mathilde know, those fencing lessons will end up coming in handy sooner than she expected. When her parents are killed by corrupt nobles, the girl teams up with Comte de Vaudreuil’s son, François, to fight against corruption as heroes of the people, all while the revolution keeps drawing near day by day and tensions in the city are at an all time high.

This is the gist of the story, dear readers, so with that out of the way, here’s the actual review:

3. The Story

Honestly, I kind of like the plot. It has a certain charm to it, like an old swashbuckling novel, of which I’ve read a lot as a kid.

The narrative of a “hero of the common folk” has been a staple in literature for centuries so some might consider the premise to be unoriginal, but I personally like this narrative more than “champion of the rich” (Looking at you, Scarlet Pimpernel) because, historically, it really was a difficult time for commoners and when times are hard people tend to need such heroes the most.

People need hope, so it’s no surprise that Mathilde and François (who already moonlights as a folk hero, The Black Tulip) become living legends thanks to their escapades.

Interestingly enough, the series also subverts a common trope of a hero seeking revenge for the death of his family. Mathilde is deeply affected by the death of her parents but she doesn’t actively seek revenge. Instead, this tragedy makes the fight and the upcoming revolution a personal matter to her and motivates her to fight corruption because she is not the only person who ended up on its receiving end.

The pacing is generally pretty good but I do wish there were less filler episodes and more of the overarching story that’s dedicated to the secret that Comte de Vaudreuil and Mathilde’s parents seem to be hiding from her and maybe it would be better if the secret in question was revealed to the audience a bit later than episode 7 or so.

However, revealing the twist early on is still an interesting narrative choice because then the main question is not what the secret itself is but rather when and how Mathilde will find out and how she will react, not to mention how it will affect the story.

That being said, even the filler episodes do drive home the point that a hero like Mathilde is needed, that nobles are generally corrupt and that something needs to change. Plus, those episodes were still enjoyable and entertaining enough for me to keep watching, which is good because usually I don’t like filler episodes much and it’s pretty easy to make them too boring.

Unfortunately, the show is affected by the common trope of the characters not growing up but I don’t usually mind that much. It also has the cliché of heroes being unrecognizable in costumes and masks, but that’s a bit of a staple in the superhero stories even today so it’s not that bothersome.

4. The Characters

It was admittedly pretty rare for a children’s show to have characters who were fleshed out enough to seem realistic and flawed, but I think this series gives its characters more development than most shows for kids did at the time.

I especially like Mathilde as a character. Sure, at first glance she seems like a typical Nice Pretty Ordinary Girl ™️ but that was a part of the appeal for me.

I am a strong believer in that a character does not need to be a blank slate or a troubled jerk to be interesting and Mathilde is neither of the above. She is essentially an ordinary girl with her own life, family, friends, personality and dreams and, unfortunately, all of that is taken away from her when her parents are killed.

Her initial reluctance to participate in the revolution is also pretty realistic as she is still trying to live her own life in peace and she made a promise to her parents to stay safe so there’s that too.

I really like the fact that the show did not give her magic powers and that she was not immediately good at fencing. François does remark that her fencing is not bad for a beginner but in those same episodes she is clearly shown making mistakes and it takes her time to upgrade from essentially François’s assistant in the heroic shenanigans to a teammate he can rely on and sees as an equal. Heck, later there’s a moment when Mathilde saves François, which is a nice tidbit of her development.

Mathilde also doesn’t have any romantic subplots, which is really rare for a female lead.

She has a childhood friend, Florent, but the two are not close romantically and they even begin to drift apart somewhat once Florent becomes invested in the revolution. François de Vaudreuil does not qualify for a love interest either - his father does take Mathilde in and adopts her after her parents are killed so François is more of an older brother than anything else.

Now, I’m not saying that romance is necessarily a bad thing but I do think that not having them is refreshing than shoehorning a romance into a story that’s not even about it. Plus most kids don’t care that much for romance to begin with so I’d say that the show only benefits from the creative decision of not setting Mathilde up with anyone.

Another interesting narrative choice I’d like to point out is the nearly complete absence of historical characters, like the revolutionaries. They do not make an appearance at all, save for Saint-Just’s cameo in one of the last episodes and, fortunately, he doesn’t get demonized. Instead, the revolutionary ideas are represented by Florent, who even joins the Jacobin Club during the story and is the one who tries to get Mathilde to become a revolutionary. Other real people, like young Napoleon and Mozart, do appear but they are also cameo characters, which does not count.

Marie-Antoinette and Louis XVI are exceptions to the rule.

(Spoiler alert!)

Marie-Antoinette is portrayed as kind of spoiled and out of touch. Her spending habits get touched on too but she is not a malicious person at heart. She is simply flawed. She becomes especially important to the story later on when Mathilde finds out the secret that has been hidden from her for her entire life.

As it turns out, Marie- Antoinette, the same queen Mathilde hated so much, is the girl’s older half-sister and Mathilde is an illegitimate daughter of the Austrian king and an opera singer, given to a childless couple of florists to be raised in secret so that her identity can be protected.

The way Marie-Antoinette and Mathilde are related and their further interactions end up providing an interesting inner conflict for Mathilde as now she needs to reconcile this relationship with her sister and her hatred for the corruption filling Versailles.

The characters are not actively glorified or demonized for the most part and each side has a fair share of sympathetic characters but the anime doesn’t shy away from showing the dark sides of the revolution either, unlike some other shows that tackle history (*cough* Liberty’s Kids comes to mind *cough*).

All in all, pretty interesting characters and the way they develop is quite realistic too, even if they could’ve been more fleshed out in my opinion.

5. The Voice Acting

Pretty solid. No real complaints here. I’d say that the dub actors did a good job.

6. The Setting

I really like the pastel and simple color scheme of Paris and its contrast with the brighter palette of Versailles. It really drives home the contrast between these two worlds.

The character designs are pretty realistic, simple and pleasant to watch. No eyesores like neon colors and overly cutesy anime girls with giant tiddies here and that’s a big plus in my book.

7. The Conclusion

Like I said, the show is not available in English and those who are able to watch it might find it a bit cliché but, while it’s definitely not perfect. I actually quite like it for its interesting concept, fairly realistic characters and a complex view of the French Revolution. I can definitely recommend this show, if only to see what it’s all about.

Some people might find this show too childish and idealistic, but I’m not one of them.

I’m almost 21 but I still enjoy cartoons and I’m fairly idealistic because cynicism and nihilism do not equal maturity and, if not for the “silly” idealism, Frev itself wouldn’t happen so I think shows like that are necessary too, even if it’s just for escapism.

If you’re interested and want to check it out, more power to you.

Anyway, thank you for attending the first ever official meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Second meeting is coming soon so stay tuned for updates.

Have a good day, Citizens! I love you!

- Citizen Green Pixel

[muertawrites]

Two Halves - Chapter One (Zuko x Reader)

Word Count: 3,700

Author’s Note: I decided to set this a few years after the war, when Zuko is Firelord. I didn’t want to stray too far from what was canon in the series - what with Katara being the only bender left in the Southern Tribe and also trying not to add extra family members because that always feels weird to me - so the reader in this story is a girl from the village who lost her parents to a raid and was essentially adopted into Sokka and Katara’s family; she stayed behind to watch after the tribe when they left to help Aang, and now, as the chief’s surrogate daughter, is arranged to marry the Firelord to help bring the two nations together. Chaos and sweet, tender romance ensues. This is also going to be a mini series! I have no real plot and no idea how long it’s going to be, but that just adds to the fun of it all. Stay tuned.

~ Muerta 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Sokka, seated beside you, instinctively offers you his hand, which you willingly, eagerly take, gripping it tightly in your lap. You can’t decide if you feel anger or fear; the two mix sourly in your stomach. 

“I am,” Chief Hakoda says. His tone is even, and infuriatingly understanding. It makes you want to scream. “Your presence in the Fire Nation will be key to unite the nations in peace once again. They’ve been closed off from the rest of the world for too long - you’ll be an ambassador for our people.” 

“Then make me an ambassador,” you snap. “Marrying me off to the Firelord is no better than letting him come here and colonize us.” 

Hakoda glowers sternly at you. You shrink back, Sokka giving your hand an assuring squeeze.

“Firelord Zuko has made great strides to restore what his ancestors destroyed in the years since the war,” Hakoda scolds. “He’s an honorable, respectable man. I expect you to treat him as such.” 

You look back up at him, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh. 

“I don’t have a choice in this, do I?” you ask softly. Your voice quivers, revealing the terror behind your rage. 

Hakoda’s expression softens as he stands. He helps you onto your feet, holding you gently at the elbows and looking apologetically into your eyes, one of his hands reaching to brush your hair behind your ear. 

“Just because the war is over, it doesn’t mean the need for sacrifice is,” he tenderly says. “You’ll do great things as the queen of the Fire Nation. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust Zuko to treat you well.” 

In Hakoda’s eyes, you see the man you knew as a child, the man who brought you into his family when you lost your own to a Fire Nation raid. You love him as much as you loved your own father, and know he loves you as much as his flesh and blood children; you trust that he would never put you in harm’s way. 

Hakoda leans forward and kisses your forehead, holding you close for a long moment before letting go, breaking contact with you completely. The pain on his face tears a gaping hole in your heart. 

“You leave in three days,” he tells you. “You’ll be in good hands - I promise.” 

Though you know it isn’t for the last time, leaving the Southern Water Tribe hurts so much you think it might kill you. 

You cruise across a calm ocean in a Fire Navy ship; luckily Sokka was allowed to come with you as emotional support, as well as to represent the tribe at your wedding. The presence of Zuko’s uncle is also calming to you, despite how little you know him, and how not long ago you would have considered him an enemy. There’s just something about Iroh that makes you feel safe, and you only hope the same holds true when you meet your husband to be. 

“Zuko sent me to ensure your safe passage,” Iroh told you when you first boarded the ship. “Think of me as your guardian spirit.” 

You stand on the deck, basking in the newly warm weather and taking deep breaths of fresh ocean breeze. The peace of the moment helps you lose yourself, forgetting your fate entirely, if only for a moment. 

“How ya feeling?” 

Sokka sidles up next to you, placing an assuring hand on your shoulder. You reach up and curl your fingers around his, sighing.  

“Awful, now that you’re here,” you tease. 

Sokka chuckles. 

“I could still make good on that promise I made when we were kids,” he offers, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the side of his sturdy, familiar body. “I don’t think Suki or Dad would be really happy about it, though.” 

You let out a huff of laughter, remembering all the times you used to play together before the war brought you closer; you used to have intense crushes on each other, and Sokka always promised that he would marry you when you both got older - plans that changed when you effectively became siblings. You lean your head into his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence.  

“I’m just scared,” you tell him. “I always planned for great adventure in my life, and to help people, but… this doesn’t seem like the right way. It feels like I’m being taken prisoner.” 

“They say that having too many plans for one’s life keeps one from finding their true potential.” 

You turn, meeting Iroh’s gaze as he crosses the deck to where you stand. You part with Sokka and bow respectfully, trying to hide the embarrassment that heats your skin. 

“I apologize, General Iroh,” you greet him. “I didn’t mean any offense.” 

Iroh tuts at you, placing a hand on your shoulder to gently straighten you up. He meets you with a kind gaze and a soft smile. 

“Fear is to be expected, my dear,” he says. “You can’t have a great adventure without also facing a great fear.” 

He turns and peers out across the water, inhaling and releasing a deep, contented sigh. 

“The weather is lovely today,” he notes. “Why don’t we all enjoy it together, with a pot of tea?” 

And so a tea set is brought, along with a table and cushions, and you and Sokka join Iroh as he demonstrates how to brew the perfect pot of jasmine green, generously serving each cup. He toasts to your being together, and you drink heartily, savoring the exquisite taste of his famous tea. 

“I understand how you must feel,” Iroh addresses you once you’ve all settled. “Coming to a strange country, among people responsible for so much of the pain you’ve experienced; you’re exceptionally brave for doing what is best for your people.”

Iroh takes your hand, cradling it between both of his. 

“I am sorry for how my nation - my family - has hurt you,” he says. “My nephew and I only want happiness for you with us, and we will do all we can to ensure it; I give you this vow among his.” 

He squeezes your hand tightly, and you grip back, accepting his promise. You bow again, lowering yourself so that your face is almost level with the deck of the ship. 

“Thank you, General Iroh,” you reply. “Your generosity means everything to me.”

When you sit up, Sokka places a hand at your back, giving you a comforting smile. 

“Zuko’s a good guy,” he assures you. “I really think you’ll learn to like him.” 

Your arrival in the Fire Nation, much to your surprise, is met with celebration. As your ship pulls into port, army and navy officers in full ceremonial regalia perform displays of their bending, a traditional band playing cheerful, joyous music to welcome you to shore. A procession of military vehicles escorts you through the streets of the capital to the palace, citizens emerging from their homes and businesses to catch a glimpse as your carriage rolls by. The people who manage to see you are elated, if not curious, staring at you with wide eyes and rapt attention; Iroh explains that many of them have never seen a foreigner, as travel to the nation is only just starting to become somewhat commonplace. You’re confronted by the beauty and grandeur of the city - the tall, elegant buildings with their ornate details are far from anything you’ve ever seen in person, even with the rapid development of the Southern Tribe. 

In the palace, you’re immediately whisked away to your own wing, your quarters designated to a set of quaint buildings circling a scenic courtyard. Tradition dictates that, from the time of your engagement, you aren’t allowed to see the man you’re meant to marry until you’re both at the alter; the first few days of your time in the Fire Nation are spent in seclusion, resting off the fatigue of travel and acquainting yourself with the new culture you must now call your own. Though you have to keep your distance, you’re relieved when, on your first morning in the palace, you find a letter on your doorstep, scrawled in a refined, graceful hand and addressed from the Firelord himself. 

Hello, it says, Zuko here.

I wish I could introduce myself in person, but unfortunately, this will have to do for now. Sokka has told me much about you in the years we’ve known each other, and he always speaks of you highly. My uncle is also already enamored with you, and tells me he already considers you family, so I hope this brings as much comfort to you as it does to me. I don’t think I could have chosen a better woman to rule at my side. 

I have to admit that I’m nervous about getting married. I still feel like I’m too young, and still just figuring things out. But I guess if I can lead a country and make peace after a hundred years of war, I can have a wife and make her happy. I hope I do make you happy - I hope we can be close friends and lead the nation strongly together, for the better of both our homes. 

Please write to me if you need anything. Sincerely yours, Firelord Zuko. 

The candidity and awkwardness of his writing makes you smile, your mind at ease being able to put a voice to his name. You decide to write him back immediately. 

Hello, Zuko, you write. 

Your letter has already made me feel much better. Your uncle is a very sweet, very wise man, and I’m thankful that you sent him to watch over me - he makes me feel like I already have a little piece of a home and a family here. Meeting the man who raised you, I have faith that you’ll be a good husband to me. 

I’m very scared because, unlike you, I’ve never led a country or had to negotiate peace - getting married is the biggest responsibility I’ve ever had. I want to help people, though, and if I can help people by leading them out of the darkness of war, I’m very happy to do it. It isn’t as terrifying knowing you’re also nervous; I’m glad we can be nervous together. 

Please write to me as much as possible until the wedding. It would be nice to get to know my husband before I marry him. Sincerely yours, the bride.”

For the following days, you and Zuko exchange multiple letters; you have one waiting for you every morning, receive a reply by midday, and end each night wishing him pleasant dreams. You learn that he’s very intelligent and, though quite subdued, has a sense of humor much like your own. He has a passion for weaponry and the art of combat, as well as for storytelling and music (he tells you that dancing has recently been unbanned in the Fire Nation, and wonders if you’ll be able to teach him any Water Tribe dances; you promise to help as much as you can). The more you write to him, the less daunting the idea of your marriage seems, and you find yourself feeling excited by the idea of finally meeting him. 

The day of your wedding starts early. You’re woken at dawn, fed a breakfast of tea and jook (both prepared by Iroh, and sent on a tray beside a polished wooden box - inside is a traditional hair comb and a note from the old man, explaining that the comb was given to his mother by his father on their wedding day; the gesture sends you to tears), then sent to the palace baths to be buffed  and primed for your wedding attire. 

You’re stripped down and steeped in multiple perfumed liquids, scrubbed with an array of soaps and exfoliants, and washed so thoroughly you think your handlers might have exposed an entirely new layer of skin. They wax every single hair from your body as well; you only attempt to draw the line when they reach your nether area. 

“Please don’t,” you request, firm but not commanding. “I don’t think I’ll need it.” 

The beautician scoffs at you, pushing you back onto the waxing table and forcefully spreading your legs apart. 

“Foolish girl,” she huffs. “Of course you will. Royal marriages must always be consummated on the wedding night - the Firelord will want as many heirs as you can give him, as soon as possible.” 

Her brute words make you sick to your stomach, and as she rips away the hair between your thighs, tears roll down your cheeks from both pain and horror. You want to believe the man who’s been writing to you for the past five days would never force himself onto you in the name of tradition, but it dawns on you once again that you don’t truly know him, and can’t anticipate his actions. 

Once you’ve been wrung out from your time at the bath house, you’re sent back to your sleeping chambers, where you’re pleased to find not only lunch waiting for you, but visitors as well. 

“Katara!” you cry, flying across the room and into her arms. She laughs, hugging you so tightly you can hardly breathe. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” Katara cries, whirling you around a few times before setting you back onto your feet. “You already look so beautiful! How do you feel?” 

“I’m terrified,” you tell her, “but so much happier now that you’re here.” 

“Don’t forget me!” 

Aang waves from behind Katara and you shout with glee, greeting him in the same manner you did her. He also crushes himself against you, and when you pull away, you cup his face between your hands. 

“You look older!” you exclaim, squeezing his cheeks. “You grow every time I see you!” 

Aang laughs, pushing your hands away with a pink blush creeping over his nose and ears. 

“I’m a grown man, and the avatar,” he says, teasingly poking your shoulder. “You can’t keep treating me like I’m still twelve.” 

“I can and I will,” you jest, lightly punching him in the stomach. He cackles and puts you in a (gentle) headlock, rubbing his knuckles into your skull to tangle your freshly washed hair. 

“Hey, kids, that’s enough,” Sokka scolds playfully as he enters the room. “Let’s eat, otherwise I’ll be way too tempted by the spread at the reception tonight.” 

Lunch with your siblings is the last moment of relative calm you have before the wedding and its reality truly start to set in. After the meal, Sokka and Aang leave to help Zuko with his own preparations, Katara staying to help you with yours. Your handlers navigate you into your dress, a traditional gown and robes made of many layers of fine silk and embroidered with dragons and native Fire Nation flowers; the train and sleeves fall so far behind you, you worry about tripping or scuffing the fabric. Once you’re dressed, your face is painted white, your features then outlined as if they were being drawn anew into your skin. You hardly recognize yourself once the handlers are finished with you, the anxiety you felt upon learning of your engagement returning with newfound ferocity. 

Katara is the one to style your hair. Keeping with custom, she knots a portion of it atop your head in a tight bun, using the comb Iroh gave you to hold it in place. She then takes the remainder of your hair and braids it into two sections on each side of your face, the way it would be worn in the Water Tribe; she laces each braid with a string of beads from home, crystalline blue totems to ensure happiness and long life hanging at the end of each, contrasting beautifully with your gown. She cries when she steps back to look at you, carefully dabbing at her tears so as not to ruin her own makeup and dress. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” she tells you. “I’m so glad Sokka never married you like he said he would, he would look awful at the alter next to you.” 

You laugh, opening your arms and hugging her tightly, forcing your own tears back for the sake of the effort that’s been put into your costume. 

For the last few minutes before the wedding, you’re alone; you stand outside the doors of the palace’s grand courtyard, flanked on both sides by guards, listening nervously as Iroh (who’s officiating, per his nephew’s request) praises you and recites a poem in your honor. His sentiments are exceedingly affectionate and should move you, but all you can think of is Zuko; what will he think of you? Will he like you as much in person as he did in writing? Was he just pretending to like you for the sake of your union? What if he didn’t think you were pretty? What if, like the beautician said, he forced you to sleep with him tonight, simply because it’s what’s meant to be done? You chew at your nails, biting them so hard that some of them start to bleed. 

Music swells from inside the courtyard, and suddenly the doors before you swing open. You hold your head as high as you can, stepping forward with as much grace as you can manage and beginning to traverse the impossibly long aisle to the wedding altar. You breathe deeply, scanning the group of people standing before it - you see Katara first, and she nods encouragingly, looking like she’s about to cry all over again. Your eyes sweep over to Sokka, standing beside her, and he seems somewhat shocked by your appearance - not that you blame him, seeing as you look like a complete stranger, even to yourself. Iroh gazes at you from the center of the altar, wearing the expression of a proud father that makes you wish Hakoda were there. Aang stands beside Zuko, and you can tell from his face that he was bored by this whole display until you emerged from hiding; you stifle your laughter at his predictable, endearing disposition. 

Finally, your eyes fall on the groom. The first thing you notice is his stare, cutting into you as he watches you approach; his chiseled, angular features have fallen into an awed expression, one that causes a giddy tickle in your chest. He’s tall, slim, with broad shoulders that carry his wedding robes proudly - his clothing matches yours, the only difference being the armored sheath across his chest that signals his status as ruler of the Fire Nation. You’re reminded that his father wore it before him, and a shudder runs through you as you recall all you suffered at his hands; you push it from your mind, climbing the altar steps to stand beside your betrothed. He gently takes your arm, a warm, timid smile breaking across his lips. 

“Spirits,” Iroh addresses the crowd, “we gather before you to join this man, this woman, and our two great nations in a union of peace and prosperity. With your blessing and guidance, their souls will form two halves of a great whole, coming together to foster a new era of love and commitment not just for their people, but for each other. The bride and groom will now recite their vows.” 

Iroh nods towards you, and you lower yourself onto your knees, bowing before the Firelord. You clear your throat, hoping that the entire country doesn’t hear the quiver in your voice. 

“My lord,” you begin, “I give myself to you as completely as I give myself to my tribe. I swear, from this day forward, to walk confidently by your side in all your endeavors, to uphold the honor of our nations and families, and to be a guiding light into the future for every citizen of the Fire Nation. I will be your support, your comfort, and your ally in all aspects of our life together, and will serve you as loyally and dutifully as you serve me.” 

You stand, taking one of the rings that sits upon the altar and slipping it onto Zuko’s finger; his skin is warm, his palms rough, and he shakes as violently as you do. 

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our union, to represent the bond that holds us for all our days.” 

Once you finish, thankful you didn’t stumble over your words or forget them completely, Zuko kneels, mirroring the way you bowed to him. 

“My lady,” he recites, “by my word, I will serve you honorably and affectionately for all our time together. If you should ask for my compassion, I will give it; if you should seek after my heart, I will offer it willingly; and if I should stray from my path, I will follow you back onto it. I vow to you my devotion, and to bring you happiness and freedom. I trust in you the power to lead and govern my people as justly as I do.”

He stands and takes the other ring, delicately placing it as you did his. 

“I give you this ring as a symbol of our union, to represent the bond that holds us for all our days.” 

In most weddings, this would be the moment when the bride and groom embrace each other in a devoted, passionate kiss; instead, Zuko takes your arm and you face the court of respected leaders and diplomats from across the four nations, gripping each other tightly - you hold each other as if you’re the only support the other has to keep standing. Iroh’s typically soft, pleasant voice booms from behind you:

“I present the lord and lady of the great Fire Nation.” 

Everyone in attendance folds onto their hands and knees, bowing as the band once again begins to play. You descend from the altar, your head feeling like it’s floating miles above your body, and exit through the doors you’d been shivering behind only minutes before - this time, with your husband beside you.

[siennahrobek]

Prompt

In a new attempt to turn Anakin Skywalker to the darkside, Chancellor Palpatine orchestrates the disappearances of heavily pregnant Padme Amidala and Master Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi. It backfired.

Nobody really won.

It had been ten years.

Knight Anakin Skywalker and Knight Ahsoka Tano were sent to a distress call far out in the outer rim, almost in wild space. Anakin didn’t mind the long journey. His former padawan was good company and sometimes, sometimes, it was nice to get away from the Temple for a while. Away from the sympathetic and pitying stares and lingering theories or rumors.

Things hadn’t been the same for many reasons.

Ten years ago, the two most important people in Anakin’s life disappeared, the man who raised him and his heavily pregnant wife. Eight years ago, they had found what was left of her body. Five years ago, the Order declared Master Kenobi one with the Force.

Anakin never truly stopped looking, but he was becoming dim in ability and stamina. It had been so long and there were no leads to follow. No trace or evidence of his old masters presence anyway. Nowadays, it was pretty much just research and keeping an eye out for anything that vaguely resembled him. He was trying to have the life Obi-Wan always wanted for him, balance and happiness. He tried to connect with others, with Jedi. He spent quite a bit of time mediating, walking the gardens, helping as many as he could throughout the galaxy. He was a good Jedi, he thought, at least on the outside. He was working on the inside. He had a jedi’s life.

It was all he had now. And he would do his best to make Obi-Wan proud.

But being happy, truly happy, Anakin wasn’t sure if he could truly achieve it anymore. Being balanced with that type of hole in your heart, it was difficult. He could accept loss better now; there was no stopping that sort of thing. When it was one’s time to leave the planes of this galaxy for the Force, it was something to rejoice. It was supposed to be home. It wasn’t so easy when there were no answers.

Ahsoka had been knighted several years earlier and Anakin could not have been more proud. Her friends had been there, had congratulated her and she was happy, he had to believe that. But even she missed the presence of another who should have been there. Obi-Wan would have wanted to be there, to witness such a great occasion. They did their best and afterwards, they had a good time, were happy with the rank that came with her knighthood. It wasn’t that either of them were mourning during the time. It was just, they could feel the missing piece. It has been a few years but lately, they had found themselves partnered up quite frequently for missions. He hoped Ahsoka didn’t mind too much but there was never going to be an easy way out of this. Around it. Because this was the type of thing he and Obi-Wan did. They were the Team. They did everything together, even after knighthood.

The Council was trying, he gave them that.

He didn’t know if it really helped, though. It was nice, though, that they cared. They kept an eye on him. Years before, he would have read that as they didn’t trust him. It took him a very, very long time to realize that wasn’t always the case. And partnering him up with someone he was close to, someone he trusted above most else, it was some way of caring. He still struggled with those thoughts, even years later, but he was easier now.

The mystery however, was not any easier. There was an abysmal void where his loved ones should have been. A tear in his heart from the mystery. The lack of answers. He still found himself grieving for Padme but it was easier now. Although no one was entirely sure exactly what had happened to her, at least they had found a body, they had a storyline about what had happened and how it happened. It wasn’t sometime Anakin liked to think about particularly, but it was easier to grieve knowing. She was gone and eventually, he had accepted that. Let go, so to speak. She was with the Force and Anakin could feel her in some of the things he did, some of the objects and people and actions he witnessed and saw. There was grief, but there was also knowing.

The same could not be said for Obi-Wan.

No one knew what happened to him. There were no clues, no evidence. He had disappeared one day, alongside Padme and no one ever could figure out how it happened or why or anything. Although they had found a body for her, they never did for him. Not even a glimmer of anything.

Some darker rumors, cynical beings, spread that he had abandoned the Order. That the war had made him go mad. That he had kidnapped the senator or worse, was the one who slaughtered her. Anakin had quickly put a stop to it. Everyone had felt it the moment he knew about these ideas and theories, diminishing and tarnishing Obi-Wan’s name that was atrocious. He was not the only one who felt this way, but he was the strongest and most determined and the most furious…

No one said anything now.

No one dared.

The Jedi kept him in high honors. He was mentioned in classes, with his thoughts and theories on the Force, his research on all the things he loved to learn; animals, plants, cultures, languages. His strategies from the war were taught. His negotiation fame was spread; everyone knew the stories of the Negotiator. He wasn’t just a war hero. He was a Jedi, and a great one at that. His faith in the Order, his faith in people, his faith in the Force, was incredible and Anakin hadn’t really come to realize how that was until years after.

Obi-Wan loved in such a way that Anakin hadn’t understood since he was a child. He wished that he could talk with him one more time, just to show his old master that he was right, that Anakin was okay. That Anakin knew how much Obi-Wan Kenobi loved him.

That Anakin was doing his very best to be the Jedi and person he knew he could be.

The clones continued to think of him; believe the best in their General Kenobi. They always had liked him. He was a high general, one that appreciated and valued their input and their lives. He was their finder, all the cadets – former and current – had been told the stories about how he found them like a true Jedi searcher. Even if it was by accident, it had jumpstarted their journey into being free. He had worked to help and protect them alongside other council members and the few politicians who saw them more as canon fodder. It amazed Anakin how long and intense the memories of the former soldiers were because he was still brought up.

Cody and a lot of the 212th had taken it hard; harder that most of the rest of the military. He was their direct general, someone they followed personally up until the very end of the war. Some of them had been friends, even. They had helped Anakin search for a long time, but it was getting harder for them. They had jobs now, they had to start lives, be citizens. Things were expected of them, like for some reason, they had to catch up to the rest of the citizens. It was a struggle and a fight but luckily, they did have allies for assistance.

Many clones got adopted into or employed at the Temple. There weren’t many force-sensitive ones, none enough that they would have made an actual Jedi knight, but the Order was loyal to them as they had been to the Jedi. Many troopers filled in other roles, of teachers, sparring partners, cooks, guards, and researchers. Waxer and Boil had made it from being aides to a creche master to being crèche masters themselves, with leading their own clan of initiates.

Obi-Wan would have loved that.

“Coming up to origin of signal,” Ahsoka announced from the pilot’s seat, flipping a few switches as she began the sequence for landing and attachment. In the middle of nowhere, Anakin noted. There wasn’t a planet near here, in sight or on the scanners. He wondered how they even got out here. Hopefully this wasn’t a mortis situation all over again. He did not want to deal with something like that again. The ship in front of them was small and broken down, floating aimlessly in the abyss of space.

He doubted anyone survived.

“You never know, master,” Ahsoka tried to keep herself upbeat as she shot him a grin, sharp teeth showing unabashedly. “Perhaps we will be pleasantly surprised,” she suggested with a bit of a shrug. The ship had made a thud as it hit the abandoned one and the latches untangled themselves to strike into the hull of the ship.

Oh. He had said that out loud. Oops.

“Latch engaged,” she added and turned to smile at him, tentatively once again. “Come on master. Let’s see what adventure awaits us.”

“I’m no longer your master, Ahsoka,” he reminded her, idly.

She shrugged once more. “Right,” she replied with a small smirk, her voice laced with sarcasm. It was practically oozing out of her. She remained him of his former master sometimes, with her humor and quick wit. With a mischievous side eye, she continued, slyly. “Let’s go, master.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and followed her out, making their way through their ship’s hatch and towards the abandoned one. He still didn’t think that anyone survived but this was their duty. And the calm silence of their journey and the nature of the mission was a bit of a relief from the fast-paced ones that he was normally sent on. Usually, it was a good way to keep his mind off of everything else. This was a nice reprieve.

As the two of them got into the derelict ship, Anakin started talking and he had absolutely no idea where it came from. It was like his mouth had started moving and his brain had not given it permission. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka.”

She glanced at him, curiously. “What for?”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, as they waved a flashlight around, searching the cockpit for life or anything else that could give them an idea into what had happened and who may have been there. “I know I haven’t really been…the same since…”

“Since Padme and Master Obi-Wan disappeared,” she supplied with a frown. It had been ten years since it happened and several years since she had been knighted and she still remembered. It was almost always the reason.

He nodded and swallowed heavily. “I…I got through Padme, to some extent at least. I knew what happened to her. But Obi-Wan…I still wonder.”

“Wonder…?”

“What happened. I know everyone says he wouldn’t leave me, not like that but…” he drifted off, looking down, his light flickering towards the floor, near useless. “I was a pretty terrible person around the time he disappeared, unbalanced and in a bad place. Listening to the wrong people, making terrible choices,” Anakin shuddered at the thought of what Palpatine nearly got him to do in his desperation and fury. It had been a dreadful time and everyone else had nearly paid the price for his mistakes, for his foolishness. Ten thousand Jedi, millions of the clones, all the people in the galaxy. He feared now what would have happened if he had not been pulled from the edge, if he had made that leap into the dark side, into the fear and anger and hate. “Perhaps…. maybe it was just too much for even the great and infinitely patient Master Kenobi.”

Ahsoka scoffed good-naturedly as she rolled her eyes, finding the sliver of humor to work through. “One, Master Obi-Wan was not infinitely patient,” she pointed out, glancing at him pointedly. She wasn’t completely wrong. Obi-Wan had a lot of patience but even he had his limits, generally with those he didn’t care for. His patience with Anakin though, that was legendary. Not that he would ever really admit that. “And two, they are right. He would never leave you out of choice. I mean come on. Master Obi-Wan.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he replied half-heartedly and tried shooting her a smile. It wasn’t very convincing, but it was all he had at the moment. After a suggestion of splitting up, the two of them went to opposite ends of the ship, Anakin towards the living quarters and Ahsoka towards the cargo bay. Perhaps Anakin could find some clues with the former inhabitant’s belongings or Ahsoka with whatever they were travelling with.

It was a bust. There was very little there, aside from some blankets. Anakin imagined there were a couple of people stuffed within the quarters, perhaps a man and a child or two, with the toys he found. There were some handmade wooden carved ship toys laying on the bed and Anakin picked one up. It was a Jedi star fighter, he realized. It wasn’t the most amazing rendition of the ship, but he was probably a little bias, considering he had not only flown one of these during the war, he still had one.

What was really interesting about it was the feelings imbued with it. The signature felt familiar, like he should know it, but it was weak. Whoever made this toy was filled with so much love, for the recipient, for those in general, that he cascaded off the toy in waves.

He wondered if the former inhabitant had been force sensitive. It might explain the feelings in the ship and the toys, especially.

“I don’t see anything!” Ahsoka shouted from the opposite end of the ship. He could hear her just fine, even though she was on the other end, but Anakin was still a bit entranced with the toy and the feelings coming off of it. “You?”

There was a brief silence and a clatter. Not big enough to be her body but it had sounded like she had dropped her flashlight.

Anakin glanced back towards where she had headed. He couldn’t see her but it was more instinctive than anything. “Ahsoka?”

Silence.

“Ahsoka?! Answer me?” Anakin started to panic, his heart beating faster and faster as he moved towards the door, calling her name.

She sounded scared and small, like back in the early days of the war and casualties were high. When she was worried about those she cared about, troopers, jedi, citizens. She sounded like she was in tears. Anakin couldn’t really remember a specific time where had sounded so fearful, so worried, so sad. Not in a way that was as blatant as this. “Skyguy?” Her voice called out. That was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. “You…you have to come see this.”

Anakin raced across the ship, panicked, and leaping over crates and objects. She didn’t make it sound like she was in danger, and she didn’t appear to be, but he didn’t stop until he was right next to Ahsoka. He had nearly crashed into it. She was standing in front of a large gray slab, some kind of relief sculpture of some kind. At least, that was what it looked like, although he hadn’t gotten a very good look at it. His attention was on Ahsoka. But he could tell what it was made out of. He had never seen such a large slab of carbonite before.

“What is it?”

She was crying, he could see a multitude of silent tears. They were running down her face in a cascade and although he couldn’t hear them, he could almost hear her sobs in the Force. But she just pointed up and Anakin followed her hand and gaze.

The face was distorted, like it had been looking down when the carbonite had been applied. The slab was huge and only made bigger by the cloak the figure wore. It was sweeping and wide, like he was trying to cover, hide or protect large objects underneath. Possibly, he was. But even with the odd, defensive pose and the face not looking straight on, even after ten years, Anakin knew that face.

He always knew that face.

Frozen in carbonite.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

[miss-musings]

So who is Red, really? (pre-8.22 theories)

Since this is perhaps our last opportunity to discuss who Red really is, and because I've been rewatching clips from The Blacklist S1-4, I wanted to look back over a few things before we (or hopefully Liz at least) find out Red's true identity in 8.22.

I'm going to make a series of statements, and then list on a scale of 1-10 how likely I think each statement is (with 10 being the most likely). And then I'll give a brief explanation for each.

Red lost his family before he took on the 'Raymond Reddington' identity.

10 / 10 - Red has stated multiple times that there are truths that he needs Liz's help to uncover. The truth about what happened to his family, which was brought up several times in Season 1, seems to be foremost among them. We know that Red suffered a great tragedy, which sent him down a path of revenge. Maybe this was part of the reason why he took on the 'Raymond Reddington' identity. It could also be that, like Katarina, his wife was someone he was told to marry to maintain his cover, so he didn't really love her (as he doesn't seem to talk about her or remember her at all). But, he truly loved and adored his daughter (bubble girl), and both of them were killed before he became 'Raymond Reddington.'

Red knew/knows Katarina Rostova personally.

9 / 10 - While he's seemingly gone back and forth on whether he believes Katarina was really dead, which I will attribute to retcons by TPTB, he knows a lot of things about Katarina that most people wouldn't know. For instance, when Liz finds out she’s pregnant, Red recounts how Katarina dreaded having a child and almost aborted it. That's something no one would know unless Katarina told them. He likely knew her before the Night of the Fire, because he told Kate that he was not as unfamiliar as she expected when he recruits her in S4's "Requiem." Ultimately, based on 8.21, it seems that -- barring Redarina being true (ugh) -- that Katarina recruited Red to take on the 'Raymond Reddington' identity. So, that's likely when she gave him all the information he would need to keep Masha/Liz safe and successfully impersonate the real Reddington.

Red knew the real Reddington personally.

7 / 10 - This one still seems likely, in my mind, but it's not a guarantee. It's possible that whenever KR recruited Red to take over the 'Raymond Reddington' persona, she gave him all the information he would need to be successful. Then again, Red has been impersonating him for 30-ish years; he knew of and briefly interacted with Reddington's family in Carla/Naomi and Jennifer. So, it's a strong possibility, but not a certainty. Perhaps he was acquainted with Reddington, but wasn't close with him like he seemingly was/is with KR.

Red knew Sam Milhoan personally.

6 / 10 - After rewatching 1.08, I'm unsure whether Sam knew Red was an imposter. Maybe when he said that he needed to tell Liz the truth, he was referring to the truth that 'Raymond Reddington' was Liz's dad. And, Red, being an imposter, couldn't let Sam do that. But, then again, Sam definitely knew the real Reddington. And we know he and Red were in touch in S4's "Requiem," when Red asks Sam to help him recruit Mr. Kaplan. You'd think that if Sam knew Reddington well enough that Reddington AND KR both trusted him, that he'd be able to spot Red as an imposter. So, it seems likely that Sam knew Red is an imposter and not the real Reddington, Sam's late friend. But, did Red know Sam before he took on the 'Raymond Reddington' persona? It seems likely based on how they talked in 1.08, but again, not a guarantee. It definitely seems like he was at least in touch with Sam on a regular basis after Sam adopted Liz.

Red was an American agent who spied on the Russians.

3 / 10 - Red does tell a lot of personal stories that are set in the United States. But, as I've speculated recently, perhaps he's only using American place names / people names so as to impersonate the real Reddington, but then the details are based on his childhood elsewhere (presumably Russia).

And then we do have the very first line in the show where Mr. Gray says, "Must be good to be home again, sir." So, as I've said before, this line is very confusing because we know Red has been coming and going from the United States for decades. So, Mr. Gray isn't referring to the United States in general. Maybe he means DC specifically. Could be. Maybe Red hasn't been in DC much since he became a criminal, but that seems unlikely given how much crime and intelligence is based in this show's version of DC. So, maybe Mr. Gray meant the FBI building specifically??? Not sure, especially because I'm unsure whether Mr. Gray knew Red was an imposter.

Ultimately, though, maybe Red was an FBI agent who worked with Reddington and infiltrated the Russians. Maybe he has a Russian background. Maybe his mother and/or father was Russian, but immigrated to the United States. So, the FBI or Navy or whoever decided he would be useful because he knew the language, the culture, etc., and they could use his family connections to help him get in and out of Russia without much thought.

But, if Red was an American agent who was spying on the Russians, you'd think the U.S. intelligence network would know more about KR. Red was clearly very close with her, and if he was there the Night of the Fire, it meant she trusted him. So, either Red was a really bad American agent OR he was a double-agent, which doesn't fit with Red's tenet of loyalty.

Red was a Russian agent who spied on the Americans.

5 / 10 - I give this a slightly higher chance than the reverse, because Red seems to know a lot of Russians that even most Russians don't know. He knows/knew Katarina, Dom, Ilya, Katarina's handler (whose name escapes me), and Tatiana (aka Fake KR). After all, Red said that KR was a ghost and most in the intelligence community -- whether U.S. or Russian -- didn't know what she looked like, hence why Dom and Ilya tried to use Tatiana as a fake KR.

Of course, maybe he only met these people after KR sought him out. Who knows? But, then again, it seems a little more likely that he’s Russian-born rather than American-born. After all, he did have a lot of Russian things in his Bethesda apartment in S2, and that was his private hideaway that no one knew about, where he could presumably be himself and not 'Raymond Reddington.'

Red was a Cabal agent who spied on the Russians and the Americans.

7 / 10 - While I'm not sure whether Red grew up in the U.S. or the Soviet Union, I ultimately think he worked for the Cabal. It would explain how he knew KR and Ilya. It would also explain why he was presumably there the Night of the Fire (as he has the burn scars on his back) -- because KR trusted him to help her get the Fulcrum back. It also explains what happened to his family. Think about it: the Cabal knows that valuable information was compromised by KR and is now in the hands of Raymond Reddington, both of whom are either deceased or in hiding. So, they had to take revenge on someone. So, assuming Red was an associate of KR's and was unable to find the Fulcrum, perhaps they blamed him or at least wanted to make an example of him. So, his family is killed, and KR finds out someone she trusts has a reason to hate the Cabal as much as she does. So, she recruits Red to become 'Raymond Reddington' as a way to take revenge on the Cabal and protect Liz from suffering the same fate his family did.

Red is responsible for Katarina's death.

6.5 / 10 - Based on his "just a nice gesture" monologue, Red feels that he has taken something away from Liz. And thanks to "Cape May," we know he had to make a choice whether to save KR or Liz/Masha. We figured that was during the Night of the Fire, but KR didn't die in the fire or at Cape May. So, based on 8.21, everything is accounted for. Liz killed her own father, so Red didn't take him away from her; and KR was still alive when Liz was placed with Sam and eventually created 'Raymond Reddington.' Presumably, either during or after KR and Red created 'Raymond Reddington,' something happened, KR died, and Red felt responsible. But, then that conflicts with Red's S3 line about how he's unsure what happened to KR, even if he later tells Liz that her mother is dead. Plus, Dembe did say something about "what (Red) did to Katarina." So, while there have been retcons, I do think KR is dead and that Red (feels he) is somehow responsible for that.

TLDR: who do I think Red really is?

I think Red has a Russian background -- either he's from the Soviet Union or his parents were. I think he was supposed to be spying on the Americans for the Russians -- so he, his wife and daughter lived in the United States -- but he ultimately worked for the Cabal. He likely worked very closely with KR, was acquainted with the real Reddington and probably met Sam at some point pre-Night of the Fire. When KR's team didn't recover the Fulcrum, Red was blamed / made an example of because KR and Reddington had disappeared. So, his family is killed and KR uses his desire for revenge to recruit him to become 'Raymond Reddington.' She gives him all the information he might need and asks him to help her protect Liz, which he agrees to because he doesn't want another innocent to suffer like his family did. At some point, KR dies and Red feels responsible, so he doubles-down on looking after Liz because he feels that he took something away from her.

[whx-m]

The Indian Adoption Project was a federal program that acquired Indian children from 1958 to 1967 with the help of the prestigious Child Welfare League of America; a successor organization, the Adoption Resource Exchange of North America, functioned from 1966 until the early 1970s. Churches were also involved. In the Southwest, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints took thousands of Navajo children to live in Mormon homes and work on Mormon farms, and the Catholic Church and other Christian denominations swept many more Indian youngsters into residential institutions they ran nationwide, from which some children were then fostered or adopted out. As many as one third of Indian children were separated from their families between 1941 and 1967, according to a 1976 report by the Association on American Indian Affairs.

“People have heard of the boarding-school era and know it was bad, but they don’t know our adoption era even exists,” said White Hawk, who was taken from her family on the Rosebud reservation as a toddler in the mid-1950s. “A few small studies of adult adoptees have been done, and we’re just learning how to talk about what happened. We need think tanks and conferences and scientific research to explore what occurred and how it affected us.”

Then, White Hawk said, that information can inform current Indian child-welfare cases. “When experts take the stand to testify in a child-welfare hearing [about placement of a child or termination of parental rights, for example], they need academic backup to explain the relationship between, for example, suicide and being disconnected from your culture,” she explained. “The courts want Ph.D.-level research to back up what we tell them.”

A paper by Carol Locust, Cherokee, describes Native adoptees suffering from what she calls Split Feather Syndrome—the damage caused by loss of tribal identity and growing up “different” in an inhospitable world. Lost Bird is another term researchers have used to refer to the group, recalling one of the earliest Indian adoptees. A Lakota infant who survived the 1890 massacre at Wounded Knee sheltered by the frozen corpse of her mother was claimed as a war trophy by a general who named her Lost Bird, according to her biographer, Renée Sansome Flood in Lost Bird of Wounded Knee.

Thanks to copious newspaper coverage of the massacre and its aftermath, Lost Bird became her generation’s celebrity adoptee, but fame did not save her from a fate that was a harbinger for too many Native children. She endured intolerance and isolation, and when she rebelled as a teenager, was shipped back to her birth family, where she no longer fit in. After a stint in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and the loss of three children—two died and she gave away the third, according to Flood—Lost Bird was felled by influenza in 1920, at the age of 30. “Throughout her life of prejudice, exploitation, poverty, misunderstanding and disease, she never gave up hope that one day she would find out where she really belonged,” Flood wrote.

At the summits and other events White Hawk has organized or spoken at since 2003, modern-day adoptees have recounted their dramatic life journeys, sometimes for the first time. “The stories vary from the most abusive to the most beautiful, but that’s not the point,” she said. “Even in loving families, Native adoptees live without a sense of who they are. Love doesn’t provide identity.”

“I never felt sorry for myself,” said St. John, “but if I ever got hurt, it wounded me to my soul, because I felt no one was there for me.” In recent years, he has found his birth mother and connected emotionally with his adoptive parents. “They were so young, in their 20s, when a priest convinced them to adopt four Sioux boys from South Dakota. It was too much—for all of us.”

During the adoption era almost any issue—from minor to serious—could precipitate the loss of an Indian child. Two Native people interviewed prior to the summit said they were separated from their families after hospital stays as young children, one for a rash, the other for tuberculosis. A third was seized at his baby-sitter’s home; when his mother tried to rescue him, she was jailed, he said. A fourth recalled that he was taken after his father died, though his mother did not want to give him up. A fifth described being snatched, along with siblings, because his grandfather was a medicine man who wouldn’t give up his traditional ways. As in St. John’s case, no home studies or comparable investigations appear to have been done to support the removals. “Indians had no way to stop white people from taking their kids,” said yet another interviewee. “We had no rights.”

Eighty-five percent of the Native children removed from their families from 1941 to 1967 were placed in non-Indian homes or institutions, said the Association on American Indian Affairs report. The aim, said White Hawk, was assimilation and extinction of the tribes as entities, as their younger generations were removed, year after year—just as it had been with the boarding schools.

“We can’t be afraid to use words like genocide,” said summit participant Anita Fineday, White Earth Band of Ojibwe, managing director of Casey Family Programs’ Indian child-welfare programs and a former chief judge at White Earth Tribal Nation. “The endgame, the official federal policy, was that the tribes wouldn’t exist.”

[coolunspokenforname]

Sims 4 legacy challenge: Flower symbolism

This challenge was made for @cowoman and it follows flowers and some of their symbolism (Disclaimer: This is probably not completely accurate, and in general flowers have different things associated with them through time periods and cultures)

Rules:  - Normal lifespan  - No cheating (Resetting sims is okay, of course) - Unless specified in the generation you can live anywhere - Unless specified in the generation you can have as many partners and children as you want - Basically regular rules of legacy challenges

Gen 1: Daffodil- New beginnings

Aspiration: Super Parent Traits: - Family-Oriented   - Loner   - Ambitious

Left on a doorstep of an orphanage when you were a baby, you’ve always felt alone. You were never able to find a family, but found accomplishment in raising the younger kids. When you finally age out of the system, you are ready to follow your dreams. You move into the big city and find yourself a job as a teacher. Though you love it, you need more. When you are able to afford it, you have kids. You love being a parent, and do your best to be amazing for your children. You love going to the parks on weekends and having pizza nights. It’s your goal to be the best parent you can for your kids, and you pass those goals with flying colours.

Goals:

Start in an apartment

Complete aspiration

Only have kids after getting to level 4 of the education career

Max education career (Professor) 

Adopt at least one kid

Reach level 10 parenting skill

Gen 2: Gladiolus- Strength, Victory

Aspiration: Bodybuilder Traits: - Athletic   - Ambitious   - Self-assured

You were adopted when you were a little baby, and you are incredibly grateful. You were raised in a loving family, but were never spoiled. You were taught that if you want something, you need to work for it, whether it be doing chores or getting a part-time job. As you grew up while your siblings loved watching cartoons and kids shows, you loved watching bodybuilding competitions. As you grow up, that interest also grows. You join the athlete career and love it! You love going to the gyms, and there you meet your spouse. However, you tend to spend a bit too much time at work or at the gym, and barely see your children. 

Goals:

Have manual labor part-time job as a teen

Complete aspiration

Complete athlete career (Bodybuilder)

Meet spouse at a gym

Have a low relationship with their children

Gen 3: Marigold- Jealousy, Despair

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Traits: - Jealous   - Self-absorbed   - Self-assured

You never had much of a relationship with your parent, and always felt jealous of your friend’s relationships with their parents. Eventually that lead to being jealous about anyone who had better than you.  You tried a bunch of different jobs, but never really cared. You loved being around celebrities, and one day you even had a one night stand with one. After finding out you’re pregnant, you tell the celebrity hoping to marry them, but they don’t even listen. Angry, you keep your child from ever meeting them.

Goals:

Complete aspiration

Careers: Actress, Artist, Style Influencer (Any order you wish)

Get level 10 charisma

Have a one night stand with a high level celebrity and have their child

Never let the child meet their parent

Gen 4: Bluebell- Humility, Everlasting love

Aspiration: Soulmate Traits: - Romantic   - Loner   - Bookworm

You were never able to meet one of your parents, and felt a small emptiness. Your other parent didn’t seem to care much about you, and you two didn’t have the best relationship. The one good thing in your life is your best friend. Unfortunately your parent decides to move to a whole different world right after you became a teen. You still keep in touch with your friend, and the friendship evolves into a romance. As soon as you can the two of you get married and move in together. For quite a few years you live together, but after becoming adults you decide to have a child. The love between you somehow grows even more with the new child.

Goals:

Complete aspiration

Be best friends as a child with your neighbor, but move away soon after becoming a teen

Stay close friends with the neighbour over long-distance and eventually fall in love.

Complete writer career (Journalism)

Get level 10 writing

Gen 5: Columbine- Foolishness, Folly

Aspiration: Joke Star  Traits: - Goofball   - Clumsy   - Outgoing

You had the best life you could ask for. Your parents love each other so much and you always wanted that too. You always loved comedy, and so you became a comedian. As time went on you met someone and finally found the one. You have a wonderful few years and eventually have kids. You are the happiest person in the world! Unfortunately happiness doesn’t always last long. You die young, leaving your spouse and children alone.

Goals:

Complete aspiration

Marry someone

Get level 10 comedy

Get at least level 5 of entertainment career (Comedian)

Die young

Gen 6: Purple Hyacinth- Sorrow

Aspiration: Professional chef Traits: - Foodie   - Loner   - Ambitious

One of your parents died when you were young and it really affected you. While your family seemed to move one, you just couldn’t. So, your main goal in life is to learn how to bring back the dead. You make good progress, but one day you meet someone who lets you forget your goal. While at first you learned to cook to revive people, you learn that you love it. You stop thinking about revival and instead focus on the present. That is, until that person dies. After their passing, you go straight back into the little hole you had made for yourself all those year ago. You revive the person, but they don’t look at you the same way anymore.

Goals:

Get level 10 cooking and gourmet cooking

Complete aspiration

Complete culinary career (chef)

Have a friend or spouse die

Make ambrosia

Revive the person that died (but they are more distant with your sim)

Gen 7: Lavender- Distrust

Aspiration: Serial Romantic Traits: - Noncommittal   - Dog Lover   - Vegetarian

Your parent always told you to never trust anyone, and you’ve taken that advice to heart. You refuse to get close to anyone, and actually try your best to make others understand your viewpoint. How do you do this? You break as many hearts as you can! However, you’re not completely lonely. You have loved animals, mainly dogs, since you were a kid. When you aren’t breaking hearts, you curing animals in the little vet clinic you made yourself. You try to do it all alone, but as your clinic gets more well-known you realize you can’t, so you hire a couple employees. Now, with the extra help, you can focus more on breaking hearts. Oh, and you have a child, but they aren’t your main priority.

Goals:

Complete aspiration

Own a vet (get 4+ stars)

Max veterinarian and pet training skill

Never have a long-lasting relationship

Gen 8: Black-eyed Susan- Justice

Aspiration: Academic Traits: - Family oriented   - Genius   - Unflirty

Your parent never cared for you. They were always either at work or around the town. You always tried your best to be a good child. You did your homework and got good grades. Sometimes you even did school projects when you didn’t need to! Still, they never seemed to notice. When you became a young adult you decided to go to university. You always were interested in history, so you took that degree. Soon you learned that you enjoyed law, and decided after university you would be a judge. While you enjoy your work, you aim to be the best parent you can for your child. You promise to yourself you won’t be like your parent.

Goals:

Go to university (History Degree)

Complete the aspiration

Join law career (Judge) after university

Complete Law career

Have only one child

Gen 9: Angelica- Inspiration

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire Traits: - Art Lover   - Creative   - Self-Absorbed

You were an only child, and you loved it! You were always the most important, and you loved it! In fact, You loved it so much that you never wanted the attention to go away. You’ve always loved art, right? So, you start recording videos of painting and stream it. You actually become quite popular. Sure, you still have to work as a freelancer to live comfortably, but that just gives you more freedom to stream, record, and edit. You meet someone, and get along great. A few years after you marry them, though, you both realize you aren’t meant for eachother. You split up on good terms, and stay friends. Eventually you do find the one, and you are ecstatic. Even with your busy schedule of recording, streaming, editing, and doing works for clients, you find a way to spend time with your family. You couldn’t be more grateful.

Goals:

Get level 10 art skill

Be a freelance painter

Record and stream painting

Get to at least B-tier celebrity (3 star)

Max media production skill

Divorce someone but stay friends

Have an excellent relationship with family

Gen 10: Sweet Pea- Goodbye

Aspiration: Party Animal Traits: - Dance Machine   - Outgoing   - Good

You don’t know why, but all your life you’ve felt like something was ending. Like a book was about to close. There was always this feeling in the pit of your stomach. While many may let this get them down, you don’t. If the world is going to end, your going to live your life to the fullest. Who said the end of the world can’t be fun? You spend your life laughing and smiling. You do your best to help others as well. You give away a lot of the money your family has made over the generations to charity. When you aren’t partying you’re volunteering. You decide that, if everything is going to end, your going to do your damndest to make the world a better place beforehand.

Goals:

Complete aspiration

Get level 10 Charisma

Complete politician career (Charity organizer)

Volunteer a lot

Host at least one charity event (You can host one by getting a great reputation)

Notes:

This is just for fun! If you don’t complete the entire challenge or miss a couple goals that’s fine, as long as you have fun! I’m not going to hurt you if you do something wrong. Feel free to add extra drama or goals if you want!

I’m pretty sure if you have high charisma skill you are able to talk to celebrities.

You can have a “long-distance relationship” by chatting on the computer with the other sim and sending love emails (unlocked around level 3/4 of the writing skill)

Sims with the goofball trait can die from laughter, but there are many other ways to kill a sim.

To make ambrosia you need a death flower, angelfish, and potion of youth. You can find ways to get the ingredients if you google it, but i don’t mind if you cheat for the ingredients just this once. Getting level 10 in both cooking and gourmet cooking is hard enough, lol.

Also, for the 8th generation, If you go to live on student housing or dorms in university any pictures in your household inventory will turn blank, and any business ran by sims in you household will no longer be yours when you get back. Just letting you know!

If you have any issues, then please tell me! I haven’t tested this challenge out yet, so if something is impossible I’ll try to fix it! This was a lot of fun to make! :)

[mobiues]

some tva lore i’ve adopted.   completely headcanon based.  will change with each new canon information.  also this is just me trying to make sense of their general operation,  but i’ll insert some of these in my writings as i see fit.

tva agents   ...   again,  tva agents are timeless individuals.  time does not apply to them nor affect them as it normally does any other individual.  many of them are both millions year old and not.  they don’t begin normally,  they don’t end.  we’re later revealed that they’re robbed from the sacred timeline,  all of them,  but fact remains:  once they do start existing in the plane tva existed,  they’re simply there.

magical beings and robots / individuals with metal parts   ...    tva suppresses magical ability — maybe not to the extent of completely wiping it off,  but enough that it disarms powerful individuals within the plane they’re in.  some individual with robotic / mechanical parts can walk through the metal detector gate if those can be detached.  if not,  most of them do melt by the doors.  individuals like nebula often time cannot pass through them.

romeo-juliet protocol   ...   is a protocol designed for cases wherein a time agent or a minute soldier or anyone from the agency who has been compromised by any variant capture.  this can go from them forming an attachment in whatever capacity that means.  because the first case of it is due to the fact a minuteman has romantically fallen for a variant,  it’s been dubbed “romeo-juliet”.  internal affairs usually take those agents away,  and it’s become a morbid running joke that,  since many agents wouldn’t see those who were taken by internal affairs ever again,  that they’re being forced to work in Nightmare or Black Holes.

internal affairs   ...   a small department tasked to prune time agents who have been compromised.   their level of standard human compassion have been removed from their main personality and behaviour.  they don’t actually come out from their office unless they’re needed to.

environment  ...  to be honest,  i don’t think tva agents actually sleep or eat.  i think they do it to “mimic” the social norm of most cultures presented on the sacred timeline,   something He Who Remains probably implemented to give a sense of normalcy into the plane they’re in,  but in all honesty,  they don’t need to.  but i don’t think they notice this:  because they still perform these acts as if they experience actual hunger or exhaustion.  in any case,  He Who Remains actually failed to create a ‘true’ social norm — because some things still didn’t make sense,  like,  for example,  a seafood dish is clearly not available in this plane since casey has no idea what a fish is.

romances   ...    i talked about it briefly in another post,  but i also believe time agents do not experience the full extent of desire.  they’re dulled down since time agents do not need to reproduce or create families to maintain any society.   again,  i’d like to stress out that once the timeline is freed,  they’re much more aware of these extra feelings,  but because many of them spent millennia on that plane dedicating their life to work,  chances are  -  most of them probably wouldn’t jump head-first into any relationship.

tva agents who return to timelines   ...    are affected with time again.  they will start ageing,  and feel the full extent of hunger and exhaustion and what-have-you’s.  over time,  they will forget TVA having existed :  something the continuity of each timeline implemented to make sure the agency will not be compromised.

tva agents and durability   ...   i’d like to think that,  in spite of time not having its ordinary effect on them,  they’re still as vulnerable as the next person.  not to illnesses,  since death is not a concept they will be confronted with unless they’re pruned to meet alioth at the end of time,  but they can be hurt and damaged by outside forces such as :  being harmed and killed.