#but mena is still trying to choke the life out of her feelings because she’s a piece of shit

[vespertine-legacy]

I’m so mean to my companions when I do Shadow of Revan, having my toons’ main love interest set as their companion during the Battle of Rishi and then forgetting that I’m gonna have my toon mack on either Lana or Theron at the end of the final Rishi convo, and then accidentally clicking on the companion immediately after the conversation ends and they say something desperately cute.

With Zuvi, it was Risha, Zuvi made out with Lana, and then Risha asked if her life just got more complicated. With Mena, she macked on Theron, and Jaesa just said, “Whatever is to come, I’m with you.”

;-;

[foli-vora]

counting stars

A/N: I apologise if this is a mess—I’ve just written this on my phone while camping in the middle of nowhere 😅 truly inspired by the outdoors hahah. Yes I’m sitting incredibly still in a spot that I found had cell service so I can upload this because I’m Impatient™️.

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: depressive thoughts, insecurities, A SICKENING AMOUNT OF FLUFF

+++

The truck’s packed. That’s the first thing you notice when you pull into the driveway, eyeing the bags chucked neatly in the bed of the vehicle. The brief sharp stab of panic that impales your heart is drowned by a sickening twist of understanding. Of course he’d leave — why would he want you? Why would he waste time being with you when he could do so much better? You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t get in his way of leaving.

The sigh that leaves you as you exit your car is long and drawn out, each step towards the house drains the low level of energy you had leftover after your shift and you wonder if you’ll be in Frankie’s way if you take up the couch to sleep. Will he want to take the couch? He had bought it, after all. The bed, then. He wouldn’t leave you without a bed — maybe he’ll come back for it tomorrow.

Frankie’s coming down the stairs when you walk through the door, a dark backpack slung over his shoulder and Mena giggling in his arms. God you’re gonna miss those little giggles. He smiles when he sees you, dropping the bag next to a bright pink unicorn one on the floor before striding over to you.

You’re stumped when he slings an arm around your waist and brings you in close, hips bumping together, and Mena immediately dives in to press a wet kiss against your cheek. He kisses the other, sharing a little smile with his little girl before looking at you.

“You’ve got 10 minutes to pack some clothes.” He says, and you blink, stomach rolling.

Oh. Maybe he was packing your stuff.

Of course, it’s his house.

It’s in his truck because you couldn’t possibly fit everything in your car. He was helping you move out. He didn’t have to—you could have called a removal company or something. He shouldn’t have to go out of his way, especially with Mena.

You’re sullen as you answer, brushing past him with a quiet okay. The stairs are hard to climb, but eventually you reach your bedroom. You try not to look at the photos lining the walls—pictures of Mena, of her with Frankie or you, of all three of you, of you and Frankie snuggled together on various dates and trips, scribbles deemed masterpieces plastered proudly in expensive frames. Maybe you could ask for a few copies, or take the originals if he was just going to throw the ones of you away. Which he would, of course, why would he keep them?

He’s left a duffle on the bed for you—his old army one. He loves this one. He uses it for everything. You make a mental note to make sure to return it.

Tears choke your throat as you pack the bag, and it’s not until strong arms wind around your waist that they fall free. You won’t say no to a final hug. You try to memorise the tightness of his arms, the feel of his beard along your skin as he buries his face in your neck.

“You ready? Mena’s getting cranky,” you hear the chuckle in his voice and nod your head. He must feel the tension in your torso because immediately he’s turning you, frowning at the tears streaking your face. “What’s wrong, baby?” He’s gentle as he wipes them from your cheeks, the pinch between his brows deepening as your face crumbles in his hands.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit, sniffling quietly, “but I will if that’s what you want. You and Mena deserve better.”

“What?”

“It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not.” Soon your face is pressed hard against his chest and he’s crushing you, hand tight on the back of your head as he holds you. “You’re not going anywhere, not without us, anyway. We’re going on a trip. All three of us—together.”

A trip? Your mind is a whirl as you try to catch up. He wasn’t leaving you? Or, more accurately, you weren’t moving out? Suddenly the packed bags, especially Mena’s unicorn one, and packed truck make a little more sense to your darkened mind, and you instantly relax in his arms.

He pulls back, dark eyes sad as he studies your face.

Frankie had watched you the last few days; watched your mood sour, watched the bags below your eyes deepen. You’d barely been sleeping — he could feel you toss and turn all night, could feel the shudder in your shoulders as you tried to keep your sobs quiet in fear of waking him. He’d seen the look of utter defeat wash your face when you accidentally spilt the milk trying to make a coffee yesterday, seen the immediate glaze of tears as he wiped the spill away. You were gone before he could even turn and comfort you, the door slamming as you all but ran to your car.

He knew what was happening—could recognise the signs a mile away after having to defeat his own monster lurking in the back of his mind telling him he wasn’t good enough, reminding him of all the awful things he’d done in his life, what he’d done to others. He’d gone straight to work, said he wouldn’t be able to do any shifts on the weekend, and had left at lunch to start packing.

“I love you.”

Your face falls, head shaking in automatic denial.

“I do,” his touch is gentle, brushing more tears away with his thumbs. “I know you’ve been struggling lately. I’m sorry for not saying anything—I should’ve made it clear when you came home. We’re going camping for the weekend, unless you don’t feel up to it which is fine. We can just order a pizza, cuddle up on the couch and watch movies if that sounds better.” He smiles warmly, reassuringly, and you know in your heart that he really truly doesn’t mind what you decide to do.

How you ever landed Francisco Morales, you’ll never know.

“No, I want to go.”

“Are you sure? Please don’t be scared to say no—”

“I want to go.”

For the first time for what feels like all week, you smile, and actually mean it.

His eyes flick across your face, searching for any signs of hesitation, and then he grins, your eyes automatically falling to admire the dimple creasing his cheek. You kiss it instinctively, relief washing through you as your mind and hearts calms. He stops you as you pull away, leaning in and letting his nose run along yours before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He helps you put some clothes together, and with the two of you, you’re packed within a few minutes. He holds your hand on the way down the stairs, but stops to collect all the bags while you grab the little girl pulling at your legs. She babbles to you excitedly as you follow Frankie out of the house, her little fingers habitually pulling and fiddling with the chain around your neck.

You try to fend off the overwhelming feelings of unworthiness while you listen to Frankie talk animatedly back to Mena as you buckle her into her car seat, her little voice loud and bubbly as she claps her hands and bounces in her seat. You try to smile, try to reassure yourself that Frankie loves you, that Mena loves you, but you struggle truly believing it. How could they?

Music’s soon blaring throughout the cab of the truck as the familiar houses of your neighbourhood fly past, the Spotify playlist Frankie spent a good hour finding and adding songs to filling the quiet. He sings along, grinning at Mena’s attempts to sing along in her own little language, and when he looks at you, eyes shining with adoration, your chest feels tight and constricted.

You really didn’t deserve these two.

It takes a couple of hours to get to Frankie’s favourite spot—somewhere familiar to you from the many times he had taken you there. The small clearing is the same as it always has been, the large logs still situated around a small burnt patch of ground where leftover charred logs sat from previous campers. Frankie’s quick to erect the tent and organise the bedding inside, and soon he’s joining you and Mena at the edge of the wide lake glowing under the fading sun.

She’s dancing in the sand, little bare feet kicking up the grains as she twirls and twists and giggles when she goes too far and her toes touch the cool water. You sink to the ground and hug your legs, content to watch her enjoy the last bit of sunlight before it sinks beneath the horizon with a longing to feel as wild and carefree as she does.

“Papa!”

Frankie answers her call with a loud playful growl, and soon she’s squealing as he chases her across the sandbank. He catches her, throws her over his shoulder and spins, laughing at her wild screams of delight as he tickles her sides. Your chest warms, and the smile tugging at your lips is automatic as Mena runs on unsteady legs back to you, curls bouncing in her pigtails as she escapes Frankie’s arms and bolts to you for safety.

“Mama!” She climbs into your arms and your face drops in shock, wide eyes blinking up at Frankie who’s stopped dead behind her. The grin that widens his face practically blinds you, his eyes immediately shining with a sheen of tears as he drops beside you and smothers you both with a hug, pressing loud kisses to wherever he could reach. Mena giggles, pulling away to look between the pair of you with sparkling dark eyes. Little arms wind around both you and Frankie as she cuddles you close, her little head falling tiredly against your chest.

You catch Frankie looking at you, and return his fond gaze, smiling shyly under his admiration. The three of you snuggle together as the sun disappears, throwing bright hues of pink and orange across the cloudy sky, and finally, the tight feeling in your chest lessens under the pressure of two pairs of loving arms. Finally—you feel like you can breathe.

Frankie pipes up soon after the sun sets, “Who’s hungry?”

Mena’s head pops up instantly, the sleepiness that was just weighing her body down seemingly vanishing at the mention of food. She wiggles off your lap, and runs back to the campsite leaving you and Frankie chuckling quietly to yourselves as you follow. He and Mena sit together while he builds a fire, and you hear him talk through the process, Mena watching with curious eyes as he stacks the wood and lights it.

You all stay huddled together as the chill of the night drops over the camp site, sharing quiet laughs and keeping Mena entertained until her eyes start to drop. You stay mostly quiet, happy to just witness the two loves of your life share in each other’s affections.

Soon you and Frankie are left alone once Mena succumbs to sleep, and he brings two cups out with his phone playing quiet music, wiggling the bottle of whiskey he had hidden in his bag mischievously after putting her down in the tent. He pours a generous amount into both before sinking onto the log beside you, watching the flames dance in the dark before nudging you softly.

“Talk to me, baby.”

Sighing, your finger traces the rim of the cup and you shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. I just... I haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”

He nods, “Has something happened?”

You purse your lips, thinking over the last few weeks. Nothing jumps out and you shrug again, frowning at the flames. “No. My head just... I don’t know. I’m happy with my life—I love you, more than anything, and Mena, too... my job is fine—everything’s fine, but... my head just...” you struggle to finish your sentence, frown deepening.

You’re not making any sense. You never make sense. How can you possibly turn the jumble of thoughts in your head into words and make him understand? You barely understood it all yourself. What did you have to be upset over? Your life was picture perfect. Perfect man, perfect daughter, perfect job, a home full of love... so many people had it worse. You shouldn’t feel the way you do.

You must’ve spoken aloud because the next minute Frankie is reaching for your hand, rubbing the skin soothingly.

“I get it.” He says quietly, shooting you a comforting smile when you blink up at him, tears filling your eyes. “Our minds can be cruel sometimes, but just because there are others out there who may have it worse doesn’t take away from how you feel. You matter, just as much as others.”

You don’t try to stop the tears that fall from your eyes, instead letting them fall down your cheeks in a heavy flow. He moves closer in response, moving the arm holding your hand around your shoulder and pulling you in close to his side. The warmth from his body seeps into yours and you take a shaky breath as the tears continue.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want to talk to someone? I know of a few good doctors around.”

Shaking your head, you lean your head on his shoulder and sigh deeply. “No, I think I’m alright for now, but if it gets worse...”

His arm tightens in response, and he nods quietly.

“I’m here for you, honey.” He murmurs, turning to kiss your forehead gently. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

You smile through your tears, turning to gaze up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Frankie.”

Quiet conversation starts up once the flow of tears dies off, and soon he has you in fits of laughter, the whiskey loosening the last bits of tension from your frame as it warms your insides. When Frankie’s favourite song comes on, he’s up before you can even make a comment, holding a hand out to you with a wide grin once he throws back the last of his drink and tosses his cup aside without a care.

“What?” You ask, eyeing his open palm with a grin.

“Dance with me.”

How could you ever say no? You couldn’t. Not to him. Your grin turns shy as you take his hand, letting him pull you up and off the log and into his frame. He holds you close, arms winding securely around you as you sway softly. The stars catch your attention when you rest your head on his shoulder, and you feel a lump growing in the back of your throat when Frankie starts to softly sing in your ear. It’s not depressive thoughts that have you on the verge of tears this time. Instead, your heart is damn near bursting, the flood of love for this man so strong you have to stop yourself from squeezing him too tight.

Your eyes flick to watch a shooting star, but instead of making a wish, you tuck yourself impossibly closer to Frankie. You didn’t need a wish—you had everything you needed already.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

[vespertine-legacy]

💍📓💰⚡ for character of your choice?

💍 Does your OC have a specific item that is priceless to them but may (or may not) be completely worthless to someone else? Is there a story behind this item or is it just because they like it so much?

Mena hoards items that remind her of her mother. Probably understandably, she’s got a locket with a holoportrait of her mother, an altar to her mother in her room at her father’s Kaas City apartment, and a smaller version of the altar on her ship. At a casual glance, you might think the holoportraits are of her, and yes, Mena is vain, but not that vain. She keeps everything of her mother’s that her father ever gave her, and he worried for a while about her obsession (but honestly, that’s what you get for naming your child “memory”). It took Toovee one near-dismantlement to learn that he is not allowed to touch the altar in Mena’s quarters on the Fury, even if he thinks he’s being helpful by cleaning.

📓 Write a typical diary/journal page by your OC! (or if you’d rather not, describe their journal. Do they keep one, why?)

Mena doesn’t keep a diary per se, but she documents her life in letters to the people she loves pretty extensively. She wrote letters to Sija the entire time Sija was missing, even though she knew there was no point in hitting send on them. When, after five years, she gets a holocall from Lana to say that Sija has been found, and Lana sends coordinates, Mena taps out a quick message: “Dearest C. I’ve been told that you’re back. I haven’t been given any other details yet, but I don’t need them; I’m going to kick your ass when I see you and I’m going to hug you until you choke. I’m sending you every letter I wrote you while you’ve been gone, but didn’t send because I was scared of what it would mean if they bounced back. Now you’ll know what you’ve missed. Nu nuli j’us, ajeusona.” After selecting all and hitting send, Mena realizes she just sent nearly 400 messages and initially balks, squeaking out a quiet “fuck,” but that’s what you get for disappearing for five fucking years. Jaesa lectures her nearly the entire way to the planet Lana has given them coordinates for because you could just keep an actual diary like a normal person but Mena just looks smug.

💰 If your OC had all the money they could ask for what would they do with it? Where would they go and what would they buy? Are they the only one who benefits from this wealth?

If Raz had access to enough money and resources, she would maybe have killed the former Minister (after getting Shara’s location out of him, probably dragging his ass with to the facility and waiting until she had actually laid eyes on Shara as proof that he didn’t give her a decoy location), and then she would personally oversee Shara’s care, whatever the outcome. If it worked and Shara wanted nothing to do with her when the process was over, Raz could provide enough to get her started with whatever new life she wanted. If it worked and Shara was still her Shara, they could actually have options together. If it didn’t work? Well, that’s not necessarily a problem money can fix... Raz and Shara are really the only ones who would benefit from this, and she would know that, and she would feel guilty as fuck about it, but also, damn, don’t they deserve a chance to be happy together?

⚡ What are your OC’s phobias? Is there any reasoning behind these? How do they calm themselves down after getting scared? What are they like when they’re afraid? Is there any chance of them overcoming their fears?

Raz has two main fears. The first is that she’s a bit of a germaphobe, and it comes from her history as a field medic (her intended profession before she joined Intelligence). It doesn’t really send her into a panic anymore; she did a pretty intense trial-by-fire by letting Watcher X perform surgery on her in a filthy cell in Shadow Town without any real sterilization, and forewent anesthesia because otherwise the fear that she would never wake up would have overridden the fear of infection. She still takes a lot of precautions with things like wound care, for herself and her companions, and she feels that her fears are completely reasonable, but there are a select few that she has given permission to slap her across the face if she gets a little locked-in and over-focused on it. She can calm herself down from this fear pretty well by just being rational about it and doing things to deal with the potential consequences.

Her other fear is the one she traded to the Dread Masters on Oricon in order to get them to spare the soldiers preparing to invade their fortress. Master Raptus made the threat - for every one of the Dread forces that Raz had taken out on her way to disable their defenses, they would destroy a soldier. Master Brontes had offered the trade instead - just tell us what you fear. The Dread Masters had tried to inflict fear on Raz before on Belsavis, and while they had brought her to her knees they could not break her and she had told them through gritted teeth—though bloodied by her own bitten tongue—you’ll have to try harder than that. So she told them: “Fine, enough of this nonsense. I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of. There aren’t many people in this galaxy that I’m close to, but I’m terrified of losing them. Are you satisfied?” Their attack this time felt so different from Belsavis, this time it was pin-pointed, Raz felt blinded by it, wanted to scream but no sound would come. After what felt like an eternity, Master Bestia called for the others to stop, saying they had humiliated her enough and she would join them soon.

Much later, on Rishi, when Raz’s fear of loss starts coming true, the deal she made with the Masters comes back to her mind, and logically she knows there isn’t really a connection, and logically she knows she made the right choice on Oricon and that it was the right thing to do on Rishi, but she doesn’t know if she’s ever going to stop waking up calling out for her. And Raz is afraid that even if she comes back, she’s going to be so different and what if she doesn’t love me anymore? There’s really very little that calms this fear; she mostly just has to ride it out, and she’s really not good company when that fear has hold of her. The only way she’ll overcome the fear is to get closure.

[Note: the bit at the end of Mena’s letter is “I love you, you idiot” in Sith. Sija speaks Sith pretty well, but she can’t read it to save her life, so she’s gonna need to have Lana translate for her. ^___^]