#canon compliant until it's not

[something-tofightfor]

This may be something you don’t want in to answer which I totally respect and totally fair for you to ignore this! But I’m curious - for the JTGtBG universe, do you plan to stick to the canon ending of TLOU2? Or did you always imagine this path as a happy ending for Joel and canon divergent?

Again I’m just merely curious and also want to know if I should prepare for my heart to get broken LOL. But if you’d rather not divulge into that, I respect that and get it!

Sincerely,

A huge fan of your work ❤️❤️

Hi anon!

Without giving anything away - some of the events from tlou2 will be visited in JTGtBG - including the introduction of characters and scenarios that we've seen in the game.

The actual storyline for JTGtBG won't follow every event from the game, so it will be canon divergent.

I will not shatter your heart, but that doesn't mean that everyone is safe.

Thank you for sending this over, and I hope what I have planned for them/this story is a satisfying piece of storytelling.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

and how extensive was this practice

[storytellering]

if anyone's looking for me, I'll be in delulu land manifesting Tony Redgrave for the new dmc anime, don't try and get me back xoxo thanks

[satsuha]

wait how could i forget... literally drew tmhk AA au bc it wouldn't stop eating at my brain

i didn't think it through too much but the way the games really emphasize the defense's mindset of "always believing in your client" vs many of the prosecutors' methods of always aiming for a guilty verdict... i can see tmhk thriving in those respective roles

i think it's also nice that they both have information-gathering path actions but both coerce and bribe are pretty shady in this context LOL

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

it's technically friday here already and I'm trying to keep myself busy until 2am for the episode (and trying to stay awake, I've been up for over 20 hours now and there's 1.5h left lmao this is gonna be fun - but I am not missing the madney wedding live) so I figured I'd start fif off haha

today a lil more from my bucktommy smut that's slowly coming together (very slowly, it's gonna be so long, we're at 3k and they're still dressed, and I kinda want to spread it out over a few dates 🙈)

prev snippet

___

“Can I-” he starts, panting against Tommy’s lips. “I really need to touch you.” he gulps, his grip tightening just a little bit, a stifled sound escaping Tommy. Buck wants to hear him, wants to hear all the sounds he can elicit from him.

“You are touching me.” Tommy teases, and Buck kisses a smirk off his face, nipping at his bottom lip as he pulls away, Tommy chuckling in response. Buck is so enamored by this man, he can barely stop smiling.

“You know what I mean.” he shakes his head a bit.

“I do.” Tommy licks his lips. “But I kinda wanna hear it.” he adds with a smug grin, but then places his hands on Buck’s cheeks and makes him look into his eyes, smile turning into something softer. “I need you to tell me what you want.”

“I want you naked.” is what Buck blurts out, and as if involuntarily, Tommy’s hips thrust into his hand, a low groan escaping him.

“Alright, baby.” Tommy whispers, smiling softly, breathing heavy, and Buck thinks he’s going to melt, his heart speeding up.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13

[eliasdrid]

Tbh as far as ultraman lore goes the one thing i've been thinking about most lately is probably the pod baby thing - and right after that the fact that they don't have pregnancy as a species so (afaik) they mix genes and that's how new ultras come to be. Point is. Any 2+ ultras can be parents.

[ezkel]

The Perfect Heir

A summarized account of the life and death of Regulus Black. Featuring his relationship with his brother and with James Potter

warnings: canon-compliant, angst, violence, abuse, one sided sunseeker, walburga, implied deaths, regulus' awful self-esteem, etc

1200-ish words.

–-----------------------------------------------–

The first time Regulus heard of James Potter was in a letter. Sirius was so excited to talk about his new best friend. He adored the stories his brother included in the letter, a prank the two of them had played. Only a few days into their time in Hogwarts. Regulus couldn't wait to meet him; James Potter must be amazing. Every new letter came with new stories. Sirius wrote of his three dormmates and their adventures and pranks. Letters quickly became the highlight of his week. 

At the start of the Christmas holidays, Regulus waited patiently at the front door for his brother's return; he didn’t leave for hours. Not until his mother scolded him, “Regulus Arcturus, you’re acting pathetic. Your brother isn’t returning for these holidays. He’d only embarrass us.” Upon the harsh and hasty exit of Walburga, Kreature leads Regulus back up to his room to prepare for the Yule season's events. Regulus followed quietly, wondering why his brother had not mentioned this to him. He’d waited hours. 

After the Christmas holidays, the letters started to become less frequent. Regulus would write letters, hand them to his father to send, and wait for a response. The letters he sent would never get a response, almost like Sirius wasn’t even reading them. When he returns for the summer, he'll ask Sirius.

Sirius returned with a new flourish of energy; he’d talk non-stop about his time at Hogwarts. Regulus listens with wide eyes, never getting a chance to ask about the letters. Every time he’d say Sirius had already mentioned an event in his letters, Sirius would get a weird look on his face. Regulus couldn’t figure out what that look was. Regulus spent the summer before his first year following Sirius around and listening to his mother tell him how to act. He was expected to be in Slytherin, unlike his brother; he was expected to act dignified, unlike his brother; he was expected to be the perfect Black. 

The first time Regulus met James Potter, he immediately understood his brother's adoration for him. Regulus looked at him and saw the sun. This was immediately shattered when his brother seemingly lost all interest in him as soon as he also saw James Potter. Regulus at once understood the connection between them. Sirius was looking at Potter as he had always looked at him. Potter was his replacement. Regulus decides then that he will do as their mother says instead of attempting to follow in Sirius’ footsteps. He excuses himself and finds their cousins to sit with instead. 

When Regulus was first sorted into Slytherin, he still had hope that maybe Sirius wouldn’t be entirely replacing him. But as the months went by and the contact he had with his brother became more scarce, the hope was slowly lost. 

Regulus believes that the worst part of all of this is that he can’t truly hate James Potter. The arrogant, self-centered, annoying blood-traitor was still the sun in his eyes. Nothing compared to him. In the past several years, Regulus has come to terms with his horrifying crush on him and has come to terms with the fact that James Potter embarrassed himself weekly by attempting to date some muggleborn girl. He’d also come to terms with the fact that he was never going to get his brother back. Every year they’d return from Hogwarts, and Sirius would act out to annoy their parents, getting punished. Every year Regulus would patch Sirius up after the punishments only for his brother to yell at him for allowing their parents to act like this. 

When Regulus was 15, Sirius vanished in the middle of the night after a worse than usual punishment. No note, nothing, just vanished. Regulus wasn’t even worth a note from his brother. Regulus knew where he’d gone immediately. Walburga tried to force him to act as bait to get Sirius back at first, only for Regulus to end up locked in his room, writhing in pain. They gave up on Sirius after a few days, blasted him off the family tapestry, and named Regulus the heir. 

Regulus kept his back straight, accepting the title with grace. He was going to be the perfect son; he had to at least do that since he couldn't be the perfect brother. He started studying dark magic, started attending death eater rallies, and let himself become nothing but the perfect heir to the Black family. Once he was back in Hogwarts, he began associating with only the purebloods that would go on to become death eaters. Spending all his time to perfect his grades, perfect his quidditch techniques, and perfect his family's image. 

He refused to spend even one moment letting his eyes fall on James Potter or his brother. Refused to let the mask he had mastered slip and allow him to feel anything other than the anger and dedication that he needed to be perfect. 

He received the dark mark on his 16th birthday. He had to prove himself; he doubts he’ll ever be able to sleep again without hearing the screams of those muggles. He can’t let himself think about it. He’s the perfect heir, the youngest death eater, the perfect son. He doesn’t have the time or energy for guilt. 

Only a week after he took the mark, James Potter and the muggleborn got together. For the first time since he discovered his brother had left, he let his mask slip. Everything crashed down on him as he collapsed in an empty classroom. Everything was so much; nothing was him; he has done so much bad; he can’t do anything to change anything; he’s too deep; the only thing he knows how to do is be the perfect heir. 

After his breakdown, he forced the mask on stronger than before and delved deeper into the death eater ranks, always volunteering and constantly studying dark magic. Not a single moment did he allow himself room to breathe and feel. 

When the dark lord asked for a house elf, Regulus didn’t hesitate; he told Kreature to return to him but sent him off without hesitation. When Kreature returned half dead, Regulus finally gave up on what his family believed in. Kreature had been the only good part of his life for years; the Dark Lord would regret this. 

He spent several weeks gathering information before he had Kreature take him to the cave. Giving Kreature a final order to complete, he settled into the idea that he’d no longer have to be perfect.

“Kreature, when I become too weak to drink it on my own, make me drink it all, every drop. Then replace the locket at the bottom with this fake.”

In the midst of all the pain, he hallucinates his brother, his brother saying everything Regulus has ever believed to be true about him. He sees his mother. He sees his father. He sees Kreature. 

He sees James Potter.

As cold slimy hands drag and pull at his skin, the water enveloping his body, Regulus finally allows himself to feel again.

[tennessoui]

wip wednesday (early cause im offline tmrw)

When the dust settles, Obi-Wan is surprised to find himself still standing.

It takes all of him, he thinks, the end of the war. It takes everything he has.

He used to wonder, in a distant, nebulous way, what it would feel like in the aftermath. How his life would return to the routines he held before Geonosis, if the cadence of Temple life would feel strange and unfamiliar to him after so long spent in the trenches. If he would miss the sound of his men behind and around him, the steady stream of words and laughter and presence of others, at all times, surrounding him.

It’s only when the dust settles, when the first grains of sand whip through the arid desert air to sting his eyes, that he realizes that every time he ever allowed himself to think about the end of the war, he’d always assumed that they would win. He had never truly thought they would be defeated. That the Jedi Order, the Temple itself, so strongly entrenched in the galaxy and in Coruscant and in Obi-Wan’s world view, were capable of falling.

He had cautioned others against the same assumptions the moment he heard them. He had warned his own padawan to not look too far into the future, to not plan too much for the war’s end. He had told many people—clones, civilians, holonet reporters, other Jedi—that it was dangerous to think of the war as something they would inevitably win. Nothing was inevitable, especially not victory.

But he realizes now, only now, only as he traverses the desert on the back of a stolen eopie, wearing robes still smelling so strongly of volcanic sulfur that his eyes are stinging with reactionary tears, that he’d thought. He’d always thought. 

He’d never really considered…this.

This aftermath, where he is still standing on shaking legs and everything that he has ever cared for in the world has become ash, has become the dust settling around him.

Everything he has ever known and loved and fought for has slipped through his fingers. When the dust settles, when he looks down at his hands, he expects to find them empty.

Instead, there is a baby in his arms.

And he knows—he knows intimately how much damage these hands are capable of. What hurt these hands can inflict even on those he loves. Loved. 

He knows, as the homestead rises up in the fading light of the two suns, that these hands should not cradle this baby. Not the son of the man he has murdered. Not his brother’s son. Not his padawan’s. Not Anakin’s.

He knows the babe is safest here on this farm in the care of this couple. He knows he must leave the child with them, to raise and love a thousand times better than he is capable of. He has tried before. He has failed one Skywalker already.

He knows. 

And he can’t. He cannot let him go.

While the Galactic empire rises on one side of the galaxy, the dust settles on the other and Obi-Wan Kenobi looks down at the babe in his hands and realizes that he cannot let him go.

Not another Skywalker.

[tenwhiteandalusians]

so no one was going to tell me if i got literally one episode further tenax drops that he’s the one who saved scorpus from his mom’s pimp AND that he’s intimately familiar with scorpus’ dick when he was younger. guys. guys.

[tenderjock]

in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

[essenceofarda]

also on the note of headcanons i cannot fathom elves living centuries if not millennia without questioning their gender identities at least once lol

I'm a cisgender woman and I question my exact gender identity or presentation like... twice a year at least lmao

[read-write-thrive]

palasaki coffee shop AU my beloved 💜💖

day four of @palasakiweek !!! somehow this one really got away from me and is like six times the length of the other ones I’ve been writing, but shhh its fine (and it’s still not super long anyway lol) plus I think I’m starting to get a hang of their voices ? idk hopefully I’m getting at least a little better lmao

[starlightvld]

I keep thinking about it - a Couch Surfing epilogue eight years in the future, when Ghost and Soap are on their last mission before retirement, pinned down in a warehouse and using an old couch as cover...

Soap, grumbling as he peers over the edge of the couch and picks off enemies with his rifle: "'An easy mission,' he said. 'Nothing to it,' he said. Nothing to it my arse! Price owes us for this cock up. And these wankstains are gonna feel my wrath in the meantime."

Ghost, doing the same: "Have I told you I love you today?"

Soap: "Ye have, but I always love to hear it, mo chridhe."

Ghost: "Good. Now let's kill these fuckers and go home."

Soap: "With fucking pleasure."

[fluffypotatey]

I have been thinking about down bad Wukong and Macaque, and I don’t know. I got to get this out of my head.

When they were young Macaque had shown to be quiet (whether from shyness or being a big introvert who knows), as shown with the brotherhood. Or that he wasn’t big on relationships or expressing his feelings. Which makes me believe when Macaque was young and gotten feelings for Wukong, he hid his down badness/feelings. He would still show them but in quiet little ways that might be missed, like making sure FFM is stocked with peaches or make sure if Wukong really wants to do something if not find a way for Wukong or both of them to bail. The older Macaque, or the Macaque now, is much more open and into relationships, as well as a bit more expressive than his younger self. Meaning when his and Wukong relationship starts getting better again, he doesn’t really try to hide his down bad behavior (unless someone is there with them, but even then it’s obvious and he’s not putting a lot of effort into hiding it). Even if their relationship doesn’t improve much, he probably not going to hide his down bad behavior. He’s just going to throw a punch in their to show that they are not friends, and he still haven’t fully forgiven or moved on from Wukong killing him.

For Wukong’s down badness it’s the opposite of Macaque’s. Young Wukong was loud and proud of it. Macaque feeling hungry? Wukong go to opposite side of FFM because Macaque’s favorite food is there, and bring it to him. Macaque is feeling cold or lonely? It’s cuddle time, we’ll worry about the fact we’re doing this on a pathway later. Young Wukong would go so far to show his down bad behavior, that he will tell Macaque ‘love you’ as he leaves the room regardless of who’s in there. And that’s before kind of before he realizes he has feelings for Macaque (and probably before forming the brotherhood. (The down bad behavior also got worse during the brotherhood)). During JTTW happens Wukong has the realization that he could tone it down and still show he’s down bad/have feelings or care about/for Macaque/someone in more quiet, meaningful ways. Which makes older/current Wukong be a bit quieter and not that expressive as his younger self (it’s the exact same but he’s not going to do big grand gestures nor do it every hour of the day). When Macaque and Wukong relationship improves, Wukong would show his down bad behavior in subtler ways. Like if he’s sees Macaque sleeping in a tree, Wukong would make sure he’s comfortable and maybe lay a blanket on him. Or when Macaque gets into fights/battles Wukong would make sure he’s okay and treat any injuries he could at that moment. If his and Macaque relationship had not improved, then he would be even more subtle about it that not a lot of people would notice. Even Macaque wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t think about their recent interaction deeply. That makes him wonder if Wukong had changed or it’s just the same old Wukong.

This was longer than I was expecting. Hope you enjoy reading it, or the ideas.

i did enjoy reading it, thank you anon 🥰💖💖

also, this is just me, but i like to think that Macky isn’t aware of how obvious he is showing it. he is more open to the idea of relationships (mostly platonic ones thanks to MK), but actually identifying that what he is doing is him showing affection? he would probably blame it on trying to stay civil. maybe he is more aware that his feelings never truly faded away, but Macoddle is unaware of how down bad his condition is

meanwhile, Wukong wasn’t aware in the past but now is fully aware of it. or at least recognizes what his behavior means quickly. and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. he wants them to make this new acquaintanceship/ally-ship work. so he takes note quietly and shows it subtly in a way he hopes respects Macorís’ boundaries

[daisychainsandbowties]

my unnecessarily deranged wolfwren fic continues

Chapter 2/5

Rating; e Word count: 10.5k

Summary:

Shin and Sabine are captured by bounty hunters and Shin decides that she needs to keep this stupid, colourful padawan alive for totally practical reasons as they work together to escape (and cause general mayhem). Cringefail gay antics ensue.

Excerpt:

//

Shin unlatches from the darkness with her hand outstretched and Sabine snarls as she feels a mental shove at the back of her mind. In it, the unmistakable shape of Shin’s hand and of course the fury of knowing it so well, having dreamed of it over and over and over again.

Still, Sabine moves. She can get shot for the sake of pride another day. It becomes an effort not to squint her eyes shut as she races forward. In front of her, the bounty hunters react; their blasters start to follow the loose curve she is taking toward them.

Before they can shout a warning at her, Sabine feels an outburst of energy swoop over her shoulders. It is, for an instant, like having wings.

Their bodies lock up – mouths halfway open, one of them caught midway through a startled blink with his eyelids drooped down. Shin’s voice rings out in her mind again.

“Show me what you can do, little Jedi.”

“Fuck you.” Sabine throws this down the – bond? - that hangs between them on the off-chance it might reach Shin. Or break whatever delicate thing she’s spun into the air.

Sabine moves, calling on the part of her that is still at war - still accustomed to split knuckles, to standing shirtless in her room on the Ghost splaying her fingers over bruises on her ribs. Waking up sore and falling into dreams of days worn thin by their repetition.

Holding spitting contests with Ketsu while they waited for their quarry to show up. Holding her blaster the way she’d been taught and catching Ketsu’s approving eye, jogging her with an elbow in reprisal.

“Dude, I’m not a baby bird.”

“Sure you are.”

Back then the violence made sense to her. It was a way of life and it was necessary and when she asked, Hera told her that it would mean something. And it did, does, but it also cost her everything.

As she rushes across the room, as the two bounty hunters freeze and teeter mid-step, Sabine can hear the kick of Shin’s heartbeat. Can almost feel the wall of Force-energy that flows from her outstretched hand.

Her face, suddenly picked out plain, wears a snarl as Sabine does what she is always liable to do. Running, she looks back at Shin to make sure that she’s still there.

Again, inconveniently, she is as striking as a slap across the face.

continue on Ao3

[dargorian]

Fourth chapter is now up!

Once more - this is kind of an AU as everyone (and I mean everyone) is one year older. I've started pecking at the next story of this AU btw.

There's kind of sandwiches in this chapter. Do not read this fic if that is not your thing.

Content warning just in case.