#i am officially going to die alone and be single for eternity

[xayspancakeee]

nightly rendezvous - pann’s screams edition ( ◉o◉)⊃━☆ (04)

xavier, oh my xavier… naughty bunny!

i will not lie, the sounds that i made when going through this was… other worldly at best. ( ´•̥ו̥` )

just, everything about this memory was ugh. the diving into what makes him tick and that he is so open with his emotions and feelings (jealousy) to the point that anything and everything relating to MC irks him (like poor Charlie) is so… adorably honest? also love how we are both mutually putty in each others respective hands. he just wants to be babied and have the assurance that we will always be there for him and comfort him when he needs it. SIR, I HUMBLY OBLIGE TO QUELL ANY DOUBTS YOU MAY HAVE IN WHATEVER WAYS YOU SEE FIT ❤️

this, the screams that came out of me—

and don’t even get me started on the scenes after the kindled portion of the memory that on it’s own is my undoing. to be fair, this man is my ultimate undoing. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

in conclusion, I love this man to bits your honour and I am sealed as a person who will definitely be single until the world ends but I have no fear as I have him (and the other boys).

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 21

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.9k

Chapter warnings: uhm, this chapter is Javier’s perspective ehehe, so, beware fo feelings

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode ten. // again, i am really fucking sorry, but we are ALMOST DONE OMG, also i wanna say thanks to my official cheerleaders @queenofthefaceless and @maharani-radha-writes​ that helped me a lot and @alliterative-albatross​ that made me feel sure of some of the ideas i had for this chapter, i love you lots, guys. While proof reading this chapter for the first time i understood why it was the hardest to write, it was because i had just to strip myself naked and understand more of Javier Peña as i had built him... i just... im not quite pleased with the second half of this, but i know its needed.

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gif: @javier-pena (thank you so much for making this when i needed it the most, ily)

The air weighed on his chest; he felt his lungs struggling to find air; as he drove home, he felt his heart pounding hard and fast, as if it wanted to rip out of his chest and run and hide and die.

As if his heart wanted the same he did.

Javier couldn’t sleep that night. He didn’t even try to close his eyes after climbing into bed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

Jesus Christ.

His mind was reeling, he couldn’t stop replaying every single thing you told him in his mind.

“My name is not Florencia Martín”

“A precarious situation”

“Another Los Pepes scenario”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He wanted to crawl into a deep hole and bury himself to stop his body from feeling.

Javier cringed deeply when he remembered he had told you he had fallen in love with you without even thinking about it.

That certainly wasn’t the way you were supposed to find out.

He guessed, while tossing around on his bed, on the same sheets that still smelled like you, that he had it coming. He probably deserved it. But that didn’t make him feel any better, it stung.

It burned.

Javier had stripped himself naked for you, more than just his body, he had let you see him; he had let you touch him; he had let you read him; he had let you know him.

He had let himself feel and… he had let himself think he deserved something good.

He felt like such an idiot, stupid and embarrassed because there you had been… Standing in front of him, in a place he thought it would become something close to his fortress, breaking him. And he let you.

God. He had known you for less than six months, and yet he let you have power over him. All that power to make him whatever you wanted. He had handed you a sledgehammer and his heart and soul on a porcelain platter for you to shatter.

And he just took it.

Javier huffed at his own thoughts while his eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He was an idiot, wasn’t he? Having let himself feel all those things he had been so beware of for a woman he never really knew.

What else was fake about you?

He felt that sting, known and oh so foreign clench in his throat and he fought it. He fought it hard. Why was he feeling like that?

“A precarious situation”

“You do care, you care a lot”

He sat up and brought his knees to his chest, clenching his jaw so tight his face started trembling.

He had to unclench it so he could open his mouth and gasp for air because his lungs were tightening in his chest and he knew he just had to let go. He shook his head to nothing and fought it again. He would not break. He couldn’t.

But then he remembered he was all alone. Just him and his mind and... he stopped fighting for the first time in years and allowed his feelings to pour down from his eyes.

Javier clenched his jaw again as he felt the thick, years old tears pouring and pouring, clouding his sight, flooding his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered to nothing, resting his face on his hand and his arm on his knee, his chest struggling with the silent sobs he was drowning in.

Javier cried for around an hour.

He allowed himself to cry, to cry for you, because if he had allowed himself to fall in love with you and he had allowed you to wield power over him, he deserved a chance to fall apart as well.

He had earned it.

His tears of grief and pain became tears of anger and pain.

He was so angry; at himself, because, thinking again about everything you had told him, you had said something right; he had dragged you into having whatever the hell you two had. He had kissed you and practically turned your wrist into starting something with him only, and just only because he felt lonely. Because he felt like maybe, for the first time in decades, he could have something good. Because he felt like maybe it was time for him to love and be loved again when, in reality, he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone.

He had let himself believe you could be something else, less complicated. But how wrong he was… Him? Loved? As if. Him? In Colombia? Laughable.

That country… It became more than clear how much he had lost by going down there.

He huffed again in between tears at how it took a massive hit to the heart for him to realize how much he had lost in the years he had been there.

He was so angry; at the system. The fucking system that forced you and him into taking assignments you didn’t deserve to take. There wasn’t another moment he hated more right then, than the moment he had said yes to returning to Colombia. His dad was right, he didn’t like what he found. And it truly changed him before he could change it. How he wanted to have listened to him, how he wanted to not be the stubborn ass he was and just… said no.

And you? You had taken an assignment that promised unreachable things, one that forced you into turning into a liar, one that didn’t let you be yourself.

Fuck, was he really trying to find justifications for what you did even though you had broken him in pieces?

He was so angry; at you. For lying to him and from dropping the facade, for taking off the mask that he had rushed to love, for thinking he deserved the truth instead of you leaving once everything was over. He thought it would have hurt less if you had just… disappeared.

He wouldn’t be crying at three in the morning on his bed if you had just vanished into thin air.

Javier remembered seeing the hope in your eyes when you were telling him the truth, who you really were, he saw it and he wanted to tell you he forgave you. But neither of you deserved something that good.

He was sure it all was some kind of karma. A penance for all his sins, a way too high price he had to pay for all the shit he had done.

He realized then, while sitting on his bed in the middle of the night, the same one he had shared with you for nights that felt burned into his memory, that you and him weren’t so different.

That you two had more in common than he had first thought. That you, as he had said to you before, when you were still wrapped around his arms on that same bed, were a person who was willing to do anything for a greater cause. That you as well were capable of doing anything if you thought it did good, that you also were capable of sacrifice, of losing everything as long as you were doing what you thought was the right thing.

And you had told him, as you cried your eyes out in front of him, facing him and facing and taking all the repercussions of your actions, that you really thought it was the right thing to do.

The realization was truly bittersweet. He didn’t like that even when you had broken his heart and stepped on the pieces as you walked out, he still understood why you did it.

After that despaired, miserable night, he decided he was done bringing you to the front of his mind, so he shoved all the memories of you and tried to repress them in the back of his head along with countless others he didn’t rather to address.

The next day he stepped into the office with less than half an hour of sleep he had seemed to catch while condemning himself in the solitude of his room and avoided looking at your still cluttered desk. Full of you.

He ignored Stoddard when he asked him where you were as he stepped out of the office to head to Cali an hour later and while the elevator brought him down to the lobby he tried to drown the way the mention of your fake name made him feel.

That morning you walked directly to the CIA office, every step you gave into the embassy hurt in your body, mind and soul as if each one had a dagger embedded deeply and an invisible hand was twisting each dagger deeper. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. You entered, unannounced, into Stechner’s office, not even trying to hide the enormous amount of pain you were going through. You were tired of hiding things.

“Ah, my favorite DEA agent,” Stechner said when he saw you walk in “well, not anymore, I guess.” he smirked and you felt his gaze linger on your body, shamelessly.

“Let’s just get this over with.” you muttered, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Oh, this is more than over, alright?” the man leaned back on his chair and reached a manila folder that rested on top of others on his desk and raised it so you could see it “resignation, what a word,” he said, putting the folder back on the desk, opening the folder and taking the sole sheet of paper on his hand “really? after you failed almost epically?” Stechner smiled humorlessly and took your resignation letter in both hands and… ripped it in half.

You drowned a gasp.

“You have a flight to Washington today at noon.” he let out softly, feigning a comprehensive tone.

“Of course I do.” you mumbled, dropping your arms to the sides, feeling your eyes flood with tears as you saw him tossing the parts of your resignation letter in the trash can.

You blinked the tears away and quietly took a deep breath, halfway achieving a fake sense of stability you had fed yourself since the night before.

What were you thinking, after everything you did they would have let you get off easy? Of course not you silly girl.

“Oh, honey, you need a hug?” Stechner asked with a teasing gaze and a fake tone of worry “I bet breaking up with Peña really did something on you, you look like a mess”

You tightened your jaw and rolled your hands into fists, Stechner noticed, and his mocking face dropped.

“Anything else?” you asked him, voice hardened, with your eyes staring right into his, admonishing him, warning him. He knew what you were capable of, you knew he did.

He shook his head twice, and you lifted your chin up.

“I really wish you the best, sweetie.” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his desk and trying to ignore the way your face turned into a scowl at the endearment.

“No, you don’t, you fucker,” you all but growled wanting nothing more than to erase that seemingly permanent smirk off his face that grew after he raised his head to look at you “you’re happy that I’m getting out of here like this,” you chuckled bitterly “you wanted this to happen, I hope you’re satisfied.” you let out all the venom you had been keeping inside you for that man in the last sentence you spat to him.

“You’re right, but I won’t say it,” he tutted and shook his head slowly “you really cost us a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled and you were sure you were about to spit foam from the rage inside you “I hope you know that.”

You sighed and smiled bitterly at the man. Ever so fucking disgusting. For the first time in your life, you wanted something bad to happen to someone. And you didn’t regret it.

“I won’t ever forget it.” you spat at him in a soft voice that made him glare at you with a serious face.

You turned around and walked out of his office, leaving the door open, feeling his stare on your back.

Feeling, then more than ever, the insides of your mind finishing crashing down. Finally broken. Fully broken.

You walked towards the elevator and pushed the lobby button, hoping to dissolve in the way, hoping the elevator floor would just break and the void swallowed you and your body crashed against the concrete floor of the second basement.

But instead, the doors opened on the DEA floor and Stoddard stepped inside, shooting you a concerned smile as the doors closed.

“Hi, Florencia,” he looked at you and you tried to give him a smile, knowing you failed “you okay?” he asked, you blinked a few times before looking at him. He pushed his glasses up.

“Yeah!” you let out in a squeal “just peachy.” you drifted your eyes away and sighed again.

“I… thought you were in Cali.” Stoddard let out after a few seconds, you turned to see him with your brow furrowed.

“Cali?”

“Well… yeah,” he shrugged “the boss and the guys went back to Cali this morning.”

You let out a sigh, of both relief and worry.

“Oh,” you said under your breath “no, I…” you shook your head and tried to smile at him again and failed, this time he noticed “I needed to take care of something else.”

“I see,” he mumbled, the elevator doors opened and you stepped out “you sure you’re okay?” he asked, looking at you, you nodded several times.

“Yeah, Stod,” you assured him, trying to make him believe it, not quite sure if you believed yourself “I’m fine.”

Stoddard nodded at you as the elevator doors closed and you waved him once goodbye. Knowing it would be the last time. You walked out of the embassy in complete and utter shame, and some part inside you screamed that you deserved it.

Javier rescued another witness that day, because he still wanted to do something right even though he didn’t feel right himself.

But then, after sending Guillermo Pallomari to Miami, he had to return to his office. That place he had thought was his fortress, and then it was turned into… a dungeon.

He didn’t ignore your cluttered desk this time; he was alone in the office, there was no one that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

A steel cup filled with different colored pens and only red markers, a pile of unsigned DEA reports, in one of the drawers a block of sticky notes running low, the same ones you made notes on and stuck on files when you reviewed them and that Javier hated to see because they were just so fucking bright, your red coffee cup you used when you didn’t have time to grab some at his house because he just kept kissing you until you both were late, which didn't happen at your place because Javier always woke up before you and started the coffee machine, a gun holster you hated to use because it just never clutched the way you wanted to your jeans and a small, brown journal he had never seen before and that he took because there wasn’t anyone that could say anything of him if he just… looked around.

He hesitated for a moment to open the journal, unsure of himself or of what he would find. The first page had your initials, your real initials written on the far left corner and just a list of names he didn’t recognize, next a few scribbles and a phone number. Javier skimmed through the pages and around the middle he found his name. Written in your pretty handwriting, with a few numbers underneath that looked dangerously close to file codes.

He snapped the journal closed and left it where he found it. He shouldn’t have looked.

In his office he found all the documents you had risked so much to gather and all the intel you just handed to him, pretty much as he had handed you his heart.

Javier let out a sigh and grabbed the folders, sitting behind the desk and opening the first one.

He re-read every single piece of information until his eyes stung from the exhaustion, or the cigarette smoke, or maybe more unshed tears he was once again fighting so hard to keep inside him.

Tears of sadness, it was a given. But also anger, and frustration and pain, and, as a bucket of freezing cold water, years of regrets fell on him.

Javier had tried, had tried hard to bury all that shit in some far, deep corner of his mind, as he had tried to bury you and all his memories of the last four? five? months. He really did. But at that moment, sheltered inside an office that didn’t feel like his anymore, past midnight, alone and so damn vulnerable, it all rose to the surface and he found himself drowning inside a sea of his own mistakes and past sins.

It was unbearable to stay there. So he grabbed the files that felt like burning in his hands and took off.

And so, Javier went back to an empty apartment that even though had been his for a long time, felt emptier than it had ever felt without you and reminded him only of you.

Why had he allowed his house to become a fucking shrine to the time you had spent there?

Everytime he looked at everything, from the fucking lamp at the corner of the end table to the damn waterbottle you left the last morning you were there on his kitchen counter, an image of you invaded his mind. Like a suffocating wildfire, spreading with the simplest blow of the wind. Covering him, trapping him, burning him and turning him into ashes.

That night he drank almost all the alcohol he had left in his house and even then, with his body full of booze, his intoxicated mind all the time returned to you. To your face, to your eyes and that color that was so common yet somehow looked so unique, to your voice and how you called his name either on a whisper or on a scold, to your smile and how apparently you had one only for him, to your hands and how you used them one night to touch him and the next morning to grip a gun, to how you drove him crazy from the very beginning. Fuck, he loved you. And he hated you all the same.

You gave him your resignation letter, you had left a job you claimed you loved so much that you had taken on something that did you so much wrong. You quit because of what they made you do, and probably, just probably, he had to do the same. Because of what they did to him.

Was it worth it? Everything he did… Was it worth something? Anything?

He thought again of everything he had done in the past decade and felt sick at what his brain was showing him. It really wasn’t.

The idea of doing something good, doing something that could give him a little peace invaded his mind and he spent half the night thinking of something he could do to finally, finally feel like he was helping.

The next morning he found himself sitting in the conference room with Crosby hovering around him. He huffed at himself, sitting there as if there was nothing wrong going around, with the ambassador looking at him with his ever so present judgemental smirk, as if he wasn't just pieces of a man that put himself together with the weakest glue when he got dressed that morning with less than two hours of sleep after being trapped inside his house that smelled like you with nothing but alcohol and time to think. His pop was right, they did something to him in that country. He just didn’t know what.

“Y’know how many times I’ve gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?” Crosby rhetored, Javier looked at him, already tired of the lecture he was about to get “count ‘em on one finger, guess we have you to thank for that.”

Javier dropped his eyes to the oak table in front of him and absentmindedly tried to draw a pattern with the tip of his finger while half listening to Crosby telling him about his meeting with the Colombian president to demand that the gentlemen of Cali stayed in jail. He looked back at his boss and after half a second of pondering he told him he had a draft indictment of the president’s ties with the cartel, omitting the part of the story where he had drafted it half drunk the night before. And of course Crosby laughed at it.

Javier huffed again at himself when Crosby suggested he kept the draft to himself and he felt his blood starting to boil. He sighed and fought the urge to stand up and leave. What was he thinking? That a man like Crosby would back up a man like him? Just like that? What a naïve thought.

“The DOJ’s not gonna topple a government, Agent Peña,” the ambassador told him, obviating the statement, Javier felt his chest turn “you can’t tell me you’re surprised by that.”

“Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess.” he muttered to Crosby, who walked around the table and stood next to him, Javier didn’t even bother to hide his face from him, god how tired he was of hiding.

“Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up,” Crosby spat and Javier drowned a bitter chuckle “no, I mean it, Agent Peña, you should be happy,” the ambassador said and Javier frowned at the man “you played the system like a goddamn fiddle, you won.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebut the statement but Crosby just walked behind his chair and left the room, leaving him with the word in his mouth.

He felt his stomach toss in disgust, at his boss, at his job, at himself. Fuck that.

“Yes, sir.” he mumbled under his breath.

Did he really win something? The job that helped him escape from everything, the one at some point of his life felt like a dream, had become a nightmare. The woman he grew to love, after years and years of not feeling that, barely got out of there alive and the name he had whispered in extasis wasn’t even hers. Everything he had once believed in was melting away like wax on a candle and being washed away by a sea of regret, desolation and anger.

Did he really win something when he had lost everything? He had even lost himself in the process of what he and everyone around him had called a once in a lifetime opportunity to end a War that was so familiar to him it almost sat at the table on Thanksgiving with him and his dad.

And when he got out of the conference room, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, the idea of following your steps and quit became a lot more attractive to him.

So he went back to his empty home filled with your memories, resigned that he wouldn’t sleep much that night either, and stood in the middle of the living room, not knowing why he felt like a visitor in his own house, chain smoking, thinking about everything just because he wanted to stop thinking about you.

Javier walked to his window and dwindled himself to watch the cars down the street pass, the city was so unaware of everything. The country was so unaware of how it was being torn apart by the same people that were elected to take care of it. And he was so fucking angry, at everything and everyone, at himself. And so tired. Exhausted.

The phone rang behind him and he didn’t even flinch at the sound, even when practically no one called his house phone. He just let the machine get it.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…” he stiffened in place when he heard your voice and turned his head to eye the cradle “I know you probably don’t wanna listen to me right now but…” you sounded small, your voice sounded thin, Javier turned around and walked towards the phone “uhm, I wanted to apologize again and…” he felt like he couldn’t think, his mind was filled with your voice as if it were a fog that clouded his vision, he wanted to pick the phone up, he wanted to ask you where you were and tell you to come home to him, but his brain wasn’t letting him “I–I’m in Washington and I tho–thought…” his eyes closed on themselves when he heard you sigh and choke down a sob “forget it, uhm, I just… fuck…”

Javier looked at the phone, the sound of static still there, he pondered if he should just swallow his anger and his newfound pride and just pick up.

“I think someone will contact you about this and I just wanted to let you know I–I didn’t tell them anything about... us…” he heard you chuckle softly and he just stood there, rolling his hands into fists, waiting for you to say something else, “I’m sorry, Javi, uhm… I really think I did the right thing by telling you, I’m just sorry it had to be like this…” you sniffed on the phone and Javier sighed, “I guess I also wanted, uhm, to hear your voice… shit.” he closed his eyes and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he said and gripped the receiver when the sound of the cut line replied to him.

Javier threw the receiver on the floor and sat on the couch, cursing at himself for his weakness and his hesitation altogether.

He rested his head on his hands while thinking on the few things you had said, if you were in Washington talking to the directives that meant they didn’t let you resign, that meant they were firing you. And you called him to let him know his involvement was minimal, because still after everything you were trying to divert the backlash from him.

God how he was tired.

That’s when he decided, he was going to do it. Not only for what you had made him feel, but because he just needed to leave back all the baggage he had been carrying with him for almost a decade. He needed to let go. He knew it, he needed to free himself of something that turned him entirely into a different person that wasn't even close to what he had been before, because no one else would do it for him.

And he had nothing else to lose. Absolutely nothing.

Once that thought occupied his mind, he finally could lay down on the couch and sleep.

The next morning Javier just re-dressed and called his journalist contact, he had decided, in his pre-sleep haze, that he was just gonna tell the truth. To everyone.

Just as you did with him, he was going to use all the information you had given to him to redeem yourself of your own baggage to get rid of some of his.

Even when he didn’t want to think of you, you were still helping him.

And the truth went out as he told it, and he let himself out of the whole situation by following your steps.

Until the ambassador called him into his office later that day and that time… Javier felt like he could tell the man absolutely anything.

He had nothing else to lose.

When he walked into the office Crosby was watching the news about his little interview. Javier walked and sat in across from him, feeling something that looked like freedom. But his mind was still reeling with guilt and loss.

“You didn’t really call the country that we’re guests in a narco democracy.” Crosby asked without asking, Javier looked at the man and shook his head once.

“Are you sayin’ that it isn’t?” he replied, looking at the ambassador tightening his jaw.

“The state department’s livid.”

Javier nodded a few times.

“Good, they’re responsible,” he let out and shrugged slightly “we all are.”

“Samper is not going anywhere.” Crosby let him know, quite exasperated. Javier dropped his eyes to the man’s desk.

“Well, at least people know the truth.” he said, including himself in the sentence. No more lies.

Javier saw Crosby shake his head and study the four walls that surrounded them, and he caught himself wanting to read him like you would be able to.

“I want you gone, Peña,” the ambassador told him, Javier guessed so “so do the colombians.”

“I understand, sir.” Javier replied and Crosby said nothing else. He looked at the ambassador for a few seconds and saw also a shell of a man. He guesses that it wasn’t so much the job that took a person’s humanity, but the context in which they do it.

He stood up and walked towards the door.

“You know…” Crosby called, Javier turned around “any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier licked his lower lip and allowed himself to look intently at the ambassador, the man looked at him with something he thought was pity.

“I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

Crosby stood up straighter when he heard it, Javier said it almost solemnly, and saying it out loud not only made it more real, but it really made him feel light as a feather for the first time since he was a teenager when he walked out of the ambassador’s office for the last time in his life.

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[aliaslua]

Living with the Turtles (headcanons)

Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo x Reader

Summary:  A secret mission that only the four brothers could accomplish requires them to become your personal bodyguards. How would each one of them react to sharing a house with you?

Category: Platonic relationship, domestic fluff, deep friendship.

WARNINGS: None c:

A/N: This actually could be a whole fic (maybe someday) but honestly I was just feeling very into domestic turtles today so I decided to post this. Let me know what you think!

You can also read it in AO3! <3

Leonardo

The order was clear, you needed to be hidden. To fade, become invisible. After a team of outlaw scientists from the old Sacks' company discovered that you DNA carried a sequence of molecules that was thought had disappeared from the human species many decades ago - the only sequence that could serve as a basis for creating new mutagens - your blood became the most precious material in the planet and you, the most wanted person in the world. The Federal Program for Assistance to Threatened Victims and Witnesses had no option but to hide you in the only place where you would be safe 24 hours a day, seven days a week: the old train station where New York's newest heroes lived.

How will each of them react to the brutal change of sharing their house with a stranger?

When Chief of police Vincent set up an urgent meeting with the Hamato brothers to make a request and warned that the fate of the world depended on it, Leo prepared to receive a mission that would involved discipline, discretion and unmatched fighting skills but when he realized they would have to spend the next few months being bodyguard to a human, his confidence immediately morphed into pure nervousness.

He is a true gentleman and is desperate to be the best host possible. Before you arrived, he ordered the whole family to clean the Lair with a military streak and himself inspected every room. He and Donatello built a private room  for you using some of the shoji screens from the meditation room and he provided a bed and headboard.

He's absolutely nervous the day you arrive. You are their first official guest and he will do everything to make your stay perfect. Because of that, your first interactions with him is a little awkward. He doesn't allow you to collaborate in any domestic activity and spends the first two weeks asking if you need anything ("No," You always answer "I am very comfortable, thank you.").

After a few days getting to know you better and seeing your determination to participate in the routine of the house, he finally manages to relax a little and takes this opportunity to share some house tasks with you. Despite that, he continues to treat you like royalty: pulling chairs, opening doors, covering you with a blanket at night and carrying you to your bed whenever you sleep on the couch -and then he ensures that the house is quiet, so you can rest. Nothing will interrupt your sleep, your peace, your security, your stay will be perfect, he will do anything to make you feel at home.

Living with Leonardo is a bit like being a soldier in a barracks, but without all the shouting. From Monday to Monday you have a schedule and after you finally manage to convince him to teach you a little self-defense, the training is hard and disciplined. Unlike the barracks, however, Leonardo is very comprehensive with your physical and mental limitations and it's more than willing to adapt your training depending on what you need most on the day. Weary? Deep meditation. Muscle pain? Yoga. Feeling unmotivated? Cardio.

Then when you finally get to know each other better, after a few weeks living together, Leonardo is like a mentor to you. He always has excellent advice and is always available to listen to you, regardless of how repetitive or superficial your problems are.

Leonardo's cooking skills are truly awful. It was during dinner, in fact, that you really started bonding. The pasta was slimy and bland and the sauce tasted like old ketchup: You had to intervene. Only when he saw how well you cooked - and wow that's a pretty good knife control! - he realized that you not only had a lot to learn, but a lot to teach. You have taken on the responsibility of teaching him how to cook the basics ever since and you will never forget his face when he first tasted missoshiro.

You're both obsessed with Chinese fighting movies. Every wednesday you watch a movie together and no matter how hard you try, you can't convince him that "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" is better than "House of Flying Daggers".

Of all the brothers, he is the one who gets used to your presence faster (even before Mikey) and his generosity is essential to make you feel welcome.

Raphael

It is not even possible to define with words the intensity of the fight that Raphael and Leonardo had when he told them that he had accepted the mission of hiding the human carrier. Once again Leonardo had made a decision without consulting the whole team but more important than that: Raphael was going to have to share the house with someone he didn't know and there was nothing in the world that made him more angry - and nervous - than that.

Deep down, Raph was more anxious than angry. Knowing that he was going to share his only intimate and personal space - his house  - with someone he didn't know made him feel super vulnerable, exposed. In fact, he was scared. He feared the possible looks of dread, disgust, repulsion. He knew that few things in the world could hurt more than a look of hatred and he was not at all comfortable with the reality that he might have to LIVE with someone who found him disgusting.

But when you arrived, the looks didn't come. You looked nervous, but not scared, let alone disgusted. As the days went by, Raphael realized that the only feeling you had before arriving at Lair was gratitude and after he actually understood that in fact he made you feel safe, the warmth in his chest was enough for him to forgive your invasion.

Sometimes you are just as scary to Raphael as he is for most humans. That day when he caught you alone in the kitchen taking the cookie sheet out of the oven, he realized that. You are so… small, so fragile and soft. He feels that if he breathes too hard or too close to you he will dismantle you, like a house of cards. It's also impressive to him how much noise such a small creature can make. God! Are your shoes made of iron? How can biting into toast be that loud? Even your breathing seems loud to him. But it is not your fault, you always answer, it's not like you're a trained ninja.

Raphael is the last one to be comfortable with your presence but when that day finally comes and he admits he likes it when you are around, he also decides that you are one of them now and for you he ride or die. Silently he swears eternal loyalty to you and from that day on, rest assured, you don't need to be afraid of anything anymore.

Because of this, Raph becomes strangely jealousy and possessive. You are now his best friend and he needs to know if everyone around you is good enough, well-intentioned enough and ensuring your joy and well being are now part of the mission. It's a little overwhelming at first but when you adjust the intensity it's wonderful to have someone who takes such good care of you.

His affection is always returned. You love his company and think it's funny how such a big man can be so soft. And soft he is, since what you most have in common is the appreciation for period romances. You love watching all the adaptation films from Jane Austen's books and maybe he cried at the end of Reason and Sensitivity - he will deny it until the end - but your favorite activity for you to do together is when you read to him while he works out. You are like a personal audiobook and he will never stop making fun of you for crying while reading Mr. Wentworth's letters.

Despite the affection, he is really a tease. He doesn't miss a single chance to remind you how small you look to him and nicknames like Tiny Temper and Shortstop are recurring. You always repay it whenever you can but ultimately you know that he doesn't mean bad.

Donatello

Donatello thinks that the idea of protecting the source of the conflict is brilliant, it seems much more rational to avoid a war before it happens and proceed a mission with a more discreet and strategic course of action than to appeal to physical strength and weapons. That said, he hates having someone else around as much as Raphael. Unlike him, however, Donatello is not afraid of rejection, he is... Uncomfortable. Privacy is a right that he considers essential and imagining that he may receive someone who is intrusive in his own home makes his head hurt.

Therefore, he receives you with extreme coldness. He helps with the organizing of their home and your personal space, of course, he doesn't want you to feel unwelcome, but it's essential for him to draw the line between mission and personal life and he wants to make that very clear. His room is off limits, the computer area is off limits and specially the laboratory is off limits.

But he soon realizes that his coldness is unnecessary and maybe even a little rude since you seem excellent at respecting personal limits and spaces. He was prepared to spend a long time refusing to answer invasive and indiscreet questions, but you seemed to have a genuine and respectful interest. In the end, he found your polite curiosity very charming.

After that, he showed you the lab on his own and was even happier when you got interested but didn't touch anything. He finally had someone around  with the same enthusiasm for science as he and he even started doing research based on your doubts. Enjoy, he's a great teacher.

But what you most like to do together is to sit on the huge couch in the living room with a cup of coffee and talk for hours on complex matters. Ethics, morals, economic and social configurations, what is the fate of the world? Why are we here? You certainly do not have the same theoretical background to refute him, but he loves your interest and loves to hear your subjective takes. A debate partner is everything he always dreamed of.

It's also a relief for him to be able to open up to someone other than his own brothers and he likes to hear the solutions you would give to his dilemmas from the perspective of a person who has lived a life so different from his. He also loves to watch you, but he will never admit it: Humans are fascinating, and he finds your ways and habits very funny.

Before you arrived he did a thorough research to understand what vitamins, minerals and supplements you would need to take while out of sunlight and with restricted access to various foods, so you also got you a personal doctor and nutritionist.

Michelangelo

The first week living with Michelangelo were almost unbearable. It may be fair to say that he was the only one among the brothers really pleased with your arrival and it was good to be warmly welcomed by at least one of them, but Mikey's excitement was a little overwhelming. He spent all day filling you with praise, flirting, asking about your life and life on the surface and it felt like he talked so much that he sucked all the air out of the room.

Knowing that your relationship could nor go on like that, in the second week of your stay you sat him on the couch and asked him to chill out just a little. You explained that for you it was super important to know that one of them was happy with your arrival and that you knew that he wanted to do everything to make your stay the best possible but for that he didn't need to treat you like a creature from another world, perfect and sovereign, you just wanted to be treated like ... an equal. That was more than enough. Michelangelo ceased to be a dedicated servant and became a great friend.

You couldn't ask for anything else in the world. Mikey was the perfect friend for a situation that could be unbearable without an icebreaker. He's fun, lovable and after you had that conversation, extremely relaxed and comfortable around you. His loyalty is unquestionable and every day he shows affection without hesitation.

He loves spending all the time he can with you and has volunteered to become your personal teacher of the art of graffiti. Leonardo can't know, but you are responsible for the new tags on the subway cars and on the doors of abandoned houses. Mikey loves to watch you do your hair and help you choose the clothes you are going to wear that day and you find it funny how that dynamic makes it look like he is playing house for the first time.

You made homemade pizza once and he asked you to marry him, a request to which you answered yes, of course. He made you a ring from the pizza crust and you drank soda with your arms crossed just like in weddings.

The most sensitive of the brothers. He always know when you're not feeling good and always has the right answer to make you feel better (that is, burrito blanket and reality shows).

[whyaretheyfictionalcharacters]

Paths We Take

HI everyone! This is my first submission for EreriWeek ‘Paths’. I am going to post it on AO3 as well.

Hope you enjoy it!

xoxo Lexi

Word Count: 1027

The silence around him is deafening, like a void sucking in all sounds, so powerful it also seems to muffle his own thoughts as he sits in his office. His eyes focus on the fire snapping in the hearth where the flames lick and jerk with quick motions. Despite the closed window a wintery cold breeze appeared to sneak in from crevices and gaps in the frame.

Levi doesn't care that much right now. Sitting here with a glass of Erwin's port he has stolen a couple of weeks back, the weather is certainly not the first thing on his list.

He's never liked over-thinking things, he's never found any benefit in doing so though he's always been careful before making a decision – life in the Underground would do that to a person. Over-thinking though has always been something he would see like a waste of time, going over and over the same problems without ever finding a solution.

Then why is he here? Drowning his sorrows in too fine a port to be used for this pathetic endeavour? He had thought that in his thirties he wouldn't have to endure this sense of loss and heart-break he's currently feeling. Pathetic, really, losing himself for 'matters of the heart' as Petra had liked to call them years ago. Levi simply calls it pining over an eighteen year-old bird-brain who's chosen the wrong path because of some complex of grandeur.

No. No, that isn't it.

Levi would like to say that was the case but unfortunately he's come to know the brat too well to actually believe that. Not like those wipe-asses from Mitras or the Military Police.

Eren Jaeger has always been strong-willed and stubborn but his resilience comes from his unmovable moral compass and aspiration to freedom. Monster, they've called him more then once, disregarding his unwillingness to be used as a human experiment in his father's quest for freedom. Levi remembers the many midnight talks they've had in front of the fire in his office, when the brat would go on and on about a better world, a better life. If he has to be honest, the Captain has always admired the optimism the brat is capable of despite the misery, heart-break and tragedies he's had to endure in life, on top of finding out the truth about his father and how he's been used by him. In a remote part of his mind, Eren Jaeger reminds Levi of himself. Both monsters. Both strong believers of freedom and justice. The years have shown Levi a more cynical view of the world and of people but Eren seems to still have that pink-veiled naivete of childhood when it comes to ideals and utopias.

Levi knows that's why he rebelled, why he left behind everything he's ever known to keep fighting, only this time in his own terms. The only thing the raven-haired wouldn't have expected is Eren joining arms with his half-brother, especially after everything Zeke has done and deaths he's caused.

What would you say if you could see me now, Eyebrows?

The death of his old friend sits still sore in his chest and knowing that the brat – his brat – is now working with the man responsible for it almost breaks him apart. Almost. Though it feels like he's grieving the loss of Eren now on top of everyone else's, he knows the seventeen year old better than this. He knows him (for a second he wonders if that's true or he's simply trying to convince himself, creating excuses for someone he once held very dear and still might).

He's reminded of something that Kenny once said, an eternity ago, when his life teachings were beating Levi down to the ground every other day. “Life is full of choices, kid. Crossroads. And sometimes whichever path we take, whatever road we end up walking, is a life sentence. So choose well”. Probably one of the only smart, useful things Kenny has ever taught him.

Crossroads. Did Eren have to stand in front of that crossroad, doubtful of himself and who or what he was, alone? From Armin's and Mikasa's reaction they couldn't have known Eren was doubting his place in the world, in the war. Eren took the road he most thought right and walked it. He's still walking it. There's no turning back now and probably that's the road the brat will die on. A life sentence.

The scary thing is that, Levi doesn't think he might be wrong.

A choice with no regrets. Levi looks down into the deep-coloured liquid and watches hypnotized the light from the fire playing with it. He sees Isabel and Furlan. Erwin. Petra. Oluo, Eld and Gunther. And so many others. And he wonders. He doesn't want to see the brat's face in that glass of port, not tonight or ever, but he's afraid that if he doesn't make a choice now those bright eyes will hunt him for the rest of his most probably short life. He's always followed his brain and once a decision was made he's gone through with it every single time. It's not going to be different now.

A choice with no regrets.

When he gulps down the rest of the port and stands up Levi doesn't do it because of his quite concerning feelings for the brat. He doesn't do it to run away from his problems, neither to get into trouble. He does it because right now and probably until his life sentence is concluded this is the right choice to make.

With controlled gesture he places the empty glass down and picks up his civilian jacket and cloak before going for the door. He closes it without looking back. Without looking at his uniform neatly folded on the desk, the wings of freedom bright even in the darkness of the evening; without looking at the familiar neck-tie resting on top of it.

And he certainly doesn't look at the letter burning in the fire, the embers once an official document where the words EXECUTION ORDERS FOR EREN JAEGER used to sit boldly and haunting on the whiteness of the paper.

[romioneficfest]

The Moment I Knew

Title: The Moment I Knew

Prompt/Day: 9 - Their Wedding Day

Tumblr name: 

Rating: K+

Brief summary: At the dinner table during he and Hermione’s wedding, Ron stands up to deliver his groom’s speech before the first bride and groom dance, about the moment he knew she was the one.

Warning tag: brief mention of sleeping together, doesn’t go past that; brief mention of alcohol, brief mention of potentially-PTSD nightmares

“Witches and wizards, if I could just have your attention, please! And I mean it, because I’m getting real tired of clinking this fork against this wineglass like some Muggle —no offense to my in-laws, of course—, and if I try to charm them to do it I’ll probably go overboard and it’ll break and that won’t be good for anyone… So if I could have your attention, please! … That’s better.

“We’re here today, together as we have so many times before, not so you can all take advantage of the complimentary alcohol we’ve so kindly provided (I’m looking at you, Hagrid, I know that’s your third tankard), but to celebrate the fact that Hermione has officially agreed to sleep with me and me only forever —ouch, you don’t have to pinch me, I know I need to apologize to your parents again, but it was too good not to say it— but no, really, it’s because this beautiful, brilliant witch next to me has somehow agreed to spend the rest of her life with me. Now that’s luck, folks, and take it from someone who’s seen Felix Felicis up close.

“Marriage is new. It’s scary, yes, not in the ‘snatchers are chasing us across a forest and we’re gonna die,” but in the way good things should be. And like all things new, a lot of questions come with it. Like how do we choose whose side of the bed is whose, and commit to that forever? How do you raise a kid without screwing them up too badly? And how on earth do I learn how to sort a sock drawer? These questions all look forward, into a future I’m overjoyed I’m getting to live, but there are some questions that lead me to look back. And from those recollections, a single question stands out, one that I change the answer to pretty much on the daily, the one I think over every night as I go to sleep next to this beautiful woman: when did I know she was the one?

“Like I said, I change the answer to this one on the reg, because living with Hermione Granger means she gives me a whole new reason to fall for her every single day, and with every passing day I spend next to her not an instant goes by that I don’t think ‘she’s the one' all over again. We’ve known each other since we were eleven, after all, and I’ve loved her pretty much the whole time. Yes, Harry, stop looking at me like that, even in first year— nearer the end, I’ll admit. So if you asked me to pick out just one instant when I knew, when I was sure— well, mate, I’d be hard-pressed to find just one.

"I could say it was yesterday, when I’d scarcely woken up and I was still all groggy, but my eyes managed to open just enough for me to see her already sitting up in bed, frowning down at her book and scribbling something onto it. Seven thirty in the morning, and the woman wasn’t just reading, she was annotating! I dipped back into sleep, sure, but to see her entranced by her reading just never gets old— which is a good thing, I guess, because I don’t think I can count on her ditching the books anytime soon.

"I could say it was a few months ago, when she got me surprise tickets to a Cannons game —it wasn’t even my birthday or anything—, and then she spent the game telling me all these facts, because she’d read a book to be able to understand my favorite team. I didn’t even mind— I complain about her lectures, but the truth is, I think I learn more from them than I ever did at school.

"I could say it was a couple years back, when she proposed we move in together because ‘oh, Ronald, how are you going to manage on your own'— and it’s true, I don’t think I could’ve, because she keeps me sane and grounded in a way no one else does. I told Harry back at the beginning of seventh year that we wouldn’t last two days without her, and though I think he needs her less now that he’s made snogging my sister his full-time job, it certainly holds true for me. It’s pretty simple: I don’t know what I’d do without her.

"I could say it was even farther back, the first time I met her parents, where I was practically soiling my pants because I was so nervous they’d think I wasn’t good enough for their daughter —which they might think now, honestly, after all the things I’ve said in the space of the last five minutes— or that there’d be something wrong with me. And she sat me down, in a little bench a few steps from her driveway, and she held my shoulders until I was breathing normally and she told me they’d love me: not just because I was the man their daughter loved, but because I was Ron. She countered all the things I’d spent my life fearing: she told me I was good, she told me I was enough, she told me she was lucky to have me. And besides, she said, if they didn’t like me, it didn’t matter, because she loved me more than anyone else could. Let me tell you, when we walked in arm-in-arm, I wasn’t shaking anymore, and if you ask me, that’s a more magical feat than any advanced spell she’s conjured, which (if you know Hermione’s wandwork as well as I do) is no small thing.

"I could also say it’s been every time I’ve woken up with a start from a nightmare, thinking I’m still there, feeling the cold weight of the locket against my chest, and she’s been right there to hold me, to warm me up again and let me cry it out on her shoulder, to lull me back to sleep in the comfort of her arms and her kisses. That’s a good estimation of when, because every time it happens, I can’t help but just be overwhelmed by how lucky I am to have her.

"I could say it was the time she first kissed me, when I finally showed her just how much I cared and, sure, basilisk fangs on the floor don’t make for a very romantic setting, and when I told Harry it was 'now or never’, I wanted that 'now’ to last me an eternity. I don’t need to tell all of you how hard and terrifying fighting a war is— and I don’t know if I could’ve done it if it hadn’t been for that kiss.

"I could say it was when she was— when we were— at Malfoy Manor, and all that existed in my head was her screaming, and how much I wanted it to stop. I knew nothing would be the same if we didn’t get out of there together, and I wanted more than anything to storm up and protect her, to save her— I made a promise to myself I would. The feeling didn’t go away for the days at Shell Cottage she spent in my arms, and it overjoys me that, by marrying her, I’m able to keep fulfilling that promise forever.

"I could say it was that time she almost killed me with her bare hands after I came back to the forest, and she didn’t talk to me for a few days. I was back with my best friends, I’d destroyed a Horcrux, the mission seemed going well; I should have been exhilarated, but all that I thought was that the only way it’d all have been worth it was if she would give me one of her lovely smiles again.

"I could say it was when we shared a dance at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Sure, I swept her up partly to get her away from Viktor —hello, by the way, I know you’re sitting there all broody at a table somewhere—, but as she was steering me across the dance floor (because the thing about Hermione is that she always leads, and I’m perfectly happy with that) and I was holding her hand in one of mine and her waist in the other, it felt like that was where I was meant to be. Like things just fit.

"I could say it was when she helped me clean up the ink spill over my homework back in sixth year. Y'know, I actually told her I loved her then— really, I said, "I love you, Hermione,” and she had the audacity to say I shouldn’t let Lavender hear that, as if I wasn’t gonna see her blush. To this day, I’m not sure she knows I meant it. Well, now I know she does.

“I could also say it was when I almost died from that poisoned mead, and she kept me company at the infirmary every day. She read me books too advanced for me to understand, she just sat there and did her homework by me, but she was there with me, like I was, back in second year when she was petrified and couldn’t even hear me— but, Merlin, was I glad I could hear all the things she told me during those days. That’s the thing about Hermione— she’s always got something fascinating to say.

"I could also say it was when she attacked me with birds —blimey, Hermione, a lot of these moments have to do with me almost dying or you almost killing me, maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all- ouch! I’m kidding…—; like I was saying, when she attacked me with birds, in sixth year too. A spell I’d never seen before, and of course, her being Hermione Granger, it worked, and I was picking at scabs for a week after that. Strangely, though, it didn’t feel so bad: it felt like she cared. And it gave me hope for us.

"I could say it was when she made that Edgecombe girl’s face flare up in boils, when she gave up the DA— it was brilliant, it really was, and it showed me a different side of her. A wilder, more violent side, perhaps, but a new side of her for me to love. Besides, I guess, in the moral scheme of things, it sorta knocked her down a notch from her pedestal, which to someone like me was splendid news.

"I could say it was all throughout that summer before fifth year, where we spent so much time alone at Grimmauld place, laughing in a bedroom and avoiding my mum’s cleaning craze. I got to be with her, just her, for weeks on end during that time, and it showed me just how much I liked being alone together.

"But I think, even through this myriad of all-good-answers, I think there’s one moment that shines through them all, that deserves its place as the moment I knew. It was the Yule Ball, fourth year, and I was wearing some rather atrocious dress robes I’ll never forgive my mum for —even if she murders me, by the look on her face, after I’m done talking—, when Hermione came down the stairs, looking like a dream in blue. She was radiant, and she flashed me one of those irresistible grins over her shoulder as she took Krum’s hand and took to the dance floor with him. Fellas, there are plenty of reasons to be jealous of a world-class Seeker, but at that moment, his Quidditch skills weren’t particularly what I envied. That was when I knew she was the only girl I’d ever see like I saw her that night, even if I had to spend my whole life chasing after her.

"But tonight, the chase is over. And tonight, it’s my turn: she’s dressed in white now, not in blue, but she still looks like a slice of heaven; she looks even happier, if I dare say it, and it’s my hand she’s letting guide her to the dance floor now, for our first dance as husband and wife. But before I dance with her, I just want to take another moment to tell her how much I love her, and how —at long last, after all these years, though there’s never been a shadow of doubt in my mind— she’s made me the happiest man in the world, because I’m marrying the only girl there’s ever been for me. And how I hope, in her life —our life—, I can make her even half as happy as she’s made me since the first day she barged into my train compartment and demanded to know my name.

"Cheers!”

[kinetic-elaboration]

October 30: 1x21 The Return of the Archons

Took a break from Halloween-ing to watch TOS with my mom. Today’s ep, the rather lackluster Return of the Archons.

A very in media res beginning! Unsurprisingly since a lot of the drama of this episode hangs on the audience not knowing the whole story.

Sulu is looking damn fine. These weird outfits really do it for him.

Maybe O’Neill had the right idea in running instead of waiting for the transporter. (Or maybe not, seeing as we later find out they caught him too.)

Look at the heels on their boots lol. I always forget about that.

Today’s official adventure: looking for the missing ship Archon.

“Sulu’s mysterious condition requires that I, the Captain, collect all of the most important people on board the ship and beam down into a planet we already know to be full of dangers.”

“Materialization completed.” Uh good to know Kirk.

Why is Spock wearing that dramatic-ass cloak? (I know it’s because he needs a hood to cover his ears but he still looks very much not of a piece.)

Whereas McCoy looks like a down-home Georgia gentleman. He looks like he’s returned to his natural habitat.

I bet these are the sort of outfits AOS Kirk wished he was wearing when he was sighing wearily at his closet filled with uniforms.

I love that this planet is clearly the set of a Western. Or... Maybury. Or also Miri.

Not only did The 100 steal S3 from this episode, it also stole the Red Sun from it, didn’t it?

They keep saying they came for the festival and yet it is VERY clear they don’t know what the festival is. This disguise is not working.

It got dark damn fast. They’re outside, it’s almost 12--one would assume that’s 12 noon--and then they go inside, talk for about 3 minutes, go to another room, and it’s pitch black out!

Is this like The Purge? (I asked myself this while we were watching and--spoiler alert!--it is! The Purge was based, perhaps subconsciously, on this ep.)

Kirk looks very handsome in this ep. Like whoever directed it looks like he’s in love with him.

“Crewmen, here are your various assignments... Mr. Spock... come with me, somewhere private. To talk.”

Spock sleeping with his eyes open. (Meditating, my mom says.)

Oh look, it’s the secret police, in their brown robes.

Landru doesn’t seem too gentle lmao. “No dissent is allowed. You will be absorbed.” Randomly killing that guy who kinda said “maybe, uh, the festival...isn’t great??”

Kirk makes one comment about how everyone’s slow on the uptake here, and slow to respond to questions and denials, and Spock goes heart eyes. “Captain, how are you so smart and logical?”

“Fascinating, this is merely a hollow tube, Captain.” And uh I guess we’re never going to explain how that hollow tube kills people then?

They’re communing...

Love that Spock points out that the people are being communicated with through telepathy. Though... I remain sightly perplexed how the computer can do that. The next stage in Apple computing I guess.

Why isn’t Reger affected by all this? Like they imply that some people are spared the “festival” festivities because of their age, but that doesn’t seem to explain why he’s not “of the body.” Like being of the body isn’t a choice that people make, you’re ether absorbed or you’re not. They say later that he’s immune--but that in itself requires explanation. Like idk it seems a major plot hole that there can even be a resistance when the computer has controlled the society for thousands of years.

So I guess the backstory on the Archon ship is that they were all either absorbed or killed when they objected to the computer and its creepiness.

I do think the little hints that the society used to be way more advanced are intriguing.

“What should we do about this body that’s going to act as a tracking beacon right to us?” / “Uh, knock him out again.”

This planet is so peaceful.. no war or crime... except for people occasionally beating and raping each other nbd.

Was that Starfleet Officer really just going to shoot that projection? Not the best and the brightest being recruited nowadays I guess.

“The creature called Landru.”

“Enough analysis.” Spock always wants to talk through the whole backstory of the weird situations they’re in, while Kirk is a man of action!

Bones is really not being used to full capacity in this ep. He’s just kinda there in the background, until he’s absorbed.

Spock is very concerned about what will happen to the Captain, but also kind of... skeptical about this whole thing. For someone in control of his emotions he exhibits a lot of emotions imo.

“Happy communing!” Just gonna say this all the time now.

Time for another mind meld. So casual about it now.

Spock’s face during Kirk’s Landru-imitating speech is HILARIOUS. That eyebrow! The eye roll! I really think he’s amused by all of this.

He’s not very good at pretending to be absorbed. He sees Jim and he’s immediately like “Captain...!” all normal like.

“The peace of the factory, the tranquility of the machine.”

“You’re thinking the same thing I am. Mr. Spock... I love you.”

It’s pretty awesome that the same ep that introduces the Prime Directive also immediately finds Kirk forming loopholes in it. “We’re not supposed to interfere.... in living, growing cultures, which this isn’t! Moral conundrum solved.”

Spock actually straight up punched a man in the face lol.

Interesting that the communicators work like that--Spock is talking to the Enterprise on his, and Kirk just slides into the conversation on his device, without Spock abandoning his call. I think because they became cell phones irl that I think of them as cells but they’re not. It’s just weird to see them casually used in these totally bonkers ways.

Lol he returned them to a simpler, easier time. I guess you could say Landru made Beta III great again.

So Reger had second thoughts about actually destroying Supreme Leader once it got too real?

Interesting how Landru’s lair is so much more sci-fi-y in aesthetic than the town. Another hint of what the society used to look like.

Spock without the cloak. Damn son.

“We do not intend to die.” That’s a good attitude.

Revealing the Wizard behind the curtain...

“The whole society is a machine’s concept of perfection.”

A man programming himself into an all knowing machine that lives forever really does remind me of Becca and ALIE except with a 60s aesthetic--a large, physical computer rather than an AI.

“The good of the body is the Prime Directive.” Tbh I feel like what this whole ep is saying is that sometimes Prime Directives need to be bent if the reality of the situation doesn’t square with the spirit of the directive.

I love when Kirk destroys computers using Extreme Logic.

That should be a presidential debate question "What have you done to do justice to the full potential of every individual of the body?"

“Well, now that that’s done, we’re going to go. Have fun rebuilding your entire society from nothing. We’ll leave you a single sociologist to help out.”

So Mr. Sulu is back to normal, and he immediately returns to the bridge to give a little, goofy sitcom smile-and-shrug and kick some random extra outta his chair.

Why do they assume Landru was a good guy lol? I mean he solved their extreme violence problem but he instituted a plenty of other problems instead. Also he was clearly a megalomaniac.

This society’s backstory sounds an awful lot like pre-reform Vulcan. Maybe they should just send a Vulcan to teach them Surak’s ways.

Honestly they were left alone for like an hour and had a handful of fist fights. I think they really were a very violent people! Maybe destroying the dictator-computer was a bad idea!

I find it very odd that the whole festival thing was never actually explained. I guess it must have been a purge idea--that because they are so naturally violent and terrible aliens, they need to let off that steam in some way every now and again, and they do this through a “festival” of no-holds-barred violence. Still kinda wish they’d explicitly circled back on that in some way though.

I think the most interesting part of this episode was the planet’s back story. Kirk acts in the end as if they were basically human, but they’re not. Also, I got the impression that Landru convinced people to follow him first, and then only when he died, set himself up as an eternal God/Computer. So he must have been a very interesting, charismatic person. And that one of his ideas was to return to a “simpler time” in everything from dress to architecture, as if that had any real correlation with levels of violence is... fascinating. Was that the hook that he hung his reform on?

Overall, as I said, not a super strong S1 episode, but not bad at all. Next week is Space Seed, a classic episode that unfortunately was absolutely wrung dry by too many repeats over the course of the franchise. (...Yes I am referring specifically to STID obviously.) Still that shouldn’t take away from the brilliance of the original!

[willow-salix]

New chapter is up. You can read the previous ones here.

The man could only be seen in profile, the room he sat in so dark that you could make out nothing of his features, even his voice was carefully neutral, leading them to believe that he was using some kind of voice modifier. 

It didn't matter to them who he was though, just that he was the one paying them ridiculous amounts of money to follow his instructions to the letter. They never questioned the reasons behind their clients instructions, it wasn't their place to, they were just there to do the job. 

                                 ***

He could still picture the scene perfectly, even though he tried to avoid doing so. No one wanted to be reminded of the day their world had come crashing down around them and changed forever. 

She had been everything to him, the only family he had ever known and truthfully the only family he had ever felt he needed. She had never remarried, nor had he ever known her to even go out on a date. Her whole world had revolved around him. 

He had gotten used to the taunts, the sneering chants of "mama's boy, mama's boy" every time he had broken down in tears, the bullying getting to be too much. It hadn't been his fault that he didn't have the latest fashions on his feet or the newest phone in his pocket, his mother worked long hours in a job she hated just to keep the roof over their heads and just enough food in the cupboards to fill their bellies. 

But they had been happy, she had been the very best mother that a boy could ever have wanted. Caring and kind to a fault, cherishing him above all others. She had never blamed him for ruining her life or for holding her back from the things that she would have liked to have done had he not existed. She had showered him with love and affection. 

He had only asked her once where his father was, but the sadness in her eyes had made sure he never asked again. 

"Your father was a good man," she had smiled. "And I loved him very much. “

"Then why did he leave us?" he had asked with all the innocence of childhood, not knowing just how painful his question would be. 

"He didn't leave us, Bayi, he died." 

"I want to know all about him, Beguk," he had demanded. His mother had laughed, she had the sweetest laugh, like the tinkling of a bell, and ruffled his hair, kissing him softly on the forehead. 

"When, you're older, Bayi, when you're older."

But he never got a chance to ask her again. A fatal seizure from undiagnosed Epilepsy had made sure of that. 

He'd walked home from school for lunch, it being cheaper for him to eat at home, and found her in their kitchen, her right arm blistered, the now cold and empty kettle beside her on the floor. 

The doctor had said that her dizzy spells had been far more serious than she had ever believed, although lack of funds had meant that she had never visited a doctor, 

She had been cremated with little ceremony and he had become a ward of the state, spending the years between 8 and 18 as an orphan with no known family. 

The day after his eighteenth birthday he had been called into the office of the orphanage that had been his home for the past ten years. He was handed a box of his mother's belongings, a small amount of money and the keys to a room in a hostel and was instructed to pack his meagre belongings. 

He was on his own. 

He had spent his first night alone with nothing but the bare essentials in his room and a box of memories. In it he had discovered things about his mother that he had never known before, finding her birth certificate and his, her passport, a number of letters from her to her family, all returned unopened, and two from the man that his mother had loved so much along with a picture of his heavily pregnant mother and the man who had fathered him. 

                                  ***

"You have your orders, you know what to do. You will do everything in your power to bring International Rescue to the scene, and when you do, we shall be watching them. We know the mistakes of the past made by those who wished to bring about their downfall, they thought too small. The world is bigger than just their operation, they are just the tip of the iceberg, but they are one of the  biggest cogs in the wheel, but by no means the only one."

Twelve faces on twelve screens nodded their understanding. 

"You will not engage, you will not attack, you will simply observe. Many a battle has been lost through underestimating your enemy. These and the coming months are nothing but a fact finding mission. I want to know everything about them, even the things you may deem insignificant. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and we shall be keeping the closest of eyes on them. Do you understand your orders?"

Again they nodded. 

"End transmission." 

The screens went dark as he cut the feed. 

                                ***

"I don't care! I'm not listening!" 

"You have to care, because it's a fact! You can't change it, it's been this way for over fifty years!

"Fifty years? Is that all? Just because a bunch of scientists and astronomers suddenly decided it doesn't count?" 

"I'm one of those astronomers!" 

"And I don't care! I don't give two shits what you and your little space buddies say, I refuse to acknowledge it." 

Selene stomped through the lounge from the sleeping quarters, John following closely behind. 

"You have to care, because you're wrong!" 

She spun around to face him, both of them seemingly oblivious to the fact that they had an audience, and a very captive audience at that. They had never seen Selene and John argue like this, John never yelled. 

"Ha! And I say it again, ha! Because that's what I think of your opinion. You say it's wrong, so that's the way it has to be. What you say goes. You always have to be right."

"I always have to be right? Have you met yourself?" 

"I have, and I'm fabulous. You on the other hand, are annoying."

"What are they arguing about?" Gordon whispered to Scott, who shrugged. 

"I'm annoying? You're the one arguing scientific facts based on what? Come on, give me one good reason. Just one." He crossed his arms, bestowing a glare on her that had beaten down untold numbers of unhelpful officials and rescuees over the years, but had zero impact on the love of his life. 

"I have one very good reason."

Scott and Gordon actually leaned closer, waiting to see what her one good reason was, even Jeff had put down his tablet to see what all the fuss was about. 

"And that is?" He couldn't think of a single thing that could be a valid argument. 

"I refuse to piss off the Lord of the Underworld."

"Must be something to do with the wedding," Scott whispered back to Gordon, "some pagan thing? Weddings can make anyone stressed."

John blinked. Had he heard her right? 

"Can you repeat that?" Because I don't think I heard you correctly."

"Oh you heard me, you just didn't want to listen. I know you." 

"The reason you give for arguing that Pluto is a planet is that you refuse to piss off a god?"

Scott burst out laughing, he couldn't hold it in any longer. 

"That's right. I am not prepared to risk it. Hades is a fair god, even though he gets a bad rap, but I'm still not willing to tell one of the big three that he's been demoted. Pluto is a planet, it's a forgotten planet, but a planet none the less and nothing you can say or do will change my mind."

"I have proof!" 

Selene waved her hand dismissively. "And I don't want to see your proof. It's boring and I don't care. You do you, boo."

"It's a dwarf planet, a dwarf. There is scientific proof, it does not meet the the criteria to be classified as a planet."

"Did you just say that Hades is too small to count?" The shocked look on her face was hilarious to behold. "You keep your little scientific knowledge and I'll keep the favour of the one that will decide my fate when I die. You wanna be stuck in Tartarus for eternity, go for it. Me, I'll be living my best afterlife, I'm going straight to the good times, baby!"

"Did you really need to emphasise that with a hip swivel?" 

"Yep," she popped the P loudly. "I'll need me a new husband by that point because he'll have let Cerburus eat you." She bumped her hip against his and walked away. 

"We are not done with this discussion!" 

She flipped him the bird, not looking back. 

"Give it up, bro. You're never going to win against her," Scott commiserated. 

John flopped down on the couch with an exasperated sigh. "I'll never understand that woman, never."

"Welcome to the world of women, son, "Jeff added.

"How can she argue with facts?" 

"Because women have their own unique logic that we are not privy to and never will be," Jeff answered. "Let me bestow upon you the wisdom my father once told me."

All three sons gave him their full attention, ready to partake of his genius. 

"Women don't care about facts, they deal in feelings and they are ruthless, often bringing out their greatest weapons."

"And they are?" 

"Tears, breasts and the withholding of sexual favours. Most of the time it's not worth arguing with them, but if you insist on being an idiot, protect your balls."

Gordon howled with laughter, Scott joining in a second later. 

"Thanks for that, Dad. Remind me again why I'm getting married?" 

"Nothing to do with me, son. I wasn't even here when you asked her, that's all on you."

"I'm beginning -" John's comm beeped. "Yes, EOS?" 

"Hello, John, you said to report anything where International Rescue might be of use. There is a breaking news report on almost every channel, though we have not received any calls for it as yet."

"Thanks, EOS, keep monitoring for me."

Jeff was already moving to turn on the holoprojector. 

"Early reports can not confirm the origin of the explosion that rocked the Clifton Mall in San Diego, and police are unwilling to comment on the possibility that it may be counted as a terrorist attack. Local rescue crews are on the scene and doing all they can to help the walking wounded as they await permission to enter the building as well as out of area teams as back up crews. "

They all watched as the camera panned away from the news anchor to show the devastating scene. Flames were licking at the roof of the building, or at least what was left of it, smoke billowing out of ragged holes that had been blasted outward. What looked like hundreds of people milled around, dodging between or climbing over piles of rubble, some standing out as emergency services but others were obviously civilians. A sea of people in torn and bloody clothes, their desperate screams and wailing sobs could be clearly heard as they searched frantically for their lost family members. 

"Selene! Alan! Virgil!" Scott yelled, already running for his launch chute, not waiting for Jeff to issue the order. 

All three arrived around the same time, rushing into the lounge from various directions, skidding to a halt when they saw the news.

"Gordon, Alan, let's move," Virgil ordered, his booted feet thumping the floor as he walked. 

"I'm going too," Selene announced. 

"No you aren't," John insisted, grabbing her arm as she passed by. 

"Who made you the boss of me?" she snapped back, shaking off his hand. "There are families down there and if there's anything I can do to help them, I'm going to be there."

"Now is not the time to start another argument," Jeff stepped in. "You're both going, it's all hands on deck for this one."

"But won't you need me help here?" John asked, clearly worried about both his system and the state of the rescue.

"Your Grandma can help, and we have that computer of yours-"

"EOS," John interrupted, "her name is EOS and she's far more than a computer."

Selene took his hand, their previous argument forgotten, giving it a quick squeeze. "Babe, we'll do this later, come on, we don't have a lot of time."

John nodded, accepting the wisdom of her words, but he didn't look happy about it.

Together they followed after Gordon and Alan to get suited up.

[that-yandere-life]

Loki’s Most Glorious Purpose

Anon Idea: So I've had this idea brewing around in my head since that ask about the yandere's s/o aging: since Loki's an expert at magic maybe he could find some sort of spell that would bind his s/o to him, like a sort of soul/heart bond thing that has the added effect of making the s/o's lifespan match his since they're now bound together. Maybe it could even make it so that if one member of the bond dies the other does as well, making his s/o even more dependent on him. It'd be perfect for a yandere. (Part Two of idea) I've just thought of another possibility with a bonding spell, it could also kind of act like a tracker, maybe it could give him the ability to know where his s/o other is at all times through the bond. I honestly feel like there's so many possibilities with the idea for a yandere. And of course you could decide how much of it goes the other way too, or if it's just Loki who could manipulate the bond since he's the one who can wield magic

Loki had been feeling down recently when he caught you looking in the mirror poking at your face thinking you saw wrinkles appearing. While you were perfect to him, he understood what you were secretly fearful of. That was that he was going to stay young and beautiful for near eternity, while you would eventually grow old and leave him in death.

It mattered to him that he would only have a short time with you, not that your appearance would age. So he decided that since he was a magic user he should be able to find some sort of solution to this apparent problem.

Going into the library to do some research in the words of old, he was looking for any way to extend your life. Part of him wanted to ask his mother, but he felt like she wouldn’t approve of him using magic on you. Plus if there was some kind of way to make it happen, he was sure it wouldn’t be an easy or pleasing task.

Pulling book upon book out, there was nothing he could find that would accomplish what he wanted. Thumbing page after page it was only furthering to frustrate him that nothing seemed to exist to keep you young forever. Tossing the most recent tale against the wall he was sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose.

While giving up never crossed his mind, that didn’t mean he was enjoying the process. Sighing he stood up again heading over to the ancient magic section, ones that held the more barbaric types of magic available. The title of one stood out to him, even though it seemed a little out there even to him. “Blood Magic?”He whispered softly to himself in contemplation. Shrugging his shoulders he decided it was at least worth a try to see what it held.

At first it seemed like a lot of crazy mumbo jumbo until he came across a ritual in it titled ‘Bonding Ritual.’ Sitting up fully he gazed down reading the words carefully to see what it entailed. Mumbling softly his eyes moving across the page, a smile growing on his face more and more as he continued.

“This is it, this is what I was looking for!”He exclaimed jumping out of the armchair that had been his home for the past two days during his search. “It will take a little planning but it is definitely doable!”He added taking a piece of parchment out of his pocket writing down the required items to perform it.

The ritual he had discovered would bond your souls together, keeping you alive until he perished. It was a very old ritual, one that had mostly been performed by old world witches to keep their objects of affection tied to them for eternity. Now he had to figure out where he was going to set this up in secret, and whether or not he was going to tell you he was going to do it. Either way he wasn’t going to give you a choice, but he would rather not force it upon you unless he absolutely had to.

Remembering an old storage area he used to go to hide from Thor and read without ridicule he decided to put his plan into motion there. Grabbing the required items in a plain brown satchel he snuck them into the space without getting caught by a single person. Setting up the circle he pulled out the seven candles, five for the elements so the Universe to watch on. Two to symbolize the two souls that were about to be bound.

Then there was a ritualistic knife that had never been used to spill blood previously. Wrapping it up in a velvet cloth he set it aside on a table nearby. Using pure sea salt he outlined the edge of the circle around the candles. It was at this point he realized that you would never agree to this dark magic in a million years. Always trying to get him to be better, but this time it was for your benefit too and he wouldn’t or couldn’t back down.

So as he made you, your bedtime tea he mixed in a potion used to promote sleep, only using a little extra to keep you in deep slumber. Wrapping his arms around you he teleported to the space, the only light coming from the candles burning brightly in the center of it. Laying you down in the middle, making sure that nothing could catch on fire he exhaled sharply. Pulling the book out of his pocket he went over what was to happen next.

Grabbing the blade he inhaled slowly closing his eyes to call upon the gods to bless it. Lightly he cut the end of one of your fingertips, letting the blood flow freely. Then he did the same to his own before holding them together tightly. “Universe, life and mother earth, witness this bond, and allow it to be heard. Blood mixed, magic connected. Never make broken this bond."He chanted as it described.

A bright red aura circled your joined fingers, and then the candles blew out by themselves signifying the success of the ritual. Using his magic he relit them so he didn’t have to leave your side for a moment. Removing his hand from yours he quickly healed both of your wounds so that they didn’t continue to ache the next day. Watching you still asleep peacefully in his arms he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that he didn’t really give you a choice in the matter.

However it was far too late to consider that, and there was nothing he could do to break the bond without dying. Carefully he teleported you back to your shared bedroom tucking you in between the black silk sheets making sure you were comfortable. Then he went back cleaning up all the evidence that the ritual had ever taken place. Now he was wondering how in the Hel he was going to tell you what he did without you absolutely getting enraged.

Sighing he got into bed next to you trying to close his eyes and rest, but sleep was going to evade him for the night he was sure of it. The next morning you woke with a yawn seeing Loki next to you, his hair a tangled mess like he had been pulling repeatedly on it. Confused you snuggled into him, causing him to stir with the feeling of warmth. “Good morning my love.”You breathed out slightly.

“Good morning.”Loki replied his voice husky and a little hoarse from the tiny amount of sleep he had gotten.

“Is everything alright? Are you feeling ill?”You asked with obvious concern sitting up to look him in the eye feeling his forehead.

“I did something last night, but I am afraid it will anger you so. I know you have been worried about leaving me when you grow older… so I took it upon myself to try and solve the problem. I used an old form of magic to bond our souls together. We will eventually age together, and die together.” Loki started to explain seeing the shock on your face but letting him go on. “It’s an ancient ritual comprised of blood magic.”He added cautiously.

“How did you do all of that without me waking up during it?”You asked still not quite understanding fully as you had just woken up yourself.

“Well I used a little sleeping elixir in your tea to put your body at ease.”Loki hesitantly answered afraid of what your reaction was going to be.

“So you drugged me, then performed blood magic on me all without my permission?”You asked to clarify that you were getting what he was saying finally.

“Uh...yes that is what I did. However I did it for us! So we can be together forever, I never want to be without you. I understand that it was probably not the right way to go about it but my heart is in the right place I promise!”Loki tried to justify.

“It wasn’t your choice alone to do that.”You whispered shaking your head trying not to cry. While you appreciate the thought he put into it, it would have been good to at least talk to you about it first. Hopping out of bed you put your bed robe on hastily leaving the room needing some fresh air, and space.

“Please don’t leave! I’m sorry!”Loki called after you fumbling around for his own clothing which had been spread various places around the room in the middle of the night. Upon leaving into the hallway he couldn’t see where you had gone at all. Unfortunately the maids didn’t see which way you went either, leaving him to frantically search high and low for you.

A million thoughts crossed your mind as you continued to run as fast as you could, unable to think of where it was you eventually wanted to end up. Somehow you had made it to the waterfall Loki had brought you to when he proposed to you. Collapsing onto the ground you watched the rushing water crash again and again. Twisting the ring he had given you not that long ago around your left ring finger. Of course you wanted to forever be with him, but you didn’t think it was going to happen like it did.

The two of you weren’t even officially married and now you were technically married by the universe. Somehow it happened when you weren’t even aware of it, and now you were stuck with him for the long haul. No matter if something happened and you no longer wanted to be with each other. Although you didn’t exactly feel trapped either, you just felt upset that you were asleep the entire time.

That you missed something so special in your relationship because he was afraid of your reaction to what he wanted to accomplish. There was nothing he could do to take that back now, and you would have to remember it forever. “I know I messed up, but I just couldn’t take the chance to lose you in anyway.”Loki admitted sitting down next to you looking where your gaze was directed.

“I don’t mind that you want to be with me forever, or that our souls are now tied together. I’m upset because I wasn’t really there, it was you alone. That was something we should have done together, something we should have felt together. Now I just feel like I missed out on something so much bigger than just ourselves.”You sighed placing your hand on his much to his surprise.

“We can do it again, although admittedly it was dark magic that I used. I didn’t think that you would approve of that, but I would like to share it with you. If you will allow me to try again to show you my true intentions.”Loki offered squeezing your hand slightly.

“I will agree if you tell me how you found me so quickly.”You inquired looking to him with a slight smile on your face.

“Uh well part of the bond means that I kind of know where you are at all times, and it also means that eventually once it settles in more you will likely be able to do the same with me. There is no more hiding from anything, you will constantly be able to find me.”Loki explained holding the book out for you to take and read if you wanted to.

“So you basically put a tracker on me too?”You asked slightly annoyed but after all it was Loki, leave it to him to get what he wants in some way, shape, or form.

“Well unintentionally yes, but I am not sorry it happened. It will allow me to further protect you from harm really. If I can find you no matter what just by the pull from my heart to yours.”Loki sheepishly responded turning to look you in the eye. “My love for you will never end, and I wanted to prove it to you. I still do.”He added making sure you could tell that he was being truthful.

“All I ask is that next time you include me in your plans, especially you know if they involve me too.”You replied shaking your head as you felt all animosity towards him slowly dissipate. “I love you too Loki, even when you go off half-cocked on some hair brained scheme.”You laughed leaning in pressing your lips to his feeling him smile into it.

“I promise to never again to do anything of the sort without your permission first, my love.”Loki smiled pulling you into his arms keeping you in his tight embrace. “Forever as one, is what we will be.”He whispered into your ear feeling the happiest either of you had ever been.

[Thank you so much for the idea Anon lovely! I’m so sorry it took me so long, but I really hope that it is worth the wait!!!! <3 <3 <3]

[holosoftheoldrepublic]

Marriage: Reloaded

(Also available on AO3) 

          Yniuria was the happiest she had been in a long, long time. When she had gone to Ossus to help the Jedi sheltering there, she had not expected to run into Doc again. And despite everything, a small part of her had feared that he had moved on to someone else when the Eternal Empire separated them. To find that he had remained true to her and was still as in love with her as he had been six years ago had gotten her quite emotional.

           She had been sure to reward him quite vigorously after they had returned to Coruscant.

           Curled in his arms after, listening to his rapid heartbeat as it slowly calmed, she felt complete. Being a Jedi, helping others and defending them against the Sith, was all well and good, but one could not live with just duty alone. Or at least, she couldn’t. Having someone to come back to made the pressure easier to deal with. When she was with him, the tension all just melted away.

           Doc bent forward to give her a lazy kiss on the forehead. “I missed that smile,” he murmured, squeezing her gently.

           “Just the smile?” She teased.

           “Your smile, your laugh, the way you feel in my arms, the colour of your eyes, your intensity when you’re facing off against injustice, basically everything, really…”

           Yn laughed and kissed him. “I missed everything, too.”

           “But mostly my rugged good looks, right?” He grinned.

           “Oh, yes, especially that,” she replied seriously, able to keep a straight face for about ten seconds before she started giggling, and Doc couldn’t help but join her in it.

           They lay contented for a while, basking in each other’s company in silence. Life had been so hectic, and with hostilities resuming between the Republic and the Empire, it would continue to be that way, so they cherished the moments of tranquility that they got.

           She realised, lying there, that most of her good memories were tied to Doc. The only other thing that came close was the Jedi Order, but they paled in comparison. While she was still devoted to the Jedi cause, she found herself caring less and less about many of the dogmatic restrictions.

           And she didn’t want to hide what made her happy anymore.

           “Doc?” She said, nudging him.

           “Hmm?” He responded, his eyes closed, possibly half asleep.

           “Let’s get married.”

           Yn watched a ripple of emotions going over his face, settling on confusing as he opened his eyes and gave her a curious look. “You get a bit rattled on Ossus there, beautiful? We’re already married.”

           “By a protocol droid who wiped the ceremony from his databanks,” she said. “And it’s not on any official records which could make things… difficult, legally.”

           He absently stroked her arm, thinking. “So, you want it to be more official?”

           “Yes.”

           “You’re alright with upsetting the Order?”

           “With all the things I’ve done for the Order, I think they can overlook a marriage,” she said. “And if they can’t… well, I’ve decided that some things are more important. I don’t want to hide this anymore.”

           “Considering that we made out in front of several prominent Jedi, I think it’s safe to say our relationship isn’t a secret anymore, beautiful,” he said dryly.

           She stuck her tongue out at him, and he took it as prime opportunity to kiss her deeply.

           The discussion was tabled for a little while.

           “I should propose to you more often,” Yn panted when they were done.

           “How many marriages could we have before it gets too indulgent?” He asked, rolling onto his back with a groan. “I’m out of shape… not as much running around and getting exercise on Ossus, you know…”

           “So, do you want to?” She asked, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m okay if you don’t. We did go through it once already, after all…”

           “If it makes you happy, I’ll do anything,” he grinned. “Well, not anything but you know what I mean…”

           “When I was little, I sometimes imagined getting married,” she said. “Dressed in a pretty white wedding dress, with my friends and family gathered and lots of good food…”

           “Hmm, the wedding dress has a certain appeal,” he said, a far away look in his eyes as he thought up whatever degenerate scenario he had in mind. “Yeah, that would be nice…”

           “Archiban.”

           “It would be nice to bring everyone together,” he said, tactfully moving on. “A celebration will help keep people’s spirits up, what with the war resuming and all…”

           “Good company and good food?” She said, smiling.

           “And maybe with a marriage announcement, Kira will come out of wherever she’s been hiding to yell at me,” Doc said dryly.

           Yn sighed. “I wish I knew where she and Scourge have been hiding…”

           “Sorry I couldn’t keep an eye on them.”

           “They’re their own people, and you all had your own problems to deal with, after all,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll find them again.”

           He gave her a squeeze, smiling. “So, does this mean I need to break the bank to get you a ring?”

           “A black band with a red stone would be nice…”

           “What, no diamonds?”

           Yn made a face.

           “You can get red diamonds, beautiful.”

           “Yeah but… they’re ugly.”

           Doc snorted, then laughed. “Alright, a red stone that isn’t a diamond.”

           “And a black band.”

           “You ever think about expanding your colour palette a little, Yn?” He asked.

           “No.”

           He was useless from laughing for a minute.

           “I’m going to invite all of your ex-girlfriends to the ceremony,” she muttered. “Every single one. I’ll pay for their transportation personally…”

           “Nooo don’t do that,” he laughed, squeezing her again. “I’ll die...”

           “No less than you deserve,” she grumbled. “Making fun of your wife for the colours she likes…”

           “You still want a white wedding dress, though,” he said dryly, poking her nose. “Why not have a red and black wedding dress?”

           “I want the stereotype!” She said, propping her head up on a hand. “A fancy, flowing white dress and sprays of white flowers covering the marriage hall from floor to ceiling…”

           “But a ring with a red stone and a black band.”

           “Well I’ll be wearing it after the wedding, so it needs to match my aesthetic…”

           “I thought Jedi were supposed to be above that sort of thing.”

           “We’re also supposed to be above romantic attachments,” she said, rolling her eyes, “so unless you want me to dump you maybe don’t bring it up.”

           “Aw, don’t even joke about that,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I just found you, why would I want to lose you so quickly? I might have to handcuff us together…”

           “Well, I’d never have to worry about losing you in combat…”

           “So that’s the ring, the dress, and flowers sorted,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers. “What about food? I’m guessing you want a cake.”

           “I want the biggest cake physically possible,” she said, looking absolutely serious.

           “You planning on giving cake to the whole of Coruscant, beautiful?”

           “I want a big impressive wedding to satisfy my younger self, who fantasised about all the things she couldn’t have to make life a little less dreary,” she grumbled.

           “Tell your younger self that we’re not made of money, please.”

           Yn stuck her tongue out at him again.

           “Hmm, tempting, but unfortunately I’m not up to the task yet,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

           “You really are a walking hormone,” she giggled. “Aren’t you in your late 30s now?”

           “Shh,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “I’m 28 forever, beautiful.”

           “You say that, but I’m pretty sure I see some grey hairs…”

           “You take that back!”

           “Right here, and here, and here…”

           “Weren’t we talking about food for the wedding?” Doc complained. “Why are we talking about my nonexistent grey hairs?”

           She kissed his nose. “Shouldn’t you come up with some ideas? It’s your wedding, too.”

           “I’m not really much of a foodie, love,” he shrugged. “I’ll eat anything put in front of me. Came in handy on Balmorra.”

           “Come on, Doc, you almost got married once before, surely you have some ideas?”

           “If you recall, I ran from that wedding at the speed of light,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I wasn’t really involved in the planning at all… I’d rather not think about how terrible I used to be, if it’s all the same to you…”

           “I’d agree but if you’d married her, we wouldn’t be here now so I can’t help but thank your terrible, younger self.”

           “Thanks,” he said dryly.

           “As for food…” she thought about it. “I’m not sure, most of the foods I like aren’t what you would consider wedding fare.”

           Doc snorted. “It’s your wedding, do whatever you want.”

           “Our wedding,” she said absently. “I do like Selkath food… but I don’t think a lot of people would appreciate a largely fish-based meal…”

           “You could always have things from a bunch of different cultures,” he suggested. “No matter what you do this is gonna be a bit in the public eye, so you could always make it a gesture of unity and togetherness in these dark times.”

           “Why are you pulling politics into our wedding?” Yn complained.

           “You’re a Jedi, everything about you is politics,” he grinned. “Besides, having a whole lot of different food would be fun.”

           “I’ll leave you in charge of catering then,” she said. “You should be involved in some of the planning, after all.”

           “How about music? Can’t be any sort of celebration without music. And decorations, can’t have just flowers… guests… seating arrangements…”

           “For someone who said he wasn’t involved in his own wedding you sure know a lot,” she commented.

           “Hey, I went to a lot of weddings, you know,” he grinned. “Romance in the air, people emboldened with a bit of alcohol… great place to pick up women… Yn, if you roll your eyes any harder, you’re going to break something. Trust me – I’m a doctor!”

           “Is there anyone you want to invite?” She asked.

           “I can think of a few buddies from med school… some people I worked with on Balmorra… lot of people from Ossus…” He said. “I am absolutely not inviting any of my exes.”

           “It’s a shame you haven’t remained good terms with at least one of them,” she sighed. “You should send out apology messages…”

           “I’d be at that for the better part of the decade.”

           “Who will you have as your best man?” She asked, deciding to veer away from subject. “Rusk?”

           “Oh, stars, no,” he grimaced. “I’ll have to think about it.”

           “I would’ve loved to have Kira as my maid of honour,” she sighed wistfully. “I’ll have to ask Sara if she’d be up for it. Did you know that she got married and no one made a fuss about it? How is that fair!”

           “I guess it’s different when you’re a barsent.. bareth… uh…”

           “Barsen’thor.”

           “Yeah that.”

           Yn stretched languidly. “We have time to think about it,” she said. “Time to plan things out, invite people, research things… for now, I think we should get out of bed.”

           “But it’s so comfy,” he complained.

           “Well I’m going to have a shower, and then get breakfast,” she said dryly, slithering out from the covers.

           Doc watched her stand and stretch. “You know, maybe I’ll join you for that shower…”

[bubbletimestories]

Don’t take him away from me (Irondad)

Summary: Tony is obsessed with Peter's disappearance and wants to bring him back at any cost. He moves away from his loved ones, sinks into depression and asks for Wong's help to save Peter.

Warnings: Major character death (?), sadness

Themes: death, father-son relationship, magic, hope, sacrifice, love, Saving Peter Parker

Translated with Google trad ^^’

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Ashes became a phobia for some, an obsession for everyone. They refused to cremate the dead, and chimney fires became rare even in the coldest winter. How could it have been otherwise?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but it’s impossible. As a guardian of the Sanctum, I cannot let you do it. ”

The whole world plunged into silence, as if the shock had taken people off the floor at the same time as their loved ones.

“We have to go ahead, Tony, to maintain a semblance of order. Take back your armour; we will be the Iron men. ”

A national mourning ceremony was organized when people ceased to hope. Captain America gave a long speech in memory of the missing, recalling that we had to keep courage, words without meaning, even for him. The world was not at war, it had lost without even being able to fight. They had failed. It was a month after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“The occult powers are not a toy, Mr. Stark, I cannot do anything for you. We all lost someone but that does not give us all the rights. I am sorry. ”

Bruce Banner embarked on research to understand where half of the Universe could have disappeared. He spent all his time there, perhaps to forget that he had lost a part of himself. But we had to face the facts: there was nothing to do, for Hulk as for the others. It was six months after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

“Tony, you have to … that you stop feeling guilty about what happened. It was not your fault, it was nobody’s fault. Darling… ”

The remaining superheroes returned to service at the same time that the criminals woke up. A semblance of normality had returned, even though Absence was still strongly felt.

“No, Mr. Stark, I refuse to participate in that. The consequences are too uncertain, it is never good to play with life. We, guardians, learned it in pain. It’s no. ”

Thor had managed to find the survivors of Asgard and install them on a small planet to rebuild a kingdom, supported by Valkyrie and Korg. Despite his new responsibilities, he tried to return to see his friend as often as possible. Unfortunately, Point Break always found the genie in the same state: bitter, gnawed by guilt and obstinate not to see the truth. It was a year after the Purge.

________________________________________________________________

- Tony, that cannot continue. I cannot continue … to see you destroy youself. This obsession you have … It’s impossible.

Pepper looks at the impassive figure of the one she no longer recognizes, whom she cannot understand. She had tried with all her strength to support him, to push him forward, to overcome the horrors he had lived, but as much to speak to a wall.

The engagement ring tinkles on the glass table; this break up is different from the previous ones, it is an adieu. After taking a last look at the playboy, Pepper walks away to leave this room too dark, too quiet. Tony’s throaty voice suddenly stops her:

- Will you keep your word?

-Yes. If you succeed … he will officially be your heir.

She refrains from telling him once again that it’s madness. Oh what good would it be ? The door closes without Tony moving a centimetre. He knew it would happen, how could he blame Pepper after all he did? Somehow, it’s better that way, that they separate before…. he does what he has to do. Thoughtfully, he touches his side, where a long scar bears witness to the events of a year ago. A year already … and even more.

Outside, the sea crashes on the rocks under a stormy sky, as if the Sun itself was absent. Hard to believe he was hit by a moon… An umpteenth time, the superhero wonders how a single being could trigger so much chaos, so much suffering. But it’s no longer time to think about it, Tony Stark has never been one to feel sorry for himself, and he’s not going to start today. Not now that Wong has yielded.

The billionaire genie finally gets up, surprises his reflection in the bay window, the drawn features, the hair where pierce some silver threads, and especially his eyes surrounded where shines a flame of determination almost disturbing. To mourn, he can’t, not totally. Not while May Parker hates him. And rightly so: he was supposed to protect her nephew. Every day for months, she pursued him with her anger, her hate, and her sorrow, like a more seductive harpy. It was reminiscent of Tony Stark’s memories of Sokovi’s bitter victory and collateral damages. At the time, he wanted to use the government to fix his mistakes. It was not enough. He did not feel involved enough but today it’s different, he’s ready for anything.

The rain begins to fall while the man in armour joins the Sanctum of New York whose window shines like a gigantic eye watching over the city. Memories come back, his meeting with a man he could not know very long but who resembled him on many points. He, perhaps, has found a way to not die, floating for eternity in a parallel dimension.

- I’m sure your friend teleported to a beach in the Pacific, Wong. He looked smart enough for that.

Tony walks in the door, arranges his rain-soaked hair until the wizard deigns to arrive. It does not take long before he appears, frowning as usual, living figure of disapproval.

- You should refrain from this kind of joke or I may change my mind.

- I just made a guess, no need to come to the threat.

Wong does not answer anything, guides his guest through a series of corridors, the sound of their footsteps choked by oriental rugs. However, the mystic librarian ends up breaking the silence, visibly worried.

- Are you sure you want to do that?

Silly question, it’s been more than a year since the billionaire harassed him without his determination ever faltering and yet, Wong listed the risks more than once. But he supposes that for Tony Stark, life is a gigantic bet. His host does not even bother to answer, it’s so obvious. When the kid di …when he disappeared, it was as if he had taken some of his mentor with him, something broke and the man in armour wanted only one thing: bring him back whatever it costs. Banner told him it was hopeless, Captain asked him to mourn, but it was impossible. When it was not May who was shouting her hate, he saw the teenager’s face in his nightmares. Now he has planned everything. Pepper will run the business until he’s ready, Rhodey will look after him and train him with the other heroes, Banner will take care of the scientific part … He’s been thinking about it for months now and now that Wong has accepted, he will be able to bring back Peter. Wherever he is.

Where Tony expects to see incense, bones, mysterious symbols, in short, all the paraphernalia of resurrection, he finds only one manuscript and the master of the mystical arts donning a double ring. It would not be Wong, you could think of a scam.

- You’ll only have a few minutes to find it. After that, you will both be lost.

- Oh, I thought you were going to announce bad news ..., jokes Tony with a smile but without the spark of irony that always lit his eyes once. Not really knowing what else to do, he stands in front of the librarian, waiting, noting that the wizard carefully avoids his eye with emotion. It would be almost touching.

Wong takes a breath and circles in the air with his fingertips, articulating inaudible words for the man in front of him. This could be any teleport spell at first. But the sparks are usually of a color of fire and not of a deep blue, what we see through the portal is not a gigantic dark expanse. Tony stares for a moment, hoping to see something, a silhouette or even a shape but nothing stands out in the dark.

“Mr. Stark, is it too late to go to the bathroom?»

He probably would have said something like that … if he had been there.

To think thus of the teenager revives the determination of the hero, a moment frozen by apprehension, he turns to Wong to send him a last salute.

- Thank you very much and above all, take care of him. I do not want to have to come and kick your ass.

And without waiting for the answer of the wizard, he crosses the portal quickly, no hesitating anymore.

When Tony Stark had imagined this moment, he had envisioned an intense cold, the same that takes us when we die. But on the other side of the mirror, there is neither cold nor heat, only emptiness and an absence of sensations. All around the billionaire, a deafening silence spreads into the darkness, as if there was nothing else in the world than this visitor. After the shock of discovery, Tony decides to move forward, heart beating and thinking only of the one he must find at any cost. Under his feet, the ground is wrinkled like the surface of a pond but the billionaire is not careful, focused on his mission.

- Underoos !

His voice pierces the ambient calmness, scatters in the void before the silence falls. It is then that a pale color task is formed a few meters from the Avenger, blurry but very real, standing out against the dark background. Gradually, the task becomes clearer, as if you were focusing on it. Peter looks around him, a picture less and less flickering with each heartbeat. Looking as after a long sleep, he blinks, tries to understand where he is. On his face passes a flood of emotions as he remembers his last moments, the battle, the defeat, his death. His whole body trembles and he curls up, hiding nothing of his fear because he believes himself alone, lost forever. My god, he’s dead … so it looks like this after?

Tony slowly approaches the teenager, losing nothing of the confusion that moves him and makes him blind to what surrounds him. He kneels right in front of him, stroking his hair like a little child, making him jump.

- Mr Stark?!

The large hazel eyes express both surprise and immense joy in recognizing their hero and this reaction expresses such innocence that Tony’s heart is tightening. It is because of him that the little one suffers all this … but this ordeal ends, he will go home.

- It’s over…

Without really knowing why, Peter feels he can reassure himself, that his mentor has found a solution and that he can trust him. It’s Iron Man, he always succeeds.

The seconds go by and Tony knows they do not have a lot of time before … being separated again. Then he draws the young man against him, serves him in his arms with more emotion than he would like. No door to open to serve as an excuse, it is a real hug this time. Taken by surprise, Peter does not react immediately as this gesture seems strange to him on the part he admires. Then he puts his arms around him, gives him back his embrace, burying his face against the scarred chest. Nightmares can’t reach him now, everything will be better.

The portal reopens too early, far too early for Tony’s taste. Seeing the sapphire sparks, his first movement is to squeeze the boy closer to his heart, so that they will never be separated again. Then he regains his composure, pushes Peter aside to look into his eyes.

- You’re going home now. Your aunt must make a blood of ink.

- Mr Stark?

Something in the attitude of his mentor worries suddenly the teenager who scans the face of Tony in search of an explanation. It is at this moment that Wong passes his arms through the portal to catch the young man and pull him towards him. Reflexively, Peter clings to the arm of his hero, suddenly sensing that they will be separated.

- No, Mr Stark!

Tony smiles painfully, hoping to be a little reassuring even though he’s never been good at these things.

-It will be fine.

And with a sharp gesture, he recoils to let go of his protégé who screams, tears in his eyes.

-Dad!

The portal closes on him, leaving Tony Stark in the dark, alone but reassured. Now, the little one is safe.

[writersrealmbts]

Love for Eternity

Description: It’s Valentines day and Jin has a wonderful surprise for you while the other boys take care of the baby triplets. Sanctuary Series, Safe with Me. 

Warnings: Writing isn’t great.

Posted: 02/13/2019

Tags: hybrid!bts, safe with me universe, seokjin x reader, dad!seokjin

Fluff mostly: 1,874 words

A/N: I did the best I could, I hope you guys enjoy this! Happy Valentines Day! I’ll be spending it alone, studying chemistry and landscape ecology, and bowling in the morning. Yay. Anyway, I finished my two exams and I still have so much homework and crap so I’m posting this tonight. Enjoy! If you’re along tomorrow, drop me a line and we can commiserate/celebrate.

You picked up Min-min, nuzzling him. “Hmm, sweet baby.” Jin wrapped around you, gently kissing your cheek. “The other two are finally asleep.” You nodded, noticing that Minsu was quickly dropping off as he breathed in yours and Jin’s scent. “The boys okay? I know it’s stressful for them to see the kids like this.” “They’re fine, they’re more stressed because they want to help more but can’t since most of the problem is when the babes are hungry.” He gently took Minsu from you. “But they can help now. Now you need to go get cleaned up.” You looked up at him in surprise. “I do?” He nodded. “I’m taking you to dinner.” You grinned. “You are?” “I am. After all, it’s Valentine’s Day.” He leaned in and kissed you gently. “Have to set a good example for our kids. Show them how to take care of their significant other.” You smiled and kissed his cheek. “I love you.” “I love you too. Now, go get cleaned up and wear your best dress. Your favorite shoes. Do your hair, do your makeup. Jewelry. The works.” “The works,” You agreed, grinning. It’d been a while since you’d dressed up. Probably your brother’s wedding was the last time. After that you’d sort of ballooned with the triplets. Jin walked out with you, carefully passing the sleeping Minsu over to Hobi. Hobi grinned down at the baby. “So cute.” Each of the other boys was watching over the other two, and Yoongi was napping on the couch, ready to help out when he was needed. It wasn’t an IF situation. You looked over your family for a moment, then hurried into your room to get cleaned up and ready for the date Jin was taking you on. You did your hair, and makeup after putting on your nicest dress (thank God it still fit). You put on the necklace and earrings that Jin had given you for Christmas. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling at the reflection. You looked great. You walked out of the bathroom to see Jin dressed in his suit. Jin looked at you and grinned. “Wow…” He kissed you at least four times, then placed careful kisses around your face. Hands placed carefully on your waist as he savored the moment with you. “You look amazing, my darling.” You giggled softly, pulling away before you spun around for him. “This work for our date?” “You decide,” He answered with a grin, leading you out of the bedroom. In the hour that it took for you to get ready, the whole house had been decorated and candles lit and flowers… “I know…I know it’s not what you thought it would be. But I also know that I don’t want to have anyone ever doubt that we’re together. I want to marry you. I want to be able to really say that you’re my wife. I don’t want anyone to ever doubt that. I know I didn’t propose, but I have this.” He pulled a box from his pocket and opened it to show you a ring with the band already attached. Your mom’s ring. “It was grandma’s before mom’s,” Micheal said, smiling at you. You looked over at him, then down at the ring, then at Jin’s loving gaze. “You planned a wedding?” He nodded. “I love you,” You laughed, tearing up and gladly accepting his kiss. “Yay!” Tae shouted happily. “They’re getting married!” “And we’re watching the kids tonight and tomorrow while you two enjoy a nice stay in a hotel,” Becca chimed in. All of the boys were dressed up nicely, grinning happily. You looked down at your dress. Yes, you loved this dress, but to get married in it. “I’ve got you,” Becca said, gently pulling you away from Jin. “I have a dress upstairs for you because I knew this hare-brained—” Jungkook squeaked with indignation. “Scheme needed some sense,” Becca finished with an amused look at the boys. “Come on.” You let her drag you upstairs, where there was a garment bag hanging from the door to the closet. She went over and unzipped it. “Micheal told me that you wanted to wear this when you were younger, but he wasn’t sure if you still wanted it. I brought some other options too. It’ll give them time to finish setting things up.” You grinned. “My great grandmother’s wedding dress.” She helped you change into it, helping you button up the lace gown. “Perfect.” It was perfect. “Am I really getting married on Valentine’s day?” You laughed, tearing up a little. “You’re getting married. To Jin. The father of your children, the love of your life. A made up holiday has no relevance in the matter.” You closed your eyes, smiling. “I actually never even expected him to ask me to marry him.” “He loves you. And he knows exactly what you did and didn’t give up for him.” “I should have known. He always sees right through me.” You laughed softly, thinking about how he always seemed to know exactly what was on your heart and mind. He always knew exactly when you needed a hand to hold or a hug, or when you needed him to stay the hell away from you—and kept everyone else away as well. And if you were completely honest with yourself, you might die without his kisses. Hence, the triplets. She squealed with delight. “Look at you! My sister. Now, Micheal is technically officiating since he’s certified due to the things at Sanctuary and the haziness around marriage for hybrids that others are too idiotic to realize is actually a simple matter. However, I’ve told him to only keep to the official stuff and let you two do your own vows. I hope you can come up with vows at a moment’s notice.” “I know what I’ll say.” You reassured her. “Now send up Jimin-ah. I think the boy that started this all should walk me down the isle.” She nodded and hurried out. You adjusted your hair, thinking this was much better for the dress. Thankfully the necklace and earrings were exactly what you would wear with this dress. You just wished you had something for your hair. A veil, tiara, flower crown…something. Suddenly a flower crown was being placed carefully on your head. After it was resting perfectly, you turned to Jimin with a grin. He grinned back. “You look amazing, y/n.” “Thank you, Jimin-ah,” You kissed his cheek. “Help me get down the stairs?” He nodded, offering his arm. You took it, taking off the shoes that definitely didn’t match and that were too hard to go down the stairs in. Besides, you didn’t need them. The dress was a little short for you to wear heels anyway. Jimin led you downstairs. Jin’s face was priceless, his tail wagging way too fast to even keep track of it. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Damn he looked good in a suit. You vaguely heard Micheal say something, but you were focused on Jin as you were handed off to him. He looked back with as much love as you felt for him. “You took me in,” Jin said. He looked down at your joined hands. “You took all of us in. Your heart was so big, and you loved us without precedence. You took care of the most important people in my life, and helped me so that I could continue to see them grow. But we did so much more than just recover. We became a family. We fell in love. I saw everything that you were. You gentleness, compassion, and passion. You set me free, and now I want to never be free again. I can’t stand the thought of even a single day without you and when you’re away from me I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. I want to spend my life, however long I have, by your side. I love you, y/n. I’ll love you until the end of time.” You grinned back at him. “Y/n,” Micheal murmured. You laughed softly. “You make me laugh. You’ve brought me more joy than I ever thought I could have. Before you, I was kind of lost. I had made this new home for myself, I wanted to make a difference but had no idea how. Then I found this scrawny cat-hybrid in my vegetable garden, scared because his family was suffering. That’s how I met you. The best thing that’s ever happened to me.I never indulged a dream of finding so much love. I never thought that I would meet someone as amazing as you. You see through me, and help me be true to myself. You give me the best of you, and I hope that everyday I’m giving you the best I can too. Our life looked like it would be one trial after another that we had to face together, but it’s nothing with you by my side. And we’re going to be going crazy with these triplets because it’s going to be another month before we can start to night-train them, then they’re going to start crawling and we’re going to be absolutely exhausted once they get mobile. But I’d rather be sleep-deprived with you that well-rested with anyone else. I will love you for eternity, and take care of you to the best of my ability.” Jin gently brushed your cheek. “Rings?” Micheal asked, choking slightly. Jimin handed you a ring, while Jin pulled yours from his pocket. Micheal cleared his throat, but couldn’t get past it. You took Jin’s hand. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my earthly goods I do thee endow.” Jin repeated your words and action, slipping the ring onto your finger and smiling when it fit you well. “Kiss,” Micheal said, looking at the ceiling. Jin didn’t hesitate to obey, and if it hadn’t been for the boys and Becca cheering, you probably would have lost yourself in multiple kisses. “Man and wife,” Micheal said hoarsely. “Sign here.” You laughed at the sight of your torn-up brother, but signed the certificate anyway. Unconventional? Always, but you were married. Everyone fell silent at a sound from the baby monitor. Yoongi and Hoseok hurried away to check on the triplets. Jin pulled you into his arms. “Let’s have some cake then go.” You looked at the baby monitor, then up at him. He smiled down lovingly. “I think eight people can take care of three babies for a day.” “We’ve got this, Eomma,” Jungkook said confidently. Jimin nodded as well. You looked up at Jin. “But—” “Y/n, we’re going,” He said firmly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sighed and nodded, giving in to him. “Okay.” He chuckled softly, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you. “I love you, my darling wife.” You blinked up at your husband, and you felt completely at peace. No one could ever pull him away from you now. No matter what laws changed. He would always be yours, and you his. Your perfect family.

Masterlist.   Sanctuary Series Masterpost.  Next Part. 

[kalle-and-lita]

Homecoming Pt. 2

Forewarning, this piece of work contains my own interpretations of characters and no one else. Therefore Konrad Curze, Horus, or any other canon character is under my interpretation with OCS like Atina from @goddessatina​ were used with permission. Thank you and enjoy~~

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Lita couldn't tell where it was coming from, and because it was hard to tell the passage of time in her cell, she couldn't even begin to tell when it had started.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The cell was pitch black, which unnerved her a bit. She had grown up on Nostramo, it was literally a planet of eternal night. But even then, even in the lowest darkest wards, there was still some sort of light. But here, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Maybe she was going crazy....

It wasn't that far outside the realm of possibility. She'd been locked in here for who knew how long without any sort of stimulation, her brain was probably starving for something.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Lita tried to keep retrospect, of all the deaths that could have happened to her...

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She supposed going bat shit insane wasn't that terrible.

Drip. Drip.

She just wished...

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Lita felt her blood surge and her hand struck the wall, leaving her palm tingling with pain. She stilled as the metal hummed with the impact, listening for the infernal dripping sound.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Lita groaned in frustration, laying her head against the wall she leaned up against. A small part of her wished he'd just killed her outright; fuck she'd even go for some old fashioned painful torture than this.

Then, the something on the other side of the door. Lita stilled, trying to pin point a location in complete darkness. Heavy, footsteps if she was correct.

Was she hallucinating?

They paused in the hallway, shifting from one edge of the door to the other. As if they were unsure if they should enter or not.

Who was it?

And seriously, was she still hallucinating?

Then, the door creaked open. She stiffened on the cot, waiting with bated breath for something to happen.

Hard metal on metal slid across the floor with the door slamming shut soon after. The footsteps faded away into the distance, leaving Lita to crawl about the darkness to see what had been left in her cell.

If it was anything at all, she still wasn't sure if she was hallucinating or not.

Her hand brushed upon the foreign object upon the floor, a smell permeating her senses that was dull but very welcome.

Food.

Definitely not a hallucination. It was meager, but it was something.

Yet...

It gave her pause for thought.

He was having her fed now, why? Was he trying to draw out her inevitable end, make sure she went completely nuts before killing her. That would be a new level of cruelty, even for him.

Defiance surged in her chest, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. So she pushed away the plate, despite the gnawing pains in her stomach. If she was going to die she was going to do so her terms, not his.

And so she fumbled her way back to the cot, hoping that by falling asleep she could ignore her hunger.

~~

Three more times the footsteps came to bring her food, and three more times she turned upon the cot to ignore it. She felt weak, unimaginably so, and the temptation to break and eat what she'd been given was great.

But the need to die on her terms was greater; he was not going to break her. He absolutely was not.

But something happened.

The fourth time the footsteps came to pause hesitantly outside the cell door, something changed. The door opened, she turned to her side to pointedly ignore whoever it was as the plate scrapped across the floor back through the door.

Then, a noise. A grunt of frustration. One that she knew very well. You don't spend over twenty something years with a person without learning a thing or two about them.

It had been him, this whole time. Coming everyday to pause outside the cell door before sliding her food.

And now she could hear him open the door wider to step into the cell with her. The atmosphere in the room changed dramatically. There was a tension in the air that stilled her and everything around her, with her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it.

Slowly, his footsteps approached. Methodical, as if he was allowing her to hear him. She knew as well as anyone he could be deathly quiet. She didn't bother to try and close her eyes to feign sleep, he'd see right through that in an instant. So she kept her eyes staring pointedly ahead of her, do her best to remain unblinking.

She felt him move to the cot side, his boring into her as if he was trying to reduce her to dust on his gaze alone. He said nothing, and Lita dared not move until something hit the cot right in front of her.

She jumped a mile out of her skin, realizing he'd thrown the plate of food right in front of her face.

"Eat." His order was cold, his tone like gravel. Lita did not want to be cowed and so ignored him to settle back on to her side.

"The silent treatment? I never took you to be so childish."

Her upper lip twitched without her meaning to.

Childish? He had the audacity to call her childish when he threw a temper tantrum and took her away from the only real happiness she'd ever known?

Don't give him the satisfaction.

She tensed her jaw in response, curling in on herself in a silent hope that he would just give up and go away. In all honesty, she preferred the insane monotony of the water dripping to this.

He moved closer still, the fabric of his clothes rustling as he knelt down next to the cot. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, if the situation wasn't so tense it could've put her to sleep.

"Lita..." This was the first time he'd actually said her name since she'd gotten here. His tone had become softer, but didn't quite lose his usual bite and gravel, "Did you honestly believe you meant so little to me?"

The question came from out of no where and floored her like she'd been run over.

And the worst part?

She didn't know how to answer him....

What was she supposed to think? Of course, she thought that! The Imperium had come and he had left without a second thought to fight in his father's Great Crusade across a nearly infinite galaxy, leaving her in charge of a failing monarchy that only worked because he was there to enforce his rules. Once he was gone, the barons of Nostramo reverted back into old habits, completely running her over.

And why wouldn't they? She wasn't the Night Haunter, she didn't have his charisma or his brute strength, or the intimate knowledge of his targets fears to cow the barons into obedience. She was just some broken little human, nothing more.

But being with Atina? It had changed everything about how Lita saw herself. She was more than just some loyal servant, a pathetic little girl striving for the attention of someone who would never look her way. She was a woman deserving of happiness and respect and who was more than capable of finding these things on her own, as long as she put the effort into achieving these things herself.

Being with Atina allowed her to realize that she didn't have to spend her life wallowing in self pity, wondering why she wasn't good enough when in fact she was. She just needed to figure that out for herself.

But how to tell that to him? How to tell him that the woman who spilled every single unrequited feeling for him wasn't the same person he was looking at?

Her uncertainty paralyzed her, fighting to say something, because the second worst part was she couldn't pin down what he was even thinking about right now. In some aspects he was predictable, like how he hunted criminals or dealt with the Barons.

But heart to heart conversations that required him to actually be vulnerable.

Yeah... That was new territory.

He grumbled irritably under his breath, moving and shifting the cot. But with how dark it was she couldn't quite tell what he was doing or where he was. There were no footsteps, so he hadn't left and she could still hear his deep breathing somewhere nearby. The pair of them sat in the darkened cell together, neither making a move to speak or break the silence.

"Is this what we've been reduced to? Childish mind games?"

That irked her, and she spoke before she could even stop herself, "Says the man who threw a galaxy sized temper tantrum over a human."

"Ha. She actually does speak."

"What do you want from me?"

"An answer, Lita!" He snapped, "Did you honestly believe you meant so little to me?"

"You never did anything to make believe otherwise," She snapped back, a coldness in her voice she thought she wasn't capable of, "Decades of service, bending over backwards in every attempt to please you, to help, and you threw me aside like I was nothing! And when I was attacked by rebels, in the company of a High Ranking Official of the Imperium? You couldn't even spare the time to check in until hours later!"

The fury she felt made her heart beat wildly in her chest while the adrenaline spurred her to sit up. She squinted in the dark, attempting to find him, but everything was so disorienting she couldn't tell which way was what.

"I am a Primarch, Lita!" His shout was nearby, she heard him move from the cot, irritated footsteps in the dark paired with heavy breathing that gave away his aggravation, "I have far more important things to worry about than some nobody upstarts."

"Is that why you left me in charge of a planet that had no actual peacekeeping force!?"

"Because I wasn't going to just leave you there!!" His words left her stunned for a long moment, but he was far too irritated now to let her get a word in edgewise, "They took me for formal combat training under one of my brothers while they built my legion, and yes it took much of my attention, but I had no intention of just leaving you on Nostramo."

"You have a funny way of telling me these things." she said softly, her voice thick with emotion.

"Because it was---" He hesitated only a second before heaving a heavy sigh, "It was supposed to be a gift, a way to thank you for everything you've done for your planet. For me. You were one of the few who ever had any sense, any drive to do what was right. But then, you just quit. After saying... those things... After I tried to get a hold of you for hours only to find out that my brother's little whore smuggled you off planet."

"It hurt, didn't it?" Her question was spoken softly, but seemed like it echoed loudly between them than anything ever said before, "Thinking 'how could she? Didn't all of it mean something?'."

She hear him sigh irritably again, the sound of something heavy hitting the metal wall and the slide of cloth against a surface. If she had to guess, he was probably sitting somewhere nearby. More maddening silence stretched between the pair until she found the courage to speak what was probably on his mind too,

"So what now?"

"I suppose I'm not sure."

"Well, we're in the same boat then."

"Then why don't you tell me what you want."

"Respect."

He moved, fast judging by the quick rustle of his clothes that had him nearly in her face, "Don't you dare," he hissed, teeth grinding, "I respected you more than I should have, the fact that you're still alive after all the bullshit you've put me through should be proof enough of that."

Lita pushed back, her hands flailing out in the darkness and finding his face to strike him, "You did that to yourself!" she hissed back, "You could have just left me alone, that would have been showing me respect. Instead, you took me away from the only real happiness I've ever known!"

His hands grasped her wrists and squeezed, not tight enough to break bone but enough to keep her from striking him again but it certainly take the fight out of her.

"Why couldn't you just leave me alone?!" When she was met with silence it only served to anger her further, "Why?!"

"I don't know! You irritating little human, I don't know!"

It took her a moment to realize she'd started crying, hot tears streaking down her face as he clasped her wrists. She was tired, hungry, and so confused and hurt. And once she started she found she was having the damnedest time trying to stop.

"I haven't seen you cry in a long time..." he whispered above her strangled sobs, and it earned him a scoff,

"No, you idiot, you didn't like it when I cried so I just stopped crying in front of you."

"Certainly more mouthy than I remembered too..."

His muttering made her laugh, to the surprise of them both, "It's funny," she said, pulling her arms back in attempt to get him to let go of her, which he allowed, "It only took a year with Atina to teach me something I hadn't learned in the fifty something years I've been alive."

"And what's that?"

"Self-respect." It was his turn to scoff, but he said nothing more. She curled back up onto the cot, pulling her knees close in an attempt to ground herself, "You asked me what I wanted, what do you want?"

Lita could sense his unease from here, getting him to open up was always like pulling teeth, but a part of her knew she needed to hear his words. But as always he had habit of surprising her; she heard him moving in the darkness and she figured he was just going to leave her now. But instead of hearing the cell door opening and closing shut she felt a pair of strong arms heave her from the cot. He held her firmly against his body as he left the cell, the darkness of the hall just as disorienting as the cell until they stepped into the lift that had brought her into the depths before.

The lights were dimmed, and she found herself looking up at him, and though his gaze was pointed deliberately at the wall she could see a rush of thoughts moving behind the well placed mask. What they were, however, she could only begin to guess.

Up and up they traveled until they came to a jolting stop and the doors opened with a ping. The hallway they stepped into was empty, stretching both left and right into what seemed like an eternity. He took the immediate right, his tunic billowing with the fast pace he set until he stopped at fifth door on the left.

With his free hand he entered a quick series of numbers into the control pad and entered the room when the doors hissed open, and what lay beyond rendered Lita speechless. The garden was fast, towering trees creating a darkened canopy in the already dim space, ferns and other flora in soft beds. And as they walked deeper she noticed pulsating bluish bulbs starting their climb up the vast trees.

Nostramo Night Blooms...

They reached the center of the garden, and he set her down upon one of the benches that were found there, staying knelt by her side as she tried to take everything in.

"Do you know how many architects I had to go through to get this room installed," he said idly, his own gaze wandering before it settled back on her and his tone turned mocking, " 'But your Greatness, this is a Gloriana Class Battleship you can't just make adjustments to where you see fit'."

It made her laugh, "You didn't kill them did you?"

"I don't like the word 'no'." She laughed again, louder this time, and she could even see a hint of mirth in his facade. "Lita, I want you here. I always have, I mean I built this for you, but I need you to understand that what you said before, about... everything you felt. I don't know if I can be what you want me to be, and I just need to know that you're going to be okay with that."

Lita found herself lost in thought at that, she had changed in this past year. The people pleaser she'd been no longer existed, and she felt no desire to win his approval. Yet all of these things did not mean she didn't care about him any less than before, it was that she cared about her own well being just as much now.

"I never wanted you to be anything more than who you were," she said after some time, "and I grew to care for you because of that. Can you be okay with the idea that it won't change how I feel about you?"

He mulled it over for the longest time before he rolled his eyes in mock irritation, "I suppose it isn't so terrible to know that there's someone out there who gives a damn about my well being."

She smiled at him, his mask slowly chipping away the more at ease the pair of them became, and for the first time since coming aboard the Nightfall she felt like things were going to be okay after all.

Author’s Notes Below

//This turned out way longer than I thought it would! Hope you enjoyed, and if you did give it a re-blog, cause I'm super proud of this work! Thanks for reading!

I hereby thank and blame Elvis Presley's "I can't help falling in love", and subsequently Pink's "Hurts 2B Human" and "Walk Me Home." songs.

[pineaberry]

Hollow

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4:

The last and final piece dedicated to @gerdavonrinnlingen who was in so much pain she asked for a proper conclusion instead of leaving it at Part 3!

He awoke slowly, as though he were rising from the bottom of a dark sea.

The sterile scent of Kolto filled his nose as the world came into focus. He was in the Alliance medical bay. He was alone, but there was a lot of movement outside his room. All at once the memory of the last couple of days crashed over him and he bolted up from the bed. The sudden motion made his vision swim for a moment and he half expected someone to stop him but the medical staff seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. Something about… resources?

He shook his head to clear it before grabbing his clothes from the nearby chair. Theron winced as he felt a residual pain even though his wounds had been closed and healed. He traced the faint scar on his chest almost in disbelief. That had been close. Exceedingly close. Devastatingly stupidly close. He was alive only because Tikal had spared him at the last minute. An angry outburst cut through his thoughts and glanced towards the doorway.

“LET GO OF ME! WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU, JORGAN? SIDING WITH A FILTHY IMP-!”

There was the familiar crack of a rifle’s butt crushing someone’s face and Theron winced.

“Anyone else have an opinion?” the Cathar growled.

“Lord Beniko is in the hangar speaking with the Commander now, she’ll sort this out,” Major Quinn’s sharp, no-nonsense tone cowed any further dissidents into silence, “until then, no one will remove anything from the medical wing without authorization from Major Jorgan or myself. Am I being perfectly clear?”

“We’re an Alliance. Kriffing act like it, people!” Jorgan echoed.

Tikal…

He got dressed as quickly as possible, ignoring the pain and the gaping hole still present in his wardrobe. He had to explain, he had to talk to her. He limped to the hangar and up the steps with a single focus in mind. The place looked different from the last time he’d seen it. There were repair droids patching up structural damage, though he noted the large broken facade on the outer walls still remained the same.

Few people paid him any notice. He would have to ask Lana for the official explanation of absence. Whatever they’d said, it was enough to keep the Alliance members from confronting him. No one stopped him as he stepped off the lift and walked into the war room.

Tikal looked exhausted but she was visibly keeping a strong front if only for Lana’s sake. Strangely enough, he could see Lana attempting to be optimistic for once. Both were putting up brittle facades for the sake of the other.

“You know, it’ll be nice to take a break from ruling the galaxy,” Lana said attempting to find the silver lining in the hurricane.

“Oh like you’ve ever taken a break in your life...”

Both turned to look at him in surprise. He sensed the tension in the air clearly. Tikal’s gaze, always so warm and inviting was guarded and cold. The apology poured from his lips faster than he could react. He needed her forgiveness. He needed to know she wasn’t going to discard him. He needed her. Once more he threw himself at her mercy.

Tikal seemed to stare at his hand when he offered it. Theron could all but see the gears turning in her head.

“You risked your life for us. There’s always a place for you here,” she finally concluded.

Relief washed over him as she clasped his hand.

“I don’t know what you would have done if you’d said no,” he said venturing a smile as the anxiety drained from him.

Lana was still eyeing him critically but whatever her qualms, she let the matter drop.

“I’ll… give you some privacy.”

Tikal nodded before motioning to Theron. “Let’s take a walk.”

As they left the hangar, he couldn’t help but notice scores of republic troopers entering. A Republic ship landed once they reached the hill overlooking the base. They both watched in silence as the troopers picked up large duffle bags and filed in. He noted one was sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. That must have been the soldier who had tested Jorgan’s patience. Still, for such a large group to mobilize… the SIS agent worried he was missing something critical.

“Is there an Ops going on? Where are they going?” Theron asked puzzled as he saw the heavy freighter take off.

“They’re going home, Theron,” she replied as she leaned against a nearby tree and looked up at their departure, “there’s nothing left for them here. Without the Gravestone or the fleet, we have been effectively neutralized. The Republic issued an amnesty proclamation a few hours after the fleet was destroyed. Any Alliance assets that were previously members of the Republic are welcomed back to their original posts and rank, no questions asked.”

A deep sense of outrage constricted Theron’s chest at the news.

Alliance assets… The argument in the medical wing made sense now. The Republic was blatantly stripping Tikal of what little power she still held, the Senate hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge her existence. They’d assume they could just come to Odessen and reclaim what they viewed as theirs: Personnel, resources, equipment...

And Tikal was helpless to stop them.

She’d just saved millions of lives at the cost of everything and now they were leaving because she had nothing left to give. How many times had she rescued the Galaxy? How many times had she placed her life in danger so that others would not be consumed? And yet it was not enough to earn her their loyalty. Now when she truly needed them most, they were cutting their losses and going home.

Anger made him see red.

“Those self-serving, backstabbing-”

“And why should they stay, Theron?” she asked her voice weary as it cut off his tirade, “I have nothing left to offer them. Even Zakuul has seized their chance and declared their independence. We have no means to defend ourselves should anyone choose to wipe us out. I’m the Empress of nothing, why would anyone stay unless they had nowhere else to go or were feeling particularly suicidal?”

He saw her standing there so different from the cocky young Jedi he’d first met. Her defeated gaze was shadowed by dark circles, which made him wonder how long she’d gone without sleeping. Golden eyes, once filled with so much life and confidence were hollow and drained. The disillusionment he saw within them broke his heart.

It wasn’t fair. Theron seethed all the while regretting his own part in breaking her spirit.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I never meant for this to happen. I know… I know I messed up, but I'm not going anywhere,” he said as he reached out to touch her face. Her empty gold eyes stared back at him.

“We’re allying with the Empire,” she said effectively shattering what should have been an intimate moment. His fingers pulled away as though scalded by her words.

“You’re- I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m not going back. We’re siding with the Empire,” Tikal repeated.

Theron grappled with the decision for a moment as though trying to find the right words.

“Tikal… I know you’re angry. Things look grim and the people who should have had your back- they’ve left you holding the bag. But if we join the Empire, if we turn against the Republic, there’s no going back. Ever. It’s treason, they’ll put a price on your head.”

“An old friend once told me that he understood why people controlled me, but he could never figure out why I let them. I’m not going back to them. I’m not going back to being just another Jedi for them to exploit. I refuse,” she replied and he noted there was a metallic glint in her eyes he’d seen somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place.

“I know… there are things you don't agree with but-”

“But what, Theron? Please by all means excuse and rationalize the Republic’s behavior for me,” she said as a cold anger flickered through her features, “explain why they had no qualms about leaving me to rot in a Zakuulian vault. Explain why they refused to act or fight the Eternal Empire and instead the so-called enemies of freedom were the ones taking up the mantle. Help me understand why after finally attaining a peaceful truce within the galaxy they violated it by sneaking into Iokath to steal weapons of mass destruction!”

Her hands clenched into fists and Theron’s words failed him.

“There is… so much I could say against them… so much I have given them, but even now they would never have me back unless I approached them on my knees. Look me in the eye and tell me why I should beg the Senate for another chance at servitude when I’m being offered freedom?”

“Giving up on the Republic won’t atone for what’s been done,” Theron said looking at her sadly, “the Empire will try to kill you the moment you let your guard down.”

He looked troubled and she knew he was thinking of the friends and allies he would be forced to leave behind. His entire life, he had been ingrained to see the Sith as the enemy. His mother had given him up so she could focus on the the safety of the Galaxy; safety from the Sith menace. He had seen his father die in a fanatical attempt to stop the Empire.

She would not ask Theron to choose. Ultimately, Tikal was further down his list of priorities than she’d originally thought, there was no point in humiliating herself further.

“It’s naive of you to think the Republic doesn’t have the same plans for me. I executed Leontyne Saresh. I denied them Iokath and, as of two weeks ago, the Senate passed a resolution holding me solely responsible for Supreme Commander Malcom’s death,” she said before giving him an out, “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt the same way.”

“You had NOTHING to do with that. You were the one who tried to get him to see reason. He wouldn’t listen, he never listened!” he protested but deep down he knew that when the Republic was looking for someone to blame, the truth hardly mattered.

“Not everyone is as forgiving as you,” she replied quietly, “many claim this wouldn't have happened if I had kept my loyalty to the Republic, but I can't do that. I can't keep a blind loyalty to one side over the other. It was the Empire who came to our aid on Voss. It was the Empire who stood with us. The Empire paid for their place at the Alliance in blood all the while the Republic was content to watch. They swooped like vultures without risk, without a shred of honor, and hoped to reap all the spoils of war. What do I tell the Imperials who joined me and fought by my side? How do I look them in the face and spit on everything they risked at the whim of a fickle Republic? Actions speak louder to me than any of their prejudice disguised as inane platitudes. The Alliance’s purpose doesn’t change or play favorites based on bigotry. We’re going to save lives wherever possible regardless of faction.”

“The Jedi Council won't care about your intentions. They'll be forced to disown you,” he said looking pained at the idea she should have to be punished further.

“Kriff the Council!” she snapped with unusual viciousness.

Theron visibly flinched at the unexpected response.

He’d always know she didn’t see eye-to-eye with the council, but it was one thing to have an affair with him and quite another to discard their guidance completely. He looked into her gaze again and realised the gold irises were edged with a metallic red tinge… the same as Lana's. All at once it dawned on him, the shadows around her eyes weren't just due to exhaustion. It was dark side corruption.

Theron's heart raced as he recalled the stories of fallen Jedi from Master Zho. Their inexperience with emotions made them more volatile and dangerous than Sith. They were violent, leaving thousands in their wake, but above all else, they were considered abominations. Fallen Jedi were to be restrained and dragged back to the council by whatever means necessary. They were to be isolated and redeemed lest they turned their rage loose upon the galaxy. Even the SIS had protocols regarding rogue Jedi. All of them had some sort of dismemberment in the process. Theron suppressed a shudder. He’d done this. He’d left her alone surrounded by Sith.

“You don’t mean that... ”

Something snapped within her then and she glared at him with mounting fury.

“Dammit Theron, I don’t want to be a Jedi. All my life I was led to believe that it being a Jedi was my only purpose; that I had to fulfill it like it was a life sentence or a curse; that I had no choice; that the only reason I had been born was to serve,” she said her voice thick with resentment, “no one ever asked if I wanted to or even WHAT I wanted. I was never given a choice. They told me that any other path leads to darkness; that they’ve stolen away my life because to want such a thing was evil and it would make me a monster. I was a child! A child among hundreds! They demonize and strip us of all but the most basic emotions, and tell us that our only purpose is to obey until death! All the while making you feel as though you owe the Republic for that privilege. But it’s a lie! I have a say in my own life! I have a choice! I’m not stupid! I don’t need a sith to tell me that!”

The words burst out of her like a torrent and he could feel that she was at the brink of a breakdown. This entire conversation, he’d been waiting for her to tell him he had to make a choice. He’d been so preoccupied about what he would say when she demanded his allegiance, only to realize she would never ask him. She wouldn’t tell him to decide because she was so certain he wouldn’t pick her. Like all the others before him, he’d taken what he needed: love, acceptance, forgiveness, absolution… she’d given it all to him and asked nothing in return.

He had thought of himself as different from the others who used her. In a way, he had believed they were equals striving for the same goal. When it was necessary, he sent her to face down monsters. When it was required of him, he left her locked away in a carbonite prison to take care of keeping the galaxy together. When it became convenient, he broke her heart and tossed her aside for the greater good. He manipulated and used her twisting his words until they hit their mark expertly because it had to be done. Because she had to be the Alliance Commander first and foremost. Because the galaxy needed the Hero of Tython, not the woman behind the title. Because deep down he knew he was risking nothing… she would forgive him regardless.

Even now, broken and brimming with despair, she asked nothing of him or worst still, expected to receive nothing from him. She was alone on the edge of a precipice screaming in rage and instead of pulling her away from the edge, he had taken a step back from her the moment she didn’t perform to expectations. Shame colored his thoughts as he wondered if she had planned it. Had Tikal known he would flinch and hesitate when faced with what she had become?

“...did you ever love me?”

His throat constricted with grief as he found himself unable to reply.

“I refuse to kneel!” her voice screamed in defiance and the ground beneath her began to split as her power churned. Even force blind as he was, Theron could see the storm contained within her threatening to tear her apart.

She was falling. How long had she been falling? How long had she been alone with this madness; this corruption? Had no one been there in his absence?

“Tikal I didn’t-” his voice cut off as he felt something latch around his throat.

“Don’t speak. Don’t you say a word. Now, it’s time for you to listen,” she hissed.

She stood before him her eyes burning with dark side energy as her form radiated hatred and rage like magma from a volcano. Even if he tried to run, invisible bonds had latched on to him keeping him in place. He saw her as she had been back on Nathema: fury incarnate. She could kill him with a thought, yet the bonds around his throat had not constricted painfully. She was terrifying in her anger, yet he noted she had never once harmed him: not here, not at Umbara, not even on Nathema.

He had risked nothing.

“The Republic uses the Jedi Order to control and exploit their force-sensitive population. Well, I’m taking my life back from the Council. I’m taking back EVERYTHING the Senate and the Republic thought they could deny me,” she growled as the ground beneath them cracked and rumbled. “So if you’re going to run, Theron, go back and tell them they’ve only made me angry. Tell them they’ve seen me at my kindest, now they will know my cruelty. They’ve no idea what I’m capable of…”

“Not… running...” he said through gritted teeth. “I promised you...”

“Everything breaks in the end. Promises, codes, people...” she said as her rage swelled and ebbed like the waves upon the shore, “there was a time when I believed all I needed in the universe was you, Theron. I believed I could withstand anything as long as I had your companionship, your approval, your love. I should have known better…”

He shuddered as he felt an invisible strand of power caress his cheek.

“I was just another asset, another step towards a larger goal. I should have known you wouldn’t stay. I should have known. You lie to everyone. Why should I be any different?” she asked. Tikal observed him the same way a cat would watch a caged bird. “Why would you stay? No one else has. No one ever will.”

“It’s not true...” he said straining to speak as tears gathered in his eyes, “... I’m sorry...”

Tikal visibly winced before her gloved fingertips brushed against the corner of his eye, wiping away the tear.

“A forced apology… so contrite,” she murmured almost as though disappointed before releasing him, “you can leave, if you’d like. Run back to the Republic, like a good little citizen. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of intel for them to use against me. Who knows, maybe with your help they’ll get lucky and finally get my head on a pike. They’ll give you a medal.”

“Tikal… don’t… don’t say that...” his voice broke.

“As though you wouldn’t take my life for the sake of the galaxy? I’m surprised you’re not trying currently trying to rip off my limbs. Page 584 of the SIS manual, dealing with fallen Jedi, isn’t it?” she saw his eyes close and his head bowed, “dismemberment is your best chance at severing my connection with the force just long enough to subdue my erratic emotions.”

“Not you… never you…” he replied quietly. Tikal glanced down at Theron her face betraying that she was at a loss on how to deal with him.

“Not exactly sure if that’s comforting or not... I took what we had too seriously when it was all subjective to you,” she said slumping against a nearby tree looking drained, “brilliant strategy, really. Tear my heart out and apologize later. The Galaxy is saved, the Alliance remains whole… well the people anyway. The Cult of Zildrog is neutralized… everybody wins. Everybody gets what they want. Everybody that matters wins.”  

“You matter.”

She scoffed at his words.

“Please don’t patronize me, Theron. Not now. Not this late in the game. You’ve denied me all justification for every emotion I felt from the moment you left. You did what you had to do and I... I’m not allowed to be angry at you…” she replied turning away from him to watch another Republic shuttle descend to pick up more deserters.

...did you ever love me?

Tikal didn’t want to see him leave. She had renounced her Jedi vows, allied with their most hated enemy, and attacked him in a moment of pure rage. Why would anyone stay after all that? What could there be left to salvage when she had nothing more to give him?

“You’re allowed. More than allowed...” Theron whispered as she felt his arms wrap around her, “I broke my promise to you. I made you feel alone. You should be angry, you deserve that right.”

Her anger dissolved into raw hurt. She didn’t dare speak out of fear that her voice would break.

“I didn’t think. I never think. I was so caught up in doing this for you, I never thought...” he trailed off as he stumbled into an unspoken truth, “I never believed I was that important to you. I thought- I assumed you would be more angry than hurt.”

The excuse sounded weak as he voiced it. A part of him had always known Jedi were not supposed to harbor attachments. His own failed training had served him well especially when managing assets and it enabled him to hide his apathy behind inner peace. He had assumed Tikal was the same, that he was a fleeting sort of entertainment; a fling she would get over before adopting the mantle of Commander in full force.

Looking back he realized what a foolish thought that had been.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to presume. This- whatever it was- I thought it wasn’t going to last. Have I mentioned how bad I am at relationships?” Theron asked as he realized he was rambling but hugged her tightly nonetheless. “What I meant to say is, no one has ever cared about me the way you have. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it until-”

“You’re an idiot,” she scowled cutting off his rambling apology and finally leaning back against his arms. They stood in a comfortable silence as they watched the shuttle leave for good. The next time they saw those men they would be on opposite sides of the battlefield. “I meant what I said Theron. I’m not going back.”

“I know.”

“They’ll mark you a traitor if you stay.”

“I know.”

“You won’t be able to go back.”

“...I know.”

“Are you going to stay anyway?”

...did you ever love me?

“Yes. Always.”

[raendown]

Pairing: SakumoTobirama Word count: 1464 Soulmate au: The one where soulmates wear identical accessories of some sort and usually swap them when they meet

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI

Chapter 155: Sakumo/Tobirama

Being dead was a strange experience. Sakumo thought he was rather more qualified than most to say that since he had spent just over two decades hovering in limbo, unable to die yet entirely cut off from his living body. Only after he’d had a chance to speak with his son had he been able to move on and reach the long-awaited afterlife.

And it was weird.

Sakumo wasn’t certain what he had been expecting out of being dead but a full reflection of earth with houses and streets and meals wasn’t it. Not that he was in any way disappointed, only confused. He didn’t need to eat, had tested it and gone three full weeks without so much as a hunger pain, but the act of eating three times a day brought a sense of normalcy that made his rest so much easier. Nor did he need to sleep yet still most people enjoyed laying their head down when the ever-golden sun in the sky chose to set for a few hours.

What he found the most odd, however, was the mingling of generations. As soon as he had arrived in the afterlife he’d been greeted by both his mother and a woman who looked younger than himself but was apparently his great-great-great aunt. Two weeks after he had arrived he was surprised to stumble across the now very old third Hokage and then the day after that he was sitting with the sister he had lost as a child, trailing his feet in a pond while she chattered on to him with the speech patterns of an innocent but the vocabulary of an ancient.

He had been dead several months when he was honored to come face to face with the first Hokage himself, Senju Hashirama.

“Shodaime-sama,” he gasped. Then he immediately stood aside and bowed, expecting the god of shinobi to pay no mind to someone like him and carry on with whatever he had chosen to do with his honorable afterlife.  He certainly did not expect a booming friendly laugh or a hand to clap down on the fur he wore around his shoulders.

“Haven’t been called that in a while,” the first Hokage said. “And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Oh! Ah…Hatake Sakumo, your honor.”

“No need for that, no need for that. We’re all equal in death are we not?”

Sakumo tilted his head to one side and gave no answer. His own death had been far from a good one. Kakashi’s forgiveness may have given him the peace he needed to move on but he still had a long way to go before he would ever grant himself anything close to that same forgiveness. Taking his own life had seemed like the only proper option left at the time. It hadn’t taken long afterwards for him to realize that it had been nothing but the coward’s way out.

“You know, this fur of yours looks awfully familiar.” Hashirama leaned closer to inspect the pelt he wore around his neck and Sakumo froze, hardly daring to breathe.

“O-oh? I had it all my life but I am sorry to say that we likely never met. You passed while I was still just a pup. Perhaps you knew someone who wore something similar?”

“Right! Yes!”

The next thing he knew he was being pulled down the bustling street like a child on the arm of the man he respected second most in the entire world. After turning several corners he was brought face to face with the man he respected the absolute most.

Senju Tobirama was even more impressive in person than he had been in the grainy photographs taken for the history books, more impressive than even the officially commissioned paintings that always tended to exaggerate their subjects for the generations to come. It was hard to tell whether or not he minded having his eternal afternoon interrupted just to have some unworthy stranger shoved in his face.

“Brother look, he’s wearing your fur!” Hashirama clapped like an excitable child. Sakumo wasn’t sure if he wanted to stare at that unexpected reaction or at the chiseled face staring down at him. Being tall himself, it was always vaguely startling to meet someone who stood taller. Both of the famed Senju siblings towered over him like trees – and they were both built like trees too.

“So he is,” Tobirama rumbled, sharp red eyes dragging up and down Sakumo’s form.

“Ah, my apologies for disturbing you,” he said in as respectful a tone as he could muster. “I did not mean for–”

“Exactly the same fur, in fact.”

Sakumo blinked when the other man cut him off. Then he dropped his eyes to look at the collar wrapped around the Nidaime’s shoulders. It was indeed an exact replica of the pelt he himself had always worn, though his was the item which had been meant to match him to his soulmate.

His eyes widened, face going slack with shock. Tobirama stepped closer to raise one hand and graze his palm along the soft strands with a faint, barely there smile. It was a startling expression from such a stern face, one that transformed him entirely from handsome to drop dead gorgeous. Sakumo would have been ashamed of how weak his knees were if not for the fact that his thoughts were utterly empty. With the man he had always secretly idolized standing so close he was rendered speechless, even more so because of the discovery they had just made.

Who would have thought that one could find one’s soulmate even after death?

“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Tobirama asked him, gesturing to the silver clasp that held his collar in place. Sakumo hurried to undo it.

“No, no of course not. By all means!” It was off his shoulders a moment later and held out with a bashful smile.

For a man who had married and conceived a child when he was still alive, he was acting oddly shy now that he had finally found the one he was truly meant to be with. Hopefully he would come to his senses soon so that he could have a chance to convince Tobirama that he wasn’t entirely a bumbling buffoon. Or, at least, not all the time.

His breath stuttered in his chest as he watched Tobirama replace his own fur collar with the one that Sakumo had been wearing, offering the other in return.

“May I?”

“S-sure.” He cleared his throat and nodded once decisively. “I mean, yes. Please.”

“Clearly you already know who I am,” Tobirama said as he settled his own fur around Sakumo’s shoulders and clasped it in to place. “I should like to know your name as well.”

When Hashirama piped up beside them Sakumo very nearly leapt out of his own skin. He had entirely forgotten the first Hokage was even there, too wrapped up in the moment between him and his newly discovered soulmate.

“Oh, I know that one! His name is Hatake Sakumo!”

“Yes. Thank you brother. That was clearly a question I meant for you to answer.” Tobirama’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but it was the single eyebrow lifted in judgement that had Hashirama cowering away and raising both hands defensively, his smile fading away in to nervous laughter.

“Ah, I’ll just…let you two have a moment, shall I?”

“Do.”

He was gone a moment later, hurrying off with his eternally regal wife on his arm.

Left alone, Sakumo had little to do but watch Tobirama preen over his new fur, visually identical to the one he had always worn and yet so different at the same time. The sight made him smile and he was still wearing an embarrassingly soft expression when Tobirama looked up and met his eyes.

“Strange that we should be born in different generations and still be matched to each other,” the man noted.

“And lucky that we found each other here in the afterlife.”

“Fascinating, I would say.” There was an unusual gleam in his eye, eerily similar to the look Kakashi used to have when he was little and first learning to mold his chakra “Would you, perhaps, care to join me for the afternoon so that we might discuss it?”

Sakumo wasn’t sure if Tobirama wanted to spend time with him or if he was only interested in experimenting somehow with the bond between them, famous even in the history books for his love of science, but it sounded like a good time either way. He finally had a soulmate; who was he to deny them if they wished him to spend an afternoon at their side?

Kakashi simply wasn’t going to believe this when they met again.

[thelionshoarde]

to the unknown; mature; shance

scenes from a post-series space war epic that i will probably never actually write - anyway this is what happens when i read too much star trek au lol - rated mature

In the mess Lance grimaced at his dinner tray. With one hand he flicked the edge of the dinged metal, watching it rattle. Something gelatinous and vaguely green-colored jiggled in protest.

“I thought I left behind space goo,” he muttered. “God, I would actually kill for some mac’n’cheese.”

“Homemade or Kraft?” asked Matt.

Lance wrinkled his nose, looking up at the man diagonally across him, holo-displays arrayed about his own half-eaten dinner as he scrolled through cramped lines of glowing text. A lens in his glasses was cracked. The left, and Matt kept reaching his hand up to rub against his eyebrow, probably not even registering the pain of eye-strain, let alone the gesture itself.

“Either,” Lance admitted. “Hell, I’d toss you out of an airlock if it got me a single packet of string cheese, Holt. What’re you looking at?”

Ignoring the threat, Matt shrugged with an awkward, bird-like hunch of his shoulders. With the hand not pressing into his eye socket he grasped blindly for his spoon and scooped a bit of processed nutrients onto it. Lance watched it slip off the side with a grimace and roll of his stomach.

“Not sure yet. Let you know when I find out, though, if you haven’t killed me yet.”

“Deal,” Lance grinned.

Sharp, quick footsteps sounded out behind him. Lance felt his spine tense at the sound; only a soldier on a mission could sound quite like that, after all. He was entirely unsurprised when he found an Ensign hovering at this elbow, hesitant to interrupt.

“He’ll fuss if you don’t finish your dinner,” Matt said, voice mild with distraction.

Lance ignored him and the truth of that statement. Turning, he propped his cheek on a fist, elbow sliding onto the table and butting his tray away from him. He smiled crooked at the young woman standing in front of him, uniform neat. New recruit, probably; not yet worn down by the reality of her new station.

“Why, hello there. What can I do for you?”

She blinked, startled. “Ah. Your husband --”

Matt choked down a snort, badly. Lance’s eyebrows rose toward his hairline, grin growing. He watched as a mortified, mottled blush flooded her face. “Your -- I mean! The Captain requests your presence in his ready room,” she gasped, horrified.

It was always awkward when gossip got mixed into official business. Well, for others. Not for Lance. Lance ate that shit up like a five-star meal.

“Mm,” he hummed. “My husband wants to see me, does he? And in the ready room? Goodness, goodness.”

“Lieutenant Commander McClain,” the Ensign croaked out, nearly quivering. “I apologize. I didn’t mean --”

“It’s fine,” Lance said, flapping his free hand at her. “What was your name, Ensign?”

“Adams,” she squeaked.

“Thank you, Ensign Adams. Back to your post, then. I’ll go and see what’s bothering sweet cheeks.”

The Ensign made a strangled noise, swaying where she stood.

“You’ll get used to him,” Matt offered. Then he hesitated before admitting, “Maybe. Hopefully? Okay, probably not. He’s a mess. But hey, if you’re hungry, he’s not going to finish his food, you know. You’re, hmm. Very pretty for an Ensign, miss. What was your first name, again?”

Lance dropped his fist, turning to stare incredulously at his lead scientist who was gazing with open admiration at a woman nearly half his age and no where near his ranking. “You are forty years old, old man.”

“But I’m not dead,” Matt said, voice plaintive. Jesus, Lance hoped he hadn’t been that -- no, he had definitely been that bad. Ugh.

Lance said, voice clipped and professional, but deliberately warm, “Dismissed, Enisgn Adams. And if this grandpa tries to bother you come straight to me and I’ll toss his ass out of the airlock, understood?”

She nodded frantically and -- smart woman -- escaped before they could say anything else. Matt made a displeased noise. “Marriage has changed you, McClain.”

Lance snorted. “Sure, it wouldn’t have anything to do with age, and the passing of time, and the appearance of maturity. Or, you know, a war we’ve been fighting for --”

“Shut uuup,” Matt said, letting his spoon fall into his goo with a splat.

“-- what, a decade? An eternity? Ugh, yes, blame it all on monogamy, that’s the ticket.” Lance sniffed, and rose from his chair. “Have fun with your reports, Commander. I am going to go and see my husband. And possibly get some. If I’m very lucky and very, very naughty.”

“Blatant insubordination, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Sure, sure,” Lance muttered as he ambled away. He heard the scrape of his tray against the table as Matt commandeered it. “Doesn’t even blink at the death threats -- but the mention that I’ve got a real sex life? Suddenly it’s all business, no fun.”

He grinned, and hurried through the halls to the Captain’s ready room.

* * *

“I’m getting too old for this,” Shiro sighs, unzipping a boot and letting it fall to the floor with a hollow thunk. “What’s the official age of being Too Old For This Shit, anyway? Forty-five? Fifty? Seventy-three and a half?”

“Oddly specific,” Lance calls back, squinting at the dark shadows beneath his eyes beneath the clouded mirror. “How about -- when we’re dead?”

“Oddly morbid.”

Lance listens to the thunk of the other boot, and then hears the small clink of Shiro unbuckling his belt. He purses his lips and angles his chin, examining the texture of his skin and despairing at what he finds. But there won’t be another shipment from Earth for a month, at least, and it is unlikely that even when the supplies arrived -- if they arrived; Lance tried not to deal in absolutes anymore -- his preferred facial cream wouldn’t be amongst them.

“Shiro,” he said, stepping back from the sink and tilting his head back to stare at the rusted rivets in the ceiling. They’re probably smoother than his skin at this point. “Shiro. I... am officially ugly.”

A loud snort comes from the bedroom.

“I mean it, Shirogane! My skin is -- ugh, I can’t go on like this. How can you love me with a face this hideous? My skin is so dry, I think I might already be dead. A mummy! Just bits of me flaking off, now, all my early glory lost to the annals of time, and -- SHUT UP, SHIRO, I’M BEING DRAMATIC.”

“You’re being absurd,” Shiro corrects, voice much closer, now. Lance tips his head back far enough that he can make Shiro out. He is standing just inside the door to the bathroom, broad shoulders taking up the space. He’s grinning. He’s also shirtless and pantsless and covered in scars and space-pale and beautiful.

“You’re space-crazy,” Lance says, still staring at him upside down. “This post has made you nuts, bud, or you’ve gone blind. It’s the only reasonable explanation.”

“Or,” says Shiro, nearly patient; the fuzzy edge of his voice betrays his amusement, however, “you’re being overly dramatic, because you are still the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid eyes on, Lance.”

“Hnn.”

Shiro comes closer, kissing Lance’s hairline. “Come to bed,” he murmurs. “Let me prove it.”

The position is making him dizzy, his heart pounds; that, and the promise in Shiro’s voice, the warmth of his lips against Lance’s skin. He lets his eyes close in a soft sigh, and surrenders.

* * *

“Raptor-7 locked on to target, go for engagement.”

“Copy that, Raptor-7,” said Lance, fingers rolling against the controls of his B-Ray, gloves crinkling with the motion. His vid-screen showed a vista of stars and darkness lit up with tightly furled clouds of red-orange-yellow fire; the blurred, twin yellow lights of other B-Rays cut through the dwindling ranks of Y’ks Hex Fighters, leaving hazy streaks that faded and dwindled as they assumed positions.

“Raptor-3 locked on target! Go for engagement!”

“Raptor-12 is locked and loaded, squad leader! Go for engagement.”

“Acknowledged, Raptor-3, Raptor-12. What’s your status Raptor-4? And -- Oi! Watch your flank, Raptor-11, shake that Hex before --”

A new explosion bloomed like a silent firework on the edge of his vid-screen. The monitor to his left, near his elbow, that kept track of all the ships in his squadron beeped, alerting him to the destruction of one of his own. Lance could feel the way the skin of his face tightened, but he hadn’t the time to flinch, or even to curse.

“Hold your positions, kiddos,” he barked into his com, seeing the way two Hex Fighters were trying to cut Raptor-6 from the pack. With an almost insolent tilt of his controls, Lance felt his B-Ray curve into motion, picking up speed. “And kill any bastard that comes near, you hear me? Raptor-6, evasive maneuver Alpha-Gold!”

“Copy that, Raptor-Daddy!”

Lance squawked, coming up beneath the two engaged Hex Fighters just as Raptor-6 did an impressive corkscrew back the way she’d come. Lance fired as the enemy attempted to engage, slowing as they pulled up and reversed course, blue energy trails going fat and sluggish against the black.

“That is definitely not appropriate,” Lance said, breathless as the two ships exploded and Raptor-6 soared free. “...I like it, keep calling me that. Best designation, ever!”

A crackle in the cockpit announced a private line from command; Lance grinned, heart pounding. Sweat was pooling down his spine, his neck felt tight, tense at the base of his skull. But he had no time for fear or worry or admittance of the two. “Uh oh,” he told his squad. “Looks like Daddy’s in trouble.”

“Whups,” chirped Raptor-6, entirely unapologetic.

“McClain,” barked Iverson’s voice, stern. “Is now really the time for this foolishness? Haven’t you a job to be doing? Do you want to die? You’ve already lost --”

“Oh, no!” Lance yelped, lifting a leg to aim for the comm control with his knee. “I think I’m having interference! Talk to you later, Admiral, so sorry, you know how much I love these little chats of ours!”

“MCCLAIN,” roared Iverson, before Lance had the outside comm cut off.

It was just him and his squad, now, in the black of space far from home. He said, “Listen up, kiddos. That is a Y’ks Model Signa Cruiser, fully combat-ready. You all know its weaknesses. We can’t let that fucker past Saturn, you hear?”

A chorus of grim but heartfelt acknowledges reached him.

Lance grinned, feeling his pulse race just as he reclaimed his position. Beyond the few straggling Hex Fighters loomed the massive, bulbous bulk of a ship armed with enough explosives to rip apart a planet. From its side streamed more Hex Fighters. They had to take it down before the enemy was able to replenish its ranks sufficiently.

Sorry, he thought, sparing a moment to press a gloved thumb against the picture tucked into his console, but refusing to look at it. Instead, he kept his eyes on the prize.

“Go time, my darlings,” he murmured into the comm. As he gunned the engine, streaking forward with his fellow pilots trying to match his pace as they rushed the enemy line, Lance couldn’t help but grin.

[mittensmorgul]

Season 13 and the Big Bad

A defining characteristic of Supernatural in seasons past was the early identification and buildup of the Big Bad character of the season, to the degree that the cosmic escalation of big bads became a running joke. And then the show itself transcended the running joke with the whole “God’s SISTER!” thing, and honestly, where the heck do you even go from there.

Demons, Bigger and Scarier Demons, More Demons, Apocalypse-starting Demons with a side of Dick Angels, Lucifer and Michael, Raphael and Monsters, Leviathan, Demons and basically the Winchesters screwing with the natural order, Angels and Bigger and Badder Demons, MoC!Dean, God’s Sister the Darkness…

I mean who else was waiting for Fuckhands McMike to show up?

Once you hit that level, the whole IDEA of a single season Big Bad just… loses the power to engage. Almost everything after that point is gonna have a Been There Done That element to it.

That’s why the whole point of s12 wasn’t about a Big Bad Character, it was about the Winchesters finally having moved out beyond the plot far enough to look back at their legacy in a critical way. The BMoL weren’t there to act as the Big Bads, despite filling in part of that role. Same with Lucifer. Same with Mary. The real Big Bad of s12 was the Winchesters’ past, their legacy, their “destiny.” And finally beginning to find some sort of resolution and a fuller understanding of themselves. And that theme is continuing full-steam ahead in s13.

The real Big Bad is the friends we made along the way.

Nah, just kidding. The real Big Bad of s13 so far is Dramatic Irony. But let’s back up and examine the players on the board so far:

(under a cut because it’s like 3.6k words and this just seems practical, if annoying) :P

--There was much speculation that Wee Lil Nephilim Jack could “grow into his power” and become the season’s Big Bad, and 13.01 certainly tried hard to make us believe it… for about 15 minutes. He’s certainly got a terrifying amount of power at his disposal, but he’s such a lil marshmallow and just wants to be GOOD so badly. Just give him some nougat and watch him struggle to understand human morality with his Beyond God-like Abilities. So while he’s definitely a source of Major Cosmic Disruption, he can’t really fit the Big Bad bill.

--In 13.02 we met the Kentucky Fried Demon, the last yellow-eyed Prince of Hell, Asmodeus. Thanks to later retconning, we’ve tied yellow-eyed demons right back to the opening scene of the entire series, and the Inciting Incident of all the drama we’ve watched unfold over the last 12+ seasons. And the last one standing has now also been referred to by Lucifer as the “least” of his creations, yet Asmodeus has had a few surprises up his sleeve-- including his shapeshifting. But for all his inexplicable raw power to even confidently best Lucifer in a head to head fight, what are his actual goals? We know he’s long wanted to release the Shedim from Hell, but to what end? What does he even want? He talks a big game, but does he even have a Big Plan? Halfway through the season, we just don’t know, and as a result Asmodeus reads more like a cartoon than an actual threat, despite his “weirdly strong” powers.

--The Empty Entity, which after 13.04 I saw numerous posts speculating that maybe the Entity would grow weary of sleeping (or of being woken up by other angels and demons who somehow began awakening as a result of Cas’s disturbance to the force). But really, the essential nature of that force is… the opposite of interfering in reality. Much as God’s powers of creation held no power in the Empty, the Empty’s eternal stasis can’t hold power within Creation. Obviously Jack’s powers are somehow capable of bridging the gap between them, the same way he’s able to bridge the gap between alternate realities, but so far, the Empty Entity seems like a one-off.

--Billie as the New Death. I, for one, am SO GLAD she’s back, and that the mantle of Death has finally passed on to her. I’d been screaming about her being the New Death since 11.02, and she’s finally come full circle and stepped into that role. As such, she’s in a position to see the full scope of the Cosmic Circumstance, and her previous insistence on what amounts to a tiny cosmic imbalance of the Winchesters’ continued existence is more like a tiny grain of sand out of place while the problems the Winchesters’ continued existence SOLVES is like an entire beach crumbling away. As the linchpins holding the multiverse together, she’s counting on the Winchesters being ALIVE now. Hardly seems Big Bad-ish to have thrown her lot in with the protagonists of the piece, yes? She still has cards to play, especially after warning Dean about the cosmic house of cards and its current precarious state due to Jack’s interference with multidimensional affairs. Rather than having an agenda to do harm, like the Old Death, Billie serves more of a bellwether role. She’s a neutral force that’s acting within her powers to at least drop hints and warnings to the Winchesters.

--Lucifer has incredibly found his way back to the story AGAIN. Like, why won’t he just DIE already? *sighs heavily* At least now he’s been officially de-powered by AU Michael to the point where he’s become rather… ineffective. Poor thing and his little stick. So far, since he’s returned to the regular universe, his function has been running around Chicken Littling at everyone. Ironic since his main stumbling block so far has been his own personal Colonel Sanders impersonator. *cue all the chicken/egg metaphors* *something something chickens coming home to roost* *finger lickin’ good* It’s hard to take those sorts of parallels too seriously.

Just as Asmodeus is the “weakest” incarnation of a Yellow-Eyed Demon who has become “weirdly strong” mostly through the emotional significance that Yellow-Eyed Demons have held for the length of the entire series, Lucifer has become “weirdly weak” himself despite the effect his mere presence has just looming over the entire narrative since he was first mentioned way back in s3. His power is now largely symbolic through the psychological trauma he inflicted on Sam (and now as of 13.12, on Rowena). His Big Bad status seems far more weighty on a personal level for the Winchesters (and particularly on Sam), in finally confronting how their cosmic destiny has truly fucked with their lives.

Lucifer himself, meanwhile, has spent most of the season impotently locked in the AU, physically locked in AU Michael’s Iron Maiden, physically depowered by AU Michael’s rift-opening spell, and then tossed around by his “weakest” creation and locked in a cell for the last six episodes. Granted this gives him motivation for taking action, but his obsession with destroying Michael still seems to be his underlying motivation. Sure, he’s still interested in saving “the last perfect handiwork of God,” i.e. the natural world, but he still doesn’t give a damn about humanity. As of 13.12, the most danger he represents is the fact that the Winchesters have no idea he’s back in this world, and that he’s not the one holding Mary captive in the AU and torturing her. Which brings us tidily to…

--AU Michael. The Ultimate Big Bad of s5, at the end of the day, was Michael. He was the one who insisted on sticking inflexibly to his “destiny.” The “good and obedient son” who was prepared to carry out what he believed he had to, despite every opportunity to resolve the apocalypse peacefully and just choose not to fight. Even LUCIFER tried to make peace with him when they finally met at Stull Cemetery, and yet Michael regarded it as yet one more act of “disobedience” from his disobedient brother. And in the AU, their version of Michael actually won the big throwdown, and as a result left the entire planet a wasteland. Lucifer may have wanted humanity wiped off the planet, but witnessing the destruction of all of God’s creation was a shocking reminder that he never wanted to destroy nature… Michael didn’t even care, as long as he’d fulfilled his destiny. How… righteous (in the worst possible sense of that term, bordering on self-righteous). That has some Big Bad makings, no?

The problem with Michael so far this season is that he’s already succeeded in destroying his version of Lucifer, and destroying his own Earth in the process. It’s a fait accompli in his world, but as soon as he stumbled across the rift and learned of another world where he’d failed in the past, he’s been rejuvenated with fresh purpose. It seems almost compulsive for him-- Find World, Destroy World. It’s like his Prime Objective, and he’s incapable of NOT living up to that destiny. It doesn’t make him a Big Bad, just based on that alone, but it does give viewers the ol’ raised eyebrow of suspicion, just based on Michael’s past history.

Not to mention, Lucifer’s pointed out several times that like Asmodeus who seems “weirdly strong” (and yes I keep harping on that phrase because the Plum Sisters were also “weirdly strong” in 13.12, and for Yockey to write such terribly awkward dialogue there HAS to be a purpose, aside from gently mocking standard Bucklemming dialogue), AU Michael is more powerful than the version that the Winchesters (including Cas) helped defeat in 5.22.

The fact that Lucifer keeps insisting that Michael is so powerful, that Michael always gets his way, for those of us actually WATCHING the show, that’s just… blatantly false. The one thing Michael wanted most back in s5 was for Dean Winchester to say yes to him. It’s the one thing he never got. Because Dean’s will proved stronger than Michael’s sense of destiny and obedience. Back in 5.22, Michael rendered himself irrelevant when TFW “ripped up the ending.” The AU where this version of Michael is from never had the Winchesters to contend with, and so has never had to confront the true power of Free Will. Honestly? With TFW 2.0 resurrected from the ashes, how big of a threat does AU Michael truly pose? Because from OUTSIDE the story? No matter how “weirdly strong” that Michael is, it looks more like he and Lucifer are playing out the same pantomime they did back in s5, with just as much chance of actual success as they’d had back then.

What Michael and Lucifer DO bring to the story right now isn’t so much their power to be New Big Bads, but their power to bring the PERSONAL trauma that Sam and Dean (and Cas, by extension) went through as a result of the original setup and downfall of the Apocalypse, and an outlet for them to finally examine the emotional and psychological fallout of what they’ve suffered through and sacrificed to keep the universe from derailing itself over and over again. Which brings me to…

--The interdimensional rifts themselves. Billie had warned Dean about the cosmic house of cards that was dangerously close to toppling as the characters become more self-aware, and realize there are actually ways to cut through to other universes where they might find a way to give themselves a mulligan… where they might be able to “start all over again,” where they made different choices that led to different results. But the stability of the multiverse relies on individual realities maintaining internal continuity, and not bleeding over into one another at random. Which brings me back around to what Chuck told Dean when he left Dean in charge of the universe back in 11.23, and which Dean referenced in his anguished plea for help in 13.01, namely…

--Dean’s not only the “firewall between light and darkness,” but he’s been set in place as the figurehead for balance in the universe. He’s been appointed the guardian of creation by proxy, and hell he really doesn’t want the job. And yet who else is even going to try? Is that what Lucifer is trying to do, at least on the surface? Is that what Cas is attempting in trying to find Jack? Is that what Sam’s attempting in trying to help Jack learn what it means to be human versus a monster?

--Heaven and their Endangered Species Repopulation Project. It seems the angels are growing more desperate as their numbers dwindle. They’ve mostly ceased their interference on the mortal plane, aside from their desperate quest to find and use Jack’s powers to replenish their numbers. But considering Jack’s power level, it doesn’t really seem like much of a real threat to Jack himself. Considering the burst of power that came from Jack’s “power up” of Kaia, that seemed to make BOTH of them “weirdly powerful” enough to tear open another rift and simultaneously nuke six angels. Something tells me that if Jack wanted it enough, he’d have the power to snuff out pretty much any threat to himself. Sure, he’s trapped in the AU right now, but even that’s effectively removed him from the angels’ grasp anyway. It’s been a non-issue for the most part, and in the overall scheme of things, doesn’t seem like a top priority concern for anyone right this second...

--and finally, after 13.12, Rowena’s true nature and full powers have finally been unbound. What is she? What will she do with her powers? What are her goals now that she’s finally been restored to her full power? Will she retain reluctant Frenemy status with the Winchesters? Will she actively seek revenge against those who wronged her, primarily Lucifer? Will she make a play for power in revenge for Crowley’s demise? What does she even want now that she’s attained the personal freedom and safety she’d been seeking since her first introduction back in s10? Right now, she’s a wild card, but we do love her dearly, and I’m glad she’s back. :)

So… who’s really the big bad?

Between the season’s major themes of “things that look like other things,” and things not being what they seem on the surface, as Lizbob’s been saying all season, the Big Bad seems to be Dramatic Irony. The story ITSELF is its own worst enemy.

It’s the narrative structure screaming, “What you don’t know absolutely can and WILL hurt you.”

And all of this is being delivered through the resurfacing of old friends in slightly “off” ways. How many characters and cases and circumstances have directly pinged circumstances from the Winchesters’ past? Going right back to the opening scenes of 13.01, and the “vision” Dean had after Jack knocked him and Sam out-- the flashback to Mary burning on the ceiling overlaid against her being dragged through the rift by Lucifer in 12.23. The entire setup of that scene was rife with flashbacks to Sam losing Jess in the pilot episode, the woman in white played by Kelly Kline, the yellow-eyed monster in the nursery played by Jack, and Cas playing the role of the loved one who was burned and therefore was supposed to “stay dead.” But Mary had already defied that assumption, because she didn’t stay dead. Cas didn’t stay dead either. And now Rowena has also defied that particular truism...

Right from the start of the season we’ve been confronted with things from the past, but which only hint at the past because they’ve now either been applied to different things, or they’ve been transformed into something different, or encountered under entirely different context.

--The “Black Spur Bar,” which had previously been Demon!Dean’s hangout during his summer of love with Crowley was transformed into an entirely different bar where Dean mourned Crowley’s death and was unwittingly confronted by a new demonic adversary (dramatic irony!).

--Donatello the prophet, now purposeless in this post-prophecy, post-God world, left to live on without his soul, and yet still doing the best he could in the circumstances he was left with.

--Literal Alternate Universe versions of lost friends-- from Bobby to Kevin, to mentions of John and Mary and their existence in that other world. There’s no bigger metaphor for “Things that look like other things” than literal alternate versions of loved ones…

--Missouri Moseley, absent from the narrative for thirteen years, returned to pass on her legacy to her granddaughter, who’d been raised to doubt her own psychic powers and has now been forced to face what having those powers means for her.

--Not to mention Patience Turner’s last name dredges up questions about who the “Turner” who gave his name to James and Patience may have been, and as I sit here watching 11.16 I’m again reminded of the speculation that maybe it was actually Rufus Turner… we may never know, but heck, it’s definitely not wild to believe it might be true.

--Buddy the shapeshifter, in the sense that nobody is GIVEN the name “buddy.” It’s a nickname, and one that Dean has used many times in the past for Cas. But “Buddy” by his very nature… wasn’t. He impersonated Dean and attempted to shoot Sam. He wasn’t their “buddy” either.

--I mentioned her above, but Billie is no longer what she was before. She’s not a reaper, nor a dead reaper, but has been returned to the story as Death.

--The reaper who comes to collect Dean (and who Dean defies) in 13.05 is named JESSICA. That name is never spoken lightly in Supernatural. It’s a name nearly as loaded with personal baggage for the Winchesters as Mary or John, and again resonates straight back to the pilot episode of the series.

--Themes of monsters and the old west and cowboys and time travel (it was an antique pocket watch that even tipped Jack off to the case in Dodge City in the first place), with Cas now fully reintegrated with TFW, all call back to 6.18, even with the same musical cues, but the themes have all been twisted around sideways and reframed to new purpose. The fight’s no longer about external monsters and stopping the apocalypse, but internal monstrousness.

--We all thought Arthur Ketch was dead until he showed back up pretending to be his own “good twin.”

--We all also thought Rowena was dead.

--Nick’s Bar, where Lucifer chose as a convenient spot to have a chat with Cas about the potential Apocalyptic Situation they may be facing… while Lucifer’s now perma-trapped in the vessel formerly known as Nick…

--The new King of the Crossroads who survived less than the run of a single episode before being dethroned… He thought he could be the next Crowley, and Dean slapped him down with the truth, calling him “Some random demon.”

--Smash, aka Alice; the human dragged against her will into matters Supernatural, who pretty much everyone saw and immediately yelled OMG CHARLIE.

--The return of the Wayward crew, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex… but now they’re no longer victims of the narrative. They’ve got their own entire spinoff. :P

--The Bad Place. Aka Purgatory Redux.

--Darth Kaia

--A monster auction that put the Winchesters on the chopping block, run by an FBI agent who literally served the monster population, in contrast to Human Authority Figures of the past, up to and including the BMoL who’ve fairly unilaterally wanted to destroy monsters in favor of protecting humanity.

--In that same episode, we finally see a bit of Donna’s personal life-- from her care for her niece to her relationship with Doug 2.0, and Doug’s ultimate rejection of the hunting life when he’s finally introduced to it.

--Jamie, aka Dean’s temporary “soul mate” in 13.12, was also the name of the bartender in 4.05 that was symbolically Dean’s “new first time” after having been “rehymenated” after his resurrection from Hell.

Not to mention Various and Sundry Villains, the theme this season being “Not what it appears to be,” as demonstrated at its most basic visual level with physical masks and hoods obscuring identity, monsters that take on different faces like shapeshifters and ghouls, or force their victims to PERCEIVE an altered version of reality such as the wraith.

Things are not what they seem on the surface, and the entire plot, the monsters of the week, and even ALL the potential “Big Bads,” and the narrative structure itself-- which is turning around and around this central point of Dramatic Irony-- is the fact that even us as the audience to this entire spectacle, with our added insight into SOME of the dramatic irony playing out week to week, even WE still do not see the bigger picture.

I'm cautiously optimistic that a lot of the Winchesters' problems regarding what they Don't Know will resolve when Cas joins up with them again. Cas holds a lot of Important Information that Sam and Dean need. They’ve been kept as much in the dark as a result of Cas’s imprisonment as Cas himself has. But even through the early part of the season, the validity of information they’ve worked off of has been suspect at best. The info they got from Jack's Vision Download in 13.09 wasn't the WHOLE truth about Mary’s imprisonment in the AU. They’ve made several rather large inaccurate assumptions based off that quick glimpse, though. Just like Patience's vision of Claire's death wasn't the WHOLE truth either, but it let to making several Big Choices that ended up having Massive Consequences.

Even when they think they're seeing the Big Picture Truth, there's still critical info missing from that picture.

The entire SEASON is the big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing.

That’s the entire POINT.