#commander who is age-appropriate and single: hi!

[antariies]

textually yao always has a crush on the commander but i feel like the older and less attainable they are the more yao is like 👀😳🫣💕

[johnbrand]

Sister's New Boyfriend

“C’mon bro, didn’t you miss this?” Scott teased, his giant Size 13 foot plopped onto the coffee table in front of me.

“Cut it out, Scott,” I hissed, knowing my sister was bound to call us into the kitchen any minute now.

“Why should I?” Scott cockily grinned. “We both know you want to.”

I held back the scarlet that threatened to color my face. “That’s not true.”

“It’s only been what, seven or eight years since high school?” Scott’s grin shifted into an exaggerated frown. “Surely you haven't forgotten me, have you? And all the fun times we had together?”

Unfortunately I had not forgotten Scott, or the “fun times” he was referring to. The constant bullying; harassment and name-calling and even a few bouts of abuse. It was painful for me to reflect on, both of us being the same age and yet being emotionally attacked by a man double my size. Since those years, the gym and my therapist had helped me move past those vulnerable times. Even though I had struggled to find a relationship, I was stronger now; a fighter well-off with a supportive network. 

“Luckily for you, I’ve moved on,” I snarked, sizing Scott up.

“I don’t think you have,” Scott’s smirk returned. “Otherwise you would’ve left as soon as you saw me.”

I had not expected Scott to be my sister’s new boyfriend. The man she had been gloating about for months, this “kind, sensible, loyal” being that had corrupted her life to the point that he was all she would talk about. I would have never assumed my sister–my older, highly educated sister–to end up with the malevolent jock who had destroyed my ego all those years ago. And after brief introductions, in which I realized I was still physically smaller than my former tormentor, I quickly sensed the looming danger of the situation.

“I’m not going to abandon my sister,” I retorted.

“You’re not going to abandon your commands, either,” Scott shot back, a bit to my confusion. Scott had apparently dropped out of college, but had become a fitness influencer in the years since, pulling in huge financial figures. It was difficult not to reflect on the fact that even though I had a degree, Scott had still come out on top. “Stop lying to yourself, buddy.”

Instead of another backhanded defense, I felt myself a slow warmth settling in his bones. My frustration subsided as a peaceful, almost artificial calm crawled over. My usual worries were smoothing over, something that Scott recognized immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it, buddy.” Again, the word sent a pleasurable warmth all across my frame, tingling my toes and twitching the corners of my mouth into the beginnings of a dopey smile. “I see a few years apart hasn’t weakened my conditioning on you at all, has it?”

I knew better than to answer. In therapy, I thought I had discussed all my qualms with Scott. Every single memory I could recover was heavily investigated, scrutinized, and then analyzed to create a plan for my future proceedings. But it was not until that very moment, in my sister’s living room reunited with my high school bully, that I realized I had only covered half of the relationship Scott had created for us. The memories my therapist and I had discussed, those were only the ones Scott had allowed me to remember.

“No Sir,” I replied, the title suddenly feeling appropriate. “Not at all. I still jack off to the thought of your magnificence at least twice a week as you instructed, Sir.”

My pupils inflated as Scott’s smirk grew sinister; this truth being revealed to both of us. 

“What, you didn’t think I just let you go after graduation, did you?” Scott’s words cut right to the bone, my embarrassment finally flushing my face. “I guess my hypnosis was better than I thought it was back then. I like to keep all my boys on a leash, in case they ever become useful to me again.”

Before I could respond, Scott snapped his finger and pointed back at his foot. Immediately, I was kneeling before him, my nose inhaling his godly scent and my tongue running across the holy valleys of his sole. Every breath sent another wave of affection across me, the submissive alter ego Scott had created for me back in high school overriding all the defenses I had built up since then.

“Who’d have thought one of them would eventually become my brother-in-law?” Scott commented. Even as my former life and independence was quickly evaporating, his smug victory brought a single tear to my eye. 

“I thought I was going to break the news!” My sister yelled from the kitchen, finally entering the conversation but apparently oblivious to what was actually happening. “Dinner will be set in a minute!”

“Thanks babe,” Scott called back, before searing his eyes straight through me. “Hope you’re ready to be an uncle too, buddy.”

That revelation snapped what was left of my free will. But now, I had more important things to worry about, like tending to Scott’s feet.

[unfair-water-plane]

So one thing that has always made me chuckle in ME2 is the fact that Kal’Reegar is a marine in a Quarian suit. And he fits in with Shepard easily, the same attitude and headspace and cadence (for mShep at least). And I’m sitting here at work and the thought just hit me.

What if that’s because he is a marine in a Quarian suit?

Hear me out. Kal is older than Tali, or at least gives off those vibes, and so he would have been on his pilgrimage a while ago. Like maybe right after first contact. And here are these brand new people who came out of nowhere and had apparently enough fire power and attitude to give the Turians a very brief pause. The whole galaxy wants to know more. And humanity has no idea who is out there, but surely they can’t all be like the creepy bird people?

Cue one very curious Quarian in Shanxi, just as curious an out humanity as humanity is about everything. Meeting with early alliance brass, giving them information common palace to any kid with an extranet feed but wholly new to humanity. He explains that the Quarian don’t have ground forces because they don’t have a ground, and is honest about the geth, and is like ‘so how did you make the Turian Hierarchy freak out?’

And somehow ends up observing basic training, and falls in love with it. To the point where he actively asks to go through marine boot camp in Hanshan, and is just earnest and endearing enough to be allowed. So he goes through it, puts in the work and the blood and sweat and tears and makes the kinds of friends that you sort of have on the Flotilla, but everyone also knows you are all going to separate ships eventually and getting attached is hard.

But the humans will pack bond with a robot vacuum without issue, and when they meet a Quarian who wants to learn and thinks it’s amazing that they stood up to the biggest military in the galaxy running on old fashioned rocketry and spite? The marines adopt him as one of their own. They are brothers, something most single child Quarians have no experience with, and Kal gives it back in spades. He talks like them, fights like them, jokes and learns and is like them.

And when it is over and they graduate, it’s hard to turn down the offer to stay. But humanity respects the loyalty to his people that takes him back to the fleet, and it almost brings him to tears when his graduating class passes a cap for his passage back to the fleet in more comfort than sitting on a box in a volus cargo ship.

It actually brings him to tears when his drill instructor informs him that while it might not be in great shape, Arcturus has authorized them to gift Kal’Reegar with a battered but space worthy corsair and an official greeting from the Systems Alliance to the Migrant Fleet.

The SSV Jarhead is perhaps the best gift anyone is his age range can give to a future captain, though his practical military experience is a gift to the whole fleet. It catapults him through the Quarian military, from for soldier to instructor to commander, and somewhere he hopes that his brothers and sisters are as proud of them as he is of every transmission that makes it back to him.

On Haestrom, that training keeps him alive long enough to watch his squad die, and that cuts like nothing else. But he can’t stop, because the principle is still depending on him, and until his suit gives out he has to fight to her.

But then the voice cuts through the chatter of his own mind, and he *knows it*. Knows the cadence and the phrasing, knows how a human mouth forms the phrases that he has spent years trying to teach. Commander Shepard might not be a marine, but they are a human combat specialist and the fraternity is there.

Maybe it’s just three more people who are going to die for this fools errand, but somehow Kal doesn’t think so. There are two bone deep beliefs that he will carry it’s him to either the home world or the afterlife, and it has always felt appropriate to him that they rhyme. That they sound similar, when he breathes them into the air.

Keelah Salai. Semper Fi.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Speech & Hearing

Milestones Related to Speech and Hearing

Birth to 3 months

Reacts to loud sounds with startle reflex

Is soothed and quieted by soft sounds

Turns head to you when you speak

Wakes up when there are loud voices and sounds

Smiles in response to certain voices when spoken to

Knows your voice and quiets down if crying

4 to 6 months

Looks or turns toward a new sound

Responds to "no" and changes in tone of voice

Imitates his or her own voice

Enjoys rattles and other toys that make sounds

Begins to repeat sounds (such as "ooh," "aah," and "ba-ba")

Gets scared by a loud voice or noise

7 to 12 months

Responds to his or her own name, phone ringing, or someone's voice, even when not loud

Knows words for common things (such as "cup" or "shoe") and sayings (such as, "bye-bye")

Makes babbling sounds, even when alone

Starts to respond to requests (such as "come here")

Looks at things or pictures when someone talks about them

Enjoys games such as peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake

Imitates simple words and sounds; may use a few single words meaningfully

1 to 2 years

Follows 1-step commands when shown by a gesture

Uses words he or she has learned often

Uses 2-to-3-word sentences to talk about and ask for things

Says more words as each month passes

Points to some body parts when asked

Understands simple "yes-no" questions (such as "Are you hungry?")

Understands simple phrases (such as "in the cup" or "on the table")

Enjoys being read to

Understands "not now" and "no more"

Chooses things by size (such as big or little)

Follows 2-step commands (such as "Get your shoes and come here")

Understands many action words (such as run or jump)

NOTE

An unborn baby's hearing starts to develop early.

At birth, a baby's hearing is fully functioning.

Children do respond differently at different stages of growth and development. But hearing problems may be suspected in children who are not responding to sounds. Or in children who are not developing their language skills appropriately.

The above are some age-related guidelines that may help to decide if the child is having hearing problems.

It's important to remember that not every child is the same.

Children reach milestones at different ages.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ On Children

[aspenstarflare]

Time for more Clone wars Head Cannon time:

-The 501st and 212th defiantly have bets against each other of the state of Anakin and Padmé’s relationship but also Obi-Wan and Cody’s. Ahsoka, Rex, Waxer, and Boil organizing these bets whenever the two legions are together (of course under the noses, of General Skywalker, General Kenobi, and Commander Cody).

-Kix sleeps literally with one eye open, due to his Jedi trying to escape the medbay every time he falls asleep. Every time he drags them back to bed he always mutters something along the line of “stupid self sacrificing jedi ideology, whoever thought the force was a free pass to self neglect will feel my wrath.”

-Speaking of Kix, the entire 501st and also the 212th by extension are terrified of him, once 10 droid invaded his medical tent and he took them all out on his own without a blaster. He also can single handily drag one of his jedi or troopers to the medbay without effort.

-Fives and Echo, the chaos twins who bring destruction wherever they go, will try to sneak into Anakin’s council meetings get into his line of sight, and try everything that is possible to make him laugh. During one meeting where they are more particularly funny Anakin just stands there in a council meeting trying to be silent and stiff as a board while he’s shaking from laughter and mace goes “Is something funny skywalker?” and fives falls on his head from doing a handstand at that moment and Anakin loses it and bursts out laughing like a maniac but refuses to explain why to the council ever. So for the rest of the history of the council, they all think Anakin finds Yoda going on mission to be kriffin hilarious.

-After tough missions the troopers of the 501st like to huddle together in a cuddle pile (although only Ahsoka calls it that), Ahsoka discovering this one night while they were all sleep in their huddle, hopped into the pile and snuggled up with them as she couldn’t fall asleep because of a nightmare that has her in a panic attack and Anakin was no where to be found. Cut to the next morning Anakin is panicking about where Ahsoka is and bursts into the barracks to ask the troopers if they’ve seen Ahsoka just to find her in the pile of his troopers between Jesse and Fives. He finds the sight too wholesome to disrupt so he takes a picture of it and leaves. Letting his children sleep in. He ends up framing that picture in his quarters much to Ahsoka’s annoyance when she finds it.

-Sometimes when the clones in the 501st have a illness like a cold instead of going to Kix (much to his annoyance) they to to their General. Sometimes they just want General Skywalker’s hugs, reassurance, and help. Appreciating the fatherly presence and warmth he gives them. He also happens to be really good at spotting when his troopers are ill, which Kix does actually appreciate because better they get General Skywalkers help then no help. (And Anakin does eventually tend to bring his sick troop to the medbay to make sure they’re alright)

-Sometimes on missions where locals are around a person or two has flirted with Ahsoka making her annoyed and uncomfortable as most of them tended being men older than her, but even the people who are age appropriate make her uncomfortable too as she isn’t interested in anyone at all. Usually Anakin would cut in and tell them to Kriff off and get away from his Padawan, but this time, Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, and Hardcase beat him to it. With Fives punching the 30 year old guy in the face, Echo shoving him to the ground, Jesse kicking him in the side, Hardcase stepping on him hard so he can’t move, and Rex telling him to never speak or go near his little sister again, telling him to kriff off before he faces a fate worse than death. Anakin smiles at them proudly while Ahsoka silently cries happy tears in the background from being called a “little sister” by her vod.

-I believe it’s already canon or a really universal headcanon that the clones speak mando, but I believe once Anakin and especially Ahsoka learn this they are both immensely determined to learn how to speak it, much to the hesitance to the 501st initially, they aren’t sure as it’s something that their’s. But quickly they get really close to both the commander and general and adopt them as their Vod’ika and Buir and teach them a few words until by the near end of the war it escalates to basically the entire language. (Anakin cries a lot when he learns what Buir means)

[vibratingskull]

Take a day to relax

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Tags : Thermae, batthouse, palestra, hesitation, long awaited reunion

FemaleReaderxThrawn

Your boyfriend takes you to a bathhouse to celebrate your promotion, a long awaited reunion with a certain someone will take place...

You sigh of contentment, eyes closed, letting the sun warm your skin and the wind brush your hair. What a beautiful day, you can’t wait to see Nather in his swimsuit. You let your head fall back, exposing your throat to sun rays as he shakes his head with a deplored look on his face, fanning himself with his favorite fan.

"You would be so much better in a suit, rather than… this."

You pout. 

"And in what way would I be much better ?"

"You would be way more dignified and respectable. You would look more adult."

"Are you implying that I'm not wearing age appropriate clothes?" 

"Sometimes? Yes ! We are not 20 anymore and we are respectable members of the Empire, we must set an example." 

It's your turn to shake your head. 

"Well, those are my favorite clothes, you better get used to them." 

He shrugs with a resigned expression. You love him but sometimes he gets on your nerves so easily, and it is one of those times. Which is a shame because you're here to celebrate something and you don't want the day to be spoiled by some childish bickering. 

"I will see for how long the line goes." He says, already walking away. 

You look down at your outfit. Are you really wearing childish clothes? You wear them cause they're trendy, but maybe he's right. Maybe they look bad next to the uniform that you're supposed to represent. You sigh and observe the crowd in line before the stylised metal doors, young and old are present, rich and slave, single and families, alien and human. It’s pretty heterogeneous. You can see some merchants of ointments, of oils and perfumes, of everything useful for a bath. You take a deep breath in, smelling the different fragrances wooded and soapy. 

A hand seizes your shoulder, snatching you from your thoughts. 

"I knew it was you, (y/n)!" 

"Eli !" You throw yourself in his arms. "When was the last time we saw each other?" You display a joyful grin, hugging your friend. "What are you doing here ?" 

"Like you, we're here to enjoy the complex!" 

"We? Who's with you?" 

"Me."

The voice is placid, polite, almost soft but the effect it has on you is similar to a striking lightning. It resonates deep down your bowels, freezing you in place. Your heart coos at this sound. You gulp.

No.

Not him!

Not now!

Mustering your courage, you turn your head until you cross your eyes with two burning orbs, glowing with intelligence. 

"Good day junior lieutenant (y/l/n). It is a pleasure to see you again." salutes Thrawn. 

"In fact it is lieutenant commander (y/l/n), now" You manage to say with a regular voice. 

"My congratulations, lieutenant commander." He bows his head slightly. 

"It should quickly be our turn" Warns Nather, coming back from the top of the line. He stops and stares at them suspiciously. "What are you two doing here ?" 

Eli extends his hand with a polite smile.

“Hello Governor, you might not remember us but you supervised our exam at the Imperial Academy. I am Lieutenant commander Eli Vanto and this is Commodore Thrawn.” He gestures to the chiss.

Nather takes an ostensibly long moment to shake his hand.

“I know who you are, you made yourself quite famous lately. But that doesn’t tell me what you are doing here.”

"I have heard this complex is the exact replica of an antique bathhouse from an ancient human empire and I wanted to study it in details" responds Thrawn 

"I wanted to swim." Answers Eli. 

Nather puts his arm around your shoulders, eyeballing them. Thrawn raises an eyebrow and Eli opens his eyes round.

“And why might you be here?” Thrawn asks.

“We are here to celebrate the promotion of Roween!” You feel him squeeze your shoulder.

You turn your head to Nather. Is he… Is he jealous?

“We should celebrate it together!” Eli proposes. “It’s been several years since we got to speak together.” 

Nather digs his nails in your skin and releases you just as quick. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. You decide to plead the case.

“Yes! They could give me advice for your pirate problem.”

He turns his head towards you and looks into your eyes. You smile, giving him puppy eyes. He sighs.

“Alright…”

“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek and you think you see him blush.

You finally arrive at the door, you pay the slave keeping the entrance and pass the doors. You don’t say a thing but you see Eli grimaces. 

The complex is enormous, it is impossible to see the end of the walls of the different aisles. You have a gigantic garden to traverse before itching the baths or any of the complex’s commodities. You take out the pamphlet off your pocket for the all group to see.

“So, there are the baths, the stadium, some restaurants, a library, numerous boutiques, a music venue, one or two cafes, an auditorium, a spa… Where should we start?”

“I want to see a concert and a lecture.” Nather says.

“Maybe a coffee then a spa would be appreciable.” Eli adds.

You pout, you won’t be able to do all the things in one day. You turn to Thrawn.

 “What do you wanna see?”

“Everything.”

Your shoulders lower.

“You’re not helping.”

“I am sorry.”

You shake your head. 

“Let’s do the baths first, we’ll separate in groups after.” You propose.

They all nod and follow you to the cloakrooms. Already the luxury and tackiness is blindingly obvious. You would be hard put to tell if it's real, but the building is made of colorful marble with golden veins, it is so smooth you can see your reflection like in a mirror. The entrance is fully packed with columns and statues of the ancient kings and emperors of this old empire, and already the fumes of the baths reach you. You separate at the cloakrooms and pass on your swimsuit, it’s a new one and you can’t wait to try it on. 

You head towards the first room. It is not a bath but a palestra with different spaces. Some people are playing with balls and ropes in a sanded area while others are practicing with a punch bag or some dumbbells. The cries and the laughs resonate in the vast empty space. You look around to find your friends with a gathering around something that appears to amuse them terribly.

You walk closer to see a match of feminine wrestling. The two opponents grab each other and jump on each other with ferocity and determination. But you're not stupid, the gathering is not here for the joy of sports but because the swimsuits are small and the sounds of their efforts are enticing. Laughing, men as women are clapping and supporting their favorite.

“The red one is going to win.” Say the voice of Thrawn next to you.

You turn your head towards him and turn it back immediately, your eyes round like saucers, incapable of supporting such a view. Indeed, a simple apparel such as a swimsuit and a towel let you admire all of his body. All of his musculature, his well defined biceps and chiseled abs. His shoulders appear even broader and the muscles of his back are so well defined. His legs are strong and long and his musky scent reaches your nose, you inhale deeply to the depth of your lungs. Already his skin seems to gleam with the steam and shine. And his trunk is deliciously form-hugging, letting little to the imagination. You shake your head. Nather! You’re with Nather! You search him in the crowd and notice his long blonde hair in front of you. If you must lust after someone it’s him! And he’s not the last of the bunch, you know he takes care of himself in the gym even if he’s pretty humble about it.

“What makes you say that?” You ask, trying to keep your voice equal.

“Her technique is better and her supports are more grounded.”

You discreetly place your hand to hide Thrawn in your peripheral vision, and focus on Nather. That’s when it hits you: He does take care of himself at the gym. His wide shoulders are framed by his golden locks, and the motion of his applauses lets you appreciate the muscles of his arms that are definitely stronger than when you started dating six years ago. The sun pierce through the window and comes to bathe his white skin in a bright aura. You notice a small tattoo on his lower back that you’ve never noticed before. In fact it encircles his whole waist as a delicate line with embellishments that dive in his groin. With a gulp you wonder how far the tattoo goes. It magnificently enhances his lower back and abs. He notices you staring at him and slides next to you.

“See something you like?” He grins slyly.

You stammer under your breath. You realize you’re in a precarious position, stuck between those two men in bathing trunks with gleaming skin. You feel suffocating and your face heats up dangerously. You fan yourself with your hand. 

“Maybe you would have preferred to see two oiled men wrestle?” He laughs

You nudge him. He guffaws, holding his sides. 

“That can be done. Eli? What about a match?” He asks Eli next to him. 

Before he can respond, Thrawn takes the ground.

“Lieutenant commander Vanto still has ground to grow in this art. If you want an opponent, I am more tailored for the role.”

You look at him, eyes wide open. What’s with him so suddenly? He looks straight into the eyes of Nather, with a defiant expression. Both look at each other in silence, for a second  you’re sure Nather’s gonna decline. 

“Sure! Let’s get over there.” He gestures a sanded zone away from the agitation of the first combat.

Thrawn detaches his towel from his waist and gives it to you.

“Wish me luck.”  He almost murmurs.

You look at him, mouth agape, not knowing what to say. Nather also entrusts you with his towel and kisses your knuckles.

“Support me, my pearl.”

You watch those two idiots place themself without knowing what to do. Thrawn takes a fistfull of sand and rubs his hands while Nather stretches his muscles. They both hunch, ready to fight it right here and there. Eli gives the go and they dive forward, grappling the other with all their force. Eli, next to you, is 100% for his superior.

“Let’s go, sir!”

You remain silent, observing them fight in the sand, their muscles flexing under the effort. They clash, grasp and seize their sides or their limbs, trying to make the other fall. The combat is balanced for now, but it is obvious Nather won’t last against a well trained warrior. That doesn’t refrain him from giving devastating knee blows in the ribs of Thrawn. He takes it and manages to block him in an armlock. The former fight over, the people gather around them and start cheering and applauding. 

“You can do it, Commodore !” Screams Eli.

Nather removes himself from the lock and slides between Thrawn's legs to escape his hold, behind his back he attacks the leg to make him fall but Thrawn evades with agility and turns on himself to seize his adversary once again. The fight comes to a tie with both of them holding position, they struggle to overpower the other, each pushing with all their might.

“Come on Nather! You can do it!” You yell over the gathering voices.

You don’t know why but Thrawn seems to freeze a second and Nather manages to push him over. But Thrawn doesn’t release him and they both fall over. Quickly Nather rolls over his shoulder and takes a fistfull of sand discreetly. He approaches Thrawn cautiously and throws it in his face. Thrawn groans in surprise and closes his eyes, trying to remove the sand off them. Nather sprints and tackles him to the ground, holding his limbs on the ground. An observer starts the count.

“3, 2, 1. Stop!”

Nather wins.

He stands up, his arm raised under the ovation of the gathering. The applause echoes against the marble. Thrawn stands up with difficulty, trying to get the sand out of his eyes while Eli is fuming.

“You’ve cheated!” He mumbles.

“I used a tactic.” Nather correct with a smile.

“An honorable warrior would not have done that in a fair fight.” Thrawn says, still rubbing one red eye.

“Well, I’m not a warrior, I’m a politician. We don’t play fair, we play to win.” He comes to you with his impeccable pearly white smile. “I’ve won, my pearl!”

“Congratulations.” You smile back, giving him back his towel.

“I think I deserve more than words. I’ve defeated a commodore.” He takes your face delicately and kisses you deeply, in front of everyone. It takes out all your breath and leaves you panting. Your face heats up as you realize a fair share of the people present is looking at you. 

Eli frowns with his arms crossed, clearly displeased. You give his towel back to Thrawn.

“I’m sorry.” You say with a contrite smile.

“It is well. I wanted to evaluate his character.” His hands brush yours as he takes back his cloth, you quickly retract it.

“Did you find what you searched for?”

“Perhaps.”

And that sounds like the end of a discussion with him. 

"Let's get in the bath !" Nather exclaims

You follow him, Eli reluctantly  and enter a large round room filled to the brim with steam and suffocating heat. You watch your surroundings and yelp in surprise. There is no dress code for the thermae, meaning some people walk around completely naked. You and Eli are quick to hide behind your hands. 

"Interesting." Says Nather as a naked pantoran walks in front of him. "By the way, the complex is frequented by a lot of prostitutes, so if someone gets cuddly with you, watch your wallet." 

You look at him with eyes wide open, he tells you that only now ? Next to you Eli's also choked. Thrawn has his eyes fixed on the ceiling, observing the reconstitution of a painting, completely blind to the naked wonders of mother nature in front of him. 

"So what should we do ?" Eli asks, rubbing his hands. 

"You, I don't know. But my Pearl and I have different cares reserved for us." Nather takes your hand and guides you to a big alcove with some personnel. 

You pass the next hour and a half being doll up, waxed, oiled, pampered, enjoyed a sauna, nail and hair care and finally a massage. 

"Do you enjoy yourself, my Pearl ?" He asks. 

You deeply sigh, eyes closed

"Yes. I'm so… Relaxed." You could fall asleep on the table, being kneaded by the expert hands of the aesthetician. 

He extends his hand to hold yours, smiling with sparkling eyes. 

"Good."

You look at him with a heart full of love, but also conflicted. Contrary to what you thought, you’re not over your fling for Thrawn and seeing him today is a painful reminder that you’re not infallible. You look at those men with tenderness and love but Thrawn shines with that aura of invincibility while Nather is much more approachable. 

You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. Maker, please make you strong enough to pass this trial and stay loyal. He doesn’t see me like that you repeat in your head. No need to worry about a possible cheat because no occasion will arise, you reason. You intertwine your fingers. I love Nather, I will remain loyal whatever happens!  

You finally get into a pool, you slowly enter the hot water, moaning with pleasure at the delicious sensations. You swim around, avoiding the different persons in the water and let it warm your body. You fully immerse yourself, holding back your breath. As you emerge you see Thrawn on the bank of the pool, you wave at him but he doesn't see you. You squint trying to see what he does in this fog, you swim to approach and discern a naked Twi’lek caressing his chest. You froze. She laugh, holding a glass of Calamnsi. 

She is beautiful. More than you.

You immerse yourself until only your eyes are visible, not wanting to be caught spying.

Be reasonable, you think, you’re not together, he’s free to have adventures, just be chill. He grasps her hand delicately and pulls it out of his chest to hold it, eyes locked with hers. You can’t hear what they are saying but you can hear her crystalline laugh. Your heart bleeds a little at this scene. You cross your arms, hugging yourself.

She approaches slowly with an intimate smile. You can’t see clearly but you think she’s murmuring sweet nothing in his ear. You dug your nails in your flesh, heart pierced. No! Stop! You shake your head. Don’t torture yourself with that. A sudden sting in your arms makes you realize you draw blood from your wound. You pass your hand over the bleeding, trying to get it to stop.

“Everything is alright?” Thrawn’s voice draw your attention.

He’s swimming slowly, joining you lazily.

“Yes! I just didn’t want to interrupt you.” You answer precipitaly.

“It was just a prostitute. I had to decline a generous offer.” He says, closing his eyes to appreciate the water temperature.

“Ha…” 

You stay silent, unsure how to build on that. You just let yourself float at his side against the bank.

“So, Roween?” He asks with an interrogative look.

“It’s a nickname. I got it at church, we like to call each other nicknames. To get used to it.”

“A church?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. I frequent Nather’s church for how long? One? Two years?” You try to count “It’s a movement advocating for equal rights.”

He doesn’t add anything, sighing at the sensation of the warm water. As you float you graze him with the tip of your fingers, you feel goose bumps rising on your skin.

“You have a pirate problem I came to understand?” 

“Indeed, a large organized group steals the empire’s slaves around Tyrahn, we’re not sure to what end. We have hunted them for 6 years and only tackled minor ships. We have difficulty reaching their base and mothership.”   

He nods, concentrating.

“You should send the audio records, the trajectories, the interrogations reports… Every minute informations you have. I could find you a recurring pattern.”

“You could do that?” You ask full of hope.

“Perhaps…”

“How are you doing on your side? I heard stories of your feats, you’re getting famous in the profession.”

He chuckles lightly.

“I confirm only the most flattering of the stories. The rest is gossip.” A lopsided grin on his lips.

You stay like that for a good moment chatting about everything and nothing, mostly work. You laugh every now and then. You pass a good time at his side, but soon enough it is time to go.

“We should start looking for our dear partners.” You say rising from the water.

“(Y/n)...”

He looks at you with eyes wide open and reaches for his towel.

“What?” You ask

“Please, cover yourself.”

You look down to realize horrified your swimsuit gets see-through once wet. You cover yourself with your hands, looking around that nobody’s seeing you, you feel your face heating up and panic rising. Thrawn puts his arms around you to wrap you in his towel. You’re pressed against his pectorals as he does that, worsening your blushing. You fell your mind freezing at the contact of his warm wet skin.

“There.” He whispers “Problem solved.” 

He moves aside and you nod to thank him with an embarrassed smile. You separate to search for your friends. You walk in the blinding steam searching for Nather’s mane.

Finally you notice them speaking together, a little away from everything and everyone. As you strut closer you start to see more clearly what they are doing in the fog. Nather is holding Eli’s chin and leaning forward. You slow down until you stop. What are they doing ? Are they… Are they… kissing ? 

You freeze in shock.

The fog is partially blinding you but you’re positive about what you see. Impossible. He… They can’t do that! 

As they part you hide behind a column, shaked to the core. You crouch, your face hiding in your hands. The scene replays tirelessly in your head. You lost your breath, feeling dizzy, the air is too stifling all of the sudden.

“(Y/n)? Why are you crouching? Are you feeling alright?” Eli inquires, catching your attention.

You stand up in a jolt, dusting yourself up, wiping any tears that might have rolled without you noticing.

“No! I’m good, just taking back my breath.” 

You look at him, he observes you with such innocent eyes.

“Good. You should be cautious with those hot atmospheres.” He exclaims with a joyful smile.

You glare at him, seeing only worries and good intention to your regard. No, you can’t believe he would do that to you. Sweet Eli. The most incorruptible soul you know, it’s unthinkable. But what were they doing there? 

You hug yourself, still shocked.

“Come! Let's get out of here.” He says with a blissful tone.

He extends his hand to you, you fix it, mute, unsure of what to do.

“Coming…”  

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics

[myreia]

wip whenever

I missed Wednesday, oh well. 🫠

tagged by the lovely @thevikingwoman, @lilas and @hylfystt, thank you! 💖 tagging @tsunael, @roguelioness, @coldshrugs, @impossible-rat-babies, @birues, @fourteenthz, @scionshtola, @galadae @gefiltefished

This is a bit from Chapter 5 of the thing I am currently working on. Context - Aur's Echo pings weird shit when she travels between the First and the Source., sometimes she gets to spy on her family and see what they're up to.

Beyond the door, an elite Garlean scientist occupies her usual chair, her rank denoted by her white coat and the insignia on her shoulder. Taller than most of her kind, with sharp features and dark hair woven into a single long plait. She coldly reviews the files before her with a no-nonsense flick of one hand, the other tapping impatiently on the desk’s surface. Her ruby eyes glint in the artificial light.

It is unusual for an Elezen to make it this far in the ranks. And yet here she is, Elgara lux Theorzen, dispatched to this distant provincial base after a spectacular failure that was a decade in the making. She is fortunate she retained as much as she did. That her husband did not also take the fall. Her family is, for the most part, intact.

As much as it can be.

“I see you received the notice.”

The voice speaks from the shadows.

Elgara purses her lips, her brows drawing together in the slightest of frowns. It is as much as she will give him. “There’s no need to lurk, Kal,” she says, turning over another file. “Sit and speak with me properly.”

A snort. A man slinks out of the shadows half-hunched, his arms folded across his chest. He leans against the far wall, one knee bent with his foot pressed against it, and observes her with narrowed red eyes. He’s grown thin, ragged, in the time since she saw him last. His cheeks are sunken, his jaw worn, still covered with the scratchy stubble that certainly goes against Imperial code. The tips of his half-Elezen ears poke through tangled black hair, its length another strike against the code.

A hollow zealousness flares in his eyes—intense, wanting, and hungry.

“Been an age since you’ve called me Kal, Elgara,” Kallias says.

She shrugs and turns a file over. “Been an age since you’ve called me ‘mother,’” she replies and moves a finger down the page. With a dismissive tsk of her tongue, she grabs a pen and signs the bottom with precise, effective movements. “You don’t hear me complaining about that.”

“Not a complaint, mother. Just an observation. Besides, I would never dare to insult a colleague by addressing her with such informal abandon. I have manners.”

“Colleague is it now?”

“We are no longer in the same chain of command and we are of an equivalent rank. Colleague is appropriate, don’t you think?”

His voice rasps, deep and thick, and he casually raises a hand to pick at his nails. The hilts of his twin daggers glinting in the artificial light. There’s a threat here, buried just beneath the surface. His is the demeanour of a trained killer, a weapon in human form—he could kill her in a instant if he so desire.

But if Elgara notices, she gives no sign.

“True,” she says, not a crack in her composure. Perhaps she has already welcomed death at his hand. Perhaps she is counting on it. “Which stands the reason—why are you here? You no longer have clearance to enter.”

His brows draw together, a sneer forming on his lips. Chuckling darkly, he pushes off the wall and strolls across the observation deck, idly stretching his arms above his head. His movements may appear casual, but they only further put his weapons on display. He wants her to see. He wants her to know.

“This particular piece of intelligence is sensitive,” he says. “I thought it best to limit those who know during this time of upheaval. Even the legatuses, if necessary. But a single menial officer, hidden away in the least influential province? Her ears are safe.”

Elgara presses the tip of her pen to paper, red ink blooming across the crisp white page.

“She’s returned. From whatever hole she thought to hide herself in these past few months.”

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Ordior Arma

tagged by @dirty-bosmer tyty❤️ tagging @nientedenada and @tallmatcha, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T Category: gen Main Character: Hadvar of Riverwood Genre(s): Coming of Age, Fish out of Water, Special Interest: The works of Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

Summary: Hadvar of Riverwood arrives in Cyrodiil as an Imperial Legion officer candidate recruit with very lofty ideas about what exactly being a soldier is all about. Those ideals are tested as he goes through the rigorous Legion training school and tries to acclimate to the much more "civilized" Imperial way of life in the Heartland Province. This is scene happens near the mid point of the fic. Zelmog gra-Morkul is an orc recruit in his training cohort. Immunis (pl. Immunes) was a rank in the Roman military that was given to those who instructed recruits in the art of warfare. (It was also given to specialists like engineers, doctors, etc, those who were immune from regular duty like digging latrines.)

Hadvar's eyes widened at the exquisite blade that was revealed as the wrappings fell away. The sword was beautifully balanced, with a dull olive sheen that flashed when the light struck it just right, marking it as made from an orichalcum alloy. Rather than the curved single-edged swords that had sometimes come through Uncle Alvor's workshop for repair, it was double-edged and straight, the broad blade perfect for the stabbing motions the Legion had drilled into them.The handle was wrapped in black and red leather, and the delicate metalwork of the hilt marked the smith as a master craftsman. A large black stone was set into the pommel.

"Zel, it's beautiful!"

"I suppose it is," Zelmog said, her voice quiet. "My mother made it, her mark is here." She ran her thumb over part of the hilt, where a flaming hammer was seamlessly contained in the scrollwork.

"See, you didn't have to worry about your family being disappointed," he said, grinning. "This sword is better than half the weapons I've seen actual Tribunes wearing! I guess you have to use the weapons they say during training but just think of how impressive it will look when we've got our own commands!"

"Yes...proud." Zelmog smiled at Hadvar, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. Something was bothering her, and Hadvar could not work out what. "That's what this means. She's proud of me." Zelmog sighed and looked out the doorway. "I'm going to go work on that maneuver Master Graccus was showing us. You'd better get back to-"

"Recruits!" Immunis Siccia's voice rang out behind them, Hadvar and Zelmog immediately snapped to attention and saluted, their fists hitting their chests in unison. "At ease." They both relaxed marginally as Siccia approached.

She held out her hands, and Zelmog dutifully placed the sword and its wrappings in her open palms.

"I thought that might be what was in that package, recruit. It's beautiful work."

"Yes, ma'am."

For a few long moments Siccia looked over the sword, testing its balance and inspecting the careful stitching on the leather. Finally she spoke.

"Many of our most distinguished officers wear weapons they received from their strongholds instead of the weapons the Legion issued them. You may do so if and when you wish."

Hadvar was surprised - he had never heard of a recruit being allowed to have their own weapon during training! He shot a happy look at Zelmog, but she was still staring at the sword in Siccia's hands.

"I- I'd like it to be placed with my personal belongings, ma'am." Her voice was flat.

"Of course recruit. I will personally see that it is secured appropriately." Siccia started to turn away, then paused. "You are well on your way to being an exemplary Legion officer, Zelmog."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"As you were."

When Siccia had disappeared around the corner, Hadvar turned to Zelmog with a wide grin. "I bet that's the first time Siccia has ever given a recruit a compliment! I can't-"

"I'm going to go to the weapons yard," Zelmog interrupted him. "I need to be alone."

Before Hadvar could say anything, Zelmog was stalking quickly down the path to the training yard, and he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he had missed something very important.

[originalleftist]

Wheel of Time Theory/Headcannon (Spoilers):

So, if you know The Wheel of Time series, a big part of the premise is basically that time is cyclical (hence the title), with ages and events recurring, and people being reincarnated, in slightly different forms each time around. And the setting has a chosen one, known by the title of the Dragon, who's role is to be reborn again and again to fight against the Shadow, but who also ends up causing the apocalypse. Save the world and break it, etc. And while the series is mostly epic fantasy, it's also heavily implied that it is the far, far future of our modern world (or the past, I suppose, given the aforementioned cycle).

Accordingly, the series draws on (or, less charitably, appropriates) quite a lot of different inspirations from both different mythologies and actual history, but there's one connection, as someone who's done a fair amount of amateur research on this part of history, that caught my attention. I honestly don't know if Robert Jordan ever intended it, but it fits, at least to me. Probably someone has come up with this before, but if they have I don't recall seeing it, so here goes:

Sir Francis Drake was an incarnation of the Dragon.

If you've been living under a rock for the last five centuries or so and don't know who Sir Francis Drake is, he was an English sailor and slave trader (yeah, not exactly a heroic figure, but the Dragon isn't always either) who made a career shift to pirate/privateer (basically a state-sponsored pirate). But the thing is, he was basically THE pirate. The one who pirated on such a scale that he basically changed the course of global history, and set the standard for every pirate (or at least every Anglo pirate) afterward. He led the first English expedition to circumnavigate the world (and the first commander ever to survive the voyager). The treasure he plundered on the way basically single-handedly paid off England's debt, with treasure to spare. Then he went on to help lead the fight against the Spanish Armada, and basically save England from invasion. He is, arguably, one of the people most responsible for the existence of the British Empire, and the shape of the modern world as we know it.

He came at the transition from one age to another (Middle Ages to modern), and he remade the world- though whether for the better or worse is debatable.

But the real kicker? His name, Drake, refers to a mythical creature much like a dragon. And the name the Spanish gave him? El Draque- literally, "The Dragon".

(Side note: He was even red-haired like Rand Al Thor).

So yeah, within the Wheel of Time universe, it makes considerable sense for Drake to have been exactly what his name suggests.

Edit: I can't believe I left this out, but there is actually a legend that Drake' will return whenever England is in danger's drum will sound whenever England is in danger, and that Drake will rise from the dead to save England.

[keire-ke]

Why is Way of Water

Avatar Way of Water was terrible, but in very interesting ways. It's better than the first one in that it's less paint by numbers, less white-saviory, and less boring (also less voice-over, thank god), but also worse in that it's a hot mess of everything under the fucking sun. It should either be one hour shorter or five hours longer, and it's not a good thing.

IDK maybe someone should go and check in on James Cameron, because this movie felt like he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make all seven sequels, so he tried to cram all of them here. As a result I'm not even sure what the movie wanted to be about, because we had, in no particular order, protecting family, rich are evil, difficulty of dealing with change, family: nature or nurture, humans are bad, but also humanity is in a crisis, also some humans can be good, is it better to run from conflict or to face it, the curse of being the middle child, Jesus was a lil' weirdo when you think about it, killing can be good, actually, societal consequences can be unfair, marines just gotta punch something.

None of it was done with any depth or well.

There were things I found absolutely enraging:

You have two parents: the father, who is thy commanding officer, and also the sapient planet that encompasses all

Neytiri was underutilised to the point of pain. I don't recall if she was even allowed to have a relationship with her own children beyond screaming for them occasionally. The movie starts with a voice over by Jake Sully, which eh, if you must. However, most of the events of the movie affect Neytiri much more profoundly than they affect him, so centering on weakens the overall impact. Most of the attempted themes are about family, but throughout Jake treats his family like a precious resource he needs to protect for himself, so it's pretty shallow, giving me serious John Winchester vibes. Every time one of the kids said "sir" to their father I was expecting something to come out of it, like "I'm the chief, so it's appropriate in battle, but now I am no longer that, we need to re-examine our relations". Spoiler: nothing did.

Meanwhile, Neytiri, a member of a species whose community ties are reinforced by their very real deity, is there upending her whole life and severing ties to her community, she's dealing with the inclusion of aliens in her family, as the (prospective) shaman it should have been her role to be the spiritual leader, alas.

Colonel Evil Marine

Are you fucking kidding me, what the fuck. That was some bullshit, start to finish.

The technology to upload memories into avatars kinda... invalidates the whole program from the first movie? If that's possible (and there was no indication this was something only just invented), shouldn't this be done for all potential avatar operators? In case they die from, IDK, extreme mental strain and/or random bar fight.

Why would he want to be cloned as an alien in the first place?

It's not entirely unbelievable he went from a commander guy who was willing to do everything to get his job done, to a single-minded revenge machine (although... yikes), but the fact that somehow he was able to commandeer all the resources for his personal revenge?

The subplot with the son... I mean. What a weird, heavy and meaty plotline to shove onto a background character and a two-bit villain.

Unobtainium 2.0

Yeah... what. What was the point. That ties into nothing, does nothing. I swear it's like James Cameron heard about whaling for the first time during brainstorming phase, and just needed to add it.

The unobtainium from the first movie is mocked as a MacGuffin, but for however clumsily it's explained there, it's a synecdoche for the source of conflict: humanity needs resources, Pandora has resources. Even without the background information that it's apparently for space travel and magnetic properties we can understand the idea.

Here it's a magic anti-aging serum worth millions for a small vial, ergo it's for rich individuals, but that's not the conflict we get introduced to earlier, which is, to wit, "Earth is dying, humanity needs to move".

The space Jesus and the rape jokes

So run this by me again: Sigourney Weaver was not uploaded into her avatar because she died during the transfer, avatars are not transferable, so instead of burying both bodies they... put the avatar... in storage...? Also she got mysteriously impregnated? And the kids joke about their (presumably) friends and mentors... raping the corpse?

The resulting child is able to straight up control the planets biosphere with her mind. Cool.

The kids

I rather liked them, which is impressive! Child characters are hard to pull off. Aside from the smallest one, that one was entirely pointless. Certain aspects were unclear, like at some point we're expected to believe that the middle child feels like he's a disappointment to his family because... why exactly? He gets the others in trouble, sure, but it's not like he actively fails at something, other than following (somewhat arbitrary) rules. He's already a warrior by the tribe's standard (I presume, by the fact he is involved in the attack early on), but he gets grounded like a child? His subplot with the whale suggests he's uncomfortable with societal rules, doesn't understand them and wants to do his own thing, except he very clearly isn't and doesn't, he gets in trouble for disobeying the letter not the spirit of the rules. He doesn't even get a proper "well done son guy", and his "reconciliation" with Jake is teaching him the water tribe skills, which would matter more if a) Jake was at any point having trouble with adjusting to living in the water, b) the skills were what was the problem.

Spider was fascinating. First, who did his manscaping? I demand to know! But jokes aside, if not about Neytiri the movie should have been about him.

The whale

Go whale! I'm team whale.

The way of water

Sure would be nice if we got to see more of the practices of the water tribes, instead of montage skipping to action scenes.

Aesthetics

Very beautiful. My only complaint was the Sigourney Weaver character, her face was too uncanny valley for me.

Music

Present.

Overall

I was really mad when I walked out of the cinema, and I had a hard time enjoying the visuals because there were just too many concepts to be absorbed and then disappointed by. There's so much in here that could have been a great movie! Or three! But like so many current blockbusters it feels like this movie was written by an AI, words slapped on a page, superficially connected and making sense, but the number of fingers does not add up to a hand.

[galacticwildfire]

Fire Meet Gasoline | Poe Dameron

Four

Poe Dameron x Solo Original Character

Hope Solo’s haunted by the night the temple burned. Having gone rogue she hunts the First Order in search of answers until a fateful encounter with Poe Dameron brings her back to the Resistance and Leia puts her daughter under his command to find Luke Skywalker.

Word count: 8.2k

Tags/warnings: leia pov, poe pov, snap being a wingman, poe being mortified but still curious, leia debating if it's better or worse for her sanity to make hope and poe partners, references to family violence and other related themes of broken family, references to murder and kidnapping of children, references to the spice runner plot. typical r2 and threepio.

All my stories are written for adults with adult themes, I use appropriate tags but read at your discretion.

A/N: no hope pov this chapter, it was moved to the next one because this one rounded out at 12k originally. moving onto the plot of before the awakening and there'll be much more interaction between hope and poe going forward. this is more plot based and slowburny than what i usually write.

~

~

~

Leia

I put my head in my hands and for the first time in so long weep.

I was harsh, but the words were nothing but the truth no matter how she may have interpreted them. As brilliant as she is I've raised an entitled child who isn't afraid to use her own pain for her personal benefit, never afraid to pull the dirtiest cards to win an argument. To this day I truly do curse pushing her into politics, if she's learned nothing else it's how to argue.

I'd always admired her stubbornness, her refusal to back down, until I happened to be at the receiving end of the very qualities she'd inherited from me. I know she's better than this, I've seen her determination. I just need to give her a reason to believe in the cause again. When I was her age every single day I questioned if what we did was making a true difference, times aren't as desperate as they were then but they will be if she isn't out there fighting how the Resistance needs her to be.

It pains me for her to physically recoil from my touch when in the days after the temple burned she'd laid in my bed with her head in my lap for the first time since she was a child. As I had at the same tender age when an accident had also taken from me someone I'd cared for. I knew she mourned her friend Aylee, a Twi'lek girl Hope had always harboured feelings for but never acted on, but I suspect that had changed shortly before the fire as she'd turned up at my door after they'd fought, high strung and not wanting to return to the temple.

Whatever was said Hope had taken it to heart and has been utterly sour towards the idea of any closeness with anyone since, even as friendship. I'd tried to get her to understand as best I could that one adolescent fight doesn't leave a person scorned for life, and it was during that ordeal she came to the first meeting of the Resistance. She decided to devote herself to the cause until Ben had demanded she return with him as she had also committed herself as his apprentice, and for the first time I saw my daughter look at him in fear even if she returned willingly.

I thought they'd be safe with Luke, and then days later the temple burned.

Whenever I'd tried to tell Hope I had also lost someone who meant something similar to me at that age she couldn't bare to listen to it, especially not when I told her a greater love found me mere years later. She didn't want to hear it, and in truth neither did I at her age either. I think it was then she'd decided the only way to ever avoid feeling such pain was to not love, something I wish I did not understand.

I remember well my own resolution even now and debating the reasons behind it. Because I couldn't trust anyone completely, because I didn't deserve to find love, because I didn't know how to bear another loss like it.

Except I would, I would find love and I would certainly know loss.

As will she.

At only seventeen when she woke from the aftermath of the disaster she pulled away from everyone she cared about, she lost contact with the Naberrie family on Naboo, even with the cousin with whom she had spent her teenage years being raised alongside by my aunt. But she did not just lose a girl she cared for that day, if that was all she'd lost perhaps she would have mourned and healed, she lost far more than that.

She lost herself.

It would not be until the aftermath I'd learn from of the fights that had occurred between my children in the lead up to the disaster. The bruises Lando had seen on her arm and R2 having reluctantly told me Hope had to order him not to stun Ben when he'd lost his mind following the revelation of who Anakin Skywalker became. Her faithful droid, putting himself between her and my son to protect her. He'd already harmed her before that fateful night, that much R2 has confirmed. He is a loyal droid, but when it comes to Hope's welfare he puts that above all else. So when I hear Hope now in tears trying to bring Ben back... it only leaves me feeling ill, knowing she has somehow convinced herself him falling to the darkside was her fault.

The one thing I never thought Ben could be capable of would be harming Hope, but she's right. She has the permanent scars to prove she knows the darkness that's corrupted him better than I ever could, yet even now she still tries to protect him.

Aylee, her friends, everyone had been killed in the blaze along with one other student who we'd found killed from a lightsaber wound, body covered by Luke in a shallow grave nearby. Not that we had ever dared disclose that information to Hope. She insists she remembers little of what occurred after lightning struck the temple, and to this day I still do not want to know which of my children had put Voe in her grave, a girl Ben's own age, not unlike Karé Kun in physical appearance with bronzed skin and short blonde hair. Although deep down I know who had struck the girl down, even if Hope doesn't.

It's been my theory it was her who had left that final lightsaber burn upon Hope, as unfortunate as it is I know if Hope had set out to kill Voe that the girl never would have lived long enough to leave such a wound upon Hope, so I have some peace knowing whatever violence she committed that night was in self defence. But as for after that... I believe Luke had put her in a healing trance to keep her alive until we arrived awhile he pursued Ben and two other students who had taken after him, their bodies also found at a later date off world. We never heard from him again aside from the distress signal he had sent out to us that night.

She suppresses it, I know because whenever I try to broach the subject it's a physical and psychological recoil. She cannot bear it without falling into a panic attack or forcing her way out of the room. It is my mistake having had her believe strength is being unflinching in the face of trauma and only facing it once the fight is over, she has always led by example after all, but in her mind the fight has never ended and I know she fears it never will.

I just wish she would let me in, that she would let me try to help her.

But I know by now that there's one way to get through to her, and it's to put her to work.

In the year since she's left we've been able to assemble two naval squadrons of which I've recently put Poe in charge. Blue Squadron to lead the planetary defence and red to support it. Originally I had planned to promote her and put them under her command, but then the incident happened and here we are. Once she proves herself not just capable but willing I do still intend on putting red squadron under her command with Poe continuing to lead the other. She was specifically trained for planetary defence on Naboo, the apparent offensive training is her own doing, and I know she's always aspired to climb the ranks. For someone who will gladly mock senators and their preoccupations with titles she sure is particular about rank.

Although according to Padmé Amidala's surviving handmaidens,that is also unfortunately inherited.

She's no doubt furious with me that Poe's been made commander of these squadrons while she wasn't, but that much is her own doing. If she weren't so damn stubborn she'd be part of high command by now, but no, I'm having to sit and debate with her the legality of war crimes.

She's no doubt preparing to leave, and if I don't handle this situation carefully I'll lose her for good, but spite always has been her best motivator. She's taken a liking to Poe, or at least found a need to prove herself better, which may just be more effective. Meanwhile Poe's no doubt reeling from mortification considering he's stated his admiration of her quite clearly while looking me in the eye no less. As for her own attraction to him, well, that much is certainly obvious. 

Maker help me.

But I could still put this to use for Saber Strike. Individually they are brilliant, the most efficient agents the Resistance has, not because of their skillsets but because they would each die before admitting failure. Poe is perhaps the best pilot of his generation and Hope certainly is of her's. Poe is a person who certainly lives for the thrill of a skirmish but is not prone to violence, if anything he seems queasy about it. Hope meanwhile... I will not be allowing her in the field alone for a very long time if ever.

However, unfortunately the rebellion was not won through righteousness alone. I know Hope's extremism also existed within the Rebel Alliance and that they were the ones who had the stomach to do what needed to be done in those early days. Hope is as much of a realist as they come, a young Luthan Rael if ever one lived, and by my own sad admittance, cursed to use the tools of her enemy to defeat them as much as I may still detest it. It is true that with Luke missing it is Hope who is the last Jedi, the last one who can destroy Snoke, unless...

Regardless of whatever I may wish, my own daughter has deified herself as the self sacrificial saviour who will destroy the darkness at the cost of everything, never stopping for a moment to witness the collateral damage she leaves in her wake. My only fear is how far she would go, how brutally she would destroy herself in the name of destroying Snoke.

Whilst Poe... as much as I do admire him, he has a similar naivety as Luke did when it comes to certain things. His faith in the force and in the light is stronger than that of most Jedi who have lived, although considering his own stint in the Outer Rims it seems to be his choice, rather than ignorance, to believe righteousness and all those qualities my generation tried to instill in our children will prevail in the end. A quality much needed in the galaxy and one I will forever encourage profusely. However, he like most members of the Resistance fail to understand the darkness in the force that shrouds the First Order in secrecy.

I've never spoken a word of it to Poe, but I am very much aware of where he'd ended up before the Navy. Kes had reached out to every contact he had to try to find Poe when he ran away as a teenager and got involved in a similar line of work as Hope now has. I was unable to provide much assistance but Han knew the ins and outs of that world and put Kes on the right course to find his son, although it seems he couldn't do the same for his own daughter. I've never judged Poe for it, just as I can't truly judge Hope for it either. It seems at this point to be a right of passage to end up caught in that sort of mess searching for adventure, or rather escape.

And as Hope would no doubt remind me, it could always be worse. Her brother is proof of that. Another card she isn't afraid to pull. 

Poe came out the other end of that brief career and straightened himself out, and while he still most certainly has his moments he is the undoubtedly the more responsible of the two. He and Hope would understand each other quite well if they gave each other the chance, or rather if she let her guards down, and by all accounts he should make the ideal mentor to her. There's nine years between them with Poe going on thirty and Hope twenty one, if they'd met a few years earlier I certainly would have had Poe mentor her. Although it's quite blindingly clear to me now that any sort of mentorship is off the table with how he looks at her, even if I dare say he's backtracked whatever sort of flirtations he no doubt made before I arrived.

To ask Poe to mentor her would be ethically and practically unreasonable now, but a partnership... that is a risky proposition that command will certainly hate me for but it may just work. A partnership between them could either be the best decision I've ever made or the worst. From the quite explicit tension between them I'd unfortunately encountered it could very well end in something command would not approve of or in utter disaster. Even if it did go a certain way... ethically I should be opposed to that thought but I can't deny the fact that they could make quite the partnership in the field and off of it.

However, the fact stands that I cannot trust her to be in the field by herself and I am still very reluctant to put Poe in harms way when I know with her there that the risk of fatalities, on our side at least, would drop to near zero. He would keep her from going too far whilst she would ensure they both make it out alive.

And in the long term... I have high hopes for each of them but there are areas in which each are lacking, flaws they both share. Poe is a brilliant commander, his commitment is absolute, but he is difficult. He doesn't mean to be, but it's just in his nature just as it's in Hope's. If I recall my conversations with Kes he's been that way since he was a child and maker knows Hope was the same. I can handle each of them and their personalities well, at present Poe more so, but command simply cannot. Brance is probably sobbing to himself at this very moment at the thought of both of them on the same base interacting let alone putting them in the field together.

Working together would certainly be a self reflective experience for them both as as for Hope... well, it's past time she learned to work with anyone but herself. Her and Poe mirror each other greatly, there are many benefits that could come of them working together as partners but an even greater chance of it ending in disaster knowing their mutual compulsions towards reacting not just emotionally but also impulsively.

But at this rate I'm willing to try anything, and ultimately whether or not they want to work together is their choice to make. I dare say Poe will jump at the opportunity, if anything I'll be trying to get him to be realistic instead of up in the clouds, but Hope will take more convincing,

"Threepio," I call and he comes in from the next room. "Ensure R2 doesn't leave with Hope, have him download Hope's ship logs before bringing him to me and have Korr ask Poe to meet me here in my office please."

~

Poe

Whatever happened in that office wasn't pretty from the way she stormed out, so naturally I'm shitting myself as I wait in the hanger to inevitably be called in to see Leia. Only a few months I've been here and I'm about to get put on probation because I was trying to impress a girl who just happens to be the General's daughter, after looking the general in the eye and telling her just how pretty I think she is.

I should have put it together the moment I saw her, I mean technically I did but dismissed it since that was the last place I'd expect to find the kid of Leia Organa. I saw explosions and then a pretty girl with a mouth on her and there really wasn't anything else I thought I needed to know. When we were in the field I was blown away, having expected to see the fighter get blown to bits only for it to take out the ties in a way I've never seen anyone else do in my life. I'm still in awe of it.

It should have clicked in my head that type of pilot had to be the sort of crazy I'd often hear my Dad tell me about when he'd recount his war days with Han Solo, and it sure as hell should have clicked the moment I realised she knew the general and had worked for the Resistance. But again, I was not thinking with my head and I'm pretty sure Leia knows it, hell she said as much.

I'm in trouble, I'm definitely in trouble.

Hope Solo, everyone knows her name. It's almost synonymous with the rest of her family's considering the headlines she made when the truth about Leia's biological father was exposed. Even now I have trouble believing Darth Vader physically could have created someone like Leia Organa. I wouldn't have ever believed it if she hadn't confessed to it being true but people aren't their parents, so that leaves me wondering just who Hope Solo is.

Everyone in the navy was gathered in the cramped mess hall to watch Leia's first and last address to the senate after it was revealed. Many of the people in there had served in the Rebellion and took the attack personally, some felt betrayed by her, but those who knew her personally felt horrified on her behalf. I still remember Wedge Antilles shaking his head as they tried to attack Luke Skywalker as well. But everyone in that room who ever knew Leia was deadly silent when another senator insinuated that her daughter could become what Vader was and holy hell did Hope Solo make a name for herself then.

I vaguely remember a quiet looking girl who took after Leia standing beside her in the senate, now I look back on it I don't know how I didn't recognise her considering her face was all over the holonews for weeks but I'd chalk that up to age and the gritty makeup. When they hurled every ridiculous conspiracy they could at Leia no one expected her daughter to stand up and call half the senate imperial sympathisers, an accusation no one was game enough to even utter. I didn't care much about the politics, didn't get the context of whatever was happening in the senate before then other than the fact they were trying to screw over the navy by cutting funding, but the moment the senators decided to try to spewIimperial propaganda about the Jedi they'd asked for it.

I remember much like every other person in the mess hall watching on stunned as Leia's daughter who'd been silent until that point tore into every single person in that senate and demanded that if Leia were to be crucified then every other person with connections to Imperial leadership should be damned with her. I was sitting close enough to Wedge Antille's close to hear him remark that she was definitely Leia's kid. I've forgotten most of what was said but everyone knew her name after that.

Just days before she'd made headlines for surviving an assassination attempt, but it wasn't just because of that, the media had caught footage of her stopping the blaster bolt mid air and that sent shockwaves through a post Empire galaxy. Anyone who'd called the force bullshit was quiet after that and whatever betrayal some felt was quickly overshadowed by the image of Leia's teenage daughter being almost assassinated outside the steps of Coruscant's Jedi Temple.

There were one or two surviving Alderaanians in the room who only nodded in approval when Leia gave her daughter the title of Princess of Alderaan and whatever powers came with it and- and I flirted with not just the General's daughter, but a princess. Although you sure as hell wouldn't be able to guess it from looking at her, but then again knowing Leia I should've have any pre-conceived notions of what that should look like.

But she isn't just a politician or a princess, she's a Jedi, the last one there is aside from Luke Skywalker. Even if he isn't anywhere to be seen for reasons no one can seem to explain, but all the theories come back to one disaster.

No one knows what really happened, I've thought about it when I've felt that blanket of grief hanging over Leia from time to time, whenever I've heard the rumours about her husband leaving her to run the Resistance alone after their son was killed the night the temple was destroyed. Hope Solo was known as the sole survivor when the news broke about the fire, but no statement was ever made by Leia or anyone else. Leia's said enough for me to gather Luke Skywalker's still alive, but never anything related to anyone else in her family aside from one exception.

When she recruited me she'd chided me for being reckless in engaging the First Order while I still served with the Navy, but at the same time praised it, saying I reminded her of her daughter. I'd asked if it was a compliment because her tone left much to be deciphered, only now I think I finally understand it. I'd been curious to meet her myself to see what she meant but quickly found when I arrived on base it was a hushed topic. I remember L'ulo telling me it would be good to have another mad pilot on base since the General's daughter had gone to finish university, so really I should be forgiven for not putting it together.

I look at the x-wing she was working on, which is certainly more banged up than mine despite her insulting my ship, and recognise an R2 droid going past towards a larger transport ship docked nearby. It is the R2 droid. I look around anxiously but she's nowhere to be found.

BB8 beside me beeps in question, even droids know who R2-D2 is considering that droid might just be one of the most decorated war heroes in history from the stories I've heard, certainly the most decorated droid. He's the droid version of Luke Skywalker.

"Yep, that's the one buddy," I confirm and tell him. "I think we've gotten into a real mess."

I was out here flirting with a Jedi. Do Jedi even have relationships or marry? The big scandal with Leia's parents prior to them even knowing about Vader was the fact she was the child of a Jedi and a queen. As a kid I'd always been curious, begged my Mom to tell me stories of the Jedi and she obliged as best she could considering the Empire had tried to erase them from memory, but I remember taking notice of that part of their legend.

Hope Solo however is a legend of her own. Princess, Jedi, although they seem to have left out being one of the best pilots in the galaxy. But there's other rumours that I've tried not to listen to, the same as when the news of Leia's parentage came to light. I still remember when I went home to Yavin-4 that year and my Dad shaking his head and saying it was nothing but an attack on Leia and the Rebellion. It wasn't until then I learned just how close both of my parents were with herl, and whatever faith she had in them she's passed on to me.

I can't let her down.

Which means this is not a great start.

It's then I panic remembering that everything with Darth Vader and the Jedi Temple only happened a few years ago, and I very specifically remember hearing them say that it was Leia's teenage daughter who was a victim of it. After doing some very quick math on my fingers I come to the conclusion she has to be at least eighteen since it's been about four years since then, I picked her for early twenties in the field but after looking at her properly she could be younger.

BB-8 beeps in alarm when I start cursing in panic under my breath, praying she's at least twenty.

You hardly see anyone under twenty five on base and when I came into the hanger and saw her working on her ship there wasn't much else on my mind than the fact that she was actually there and I had the chance to know her. Again, not thinking with my head, but I know it was with my heart as well as other things. Despite however it came off I'm a romantic at heart and I'd be lying if I said she hadn't been on my mind ever since I saw her. BB's certainly heard everything I've had to say about it in the days that have passed when I've let my mind wander to being able to meet her, and I'd done a pretty good job until Leia came back and well...

Ever since I was recruited the only thing that's been on my mind has working hard to prove my worth and find my place here, but I can't remember the last time I looked at someone and felt a spark like that and knew I had to know her, thinking what's the harm in asking?

Turns out there is much harm in it.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts by Hope Solo walking into the hanger, clearly not happy, and my first instinct is to hide behind a stack of crates much to BB8's confusion.

"R2?" she calls out and I stare in a state of awe as she leaps up onto the outside of the ship using what can only be the force, something I've never actually seen with my own eyes. She looks into the astromech pod and I hear her curse at finding her droid not there. "Damnit."

She'd be the same height as Leia but now I'm slightly gagged in my teasing knowing she definitely doesn't need a ladder. She ducks inside the transport ship only to come out cursing louder and far more creatively now and it's then Snap heads over to her from where he was doing maintenance on his ship.

"Hey Snap," she sighs, her attention anywhere but on him.

"Looking for something?" Snap asks and I shake my head at the realisation that he knows her, and that he sure as hell knew who I'd seen in the field. I'm surprised they know each other but remember the older veteran served with Han Solo and has been working for the Resistance since the start. He's become my wingman since I arrived but that was only a few months ago, she's been around far longer than that.

"R2's done a runner," she says throwing her hands up in frustration but Snap hardly looks phased. "You seen him?"

"Yeah he was here not long ago, looked to be doing his maintenance on your x-wing before doing something in the Shiraya," he says and I see panic cross her face. "Anyway how's Han going, thought you would have dragged him to base?"

"I wish I knew and I would if I could find him," she says and see an immediate look of regret on Snap's face but she laughs it off, a laugh I recognise a little too well. The same one I'd use whenever people would ask how my dad was when we weren't getting along. "Well if you see either of them let them know I've been looking for them."

"Will do," Snap says and asks "So how'd it go with Leia?"

"I doubt you'll be seeing me again," she answers shortly and I find myself frowning. "But thank you for the heads up about her knowing about the N-1."

"No problem," he says and has the guts to say "You do realise running away the moment you've gotten back's kind of pointless right?"

Her face falls and she's visibly offended. "Really Snap?"

"Whatever happened with Leia she's missed you, just let it calm down and see what else she's got to say," he tries to counsel and I realise they actually do know each other well, that there's a reason why Leia said that Snap would know what to say if he saw her in the field.

"Sorry, but being compared to Darth Vader isn't exactly fun," she spits out and I almost choke at that. She looks like she's about to go off but shakes her head and bites her tongue for a moment before saying "Look if you see R2 can you send him my way please."

He nods relatively unphased and asks as she goes to leave "You run into Poe yet?"

BB-8 beeps at recognition of my name and I peak around the corner of one of the crates, too curious not to listen.

"That commander you mean?" she says and I can't quite read her voice, or her face. "You could say that."

"What did you think?" Snap asks, being my wingman off the field as well. "Not so bad huh?"

She hesitates before answering "Alright, he's not so bad." I don't know her but something tells me that's a high praise from the look on Snap's face. "Hardly matters now though."

"Shame, because I know Brance is having a breakdown just thinking about having to deal with both of you."

She has a mischievous glint in her eyes, the same as I'd seen when she challenged me. "That is true."

"Be a shame to leave now huh?" he says patting her on the shoulder as he walks past and there's a contemplative look on her face as she turns back.

"Take care Snap."

He nods and heads one way while she goes the other, a now serious expression on her face as she makes her way to leave the hanger only for BB-8 to roll out and in my panic call for him in a hushed whisper but stay hidden as he bumps against her leg.

He beeps a greeting to her and her face changes as she looks down at him. "Well, hello." She bends down and asks "What's your name?" He beeps his name and she smiles despite how frustrated she was five seconds ago. It's a genuine smile, it suits her. "It's nice to meet you BB-8, my name's Hope. Have you seen R2-D2? I've been trying to find him."

Her voice is kinder than anything I've heard up until now when as she speaks to him, whatever defensiveness she's worn with me and even Snap immediately disappearing. BB-8 gives her the same answer as Snap and she sighs in disappointment before thanking him.

"Well thank you anyways BB-8." She gives his head a little rub as she stands and makes her way out of the hanger and when BB rolls back over to me he's beeping happily.

I shake my head as Snap comes over, barely hiding his amusement as he asks "Hiding behind a crate?"

I'm a little less amused. "So you know the General's daughter?"

"So you finally pieced that one together?" he asks and I press my lips together as he laughs to himself.

"You could have given me a heads up."

"Hey I told you not to mention to the General that you thought she was flirting with you," he says, finding this hilarious. "You didn't go telling her what you told me did you? Acting all like a lovesick puppy." I don't have an answer to that and he finds it suddenly a little less funny. "Shit, you did didn't you?" My silence is answer enough. "You're in trouble."

BB-8 beeps in confusion as to why. "I'm aware Snap."

"But yeah I've known her for years," he answers casually. "You picked her right when you said she's got an attitude."

"Yeah, no kidding," I find myself saying and find myself fidgeting with the feeling of an impending scolding. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Shoot."

"How mad do you think the General would be if I didn't just tell her to her face how pretty I think her daughter is, but that I'd also asked her daughter out and she caught us about to have an x-wing race?"

He looks stunned now. "You asked her out?"

"More or less," I admit, gathering she maybe didn't realise I was from how confused she looked. "Before she said yes or no she wanted to challenge me to a race and well..."

Snap's torn between looking mortified on my behalf and laughing. "Oh you are in trouble."

"This isn't funny."

"It's a little funny," he says much to my annoyance and asks "Wait so how did you end up in that situation?"

"Well I- I might have told her she was talking to the best pilot in the galaxy and she took that as a challenge."

He looks at me like I'm an idiot, but thankfully we've been friends long enough now I don't feel too worried about my reputation with him. "You told Han Solo's daughter you're a better pilot, considering she might just be a better pilot than Han Solo himself?"

Now I'm feeling even more mortified but also impressed and wondering how true that is, momentarily wishing we had enough time to go through with the race.

"Well I didn't know that then," I insist and scratch my head. "She- I wanted to impress her you know, but that kind of backfired. I've been waiting for the general to call me in for a dressing down ever since she told us to get out of the ships."

"Well I'm betting she'd be a bit preoccupied," Snap says and lowers his voice. "It wasn't pretty when Hope left."

"What do you mean?" I ask, there still being some blanks I can't fill in. "And what was she doing out there anyways. I'd heard she was at some university?"

"Yeah, that was the cover story," he says and looks around to make sure no one's in earshot. "She engaged the enemy on a mission, and I don't mean fired a few shots. I mean wiped them out."

"Wiped them out?" I repeat, struggling to reconcile the image of that with the girl I just saw talking to BB.

"With a lightsaber," he confirms. "But from what I've heard it was for a fair enough reason. Came across a stormtrooper operation trying to abduct kids."

Whatever chill I had's gone at those words, if I'd come across something like that I wouldn't exactly be able to walk away either. "So what was the problem?"

He's hesitant now. "Don't know, that much everything my rank and above heard about but there was something else, don't know what but if I know one thing it's that she's got the General's temper and Solo's tendency to take off and not look back. I've known her since she was sixteen or seventeen, she's a nice girl even if she's got some anger issues, likes droids more than most people." I notice the way Snap speaks about her, almost like she's a sister to him and BB beeps again, definitely having taken a liking her. "See, loves droids, but everyone on base knows not to get between her and the General if they're having a fight. Advising her not to take off after one is the furthest I'll go."

I nod slowly, starting to panic again and have to ask "Just out of curiosity... how old is she?"

"Twenty or so, going on twenty one I think," he answers much to my relief. It's not great, but not as bad as it could be. If she's going on twenty one that means there's still nearly ten years between us, and considering I've definitely never looked at someone that much younger before I'm not quite sure how to feel about that. I'd guessed early twenties when I saw her but I've also forgotten I'm about to be thirty, turns out her being Leia's kid isn't the only variable complicating things. "Don't worry I can assure you the General wouldn't care about that considering she's closer to my age than Han's but still, have BB-8 record that dressing down for me will you?"

"Snap," I groan and he just laughs.

"I'm surprised Hope didn't give you one herself," he admits. "Saw her punch a guy once who thought she'd be easy pickings. Never saw him again that's for sure."

Despite feeling mildly alarmed now I still can't help but feel flattered as I lower my voice "You know as bad as this situation is with her being the General's daughter and all, I think she liked me."

Maybe like is a strong word, but there was something there that I definitely can't deny. I'm familiar enough with that electric feeling of something new, but this is something else and despite my better judgement I want to see where those sparks lead.

Snap raises an eyebrow and looks me over "Then you're definitely in trouble because the two of you would be lucky to last five minutes together without ending up in a pissing contest, oh wait."

"Haha, funny," I deadpan and we're interrupted by Leia's assistant Korr, one of the few people on base who'd be Hope's age, she wears a similar expression to what Brance did.

"Commander Dameron," she begins and can't help the sigh in her voice. "General Organa has asked to see you in her office."

"Yep," I say awkwardly and Snap's laughing to himself as I ask him. "Tell me who should I be more worried about, the General or Hope?"

"Oh Hope for sure, if she likes you you're in a world of trouble," he warns and tells me "Good luck."

I bring myself there expecting a dressing down but when I enter she seems less frustrated than I'd expected, more resigned than anything else.

"General."

She looks up and the first thing I notice is that it looks like she's been crying, before I can voice my concern she asks "Can you guess why I've called you in here Poe?"

"Yes General and I apologise, it was behaviour not befitting of a commander," I begin, having had that line memorised since she stepped out of her ship. "It will not happen again."

She seems surprised, almost amused. "How long have you had that one rehearsed?"

"Long enough," I say and make very clear. "I had absolutely no idea the N-1 pilot was your daughter."

I can't quite read her face as she says "I've spent enough time around young headstrong pilots to have realistic expectations. I even married one, so little surprises me when it comes to my daughter."

"That is still not an excuse," I find myself saying but she waves me off.

"You and Hope are the two best pilots in this base, possibly in the galaxy," she says and while it's certainly flattering I prepare myself for the dressing down. "That is not flattery. You're the best because you're both foolishly rash but talented and you know it. I'm not surprised that the first time you meet properly you get into a pissing contest."

She speaks frankly and it's all I can do to not appear too relieved that she thinks it was just a pissing contest and not what it was. I'd gotten into some awkward situations when I was in the navy because I wasn't thinking with my head but none as awkward as this. "And I am not proud of it."

She definitely seems amused now. "It's good to know you have some shame since she certainly doesn't. Before you start apologising for telling me how pretty you think she is I truly don't care considering it was the intelligence you brought back that gave us her approximate location so I could send her uncle to get her."

Slightly confused but mostly relieved I ask "Luke Skywalker?"

Despite the rumours of him being missing I've always assumed Leia's known where he went considering he's her brother, and I can't recall anyone else who could have gone and gotten her.

"Lando Calrissian, he was her fathers best friend," she explains and I nod, some things starting to click as I remember meeting Calrissian years back and him wanting to introduce me to his niece who he told me was one of the youngest professional starfighter pilots in the galaxy. He couldn't find her but it's not hard to guess who that would have been. "But enough of that, you'll be no doubt relieved to know I didn't call you in to answer for whatever my daughter attempted to goad you into."

"You're not?" I can't help but say and force myself to relax when I realise the frustration I can feel from her isn't directed towards me. "Then is it about a mission?"

"I suppose so, yes," she says and goes on. "Hope has been difficult these past few years, I can't blame her for it but she is awfully defiant. Too much like me and certainly too much like her father, and yet even being her fathers daughter still I struggle to pinpoint just where this level of pure recklessness comes from. Considering your father served directly alongside Han I'm sure you've heard enough stories to get where I'm coming from."

"Oh yep," I say, having practically begged Dad to tell me his war stories and just what Han Solo was like, as a kid who wanted to take after the greats in becoming a pilot I couldn't help myself. Suddenly I find myself wondering why she didn't send Han to bring his daughter back but I see an ache in her eyes even speaking about him and realise the rumours around estrangement might be worse than what I've heard, especially if his own daughter doesn't know where he is. "Look, she might have an ego and be a little reckless in the field but she's got the skill to back it up."

Now she sighs, those not being the words she wanted to hear, but she hardly looks surprised. "And this is what I meant when I recruited you, when I told you that you reminded me of my daughter. But a little rebellion and going on some damn foolhardy crusade in the Outer Rims with smugglers and pirates for the sake of spiting a parent is another."

Her example is quite specific but not aimed towards me. I'm equally surprised and relieved to know that Leia doesn't know about the record the NRSB definitely has on me, or the fact I was personally hunted by one of their agents during my stint with the spice runners, but considering I was a minor it seems my prayers that it was scrubbed from public record were answered.

"I mean, I wasn't perfect but she gives me a run for my money that's for sure," I say and she has a quiet amusement behind her eyes I can't quite make sense of. I'm confused as to why she's telling me this, perhaps she's sharing it out of frustration and in that case I'd be flattered she trusts me enough to vent but that's not Leia's style, which means she has plans in store that include Hope and I.

"She does," Leia says. "It was one of the reasons I recruited you, because she'd left in a fit of anger after being demoted for the highest level of insubordination-"

"Mutiny?"

"Second highest," she says and leaves that up to my interpretation. I've got pieces from what Snap's told me but clearly something worse has happened that they've kept quiet. Leia had offered to have my own insubordination during the navy taken care of before she'd recruited me, so I wouldn't be surprised that she'd do the same for her kid. "She's bright but doesn't have the collective loyalty required to commit a mutiny much to her disappointment I'm sure. If she did I dare say the Resistance would be a dictatorship or worse."

I look at R2-D2 and he beeps his agreement with that, again I find myself glad I'm not her commander. Karé and Iolo have committed their fair share of insubordination against me but I ultimately I trust their judgement and give them room to improvise. Something tells me Hope Solo would be another matter altogether.

"What I was saying is that the two of you are pilots seen once in a generation, and when she left I needed someone to fill her place and now she's back." She continues, seeming apprehensive, nervous almost. "And she will not be happy about the fact there is someone here who gives her a run for her money but she'll have to get over that and so will you."

I only grow more confused. "I haven't had any issue with-"

"Not yet, but you will," she assures me. "You might have puppy eyes seeing what she can do but it won't last." Puppy eyes, was it that obvious? "She is immensely difficult which you will soon discover. She's one hell of a pilot who has made it clear to me that if I don't give her missions she'll sanction her own if she doesn't take off first."

Being Leia's daughter she has to be competent, she said she was a captain after all, so personally I don't see much of an issue but ask "And she can't because-"

"She made a habit of engaging the enemy with a lightsaber and as such she was demoted and stripped of her rank."

"Lightsaber?" I repeat, that being the key word in that sentence I take notice of and try to follow it up with a rational comment. "I would have thought a Jedi would be the first person you'd send on a mission."

"Don't get too excited, at the moment she's a rogue pilot who happens to have a lightsaber and can throw rocks, far from a Jedi," she warns and her voice saddens a little. "But it wasn't always that way. The issue is that she, much like you, doesn't do things half heartedly. She would sooner go too far and put herself in danger than fail a mission. Does that sound familiar?" I nod and she continues. "I have a mission I want the two of you to undertake together in the hopes that your respective reckless tendencies will cross the other out so you can make it out of this alive, because frankly, if I sent only one of you I don't know if you'd make it back. Which is why I've just told you everything I have, so you know what you'll be getting into if you agree to work with her."

My heart skips a beat at the thought of working with her and I try to keep my voice calm, caught off guard Leia is sending me on a mission with her instead of putting me on probation. "Well from the sound of this mission it seems less like a choice and more like common sense."

"Yes, hopefully if I put the two of you together you'll have half as much sense as a regular person," she can't help but remark and I realise she still is slightly annoyed after all at finding us about to race. "You'll need it considering you'll only complete this mission if you make it out alive and relatively unscathed while demonstrating significant caution, which isn't either of your typical styles, but you are the only two pilots with the skills and recklessness to pull this off."

I can't help but see this as a win. "I know I should probably feel insulted but I'm flattered General."

"The two of you might not have any problems after all," she says and tells me "I'll call her in for the briefing granted she won't take off without R2."

I look at the droid, definitely sensing some sort of betrayal there from the data he's uploading to the General's databank, and BB-8 takes the moment to properly introduce himself to the veteran droid, unable to hide his excitement.

In all honesty I'm struggling to hide mine as well despite Leia's warnings until Threepio comes in and says "I have sent Lieutenant Sella to get Miss Hope, would you like me to bar the door so she cannot leave when she arrives?"

Leia catches my alarm but waves her hand. "That will not be necessary Threepio, if she really wants to leave she'll find a way out regardless."

"Terrible lack of manners," Threepio chides as he goes to wait outside. "You'd think she'd been raised in the Outer Rims, but not even Master Luke lacked such courtesy. I do hope you have been keeping her out of trouble R2, but according to my network it seems you've failed to do that."

That's probably the most critical I've ever heard Threepio but R2-D2's language leaves me with raised eyebrows as he insults Threepio back and I look at Leia.

"They have a long history," she tries to explain, but gives R2 a warning look at his language which I've definitely never heard from a droid before but considering the amount of war's he's fought I can't exactly blame him. "I believe R2's also picked up on some of Hope's strategies when it comes to arguing from the sounds of it."

Finally then do I start to wonder what I may be getting myself into. 

[over-the-time-flow]

Super Robot Rollcall: The Haran Conglomerate

Banjo Haran

"For this world and its people, Daitarn 3 will crush the ambitions of the Meganoids! If you don't fear the brilliance of the sun itself, bring it on!!"

Source Material: Invincible Steel Man Daitarn 3 Age: 17/18 Voice Actor: Hirotaka Suzuoki Character Designer: Norio Shioyama

One cool customer, Banjo Haran is one of if not the richest man on Earth, and he dedicates all of his fortune and free time torwards a single goal; eradicating the Meganoids who took his family from him. Alongside his wacky team, he'll go to any lengths necessary to keep the world safe and crush their wicked ambitions with the Daitarn 3.

SRW tends to adapt his coolheaded side and his hot-blooded, hateful side that shows whenever he fights Meganoids, but one big complaint i've always had is that they never adapt his more comedic side, which is strange, as watching the actual show, he's full on Jiron Amos levels of Tomino comedic protagonist. SRW Banjo feels like an entirely different entity from anime Banjo, being written almost like he's super robot Batman, and with his riches being often used as a plot device to explain where the team is getting its funding from. I don't like it very much, but i didn't like Daitarn 3 all that much either, so it's not that big of a deal to me. For what it's worth, R's is probably my favorite Banjo i've seen in SRW so far.

Even if i'm liable to bitch about Banjo's writing in SRW, there's no way you could get me to complain about the gameplay side of things. Absolutely monstrous Melee stat, high Defense, surprisingly decent Accuracy, and while his Spirit learnset isn't too impressive just yet, take a look at that maximum SP pool. Most of everyone else who isn't a support unit is hovering around 80-90 max SP, and he's already barrelled past into 120+. Banjo is a machine that eats bosses.

Fun Fact: Terada, longtime producer of SRW games, stated in Umasugi Wave #822 that despite knowing Banjo is meant to be 17 to 18, he ends up writing him as a late-20s man. Even when he tries to write him more age-appropriately, it doesn't feel right, and he thinks it's because of the influence of how Suzuoki always played the character in SRW.

Daitarn 3

Source Material: Invincible Steel Man Daitarn 3 Height: 100 meters Energy Source: Solar power Real World Designer: Kunio Okawara

Originally a prototype Megaborg (Megaborgs being the giant forms that Meganoid commanders are capable of transforming into), Banjo stole it when his mother helped him escape Mars during the initial Meganoid insurrection. Now Banjo uses it to fight against the Meganoids, beating them at their own game.

The Daitarn 3 is a perfect fit for Banjo, Tanky and hits like a truck. It has a few issues, namely that its post-movement options all come with one or another caveat (small range, high EN cost, the like), but at the very least movement issues can be solved by changing into the Daifighter.

The Daitank is completely worthless as per usual SRW fare.

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me Fanfic Anon #2. Yes, Anon, I’m presently living on the east coast of North America (although I’m not originally from here …) I’m not Jill either, but you did give me this idea, so I hope you enjoy. Here’s another one set during the State Visit. This piece is inspired both by his most recent quote in the Paris Match article and also the fact that Brigitte always seems so nervous at these big ceremonial events and things, because as she’s said previously, everything is so carefully choreographed and she worries about being a liability for him. Hope everyone enjoys this one.

He kept looking over at her across from him at the table, kept checking in on how she was doing. He knew she was nervous about this dinner, worried about a lot of things, most of them related to the fact that they would be spending the evening speaking in English and the fact she was so concerned about embarrassing him.

He didn’t understand why she was so worried about her English. He knew that while sometimes she would have to search to find the word she was looking for, what he would always tell her was proof of her extensive vocabulary in her native language, she had far more than a passing grasp of the language.

But the thing that bothered him the most was how nervous she constantly was in these kinds of moments big and small about embarrassing him - as if she could ever be an embarrassment.

They had talked about it a few times, and he knew where it came from. She loved him so much the last thing she ever wanted was to become his problem. So she oh so carefully paid attention to where and how she stood; what she wore; what she said, when, and to whom; sometimes even her gestures down to the fiddling with her rings. She paid attention too to how close she got to him, when she would reach for his hand or arm, making sure it was okay, was appropriate, never giving the press any reason to attack her (not like it stopped them from going after her anyways for the transgressions they had written in their own heads, like her age, his age, her hair, her shoe size, who loans her clothing, which charities she supports).

He hated to see her like that, so unlike herself. She was witty, charming, charismatic - the life of the party, the light of his life - she wasn’t the woman who would bow out quickly when he drags her onto the stage with him to force her into the spotlight too (for there is no him without her).

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he apologized when they were in the car on the way back to Blair House.

“What? Why?”

“Because I could see how nervous you were all night. I know things like that make you uncomfortable. And I am sorry you have to put up with them for me.”

“Mon cœur, I don’t ‘put up’ with anything for you. I love you, and you need me, so there I am.”

“Still. I know how you feel about all of this. And while I still don’t understand it, I don’t blame you.”

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” she sighed, telling him for the umpteenth time.

“How many different times, how many different ways do I need to tell you, Brigitte? You could never embarrass me. No, no. Look at me,” he commanded softly, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me. It is the honor of my lifetime to be by your side, on your arm. The title I’m proudest of, to borrow our host’s introduction of himself last year, is ‘Brigitte’s husband-‘“

“It was nice that my first interaction with this president wasn’t him commenting on my physical appearance,” she joked, trying to diffuse the moment a little, moved, but a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

Not letting her succeed in that, he picked up where he was when she interrupted him, “you literally could never embarrass me. If anything, I’m afraid I would embarrass you. I can’t dance and I’m known to put my foot in my mouth every now and again.”

“I just don’t want to become a liability.”

“Listen to me. You are my non-negotiable. I said it at the Economy Ministry, I said it to my staff during the campaign, and I’ve said it countless times in office: I cannot work if I am not happy, and I am not happy without you.

“So. Putting aside the fact you have a favorability rating that is literally double mine at the moment, you are never going to be a liability because you are my biggest asset.”

She nodded, slowly, when he finished, signaling to him she was trying to take it all in. “I love you,” she told him with a small smile.

“I love you more,” he replied.

“Not possible,” she winked, her smile growing wider.

(PS - it is reported that when POTUS introduced himself to Brigitte for the first time he introduced himself as “Jill’s husband” which I think we can all agree is a lot better than the comment the last POTUS made about her appearance the first time they met…)

Helloooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Oh my heart! You kill me with the sweetness 🥰 Emmanuel being all worried with Brigitte, Brigitte just not wanting to mess up and embarrass him. I just can’t with these two 🤧 But the most beautiful part was the way Emmanuel reassured Brigitte 🥺😍

“I can’t dance and I’m known to put my foot in my mouth every now and again.” - most true quote in a fanfic ever 😂😂

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[cruelprincae]

❛ My friend's partner said that in Portland, mortals get this surgery where they make their ears larger and pointed, much unlike their usual, round ears. She said it was ― ❜ A pause is made in which Cardan furrows his brows in thought, as he searches for the appropriate human term. What is the word Heather used ? He can swear he remembers it, for it left him with the impression that humans were, indeed, weird creatures. Ah ! ❛ Trendy. Therefore your faint scar befalls into that category as well. ❜ He remembers the exchange word to word, for it has been one of the few he has had with Vivi's girlfriend before she was thrust head first into the Faerie world that she then decided she wanted nothing to do it, for it was terrifying.

He doesn't fault her for that decision of hers; If he were offered the choice of whether he wanted to stay in the mortal land, or return to Elfhame, Cardan would choose the first ― not only for the mortal accommodations such as the internet, or the tee-vee, but also due to the profound attachment he developed with humanity itself ― and more specifically, Bill. Now he understands the reason why Vivi has abandoned Elfhame to live with Heather ― even if that place is miserable and filled to the brim with the worst of the solitary Fae.

❛ There is only one Storm Hag and that is Bogdana. Her rather unflattering title is because her powers range from making storms out of thin air to commanding thunder. ❜ Explains the Fae as he takes a bite off a dumpling dipped in the mayonnaise and ketchup combination that, judging from his grimace, the brunette still believes to be disgusting. Although the tale surrounding the Storm Hag is believed to be little more than the equivalent of an urban legend to humans and Cardan was significantly smaller when Aslog had first explained it to him ― even if it was meant to be taken as a lesson rather than just an amusing tale ―, he has no difficulty narrating it to Bill; perhaps, the reason it burns so vivid still within his memory is how tied her story is to the Greenbriar family. ❛ From what I was told, her origin dates back to ancient times, when Elfhame had yet to be formed and the mortal world was still young.

❛ Back then, Faeries didn't exist as they do today. They were only a handful, and their powers weren't as adulterated, for iron didn't linger in the air ― Bogdana was one of the few god-like beings. She was old when my great-grandmother rose the shifting isles of Elfhame into existence, and when she brought the Fae into existence, creating Seelie and unSeelie Folk alike. Rumour amongst the Folk has it that the Storm Hag was the one who gave her that power to create; like a bargain of some kind. Mab would be granted the ability to create the Faerie kind and unite them under a single banner in exchange for Mab taking in the Hag's daughter, whom she named Mellith ― a name not quite promising if one is to ask my input on it, for it is loosely translated to a mother's curse ―, to be raised as her sole heir. Long story short, Mab grew ill-favoured of this bargain as soon as my grandmother, Clovis, was born and decided she wanted to end it, but the Storm Hag wouldn't have it. So she tricked the Hag into killing her own child and hence leaving Clovis as the sole heir to Elfhame's throne. Long story short, Bogdana is resentful still and though there are whispers and rumours about Mellith's heart and what happened after the child was murdered, I know very little of it to make a sensible conclusion. Perhaps, the old beings that still remain in Elfhame know more about it, but tracking them down is dangerous as it is foolish, for no story is worth anyone's life. Or the prize they might ask to go into detail about what happened between Mab and Bogdana. What I do know, however, is that somehow she's been employed to be set on my trail and that she must be getting on with her age, for she has yet to strike me down. ❜

Perhaps, there is a reason why the Storm Hag doesn't want to end his life, given the archaic resentment that exists between her and his family line; whether it is because she's thirsting for the crown and the power that comes with it and it killing the only other remaining royal that can grant her said power isn't in her best interest, or the rumours are true indeed and she has been cursed to not harm Mab's descendants, Cardan cannot tell. Albeit not certain of her motives, he isn't willing to come in close enough proximity to find out only to be proven wrong. He cherishes being alive too much in order to risk it.

The Prince can only blink when something called honeybadger is mentioned ― although he doesn't know what it is for they must not exist in Faerieland, his brain has already conjured a picture of a bear and raccoon amalgamation ― and his lips part, ready to inquire further about this mysterious animal but the human's question makes it out first. And though his mouth falls shut once again, Cardan cannot help the rise of his manicured brows into an arch nor the smile that threatens to tug upwards the corner of his lips. Isn't the answer quite obvious ? ❛ The Folk aren't completely barren; our blood is thicker than mortals though, and that makes it harder to reproduce ― difficult, but not impossible, per se. ❜

Unlike the vast cities of the mortal lands, where children can be spotted around each corner playing their mundane games with their peers, Faerie youth isn't that common; The Folk themselves don't feel that inclined to reproduce either, but when they do feel the need for an heir, they find it much more simply to seek their luck elsewhere. ❛ More often than not, Faeries mate with humans to get offsprings. Though they remain highly critical of them, they tend to not mind when the children aspect is concerned, because the product of a half-Fae is still resembling more the Fae rather than the human counterpart. In most cases, when no romantic feelings exist between the Fae and the mortal and the humans don't want to keep a demi Folk child around, they're taken under the Fae's protection, to be raised in Elfhame ― and in the scenario where the Fae parent doesn't want the child either, they are given away in the mortal land as a changeling masked under the pretense of a human. For the most part, the latter appears to be the most popular solution to unwanted Fae children. ❜

There were times throughout his childhood, that despite the shame of it, Cardan found himself wishing he was one of those changeling children, left to exist in the mortal land ― and, the more he thought about it, the more the prospect appealed to him; to not have to grow up in a family whose only interest is power and a crown but by parents who cared about him and not his title or of what use he could have been to them; where the mother figures make those weird woolen clothes and had family pictures framed on the walls and pieces of furniture and other parts of the house; where they wouldn't care about what stupid prophecies the stars have foretold and he got the chance to be someone's favourite, like Elowyn was to their father, Eldred. Although it's not set in stone that a human-like childhood would have been perfect, Cardan is nearly certain it would have at least been better than the one he got to have.

It's as though the writer is reading his mind when he inquires further about Balekin's disciplinary methods, and all shameful, guilty thoughts about changeling children and their future are pushed to the very back of his head, where they ought to have stayed in the first place. A part of him, most of him, wants to shy away from the subject and change it while there is still time, but the Fae recalls how eager the human is to pry about things he considers important so there's little to no chance to elude and avoid ― not on this matter. And even if a lucky star spares him a small part of its luck and he indeed, manages to avoid the subject for now, he's going to ask about it eventually ― so Cardan might as well get it off his chest right now and spare himself the questions in the long run. Not to mention that the brunette has already revealed his scar, so it's only appropriate Cardan shows one of his as well, even if his own outnumber Bill's by a long shot.

Carefully, he sets the dumpling he's munching on upon his plate and scoots over to the side in a way that his face would be now facing the writer. Despite his determination to show rather than tell exactly what his eldest brother's means were, Cardan can't help the way his body stiffens and his jaw clenches, nor the hesitation with which his hands grab upon the hem of his shirt, as though they are about to withdraw at any given time. Still, he pushes through and without sparring it a second thought, his beringed digits grasp upon the fabric of the shirt and yank it upwards, past his shoulders and his head, until it lays discarded upon the floor leaving the back of his torso bare to the human's gaze ― one that, although Cardan can't quite see, he still feels its weight and intensity.

Similar to the constellations of stars in the night sky, the scars spread through the surface of the Prince's skin, as though they are webs carefully crafted by the same spiders that writhe and spin the most delicate of fabrics in Elfhame. Starting from his shoulder blades and ending by his lower back, some are old, flat, and faint against the porcelain skin whilst others ― the majority of them ― are sunken and lumpy, painted with a faint, reddish tint, mostly due to the fact that it hasn't been that long since Balekin had flayed the skin open just days before the coronation took place. Although the majority of the scars are straight lashes, some curl around the Fae's sides as though they are hands attempting an embrace, hugging the surface of his skin like a lover whispering small promises about how they will always stay. However, unlike a lover, the sight of them makes Cardan sick to his stomach, a painful reminder of what happens when he is weak ― and, if he really puts his mind to it and runs his fingers across the numb and touch-sensitive patch of skin upon his back, he can recall the story behind each and every one of them.

❛ All sorts of means. ❜ Answers the Prince with his voice as small as a whisper. His tail, previously laying limp across the floor now coils and curls around his lower back, a frail attempt to keep it from lashing around the air and betraying everything he has schooled his face and body to hide, even if his heart begins to thunder within his chest. He's not used to exposing himself like that; he feels like an open wound, weak and fragile and pathetic ― all the things Cardan absolutely despises. ❛ Most often than not, he would have a human servant use an iron-invested whip on me while he stood by and lectured me on the subject that I had disappointed him on, and though the subject would vary on occasion, my refusing to learn swordplay was a common disagreement. ❜

He can still hear the echo of Balekin's words in the sharp shell of his ears; a mixture of when will you stop being a disappointment and I'm only doing this because I love you. It was then that a part of him had learned to associate love with pain, not that he would ever admit it, as evident by how utterly horrible he acted around the people he desired ― to Bill even, the first time he met him; perhaps, him calling him an asshole was justified after all.

❛ Sometimes I broke the enchantments he had placed on the human servants and took them back to the mortal land ― that's when he was really furious. Balekin's punishment, amongst other things, had always been humiliation, therefore, he would have a human draw the whip as he went on about how they are inferior to the Folk and pathetic and disgusting, and how, at that very moment, I was lower than even that. And after that, I would spend the remainder of the day in one of the basements cells wearing iron cuffs only to be let out and treated the night after. ❜ At that point, Cardan's cheeks burn with the intensity of his embarrassment, his throat closing in around the lump that has started to form within it as a result of the enormity of the emotions he's feeling; angry, shameful, indignant, and most of all, pathetic. But he won't cry ― he refuses to add to his embarrassment by crying. And if his lips quiver, he opts to purse them and brush the urge off completely.

A Prince of Elfhame doesn't cry. That's yet another thing Cardan has learned the hard way.

❛ Occasionally, there was also this. . . leather bridle thing, designed to make the person wearing it act according to the whims of the one who forced it on them. That was first introduced when Balekin first took me in and as a means of showing me how to act when I was being insubordinate. I absolutely despised how it felt on me, so I acted all proper and earnest until he took it off. ❜ Manicured brows furrow in thought, trying to recall the fate of the bridle; it rested within in the Hollow Hall estate, until the day it didn't and though its disappearance was as strange as it might come, Cardan was ecstatic to move on, and completely forget about it. Perhaps it was stolen; if that's the case, then he pitties the person it was stolen for. ❛ If one is to wear it for too long, the leather straps bite down into the skin and scar it ― but I never had to wear it long enough to have to worry about that. Mostly, it was the whipping. ❜

cruelprincae​:

The Fae nearly laughs at Bill’s assumption but makes no further comment about it, save from a ghost of a smile, an ever-so-slight twitch that curls his lips upwards. His childhood is a knot that not even he knows how he can begin to untangle to someone other than himself, and, since the human doesn’t pry about it ― at least, not as much as he has pried upon other things that he wanted to know more about ― he doesn’t elaborate on it. However, when the focus shifts to instead shed light upon Bill’s early life, Cardan is keen to welcome it. In fact, his interest is peaked to the point where his gaze rises to meet the brunette’s, with his dumplings now long forgotten upon his plate.

❛ It would appear as though I am to now be the one prying and making bargains to know about your life. ❜ Answers the Prince, his words escorted by the breathless chuckle of a laugh. And, since the next bit of information comes freely, Cardan delights himself in devouring every last drop of it, like a sponge that has been thrust into a wet surface. However, as Bill gets into more detail about how this particular scar was made, the Fae can’t help the slight furrow of his brow, and the slander of his mouth into a well-rooted frown. For some inexplicit reason, it doesn’t sit well with him that a much, much younger version of the boy who is sitting beside him was hit by one of the metallic pieces of machinery that course the streets in a ferocity that matches the most furious of rivers. Had Balekin been there, he wouldn’t hesitate to remind him that he ought not to care about beings that are inferior to him and that as a human ― and therefore mortal ― Bill is as good as dead since the moment he took his first breath into this world. That, however, doesn’t quench the anger that burns behind his eyes like an ignited coal at the sight of the pale, barely there scar that hid beneath his brow.

Human children have human parents, and their key difference with the Folk, is that whereas Fae children don’t require as much attention, or as much care, or much food, or as much love to grow up, human children are fragile. They stumble and they hurt themselves, they cry for food through incoherent cries and plead for the attention of their adult counterparts ― and yet, where were the brunette’s parents when he had been hurt, by a car nonetheless ? It reminds him greatly of his own mother, Asha, and how she’d let sleep in the royal stables whenever she brought her lovers to revel in their chambers, and this alone, sparks the burning desire to find Bill’s so-called parents and glamour them into spewing apologies for hours on an end; that would certainly teach them a precious lesson about parenting. But alas, the mere thought of himself submitting anyone through the power of glamour has him recalling the empty, sleep-walking-like faces of the humans glamoured into his brother’s service and a cold shiver runs through his spine. He can’t do that ― not to mention that Bill would probably not appreciate the gesture either.

A hand rises to reluctantly trace the outer skirt of the scar, careful not to graze the white outline with his pointed nail but rather tap upon it with the softness of his fingertip before it altogether withdraws, to support his chin as his arm rests upon the surface of the table. ❛ It gives you flare. ❜ Cardan admits after a moment of thought as he flashes the other with a growing grin. ❛ I have this Fae friend, Vivi, who lives in the mortal lands, in an apartment with her mortal girlfriend and she told me that humans tend to pay a lot to get inked and fake scars. Yours is real and you didn’t have to pay anything for it save for a month of misery. It makes you… what you humans say it, cool. Besides, you’re lucky you didn’t come out of it looking like Bogdana the Storm Hag. ❜ Not that Bill can ever reach that level of ugliness ― or wickedness ― no matter the number of scars he carries upon his face.

The brunette opening up about his past has the Fae frowning in thought. Perhaps, this is something similar to a faerie bargain, but for humans; perhaps, he ought to repay the travel upon memory lane in kind, with one of his own. ❛ I wasn’t a cute kid. ❜ He decides to say, in regard to Bill’s prior comment. ❛ I was feral and, if the courtiers are to be asked about it, I’m pretty sure they’d agree that I was quite wild, like an animal. Most of Faerieland is barren and when my mother who marvels at dancing and revels suddenly fell pregnant with me and was hence prohibited from joining the revels by my father until she gave birth, she felt like she was missing out on life. So after she gave birth she continued as though nothing happened. ❜ The muscles of his jaw clench upon the memory and, as though to prevent the brunette from interrupting or making any sort of comment on this, Cardan picks up a dumpling, dipped in both mayonnaise and ketchup and pushes it in Bill’s mouth; the motion is gentle, as to not have the human choke on it.

Then, he continues; ❛ As you can very well guess, she wasn’t very motherly and my father wasn’t very fatherly himself either; Sometimes she would feed me with delicacies, others she would forget about me. Sometimes she would dress me in fine clothes, fitting for a Prince of Elfhame, and others she’d forget to provide me with new ones until they grew into fine rugs. I didn’t mind so much about the food, however, for I had found a cat whose kittens came out stillborn and she let me wean on her milk. Perhaps it was the tail that confused her otherwise I’m not certain. But ― uhm, ❜ Cardan makes a pause at that, to will himself of any emotion that dares to cross the face he has schooled to remain devoid of any. ❛ Asha didn’t mind. The less she had to bother with me, the better it was for her. Sometimes she would hush me out of the rooms so she could chase her pleasure with her lovers and I’d sleep in the hay of the royal stables, lolled to sleep by the croaks of the frogs and the huffs of the steeds. I hadn’t attended school regularly until the age of nine when my eldest brother, the one who I’m currently on the run from at this moment, took me in and reformed me into a proper Prince of Elfhame, to dress with silks and eat with cutlery, with whatever means necessary. So… ❜ Another pause. ❛ Absolutely not a cute kid. ❜ The rest would have to be a tale for another time.

“Yeah? Then what’s in it for me?” Bill asked with a laugh, although he had already revealed a lot more than Cardan had without the promise of anything in return. His mouth tended to get him into trouble, not as much as some people, but often enough was that it was a pattern. He couldn’t bring himself to regret what he had shared. Maybe it would prompt the Fae to reveal more about himself in the process. If he needed to make another deal, however, he’d do just that. If a story for a story was enough then Bill would happily oblige. It wasn’t like he had a lot to hide. Sort of. The conversation didn’t seem to be heading that way from what he could tell, and if it did anything he said could be written off as a metaphor. Or something. Probably not, though if anyone were going to believe him it would be the Faerie Prince of Elfhame.

Reliving that particular summer wasn’t high on his to-do list so hopefully that whole section could be avoided. Skip right from the toddler years to present-day. What he hadn’t been expecting was Cardan’s reaction to the story about how he had gotten the scar that ran through his eyebrow. He looked almost personally victimized by it which was strange considering how long ago it had been. Plus, it was far from his only scar. Although it was probably the one with the most dramatic story behind it that he had. The drama didn’t explain why it seemed like the prince was taking the accident so personally. 

The mood shifted quickly enough when the word flare was uttered. Brows lifted high on his forehead, a bemused smile pulling at his lips. “Not sure that it really does. It was more noticeable when I was younger but now it’s kinda masked and really faint—” Bill added, fingers lifting up to his forehead once more to touch the spot where the scar hid. Maybe Cardan could see it better than everyone else with his supervision or whatever it was that Faeries had. “Never heard of anyone getting fake scars, but yeah, tattoos are popular.” His brow pinched slightly in confusion, having absolutely no context for whatever — or whoever — that was. “So… you’ve mentioned Storm Hags before but never by name. Should I know who Bogdana is?” Bill asked, figuring now was as good a time as any to ask another question. There was still so much he didn’t know about where Cardan was from and he was desperate to know more. Every crumb of detail that he could manage to get.

“Wild things can be cute too,” he insisted, shifting in his seat as blue eyes met black with rapt attention. “Have you ever seen a honeybadger?” Both cute and feral. No matter his personality at the time, Bill didn’t doubt that he had been adorable when he was small. His head cocked to the side picking up on the barren comment. “So… How do you get more Faeries if most of you can’t have kids?” Probably not the point of this story, but he needed to know. Oh. Definitely not the point of this story.  

The more Cardan revealed about his childhood — his mother in particular — the angrier he got. Picturing a beautiful little boy being neglected in that way. He deserved to be loved and cherished, pampered and protected. And as if the Fae was reading his mind, just knowing that he was about to say something, he was stopping him from doing anything besides chewing on the terribly-flavoured dumpling. Bill stewed as he chewed, glaring at the other though he was far from upset with him. It was his family and that place he had a problem with. He couldn’t help it, he was protective over the people he loved and any injustice done to them was personal. The tone in the other’s voice did not give him much hope regarding what had happened once his brother took over. Even without knowing that particular brother was now trying to kill Cardan, it wasn’t hard to figure out just how strained that relationship was.

“What were those means?” The answer couldn’t be good.

[ukrfeminism]

Five children are being strip-searched by the Metropolitan Police without even being arrested first every week – with new data also exposing huge racial disparities.

Exactly 799 children aged between 10 and 17 were reportedly strip-searched while not in custody from 2019 to 2021.

Most were for suspected drugs offences, while there was no arrest or outcome in just less than half of the cases.

More than 50% of those strip-searched were black – 436 people – while 75% overall were from ethnically diverse backgrounds – 607 people.

Only one in five – 179 – were white, FOI data obtained by LBC shows.

Previous data released in March showed 5,279 children had been strip-searched in the past three years overall, with 3,939 (75%) from ethnically diverse backgrounds.

It also follows backlash over revelations that a 15-year-old girl, known as Child Q, was strip-searched by Met officers who knew she was on her period.

No other adult was present during the incident, in which she was wrongly suspected of carrying cannabis.

The force has said they are working hard to ensure officers have a clear understanding of their policy – as the searches of 10 other children are referred to the police watchdog for independent investigation.

London Mayor Sadiq Khan has said he is ‘concerned’ over the number of strip searches without arrest, although added that ‘proper checks’ are now being performed on ‘every single case’.

But Labour MP for Battersea, Marsha de Cordova, has warned it is ‘wrong’ to put a child through a strip-search if they haven’t been arrested.

Meanwhile, a former Met officer has warned that being strip-searched can be hugely distressing to children and leave ‘a scar in their hearts and minds’ after he spoke to families impacted.

Ali Hassan Ali, who left the force to start his own initiative combating violent crime, said: ‘All the families tell me the child spends more time in their bedroom now, doesn’t do well in school anymore, doesn’t socialise like they used to.’

His remarks come after the case of a teenage daughter who reportedly tried to take her own life after she was strip-searched.

Mr Ali added that it can also damage children’s trust in authority, saying: ‘They’ll see a police car, and they get scared.’

Both he and Ms de Cordova have been left enraged by the racial disparities and believe black children, especially boys, are often treated as if they are older.

A spokesperson from the Met has said the force recognises the ‘significant’ impact searches have on young people and is ‘progressing at pace work to ensure children subject to intrusive searches are dealt with appropriately and respectfully’.

Saying that ‘changes have been made already’, a statement continued: ‘We have ensured our officers and staff have a refreshed understanding of the policy for conducting a ‘further search’, particularly around the requirement for an appropriate adult to be present.

‘We have also given officers advice around dealing with schools, ensuring that children are treated as children and considering safeguarding for those under 18.

‘More widely we have reviewed the policy for “further searches” for those aged under 18. This is to assure ourselves the policy is appropriate and also that it recognises the fact a child in these circumstances may well be a vulnerable victim of exploitation by others involved in gangs, County Lines and drug dealing. 

‘To ensure we have very clear control over this type of search, we have introduced new measures across the Met.

‘As well as requiring a discussion with their supervisor before seeking authority for a more thorough search and the presence of an appropriate adult, an inspector from a local command unit must now give authority before the search takes place to ensure appropriate oversight.

‘A Merlin report must also be submitted, to ensure safeguarding the child is the priority. The Merlin system contains information about a child coming to police attention.’

[blood-darkened-moon]

June 5, 1991

William Birkin sat in the back row, next to the front door. An ocean of unfamiliar faces unfolded before him. He was gathered in the conference room of Umbrella's new research center, the subway laboratory in Raccoon City. William was silent; his wife, Annette, was content to scan the faces. Five minutes to the start of the opening ceremony.

The crowd began to sit down. The flow of incoming and outgoing people had stopped. A couple of individuals looking like security guards were the last to leave the room. William's breathing was nervous, categorically furious. Annette had tried to reassure him, but her effort had been in vain. There was nothing on planet Earth that could calm William Birkin, that could lessen his urge to destroy everything around him. A simple notification shattered his self-esteem: he had been relegated to principal researcher in the subway laboratory, reporting to Alexia Ashford as head of research. All his research, the T-virus and the new G-project, now depended on Alexia Ashford.

Within a minute of the opening, William pounded his calves with his fists, so many times that Annette had to stop his hands from drawing attention to himself. He was fidgeting in his seat, shifting his posture and crossing his legs and arms. His face was as expressive as his gesticulation.

The double doors opened. A middle-aged blond man and a young woman, also blond, entered the room along with the same security guards who had left earlier. At the end of the procession, a woman as old as the blond man. He recognized the latter woman as the director of the subway laboratory. The director of the facility stood in the center of the dais, appropriating the pedestal with the microphone. The blond man and the young woman sat in armchairs to the left of the director. Security guards stood at either end of the stage.

- “Welcome. It is a pleasure for me that you have all come to the opening ceremony of the Umbrella Corporation's new laboratory. I am Rachel Wittgenstein, the director of this facility. To my left are, first of all, Dr. Alexander Ashford, co-president of Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, and Dr. Alexia Ashford, head of research for this lab...” - William froze. - "Next, I don't know if Dr. Ashford would like to say a few words of welcome.”

Alexander Ashford stood up and walked to the podium, from where the director stepped down. His voice was deep and commanding. William did not hear a single word he said. His concentration was focused on the young, posh-looking, overbearing blonde woman occupying an armchair that would have been his.

Alexia Ashford.

William clenched his fists so tightly he thought he'd dug his fingernails into his palms. Annette noticed her husband's face was on fire and took one of his hands to caress it. Wesker had left and his research had been sold to the damn posh girl who started working for plugs at the age of 10. William was, all in all, very angry.

When Alexander Ashford had finished his speech, the director took back the microphone to dismiss the staff. Alexia Ashford and the rest of her companions left through a side door. William and Annette were the last to leave the conference room.

(Translated with DeepL)  

5 de junio de 1991

William Birkin se sentaba en la última fila, junto a la puerta principal. Un océano de rostros desconocidos se desplegaba ante él. Estaba reunido en la sala de conferencias del nuevo centro de investigación de Umbrella, el laboratorio subterráneo de Raccoon City. William permanecía en silencio; a la vez que su esposa, Annette, se contentaba con analizar los rostros. Cinco minutos para el comienzo del acto inaugural.

El gentío comenzó a sentarse. La afluencia de personas entrantes y salientes se había detenido. Un par de individuos con apariencia de guardias de seguridad fueron los últimos en abandonar la sala. La respiración de William era nerviosa, categóricamente furibunda. Annette había intentado tranquilizarlo, pero su esfuerzo había sido en vano. No había nada en el planeta Tierra que pudiera calmar a William Birkin, que pudiera aminorar sus ansias de destruir todo cuanto había a su alrededor. Una simple notificación destrozó su autoestima: había sido relegado a investigador principal en el laboratorio subterráneo, bajo las órdenes de Alexia Ashford como jefa de investigaciones. Toda su investigación, el virus T y el nuevo proyecto G, ahora dependían de Alexia Ashford.

A un minuto de la inauguración, William se golpeó las pantorrillas con los puños, tantas veces que Annette tuvo que detener sus manos para no llamar la atención. Se removía en el asiento, cambiando su postura y cruzándose de piernas y brazos. Su rostro era tan expresivo como su gesticulación.

Las puertas dobles se abrieron. Un hombre rubio de mediana edad y una mujer joven, también rubia, entraron en la sala junto con los mismos guardias de seguridad que antes habían salido. Al final de la comitiva, una mujer tan mayor como el hombre rubio. Reconoció a esta última mujer como la directora del laboratorio subterráneo. La directora de las instalaciones se situó en el centro de la tarima, apropiándose del pedestal con el micrófono. El hombre rubio y la joven se sentaron en unos sillones a mano izquierda de la directora. Los guardias de seguridad se colocaron en ambos extremos del escenario.

—Bienvenidos. Para mí es un placer que todos ustedes hayan acudido al acto inaugural del nuevo laboratorio de la Corporación Umbrella. Soy Rachel Wittgenstein, la directora de esta instalación. A mi izquierda se encuentran, en primer lugar, el doctor Alexander Ashford, copresidente de Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, y la doctora Alexia Ashford, jefa de investigaciones de este laboratorio… —William se congeló. —A continuación, no sé si el doctor Ashford querrían decir algunas palabras de bienvenida.

Alexander Ashford se irguió y se dirigió al podio, de donde se retiró la directora. Su voz era grave e imponente. William no escuchó ni una sola de sus palabras. Su concentración estaba focalizada en la joven mujer rubia de aspecto pijo y prepotente que ocupaba un sillón que habría sido suyo.

Alexia Ashford.

William apretó tanto los puños que creyó que se había clavado las uñas en las palmas. Annette notó que el rostro de su marido se estaba incendiando y le cogió una de las manos para acariciarlo. Wesker se había marchado y su investigación había sido vendida a la maldita niña pija que comenzó a trabajar por enchufe con 10 años. William estaba, en definitiva, muy furioso.

Cuando Alexander Ashford hubo terminado su discurso, la directora recuperó el micrófono para despedir al personal. Alexia Ashford y el resto de sus acompañantes se marcharon por una puerta lateral. William y Annette fueron los últimos en salir de la sala de conferencias.