#everyone’s thoughts: he’s severely fucked up

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Five Times Sirius Black Fucked James Potter and One Time He Didn't

(so @arliedraws posted something along the lines of "Five Time Sirius Fucked Someone in James Potters Life for Revenge and One Time He Didn't" as part of her slytherin sirius AU etc like a million years ago. and i uh...misread that upon first read and ran with it anyway. so here's a little fic no body asked for that seemed appropriate to post on @impishtubist day of birth.

if you've been here for a bit, you may recall when i would post little dribbles as "series", so here is...part 1/5.

please enjoy xoxo)

--

James Potter’s entire body was burning from the inside out. Despite the fact he had just been naked and in several compromising positions moments before, he was now hurrying to dress himself, all too aware of the cool air brushing against his exposed ankles.

Socks. SOCKS. Where in the world did his socks end up?

He grabbed his trousers from the heap on the floor of the Quidditch changing room and tucked in his white uniform shirt. Perhaps too hastily, realizing it was caught beneath the waistband of his briefs, but he could worry about that later. And the wrong buttons on his shirt. And his socks.

It felt obscene, shoving his bare feet into his oxfords.

“I have an extra pair of socks.”

“It’s fine,” James said quickly, running a hand over his hair, debating whether or not to choke himself with his tie.

“You’ll stink up your shoes.”

“It’s f—”

“Stop being a prat, Potter, and just take the bloody socks.” James felt something bounce off the back of his head, and he finally turned around, face hot. Entirely bothered. And Sirius Black, Slytherin Prefect was smirking. Looking all too comfortable leaning against the wall of the changing rooms—the Gryffindor changing rooms, a place he shouldn’t have even been in the first place, but there he was—dark curls falling effortlessly over his cheekbone. Robes folded neatly into the crook of his arm. The pair of socks that he had just thrown on the floor to the left of James’s feet.

“I’ll bring you a pair tomorrow…” James mumbled, sitting down on the bench between the lockers, and taking his feet out of his loafers. Pointedly avoiding eye contact and looking at Black at all.

“Keep them.”

“I don’t want to owe you.”

“Owe me?” he scoffed, “I’d rather have something—”

“No.” James cut him off, pulling up one of Black’s grey socks so far and hard it came up to nearly his knee. The threads tugging at one another between the seams of the cuff. Two neat green stripes on the top, the only tell tale sign that they had been borrowed at all. James could hear Sirius push off the wall, practically hear the eyeroll, watching, waiting for him to come closer. And he did. Expensive, bloody posh, black polished shoes appearing in James carefully averted eyeline. The floor had been such a safe place to look. James steeled himself.

Black always had the unique ability to get the best of him.

Or the worst.

Since first year. When Sirius was sorted into Slytherin and James swore, to this day, he made eye contact with the haughty boy in the Great Hall and something ignited inside of him. An unspoken rivalry with no clear starting point, for either of them.

It was almost instinctual. The desire to get one up on Sirius Black.

Sirius performed well in Transfiguration and James made sure to earn points in Charms.

Sirius was made prefect their fifth year, and suddenly James’s biggest dream was to become Quidditch Captain just to have some kind of badge to show off.

Sirius had more OWL’s than James.

James was better at Quidditch.

Now in their seventh year, James was Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, finally feeling victorious, only to discover that having more badges didn’t quiet the flames as much as he hoped they would.

And one ups turned into meet ups, turned into…

“And here, I thought you had a good time. Did I get that wrong, Potter?”

“I have a girlfriend,” James hissed, though he knew Lily was back up at the castle with everyone else. Celebrating Gryffindors win, no doubt. Where James was supposed to be, with his teammates and his friends, and his girlfriend that he definitely had, before he was rudely interrupted by Black. Stupid Sirius Black and his stupid cheeky smile.

He hated that Black waltzed around Hogwarts like he owned it. Hated that Black stepped foot into Gryffindor territory without a second thought.

Wanted to say congratulations is all, Potter.

He hated his tone.

But Merlin, did James like the way Sirius said congratulations.

“Oh, I see,” Sirius nodded in mock understanding. “Now you have a girlfriend.”

“I mean, I did…before to, I’m just…” James exhaled and stood up.

That was better. Though Black was still taller. And they were so standing so close to one another, James could make out the beauty mark beneath Sirius’s left eye, and the small scar on the top of his forehead, just before his hairline started.

“This was the last time.”

“Alright,” Sirius shrugged casually.

“I mean it.”

“It would mean more if I had not heard it before…”

“That was different,” James said, “That was…” But he couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough to stop Black from smirking further. It wasn’t different. Not at all, but Black didn’t have to be so damn smug about it.

“Mhmm. Alright,” Sirius repeated, with his stupid smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sirius shifted, hands moving to James’s tie, deft fingers undoing the poorly done knot and retying it carefully. “Just, you know, if I had known it was going to be the last time, really, actually the last time, I would have stepped it up a notch for a proper send-off.”

“Stop talking.” James swallowed, trying to stop his chest from rising and falling so rapidly. Trying to stop for repeating history and going back on his statement all too soon.

Because the last time had to come eventually.

Sirius laughed shortly, aligning James’s tie under his collar and straightening it out. “Enjoy your victory party, Potter.” One of Sirius’s hands cupped James’s jawline, his thumb brushing over James’s bottom lip, wiping away any remnants that they had once kissed.

Touched.

Dissolved into one another.

“Let me know if your girlfriend needs some pointers. I’m happy to—”

“She doesn’t,” James responded, indignantly, cocking his chin upward.

“Alright,” Sirius said with a wink, his shoe making the tiniest squeak on the floor as he turned on his heel, “See you next time.” And Sirius walked out of the changing rooms, leaving James with his heart pounding in his chest.

go to part two

[burningembers91]

Rare - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Synopsis: The Salesman wants to play a game with you. But when he changes the rules, so do you

A/N: I am immensely proud of this series. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before and I love exploring the darker sides of characters. This particular fic is probably my favourite so far. I wanted to thank everyone for the frankly mind boggling love I have received on all my fics so far. Thank you ❤️

It had been two weeks since your mysterious man in the grey suit had saved you. Two weeks since you’d given in to your desires. The day after he fucked you so hard that your bed slats broke, an entirely new bed arrived. One with a plush, cream, fabric headboard and a mattress that felt like you were sleeping on a cloud sent straight from heaven.

His heroics in the alleyway, the transition from something psychological to physical had changed the dynamics of your relationship. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could feel himself falling under your spell. It was a constant struggle to maintain the upper hand, to continue the illusion that you were entirely at his mercy. But you both knew it was a mutual torture, that each of you had the other twisted so deliciously around your respective fingers. The other night he had come so close to telling you his name. It had been so long since he’d spoken it, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what is was anymore. But there was something about you, something deliciously dark bubbling after your soft, shea scented skin. You could be the death of him, this beautiful femme fatale. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish control to you though; he still wanted to try and break you.

You received a phone call one day, requesting your attendance at an incredibly high end dress store in Myeong-Dong. As you made your way through the doors, the eye watering price tags made your jaw drop. You could never in a thousand lifetimes afford a dress like this; but you knew someone who could.

You were whisked into a private area, where several women with tape measures took measurements of your body. They didn’t speak to you, didn’t answer any of your questions. You were there less than five minutes, after being instructed to return to the store the next day to pick up your purchase.

“But I didn’t order anything,” you exclaimed, “can you just tell me what’s going on.”

“Our client is very discreet,” the store manager responded. “Please arrive promptly tomorrow to collect your purchase.”

You couldn’t text Mr Grey Suit to ask him what he was up to. You still weren’t privy to any personal information about him, including his phone number. He didn’t come to see you that night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts about what he could have possibly ordered you.

The next day, you arrived at the time requested, and were once again greeted by the store manager who handed you a dress bag, with a note attached. I will see you tonight, 7pm. DO NOT LOOK IN THIS BAG UNTIL THEN. I will know if you do. You headed home, desperate to look inside the bag. You didn’t dare though, you had absolutely no doubt he would know if you took a peek.

Your grey suited man arrived at your apartment at 7pm sharp. He nodded appreciatively at your immaculate hair and makeup, cupping your chin in his hand as his eyes explored yours.

“Tonight,” he explained, “you will do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you perform satisfactorily, you will be rewarded.”

“If I perform satisfactorily?” You scoffed. “I didn’t realise I was a circus monkey.”

He wiped his thumb along your lower lip, smearing the lipstick you’d applied not 10 minutes ago.

“You will do exactly what I say,” he growled. “Now, get dressed into the gift I gave you. And clean your face up. You have 5 minutes. Do not keep me waiting.”

You did as you were asked, presenting yourself like a piece of meat on a platter for him. He nodded approvingly, his hand trailing down the burgundy silk of the evening dress that fit you like a glove, the one he’d had made especially for you. You were a vision, an angel sent straight from heaven. He wasn’t going to tell you that though; he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in Seoul, where a private room had been set up especially. The staff were very discreet, and he’d need exactly that for what he hand in store for you tonight. You sat down opposite him at the small table, classical music quietly playing through the speakers. The room had no windows, lit only by the dimness of the candles dotted around the room.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Mr Grey Suit said. “I’d expect you to eat every single bite.”

Champagne arrived, followed by oysters. You hated oysters with a fiery passion, but you forced yourself to finish every single one. You refused to show your distaste for them, refused to grimace as the slimy substance slid down your throat. Next up was steak, rare, the meat still oozing blood into to your plate, seeping into the accompanying potatoes. Your stomach turned; you hated red meat. You hadn’t eaten it since you were 10, the smell of it sending your stomach churning.

“I can’t,” you whispered, the metallic smell of the dead animals blood seeping into your nose.

“Are you disobeying me?” He asked, tutting as he tucked a linen napkin into his shirt. “I’m supposing you want to be punished then?”

“Please,” you choked, “anything but steak. I can’t, it’s the smell.”

“Stand up.” He told you. You stood to attention, ignoring the rising bile in your throat. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, your breath hitching as he pulled up your dress to your waist.

“Bend over,” he instructed. You obeyed, hearing the sound of his steak knife slide through the fabric of your lace underwear. You cried out as a sharp, swift slap was delivered to your right cheek, quickly followed by another, and then another. Each hit was harder than the last, tears streaking your face. The mixture of pleasure and pain was exquisite and yet so unbearable.

“Will you do as you’re told now?” He asked, his breath slightly ragged. You were soaking wet as you nodded, and he to resist sliding his fingers inside you. He was supposed to be punishing you after all, not giving you what you wanted.

You sat back down, the skin of your ass stinging as it made contact with the leather chair. Mascara smudged your cheeks, your face flushed. You looked down at the rare steak, then back up your mystery man. He was smiling so smugly at you; he clearly thought he’d won this little game. You smiled sweetly back, picked up your knife and fork, and sliced into the meat. You did your best to ignore the blood that seeped from it. You hardly breathed as you ate, swallowing the bile that continued to rise. A flash of anger contorted his usually handsome features; you were besting him yet again.

You proudly showed off your empty plate, sweat peppering your forehead from the immense effort. You refused to show you him how unwell you felt, choosing to down your glass of champagne to remove the metallic taste from your tongue. He begrudgingly poured you more, both of you smiling as you tried to figure out the others next move.

“What do I get then?” You finally asked, when the silence became too much.

“I’m sorry?” He said, dabbing the corner of his napkin as he surveyed you.

“You said if I did everything you asked, you’d reward me,” you reminded him.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “but you didn’t do everything I asked.”

“Yes, I did,” you snapped back. “I wore the dress, I ate the oysters and the fucking steak!” Eating that piece of meat had almost made you sick, but you’d done it. And he was reneging on his end of the bargain.

“But I had to punish you before you would eat he,” he smiled.

“And I did,” you hissed back at him, fists clenched under the table. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he whispered.

You looked him up again, his smug face looking entirely slappable in that moment.

“And so can I,” you decided. “Goodnight.” Throwing your napkin down on the table, you headed for the door.

“Wait!” His voice was desperate, panicked. He didn’t want you to leave. You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He looked uneasy, wondering why his game wasn’t going the way he wanted.

“Fine, you sighed, “I’ll stay, but you’re going to play one of my games now.”

You fucked him on the floor of that private dining room, straddling him as you pressed the steak knife to his throat, the one he’d used to slice off your underwear. He quivered underneath you, entirely at your mercy as your slick, tight walls swallowed him again and again. He came with a strangled cry, thrusting his hips up into you as you drained every last drop of his seed.

Leaning down, you planted a single tender kiss on his lips.

“Goodnight, Mr Grey Suit,” you whispered. Standing up, you left him lying there on the cold marble floor, his cock still hard and his breathing ragged.

He had seriously underestimated you. What had started as a game of control, was now something entirely new to him. For the first time in his life, he was entirely at someone else’s mercy.

[smittenmeraki]

I have so many random ideas of Andreil being found out by the media in the strangest ways. My personal fav so far is them going pro and being on different teams. They end up playing against each other and everyone starts to think their rivals because Andrew keeps launching the ball at Neils helmet. After like 7 headshots from across the court Neil swears at him in german something along the lines of "I know you're doing that on purpose quit being a bitch for the sake of your entertainment or I swear I will empty your candy drawer" and of course Andrew's just there with his blank expression leaning on his racket, knowing Neil will forget all about it when they're home. However, all the fans see is Andrew targeting Neil over and over no matter where he is on the court so everyone thinks they hate each other until some weeks later an article is released with pictures of them grocery shopping together. Andrew is in the cart eating candy he hasn't even bought yet while Neil scans the aisle with a hand in Andrews hair. Another picture of them loading everything into the car, Andrew with a hand on Neils waist as he opens the backdoor. The article is titled something like "rivals or lovers : a deep dive into their history" and it brings up points like Andrew protecting Neil from Riko and Neil getting Andrew to shut down the goal with just a few words (ones no one knows), but also points of them shoving each other and getting in each others faces (tbh they were just flirting but from an outside prospective it was violence because they are never normal) all of the fan theories come to a head when Neil gets interviewed.

"What is your thoughts on the rumors about you and Minyard?"

"Rumors?"

"Yes, the ones about you two being teammates turned rivals turned lovers. Many fans are speculating what your relationship is and several articles have become very popular over it."

"We were never rivals??" Neil is absolutely lost at this idea, complete confusion.

"Really? Never once over the years?"

"No? And what articles? I don't understand how this has anything to do with Exy."

"Its about your career in the sense that Andrew Minyard has been a challenge for you." Neil smiles at the idea of Andrew being a challenge. "There was a really big article that shared some photos of you two together at a grocery store. It's rather unusal to see you two in a domestic setting, can you tell us about that? Many are wondering why you shop together." The first photo is pulled up on the big screen and Neil just stares for a moment, unsure of when it was taken.

"1. Its creepy that that was taken without us knowing. 2. I don't know what you want me to tell you, Andrew's not allowed out of the cart because he's a mence to shop with or maybe he refuses to let me go alone because I constantly forget things. Its just normal every day life, same as everyone else. 3. Because we live together?? I still don't see the relevance any this has to Exy. Many spouses go against each others teams, it's a part of being pro's."

"Spouses? So you are confirming you and Minyard are married?"

"Not on paper. Fundamentally yes. I thought this interview was supposed to be about how our season is going?" Neil sits back, baffled but also slightly smug from the look of shock on the interviewers face.

Meanwhile Andrew is at home with the cats eating a tub of ice cream while watching the interview thinking to himself 'yeah, fucking tell her. Noisy ass drama seeker.'

[boybandbaby]

I Wish Part 2 (Evan Buckley x 118!Reader)

warnings: fire, injuries, angst (aftermath of a breakup) then fluff (getting back together), idk reader gives in kinda easy but I would too for Evan Buckley

Part 1

Buck doesn’t know what happened. One minute you’re his girlfriend and the next you’re both just coworkers. One second you’re working side by side with him venting the roof and the next you’re both falling through several floors until you hit a hard surface with a thud.

You roll onto your right side and groan loudly. Theres an ache in your left side where your hands fly to assess the damage. Buck is out cold, body sprawled amongst some debris. There isn’t much fire around you as the fire originated several floors up. There’s some smoke and it’s dark but you figure if you can get Buck to wake up and move, you have a chance at getting out.

You can hear Cap’s voice on your radio asking for a status on you and Buck. You press the button and call out what happened and where you believe you are. While you’re informing the team of Buck’s condition, you feel yourself choke on your words. You’re not sure if it’s the smoke invading your throat or the thought that Buck is seriously injured but a lump forms in your throat and tears well up in your eyes. He’s not moving, it’s hard to see his chest rising and falling through the darkness and helmet, and he’s not waking with your harsh shakes to his chest.

You’re honestly not even sure if the message got sent out as you don’t get a response. You slump next to him and rest there for a few seconds trying to gather your thoughts and create a plan. You’re trying to focus on slowing your breathing otherwise you’re going to start a full on panic attack. You shut your eyes and attempt to ground yourself.

-

“You broke up with her? I thought things were going really well.” Maddie sighs, sipping on her glass of wine.

“They were but the last couple of weeks, we were just fighting a lot. It was getting overwhelming.” Buck has both hands on the counter, his head hung between his arms.

“Aren’t these the same things we’ve all been saying to you for the past couple of years? That you need to think about your actions. Slow down a bit.” She finishes her glass and pushes the cup towards Buck.

“I guess I just didn’t want her to think the same things. I wanted her to see me as this great guy both at work and in our relationship but she sees me as someone who always makes mistakes. I just fuck everything up.” Buck pours some wine into the glass before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Did she say that?” Maddie takes her glass back.

“Not exactly but it was close enough.” Buck shrugs. “I have to bake something.” He turns to start looking through the cabinets.

“I think you should really try talking to her.” Maddie rounds the counter and places a hand on her brother’s arm. “She’s the first person you’ve dated that reciprocates and matches your energy. She’s eager to be in your life and meet your friends and family. I think that’s says a lot about how much she cares for you.”

“I mean it doesn’t matter now. I was a jerk and she’ll never forgive me.” Buck closes his eyes. He doesn’t want Maddie to see him cry.

“Do you think maybe you broke things off with her because you’re scared of being broken up with first?”

-

“Hey, how are you doing?” Hen closes the last button on her shirt and makes her way up the stairs. You’re sitting on the couch, staring at the tv. Nothing is playing.

“I’m fine. How are you?” You ask, not meeting her eyes.

“How are you holding up?” She sits beside you, patting your knee. It’s been a few days since Buck broke up with you. Your anniversary or what would have been has since passed. Reservations canceled, outfits stuffed in the back of the closest, and gifts hidden in the back in sock drawers.

“Who told you?” You inquire with an edge to your voice.

“Buck told Maddie. Maddie told Chim and Chim told me.”

“So everyone knows?”

“I’m sure Buck told Eddie. I don’t think Bobby knows yet.”

“I know.” Cap walks up the steps, pulling you in for a side hug. “Let’s make breakfast.” He nudges your side. You follow him to the kitchen and began to work in tandem. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“So he really meant it then? If he told everyone we’re broken up, he’s cementing it.” Your lips quiver.

“Smells good. What’s for breakfast?” Chim interjects. “Bad time?”

“No, no. It’s okay. Keep the drama at home right?” You look to Bobby. You excuse yourself and head down to the lockers. The three all watch your figure descend down the steps. In your hurry to stop the tears, your shoulder bumps into Eddie’s as he’s exiting the locker room.

“Hey,” he calls out your name. “Do you want me to stay? Buck’s in the locker room too. I could be a buffer for the tension.”

“Thanks Eddie. It’s okay. Really.” You wipe your eyes and give him a small smile. “I’ll see you later.”

As you’re heading into the locker room, you can hear Buck sighing and running water over his face. You can picture it without even seeing it. He’s probably hunched over the too short sink, back beginning to ache as he refuses to bend with his knees. He’s throwing cold water on his face to subside the tears and redness but of course it doesn’t work when tears are constantly flowing down his cheeks.

Despite your mind’s protests, your body moves to check on him. You round the corner and catch him wiping his face with a few paper towels. You see his shoulders tense before he even turns to look at you.

He whispers your name and quickly turns around. “Hi.”

“Breakfast is almost ready.” You blurt, not really sure what to say to him.

“Thanks, I’m not really that hungry. Look, can we talk?”

“Now’s not a good time, Evan. We should focus on work while we’re here not our personal issues.”

“Okay, well maybe we can meet somewhere after shift and talk.”

“Okay, yeah, sure.” You agreed quicker than you liked but a part of you believes the quicker he explains, the quicker you can get closure and move on from this. From him.

-

You’re not sure how long you sit there but you feel a shift behind you. You turn quickly to see Buck uncovering his face. He’s beyond confused and you’re sure he has a concussion.

“What happened?” He coughs.

You uncover your face and bend your neck to find his eyes. “We fell through the roof. Do you think you can walk?” You place a hand on his jaw.

Buck looks up at you but his gaze seems far away. He doesn’t answer as his eyes search yours.

“Evan, listen. We have to get out of here now. I need you to listen to me okay? Do what I say.” Your hand squeezes his cheeks inward and his lips are puckered. “We have to move.”

He nods softly and his hand holds onto your forearm, keeping your hand on his face. “You’re pretty, you know?”

“Evan, focus please.” You attempt to pull him up but his body is dead weight. “Oh my god. Please please work with me.” You whine.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, still slumped on the floor.

“Don’t apologize. I just need you to try. Even if it’s just you crawling behind me. I don’t want us to die in here.”

“I mean I’m sorry about the fights and the break up.” He attempts to look up at you. “You’re right. I can be reckless and it’s gotten me in trouble before. And hurt. A lot.”

“Evan, we said we’d talk about this later. I’d really like you to keep that promise.” You drop back to your knees. “If we make it out of here, you’ll have my full attention and I’ll even keep my mouth shut the entire time you ramble. Please…” you plea, grabbing his hands.

He nods and squeezes your hands. You stand and put your arms under his armpits to help lift him. He does the best he can in his dazed state. After getting him to stand, you throw his arm around your shoulder.

As you’re walking to the nearest wall, some pieces of wood and other materials fall from above causing you to shriek and pull Buck closer to you. He uses his height and body to shield you from any falling debris. It’s the least he can do he thinks. Your hands make contact with a wall and you pull him along.

“Do you see a door or exit anywhere?” You ask.

Buck squints his eyes and tries to center his vision on anything in the room. “I think there’s something over there.” He points to an area on his left side and guides you along the wall. His hand suddenly falls in the air and he’s found an opening. “Here, come in front.”

You maneuver your way in front of him, tripping over something on the floor. His hands hold you upright until you find a handrail in the opening. You take a cautious step and your boot meets with what feels like a step. “Buck, I think we found stairs. Can you make your way up?”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you.” He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on the rail.

Just as you’re making your way to the top, a door leading to air and light opens. You’re met with Eddie and Chim. “Did you lovebirds make up?”

“Shut up, Chim.” You and Buck say at the same time. “Where’s Hen? Buck needs to be looked over.”

“Let’s get you out first.” Eddie pulls Buck’s arm over his shoulders and you follow Chim out to safety. Eddie and Buck follow behind as you run to Hen. She begins checking your eyes.

You shake your head and push her over to Buck. “Are you sure?” She questions. You nod and sit on the back of the open ambulance. You shrug your gear off and lift your shirt to get a better look at the pain in your side. You can feel the soreness of a forming bruise.

“Want me to take a look at that?” Chim asks. You nod and move over so he can sit. “He’s over there asking where you are and if you’re okay.” You give Chim a look to stay out of it. “Just give the guy a second chance. He’s my friend and he’s an idiot sometimes. He acts before he thinks but he means well.”

“He’s also your brother in law. His wellbeing means a lot to you because it means a lot to Maddie.” You laugh. “Don’t worry. We’re going to talk when he’s feeling better. I already promised him.”

“Good.” He smiles and hops off the back of the truck. “I would hate to see you both throw away something special.”

“And I would hate to work with you both if you officially ended things.” Eddie joins in. “Imagine sad and whiny Buck.”

“And grumpy y/n.” Chim nudges his side.

“Okay, that’s enough from both of you.” Bobby laughs. “We gotta get you both to a hospital for a check up so let’s go.”

Hen and Chim help Buck onto a gurney and into the truck while you stay at his side. On the ride to the hospital, Buck just stares at you and holds his hand out. You roll your eyes and place your hand in his. He smiles triumphantly and closes his eyes.

“Do I really hold you back?” You ask.

“Hm?” Buck asks. His eyes opening softly.

You know it’s not fair to question him when his brain was rattled and he hasn’t had proper care yet. You don’t really care about that though.

“Did you mean it when you said I nag you? That it feels like I’m hovering? Or breathing down your neck?” Your voice is soft and quiet enough for him to hear but hopefully not too loud especially for the two eavesdroppers in the front to hear. You know they’re trying to listen as they’ve stopped their own conversation.

“You really remembered everything I said, huh?” He sighs.

“Were you hoping I’d forget?”

“A little bit yeah. I was hoping if you forgot the mean things I said, it’d be easier for you to forgive me.” He jokes. Chim facepalms, confirming they are listening to the conversation.

Your eyes shift to the front of the truck. “Maybe we should save this conversation for when we’re alone.”

“Why?” Chim turns in his seat. “You know he’s going to tell us all anyway. It’s better I hear the full thing so I can relay it to Maddie as a witness and not just Buck’s recollection of what happened.” Hen jabs Chim in the side to shut him up. You make your way to the hospital in silence, hand still in Buck’s.

Buck is sent home to rest up while you stay on light duty for the rest of the shift due to a bruised side. Nothing is broken or severely injured but Bobby wants to be safe.

After your shift, you head to your apartment before you make your way over to Buck’s apartment with takeout from his favorite restaurant, medicine and the anniversary gift you got weeks prior. You’re not sure how this conversation is going to go but you still want to have the necklace you bought it. A simple silver chain with your initial on it.

You knock and wait a few minutes before deciding to use your key. You tell yourself you’re crossing this boundary to make sure he’s okay even though you’re not technically his girlfriend anymore: When you enter his place, it’s quiet and dark. You place the bags in your hands on the counter and slip off your shoes. The all too familiar action leaving an ache in your heart.

“Buck?” You creep quietly up the stairs and find him sprawled on the bed. He’s shirtless, sleeping on his stomach, wrapped in dark blue sheets that are tangled around his waist. His arms are wrapped around the pillow he’s currently buried his face into. You place a hand on his bare back and rub gently.

He stirs only briefly before turning his head in your direction. He whispers your name as a question.

“How are you feeling? I brought some stuff.” You whisper.

“What time is it?” He groans, pushing himself up.

With a firm hand you push him back down. “It’s 10pm. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Go back to sleep. I’m going to get the food ready and I’ll bring yours up. Rest.”

“I can help.” He attempts to get up again.

“Evan, I’m serious. Stay. Relax.” You smile and run your fingers down his back before turning to head back downstairs.

“Wait! Wait…” He shouts before calming quickly, realizing his voice echoed throughout the apartment and disturbed the peace of the moment. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

You stop, frozen in place, thinking of your next words. You turn to him, “When we were on the roof I was struggling to maintain how mad at you I was.”

“Yeah, you were venting to roof pretty hard. I was afraid you were going to start hitting me next.” He laughs as you sit beside him.

Your fingers itch to touch him again. You decide to go for it and lightly massage his neck. As much as Buck loves your massages, he turns over, onto his back and brings your hand to his chest before pulling you into him. You shriek at the sudden movement and laugh before getting comfortable into his side.

“How’s your bruise?” He whispers into your hairline, eyes focused on your fingers making small outlines of hearts on his chest.

“Not too bad. How’s your noggin?” You shift to look at his face.

“Still big and empty.” He jokes. You silently laugh, body shaking against him. “I never thanked you for saving me. You really are a great firefighter. I’m such an idiot and an ass for ever saying anything about your abilities. I was projecting my insecurities onto you and trying to hurt you.”

“I was really scared. Not just for myself but for you. There was a split second where I did think maybe you were right and I’m not as good as I thought and I wouldn’t be able to get us out of there. I had to take a minute to breathe. Then it got me thinking about you being alone. When you run into buildings and climb ladders, I think about how scared you must be but you do it because it feels right to you. You care so much about others that you risk your life over and over again.”

“This job is everything to me but so are you. I haven’t been doing a good job of showing you that and instead of proving how much you mean to me, I ended things. It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve done. Ever.”

“I think Cap and the rest of the team would beg to differ.” You laugh.

“At least Maddie would agree with me.” He laughs and moves his hands to the sides of your neck, holding your head to look at him. “The job is here now but it won’t be forever. You though, you’re here now and hopefully for the rest of my life.”

“As long as you don’t break up with me again.” You joke, hands resting on top of his.

“Never.” He brings his lips to yours, hardly containing his smile.

“I brought food and your anniversary gift. Maybe we can have a makeup date?” You push his chest back to get a look at him.

“You brought a gift? So, were you planning to forgive me before you even got here?” He smirks.

“Shut up, Evan. Just get your butt downstairs and start serving the food.”

“Yes ma’am.” He pecks your forehead before grabbing his shirt from the nightstand and heading downstairs. You smile to yourself once he descends the stairs before your eyes see the velvet box on his nightstand. Your eyes widen and you slowly reach for it.

“Don’t look in the box!” You jump at being caught. Buck has learned from his past mistakes of rushing into things so it’s not an engagement ring just yet. A simple bracelet with his birthstone.

[fitzjamesbulletwound]

hey guys, while i was rewatching for my fitzier post i made several new joplittle discoveries as well that i figured i would share! these are not going to be in order but i’ll make sure to denote which episode and which scene they happen in as best I can :) also this isn't nearly as long as the other post but here ya go:

episode 5: during crozier’s dry out speech there’s a moment i missed the first time around because jopson is in the foreground in it and pretty blurry but you can still see his eyes movements. we don’t get ned’s perspective but jopson looks at him for a long time while crozier’s talking- it starts when crozier is saying “i’m going to be unwell gentlemen”

episode 7: more from the promotion scene! mostly that EVERYONE at the table looks for edward’s reaction, including fitzjames, as if they’re not surprised that he was the happiest for jopson and were expecting it. i also noticed two very insane eye journeys while jopson is shaking everyone’s hands- the first was that fitzjames is looking at crozier through the space between edward and jopson, smiling at him, but then he tilts his eyes to edward and then to jopson or maybe in the reverse order i don’t remember, and then he looks down, still smiling and also! when jopson shakes jirv and dundy’s hands, his eyes flit between them and the letter that he can’t stop reading but before he shakes edward’s hand, he kind of goes still, looks down, then looks up at edward and holds his gaze the whole time they’re touching. also i know edward takes his glove off to shake his hand to be polite but they have the only skin to skin contact which is soooooo

episode 8: i sometimes wonder if the beginning of the breakdown in joplittle (it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s f) can be attributed to their differences of opinion towards hickey and the mutiny situation- edward is doubtful and almost defensive of hickey (i think this is more his defense of hodgson and his grief at jirv’s death coming through) and jopson is the most intense and full of rage we’ve ever seen him when addressing hickey but also in the way he looks at edward when ned starts fucking up. 

episode 3: just a small thing but i noticed that jirv and hodgson look to edward when jopson walks in, similar to the jop promotion scene when everyone looks to edward first for a reaction. also i may have said this in my first post but it bears repeating the biiiig inhale exhale ned does when jop walks in and the slight smile and head inclination that jop gives him ahhhha;ldskjfls

episode 10- when dundy says they’ll leave anyone behind who can’t walk to a boat, that’s when edward gets ANGRY, and we never see him like that. he references a conversation that jopson was present for, reminding dundy of his presence there and that the statement applied to him too. I KNOW he was thinking of jopson there I fucking know it. he was furious dundy would leave him behind and in the script it specifically says that he is disgusted. 

episode 8: in the script they go to arrest hickey and sol together, you can kinda see them start to move off together when crozier tells them to go :) 

episode 6: THE joplittle look… so after edward escorts dundy in and tells the men to gather round, he goes over to specifically stand with jopson while jopson eats and ned is drinking something. like he chose to go stand with him while he was eating and ned is listening to dundy and they’re just sharing a little moment together until the bell rings. honestly when jopson is walking away and ned is watching him, i’m starting to wonder if that angry look is for crozier on jopson’s behalf (and just in general because of the situation) rather than at hickey, or maybe a little of both. the look on his face when he watches jopson walk away is very interesting to say the least

that’s all for now! just some extra stuff i thought we all might want to chew on

[noxusstrap]

"I'll Get It Right This Time" An Ekko Time-Travel Fix It Fic

Ok so Hi! This is my first time ever dipping my toes into Tumblr posting besides just coming on here and reading some godly one-shots.

Im posting my fic here, as well as AO3, just in case!

Hope you guys enjoy!

CHAPTER I : THE BOY WHO SHATTERED TIME

Ekko felt like he was gonna hurl.

 Heimerdinger wasn't supposed to- he wasn't supposed to sacrifice himself like that, Powder wasn't supposed to come in during the process, wasn't supposed to see the real him, and he was so sure he wasn't supposed to see the expression she made at him so full of Love and Affection; but it all happened and he didn't know what to do now. He always thought himself to be the most sensible and sane of his former friends; but, now? Now he just wants to go back to his Jinx and save his people.

But the Universe had other plans.

He felt the hairs on his neck begin to stand up and he instinctively knew. The Hex Core was acting up, and he didn't know what to do. All it took was a single glance at the Z-Drive before everything went white.

_____

The first thing he could feel was the paved road beneath him, followed by the sounds of a bustling street and that distinct smell of Home.

It worked. 

Ekko sat up and silently cheered.

He was back! Only-

He paused and looked around, and everything was bigger than what he remembers, and that's when he noticed it; his hands were tiny. His child-like hands were just barely hanging onto the Z-Drive, or rather, what remained of it. The Hexcore glowed softly within the now shattered confinements of the Z-drive. The monkeys seemingly rusted like they've been used for decades rather than just a handful of times and all he could do was stare.

Oh Janna.

The device worked alright, but it worked too well, now; he's stuck in the past with no way back to the future.

It was supposed to only be four seconds…HOW COULD IT HAVE THROWN HIM OVER A DECADE TO THE PAST?!

“Fuck,” he sighed, just barely stopping himself from banging his head against the alley wall; he wasnt going to look a gifted horse in the mouth; he had gotten a once-in-a-lifetime chance and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. First things first, he had to figure out what day he was sent back to, and more importantly, what can he prevent from happening this time around to benefit the future?

Just as he was about to take a step out of the alley, he paused. He took a small glance at the Z-Drive; it was too big to disguise it as anything, and it would look suspicious if a small little child was carrying a device that looked like it could be worth millions even though it was severely damaged. He looked around, ducking between the dumpsters in the alley before finding a satchel, it was big enough to hold the broken Z-Drive but not big enough to arouse suspicion.

Ekko hummed, put the machine in the satchel and made his way out of the alley.

_____

His body instinctively carried him to Benzo’s Pawn Shop though his mind was absent, stirring with thoughts and possibilities of a different future, one where Jinx, Vi, Vander, and everyone else are still alive and well; it was dangerous to hope for that future. (he wanted to hope so so so badly-)

His thoughts come to a halt when they reach Jayce and his dear friend and partner, Viktor. He knew there was a universe out there where Hextech was never invented and it was an almost perfect world; of course he would know, he lived through it.

He paused right at the entrance of the shop, everything he could hear around him quieted to a light hum.

Just because Hextech went bad in one future doesn't mean we can't have good Hextech ideas and innovations. We just have to stop whatever the fuck Viktor did with the Hexcore; whatever it was. And- maybe bring Heimerdinger into this mess he made.

Ekko smirked and pushed open the doors. The ding of the bell rang resolutely throughout the small shop, and his false bravado fades as quickly as it appeared.

What if Benzo’s already Dead?

What if I arrived so much later than I predicted?

Was Powder still Powder?

Is Vander still Alive?

What if-

“Hey little man, where have you been all day, ey?” 

Ekko slowly looked towards the back of the shop, where the noise originated from. He knew that voice; he knew it better than anyone, but he couldn't just let himself hope before seeing him for himself.

He clutched the straps of the satchel holding the Z-Drive and took a single step towards the back room, before he could take another, a hand emerged from the back. He KNEW that hand.

And then he saw him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to the shop, you just ran off and it’s dan-” Benzo gets cut off by Ekko slamming into his stomach at nearly sub-human speeds for a hug. He stumbles slightly, taken aback at the sheer strength Ekko showed, and lightly chuckled. “Woah there! Almost made me fall there, when did you get so strong Little Man!” He teases. 

Ekko let out an inaudible whimper, tightened his hold just a little more before releasing Benzo.

“Always been this strong Benzo.” Ekko’s voice miraculously kept an even tone despite everything in him wanting to cry and bury his face into the arms of his pseudo-father.

Benzo knew something was bothering Ekko, and he knew it had something to do with whatever he was carrying in that satchel of his, but chose not to pry, he could tell me what's going on if he really wanted me to know, he reasoned. Instead, he nuzzled Ekko’s hair and hummed, nodding to himself before slowly making his way to the back of the store.

“Listen kid-” Benzo stops in his tracks and calls over his shoulder, “Whatever you do, just be safe.” He smiles, and with that, he leaves. Ekko tries to get his body to move, to do anything, but it refused to listen. All he could do was watch the man he admired so much go back to his work.

Calm down, you need to calm down,Ekko chided himself, trying to psych himself up.

Everything’s okay, Benzo being here means Vander hasn't died yet, that means Claggor and Mylo are still alive and Power is still Powder. Ekko looked around the various shelves of knick knacks and useful items, his eyes gliding through them before stopping on a particular piece of hardware. It looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

He narrowed his eyes, his mind fixated on this one piece; he knew this was before the deaths of everyone he loved but why was this specific piece of scrap ringing some sort of bell in his brai-

It was the last piece Jayce bought from them to complete his work.

Ekko felt bells frantically go off in his head; this means he was sucked back two months before Jayce’s apartment got blown up, two months before Ekko told anyone about the young scholar he scammed over the last couple of mechanisms needed to complete a project, two months was all he got to work with.

He cursed silently, his mind scrambling to make a cohesive plan with the amount of time he had at his disposal. If he could fix the Z-Drive, it would make his life so much easier, but as he took a single glance into the satchel, he decided it was best to leave that particular project on the back burner for now. He wouldn't even know where to begin with the Z-Drive without Heimerdinger's help, and even then, this wasn't his Heimerdinger anymore, this wasn't the brilliant Professor casted out of the Council; this isn't the Professor who found solace and companionship within the Firelights; this isn't the professor who sacrificed everything for him to be here right now.

Speaking of the Firelights, would they even be able to form now that he’s trying to fix everything? Would he be willing to establish the Firelights again for the sake of providing a sanctuary for the people of the Lanes? Oh without a doubt. But, he muses, it would be a couple of years from now that it would happen; for now, he needed to think of what to do, and he needed to write it down fast.

He scrambled to his little hideout on top of the shop, his fingers gliding through the first piece of paper he could find at lightning speeds, his mind running a hundred miles a minute, trying to formulate a plan that's feasible in two months, or 8 weeks, or if you really want to get technical, 1,460 hours. When he stopped writing, his hand was cramping, seemingly bruised from all the back and forth on the paper, but his mind was clear and his heart was finally beginning to hope for a better future this time around.

EKKO’S PLAN FOR ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION (SAVING EVERYONES ASSES)

Stop Silco from mass producing Shimmer (Stop Silco in general by ANY means necessary) ((I want whatever they had in the Other world to happen here))

DON'T LET POWDER BECOME JINX! (maybe recruit her in his plans?) ((who is this ‘Isha’ girl I keep seeing in my dreams of my reality? Was she real? Why was she with Jinx?))

Prevent Jayce from fucking things up this time around (maybe help out with his experiments? Perhaps give him a reason to not fuck up the trade with Zaun with the Hexgates?)

Never let Claggor and Mylo die this time around. (They deserve a better future than what they got)

Get Heimerdinger to help turn Zaun into a Utopia (he mentioned doing so much in such little time? Was he the one who made Zaun a better place?)

Re-Establish the Firelights in case things go awry.

Fix the Z-Drive whenever possible (I don't want it to malfunction and bring more problems with it)

He looked at the now hung plan on his wall. He had two months to do everything on his list, and if they tried to stop him, he would make it EVERYONE'S problem. He knew the first thing on his agenda was regrettably the most time-consuming; but he couldn't afford to waste more time. He had to find a way to stop Silco even if it meant killing the guy, (he knew he had some good in him; he saw it in the alternate timeline, if he could just figure out what cause him to turn good in that timeline, it would make his life so much eas-). He had everything on the line, and he wasn't going to LOSE this time.

Let the games begin. Ekko smirked.

Am I gonna go insane writing this? Oh ABSOLUTELY!

Do I Care? FUCKKKKKK NOOOOOO!!!!!

Let me know what yall think; its my first time posting kinda nervy..

[junkpuppet225]

note: angst, spoilers for stuff that happened years ago on twd. daryl kisses you. darylxf!reader. enjoy!

After he lost his brother he got quiet - no longer the quick to anger smaller version of Merle Dixon - you watch the light fade from Daryl’s eyes with each passing day.

It’s not like he was winning any congeniality awards before Merle’s death but one of the many reasons you fell for him was his drive to survive that he had back at the quarry then his determination to find a little girl he had no obligations too and his need to protect the people he cared about.

An anvil of grief sits on your chest as you watch him beat himself up over not being able to protect his brother or find Sophia in time or save any of the people you’ve lost along the way. Now he’s quiet - just observing life going on around him - staring down the dusty road as you walk beside him idly wondering who will succumb to fatigue and starvation first.

You glance over to Daryl as he taps a nearly empty water bottle against your hip and silently demands you finish it off, searching your eyes for a long moment before you shake your head no. Everyone else has had some except you but you’re not going to finish the water when there’s a fucking baby in Rick’s arms.

“Drink it or I’ll pour it down yer throat myself.” Daryl barks forcing the bottle into your palm as you turn to Rick and Carl with sad eyes. “It’s okay. She’s going to be okay.” Rick assures you quietly as you twist off the cap and take a quick pull before handing it back to Daryl who grunts with disapproval.

“How much longer do you think we have?” Maggie asks from somewhere behind you and you know right away what she’s asking doesn’t have anything to do with the distance to Washington DC. Daryl’s sudden departure from your side brings your attention to the archers broad back - his muscles wound tight with exhaustion as he heads for the tree line putting a significant amount of distance between you.

You watch as Carol assures him she’ll tag along but he barks at her too - insisting he needs to be alone. The thought of Daryl being alone and exhausted out there tightens your throat with grief and you only make it another few feet before you break off from the group as well and sink into the trees.

You don’t even hear Daryl’s careful footsteps ahead of you - a lifetime spent in the seclusion of the Georgia mountains making him a pro at what he does but you aren’t completely helpless, watching from several feet away as he slumps to the ground forcing his back against a tree trunk.

“Daryl.”

You watch his limbs tense at your voice as he brings what’s left of a cigarette to his lips, lighting it quickly and taking a deep needed inhale of stale nicotine. He doesn’t acknowledge you - the only reason you even know he’s aware of you at all is the constant coil of his muscles whenever you’re near him. What you wouldn’t give for him to let you take away some of that tension - to help him forget about the constant bullshit surrounding your group at every turn. What you wouldn’t give for him to see himself the way you, Carol and Rick see him.

The thought brings you a step closer as you watch him stare at the cigarette like it holds the answer to all of life’s meaning before he places the lit end against the side of his hand and holds it to his skin without flinching. The anvil on your chest falls into the pit of your stomach as you close the space and sink to your knees beside him as he drops the cigarette to the ground and brushes the ashes away.

“Daryl.” You try again but he doesn’t look at you - now fascinated with the smoking hole on his hand as tears well in his eyes and he tries to clear his throat roughly, finally letting his head hang. The people that you’ve lost, the burden of this life has gotten too heavy for him to carry on his own. “Let me help you carry it.” You whisper running your fingers into his shaggy hair so you can see his face - forcing him to look up at you with tears in his eyes.

He’s quiet now that he’s lost so much and words fail him as he nods once and looks back to the ground ashamed. Merle was the strong one - the one that took the beatings from their dad with a smile on his face, that did the heavy lifting when shit got bad - not him.

“I can’t lose you too.” His voice breaks with emotion as you let your fingers slip further into the back of his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere. Tougher than woodpecker lips, remember?” You whisper and he actually laughs like he did that first day at the quarry when him and Merle stumbled upon your tiny group of misfits.

Look here little bird. Ya gonna have to get some meat on them bones if yer gonna survive this, ya hear? Merle proceeded to toss a dead squirrel at you like the toddler he was. Y’ain’t gonna get too far out there once this all falls to shit unless ya learn how to kill. The eldest Dixon’s loud mouth was a hazard that kept the dead headed toward the quarry every day and you just managed to sink your knife into one’s skull moments before it bit a chunk from his throat. Hot damn! You see that boy? She ain’t no little bird after all - she’s a god damn woodpecker!

Tougher than woodpecker lips that one is.

Merle headed out to scavenge the city with the others not long after that and Daryl disappeared into the woods finally free of his brother’s constant chatter to hunt in peace.

Now he was dead and Daryl was quiet, swallowing his grief as his eyes lifted to yours watching you pluck the still burning cigarette from the ground as his gaze darts to your lips and you take a deep pull from the smoke, offering it back to him.

His eyes are fixated on your lips, studying them like they hold all of life’s meaning as he leans in closer to you tilting his head slightly as you take in a quick breath and he hesitates, swallowing hard as your name slips desperately from his throat. You know he can hear your heart pounding against your chest because it sounds like thunder in your ears until you realize that’s actual thunder and then the sky opens up and brings a sudden and steady rain down on your heads. You lift your eyes from his just as he leans forward and sinks a hand into your hair, bringing your mouth back quickly as he kisses you - brushing his tongue against your lips for access as you place your palm to his chest to steady yourself, feeling him melt into your touch.

A loud crack of thunder jerks you away from him - eyes wide and staring as Daryl pushes himself to his feet and offers you his hand, pulling you back the way you came to return to the others who are all still standing in the road enjoying the refreshing shower that quickly turns dangerous.

“There’s a barn just past these trees!” Daryl yells to Rick over the noise coming from the sky but all you can focus on is your hand still clutched tightly in his.

[bluewatersfairy]

ease my mind (come over) - j.p.

a/n: happy new year! here's the first part of a series that's been sitting in my drafts for months (it'll be about 4 parts, the first two are written).

synopsis: reader is in their first year on the wizard's media team and has a run in with the teams star while working late at the facility.

warnings: none! my first clean nba fic, how far we have come.

word count: 1.8k she's short and cute

•••

Your eyes felt like they were starting to burn with how long you’d been glued to your computer screen.  This was your first year working media for the Wizards and you were determined to prove yourself a worthy hire.  

Having lived in Washington for University, you’d attended several Wizards games over the years – they were a good first date option and you often found yourself cheering for the underdog.  One of the last guys you’d gone with had assumed you were from the area, commenting on how you were so overprotective of a team that has definitely seen better years.  That’s part of the reason why when someone posted the job vacancy on one of your old class pages, you applied.  

Now you were a week in with the media team and today was your first day with the actual team and everything had been blowing by you so quickly, you barely had time to process it.  So far, they’d given you jobs that were difficult to fuck up, but you wanted more than that.  You were above an intern (thank god) so you were actually shooting the camera and editing, but it was all behind-the-scenes shots.  

It was a bit like being a kid at a family event.  You were shadowing a few higher ups and fading into the background as best as possible while they were doing their thing with the players.  Most, if not all, of your shots that you’d been working on all night had included no players' faces.  Barely any faces actually.  But you’d created something of a story out of it and had managed to turn each photo into something you were proud of.  

In your head, it was giving justice-league doing interviews after saving the city.  You had everyone on the roster and could easily make a graphic out of it.  You had that fizzy feeling in your fingers as you switched between your tablet and the computer, mapping out what it could be for your pitch tomorrow.  

Interrupting your stream of thought, your phone lit up on the desk beside you, violently vibrating – making you jump.  It was your roommate calling to see when you were going to be home.  It was gone midnight and they were starting to get worried.  You begrudgingly told them you’d be home by one and started to get ready to go.  You made sure to transfer the pictures you’d spent hours on to your tablet as well as a few video clips you’d taken “just in case”.  It was gonna take 25 minutes for everything to transfer (the wifi was stupidly slow), so you grabbed your camera and phone and figured you’d take a walk around the facility and see if there was anything that caught your attention.  

You weren’t thinking of much, maybe you’d find a fun angle of the courts or something about the building that seemed aesthetically pleasing.  You were all of 3 metres out of your office when you heard the faint echo of basketballs hitting the floor and shoes squeaking.  Not exactly what you were expecting, but you followed it all the same. 

Standing at the doorway to the basketball courts, you were met with the one and only #13, Jordan Poole, shooting mid range jumpers.  He had his earbuds in and was shirtless, glistening in sweat.  He’d clearly been here for a while.  You hadn’t realised you’d been so concentrated that you didn’t hear the only other sound in the building until you were pushed out of your office.  The door was wide open too. 

“Yoo,” Jordan dragged out in surprise when he turned to see you.  His hand instinctively reached up to take one of his earbuds out and he knocked away a ball.  His eyes first scanned over your face, then down your body before they landed on your camera.  He made eye contact with you and stood still for a second before pointing at you.

“You’re the new media girl,” he identified as he started to walk a bit closer to you, a ball now tucked under his arm, “I’m not gonna pretend to know your name but I’m Jordan.”  He held his hand out to you and you slowly took it, staring up at him minorly confused and somewhat dazed.

“I know,” the words fell out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.  He smirked briefly and let go of your hand, “I’m Y/N, and yeah.  The new media girl.”  

“I didn’t think anyone else was here,” he said tilting his head to the side, “I would’ve let you know otherwise.  I’ve got a key and all the alarm codes so you don’t have to worry about me getting out if you’re heading home.”  

“Oh, I’m not-” you cut yourself off again and looked behind you at nothing in particular, “I mean, I am about to leave, but I’m not.  Yet.”  Every part of your body was telling you to stop talking, to say goodnight, turn around and leave.  But your feet couldn’t move.  You were stuck in mud under Jordan’s gaze.  He looked tired, really tired.

“You look like you have a question,” he smiled as he took out his other earbud, “or like you're lost.  I can’t really tell.”  He chuckled a little, mostly to himself and turned his eyes to the floor before he started walking to where his stuff was.  

“I’m not that type of media person,” you said, slowly following him, “I just take pictures and videos, I don’t ask questions.”  You stopped about 4 metres away from where he was bent over.  He was putting his earbuds away, you realised.

“You, as a person,” he turned his head to face you, “don’t ask questions?” he raised his eyebrows and again started to smirk.  He was playing with you, teasing you.  You were too tired to properly process any of this. 

“I do, of course!” you exclaimed a little too loudly, your eyes widening at the sound of your voice, “I ask too many actually, but I don't get paid to, y’know?  So you don’t have to do any dodging with me, I just,” you paused and raised your camera, “take pictures.”

“And videos,” he added, pointing at you.  

“And videos.”  You took a deep breath and lowered your hand.  You were realising, right then, that you did in fact have a question for him.  

“Can I ask you a question?”

He smiled, like he was waiting for you to get there and patted the seat beside him, “only if you sit down next to me.”

So you did.  You sat down and pulled your legs up to tuck them under you.  Jordan turned slightly so he was facing you better and for the first time, you caught his scent.  It was mixed with his sweat, but it was rich and smooth, and oh so familiar.  Not that you could put your finger on it.  

“Hit me,” he said, pulling you out of your head again.  He smiled brightly at you and you returned it.

“Is there something about our media team that makes you uncomfortable?” you blurted out, it’d been on the tip of your tongue all day.  “At Golden State, you seemed so warm to the media team, but here, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

His smile slowly faded and he looked down at his lap, biting his bottom lip slightly before pushing his lips together.  He looked at you and pushed his tongue between his teeth. 

“It’s not just with this team, your team,” Jordan said honestly, “there was just a point where I felt like I couldn’t say the right thing so I just,” he paused and leant back in his seat, “pulled back with them.”  

Jordan sat in thought for a moment before turning to look at you to see what you had to say.  You didn’t have much, to be honest.  You’d not known this media team all that long and the only reason you even knew any of this was because you were a fan of the team.  And Jordan.  

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” Jordan broke out of the conversation and leant forward, dropping the look of vulnerability that very briefly crossed his face.  “‘You come to games often?”

You laughed, accepting you were moving on from your once serious conversation.  “I do, it’s sort of my go-to first date idea.”  

Jordan made a face before the two of you shared a quick chuckle, “you like watching your home team lose on a date?”  

“Hey,” you quipped, swatting at his arm, god his arms were solid, “you guys won most of the games I was at.”  

He rolled his eyes and chuckled a little, “no wonder I remember your face then, you must be our good luck charm.”

Before you could respond your phone started buzzing again.  Your roommate was video calling you this time, not a good sign.  So, you declined it and tucked it under your thigh.  

“It’s late,” Jordan said as he glanced at his watch.  He’d watched you decline a call from one ‘loveyyy’ and he decided he wasn’t putting himself in a smart position.  “You must have someone waiting at home for you.”

“Just a roommate who listens to the traffic radar too much,” you stood up, following Jordan and looked up at him for a moment when a thought crossed your mind.

“Did you enjoy doing the mini mic interviews?”  He was caught off guard, it showed in the way his eyebrows shot up and he instantly smiled.

“I did,” he nodded his head, “I dunno why they didn’t try and keep them going here.  They talked about it for a minute last season.”  

That was your entry point, you were sure of it.  Jordan was always stand offish towards everyone but he seemed to like talking to you.  If you could get him a mini mic and a few questions, you were sure you could make something of it.  A season-long series would basically prove your worth, secure you a proper spot on the team and Jordan was their best option for media engagement.  He was charismatic and good looking; the perfect poster boy. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called to him as you started walking off, your brain in quick motion, “hopefully with a mini mic.”

“I look forward to it,” Jordan called out after you.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he’d just set up, but he liked your vibe.  You were easy to talk to and finally stopped the thought that had been spinning in his head all day.  This felt like a do-or-die season.  If he didn’t play his best, he wasn’t sure they’d keep him around come February.  And he wanted to stay here, he wanted to make a name for himself separate from everyone else.   

[thevoidstaredback]

Naturally, Captain Marvel and Phantom won the game of Hide ‘N Seek with the help of the House of Mysteries. It was an hour long game that ended only when Phantom got a message from Batman. The House took everyone to the kitchen, leaving ingredients out from someone to cook. Zatanna took up the task and made chicken wraps.

“So,” Captain Marvel asked around his food, “What’s Bat-sir want?”

Phantom shrugged. He’d looked at the name of who sent the message before stashing the comms device back in his pocket, completely ignoring the actual message. “Don’t know.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“Nope.” He took another bite of his food. Despite not needed to eat as Phantom, he did. Besides, all the food went towards his human half.

“Fair enough,” Zatanna said.

“It might be important?” Raven offered.

“I doubt it.” Phantom swallowed the last bite of his food and pulled his pager out. “But, if it’ll get y’all off my back, I’ll read it.”

He drew it out as long as he could, but it was only a few seconds of delaying the inevitable. Batman had sent a whole two sentences, which was really weird. He seemed like a ‘several paragraph’ kinda guy. Either way, he apologised for Red Robin’s behavior and asked to talk in person.

Phantom groaned. “Why do I even have this thing?” He asked aloud, “I’m net even a part of the JL or JLD!”

Constantine took a drink from his flask. “Congratulations on joining the team.”

“What!?”

Zatanna and Raven both raised their glasses - wine and water respectively - in a short cheers. Captain Marvel was laughing at him.

Groaning again, Phantom’s head hit the table. “For fucks sake! I don’t want to be on a team!”

“Too late now!” Deadman taunted, “You’re stuck with us.”

“No,” Phantom shook his head, “You’re stuck with me.”

He was quick to respond to Batman, agreeing to meet with him in Gotham as long as he was alone. If any of the other Gotham Vigilantes showed up, he’d leave and ghost - ha! - the entire JL for an unspecified amount of time. With the exception of Nightwing, who could show up if he was so inclined.

The answer was quick to come, agreeing to the terms and offering up to meet atop Wayne Enterprises.

Now, Phantom doesn’t go out of his way to learn the actual names of anyone in the JL or the JLD. The JLD don’t actually use code-names, so he knew all of their real names. The JL, however, all used separate names between their hero and civilian selves. If they tell Phantom their name, great, but he doesn’t are to find them out for himself.

On that note, Red Robin being Tim Drake means that Batman has to be Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne had gone missing around the same time Phantom had met the JL, meaning that Nightwing had been in the Batsuit, something that he knew. Meeting atop Wayne Enterprises was a little on the nose. Phantom chuckled a bit at that.

“What’s so funny?” Captain Marvel tilted his head slightly to the left.

“Nothing,” Phantom waved off, “Just Bat-babe being obvious.”

All three visible JLD members raised their eyebrows, looking directly into Phantom’s eyes. Raven was the one to ask, “‘Bat-babe’?”

“She’s right,” Captain Marvel shook his head. “You’ve used that one already.”

“Oh.” He thought for a second. “Bat-ma’am, then.”

Zatanna snorted. “What?”

“Using Mr. Battison’s name all the time is boring,” the totally-a-grown-adult explained, “Substituting the second half with literally anything is a lot more fun.”

“You know he’d probably beat you if he ever found out, right?” Constantine said.

Phantom and Captain Marvel shared a quick look. “No he wouldn’t.” Phantom denied.

“Oh? Why?”

Captain Marvel grinned like a child who was getting away with a crime. “Shazam!”

Part 12 Part 14

[fortunatelyannoyingcrown]

R*pesand/Feyrat Stans roast time!!!

We all know Rapesand and Feyfoo's Stans are some of the most stupid people in the acotar fandom, lacking basic common sense and hypocrisy that can't be rivalled, but I have to make a special mention of this dumbass in particular, I found on reddit....

(I'm feeling especially mean today, and this is going to be a hypocrisy exposé so bear with me, when I give it to users like this one and others who exist to give a poor name to fans online and make me facepalm so hard)

You can clearly tell from responses like these that Feyrat Stans have the common sense and brain capacity of a fucking furniture, but just for dumbasses like Koalafied Captain, let me break down a couple of things:

a)Tamlin, as the high lord of an entire kingdom has the goddamn right to stop any civilian in his kingdom, who poses a threat to his soldiers, fighting his battle for him.Your bitch of a fave, Feyre, was doing exactly that, threatening to run into a fucking military operation, where she can't protect herself and also would be a bloody danger to everyone else.The fact that the bitch thought, she could just easily disobey the orders of a lord and endanger the lives of everyone else because she was whining about wanting to go out is quite possibly the most selfish thing anyone can ever do.It was trauma induced, but it was fucking selfish and Feyre, being unable to think about anyone else other than herself was peak selfishness full fucking stop.

And Tamlin only locked her up, after she repeatedly refused to heed his no, several times because, yes sweetie, it was dangerous AF for her to be involved in a military operation without any training of her powers.Even before that, Tamlin was perfectly okay with Feyre going out and doing whatever TF she wanted, all he needed was for her to take an escort with her, because guess what?SC was haunted by Amarantha's monsters, and it was bloody fucking dangerous for Feyre to be out on her own, especially as an untrained Fae.This basic concession being impossible for Feyre to accept, shows how immature, inconsiderate and frankly, stupid she is.And that is, along with the fact that, the bitch is unable to respect boundaries, as clear from how she can't accept a no, no matter what.Fuck her, a million times, just for that🖕🏾

And yes, Feyre stans, let's get back to your favorite master saviour, the one y'all claimed "freed Feyre"(Even though he r*ped her to make that happen).The only reason why R*pesand was able to "free her", was because he was literally keeping her in a fucking hidden city that no one knows about, and also, it was not being haunted therefore making it a safe place for Feyre to be.Lol,.that's not even on him, Velaris has been hidden for centuries, because of the work, his ancestors did, R*pesand as the high lord does fuck all for his court.He doesnt work, therefore having time to be all up in Feyre's business lol

So yeah, Feyre was trapped in Velaris, which is slightly bigger than Tamlin's mansion.Congrats Feyre, you officially moved from one place, you claimed was such a "prison" into a bigger one.🥴.

Let's not get into the whole abusive AF situation that was the pregnancy.

As for, the abuse "apologies" that we give that you keep whining about, babes, you need to look at your own responses.Whining about Tamlin losing control, when your fave did it twice, injuring the LoA, R*pesand does it constantly, with Nesta and everyone else, even going so far as to threaten to kill her, Feyfoo, being a disgusting murderous, genocidal c*nt, just like Amarantha, sexually abusing Lucien and destroying Tamlin's life out of spite, and guess what's even funnier?She did the exact same things to Nesta that she was crying about Tamlin doing to her, two books prior.Lol, what a sorry little hypocrite.

And guys, it is especially funny,.to read all of Koalafied Captain's responses, justifying Rhysand's abuse:

a)"Oh but, he was behaving like a Fae, whose mate was pregnant"- Oh so that justifies his abuse of Feyre and Nesta?

b)"Oh Rhys was so tortured and sexually abused wah wah"- well well well, look at how the abuse apologist is abuse apologizing right now🤣🤣🤣

Can everyone in the NC, do something, a magic ritual maybe, to grow a few brain cells in their High lady's head?Her critical thinking levels are not even zero, they are in the negatives at this point, and that doesn't bode well for the citizens of that court.

Because bitch, how are you going to claim, you were abused in a previous relationship, and move onto an even worse abuser.Feyre's such a stupid buffoon, I tell you🤣🤣🤣

As for the stans like the one in the ss, how much else, are you going to do and how much more are you going to embarass yourself, because you are so busy dickriding, a rapist like Rhysand.Do me a favour, and please fuck all the way off, and keep Tamlin's,name out of your bloody mouths

So yeah,to all the Feyre stans, who excuse that bitch's crimes against humanity.Spare me all the BS.Y'all don't have a leg to stand on here, not when your faves have committed much worse crimes, and have behaved even worse than Tamlin has ever done.Guess what bitches?Feyre was abusive towards Tamlin, Nesta and Lucien.

So, yeah cry me a river about us Tamlin Stans being "abuse apologists", lol when people like you exist, who are genocide/abuser/rape apologists to the fucking extreme.Also, I wish Tamlin had slapped the shit out of Feyre, atleast then the abuser tag on him would have been deserved, and I could happily watch bitches like you, whine about it for ages🖕🏾🖕🏾🖕🏾...

Spare me all of the fake righteous indignation about us "excusing abuse" when you sit there and excuse, every single one of R*pesand's abuse of Feyre, SA, medical abuse, physical abuse(he literally checks every single box lol, what a POS, SJM just kill him already), and Feyfoo's own abusive and controlling behaviour towards other people.I know I'm(and people like me are ) on the right side, when I am not defending war criminals, rapists and manipulative liars. Y'all should worry about yourself

[siredtodeadgaywizards]

*after a mission*

Nina: Why is he covered in glitter?

Inej: *exhausted sigh*

Kaz: I am

Jesper:….

Wylan:…..

Matthias:……

Kaz: BEKAZZLED

[jasonsbruce]

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[monstermoviedean]

if you have a good vibe/kind thought to spare and could send it my way. i'd really appreciate it.

[spock-adoodledoo]

permanent starter call for apothecary side character enjoyers specifically tianyu likers

[hashileio]

it’s Dust’s turn to watch the portable flashbang baby while he’s on break