#i've had this in my drafts for like a year

[bratzkoo]

our three year plan | pt. 1 wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader

Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: merging arrangements rewrite. will keep the original merging arrangements chapters in my blog but it’s discontinued ☺️. Also! Updates for this fic is not going to be as fast because I haven’t been writing in advance. 😔 So see you between a week to a year. Lol.

summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.

jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him

masterlist

The conference room felt too small, too airless for the bombshell that had just been dropped. Y/N stared at her parents, certain she had misheard them.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears.

Her father, straightened his already impeccable posture. As CEO of Seoul's largest private medical group, he never made requests; he issued commands. "Your engagement to Jeon Wonwoo will be announced next month. The wedding is scheduled for spring."

"Engagement? Wedding?" Y/N's coffee cup clattered against its saucer. "To Jeon Wonwoo? The tech heir? I've barely exchanged ten words with him!"

Her mother's perfectly manicured hand reached across the polished conference table. "Darling, the Jeons are an excellent family. Their conglomerate is expanding into medical technology. This merger—"

"Merger?" Y/N stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I'm not a business asset to be traded!"

"Lower your voice," her father hissed, glancing toward the door. "This is still a hospital."

Y/N inhaled deeply, the familiar antiseptic smell grounding her. Yes, Seoul Medical Center—her workplace, her sanctuary—was now the setting for this life-altering ambush.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

Her father's expression hardened. "While you waste your medical degree playing nurse, the rest of us are securing the future of this institution."

The familiar barb stung, but Y/N had grown used to it over her years being a nurse. What she couldn't get used to was the idea of an arranged marriage.

"This discussion is over," her father announced, gathering his papers. "The Jeons are expecting us for dinner tomorrow. Wear something appropriate."

As her parents exited, leaving her alone in the conference room, Y/N sank back into her chair. Her phone buzzed with a notification for her afternoon rounds, a reminder of the life she'd built—the life that was now being dismantled without her consent.

"They can't be serious!" Alexys slammed her lunch tray down, causing several heads to turn in the hospital cafeteria. "Are we living in the Joseon dynasty?"

"Lower your voice," Dr. Ela Song whispered, sliding into the seat beside Y/N. "The walls have ears, especially when the CEO's daughter is involved."

Y/N pushed her salad around aimlessly. "They're dead serious. Apparently, the contracts are already being drafted."

"Contracts?" Alexys scoffed, her lab coat still bearing traces of what looked suspiciously like the methylene blue from the pathology lab. "For a marriage? Who does that anymore?"

"Rich people," Ela replied matter-of-factly, carefully separating her kimchi from the rest of her lunch. "Trust me, I know. My parents still haven't forgiven me for marrying Mingyu instead of the Chinese pharmaceutical heir they picked out."

Y/N looked up at her friend. Despite coming from immense wealth herself, Ela had chosen love over family expectations, a path that had cost her dearly. "How did you do it? Stand up to them, I mean."

Ela's expression softened. "I knew what I wanted. Do you?"

The question hung between them. What did she want? Y/N had spent years defining herself by her work—the midnight emergencies, the precious moments with patients, the medical missions to remote villages where her skills made a tangible difference. The thought of trading that for corporate functions and producing heirs made her stomach churn.

"I want my life," she finally said. "My career. My freedom to go on medical missions. Not... whatever this is."

Alexys paused mid-bite. "Then you need to find a way out of it."

"How? My father has made it clear this is non-negotiable."

Alexys grinned mischievously. "What if you make yourself so undesirable that this Wonwoo guy backs out? Men hate clingy women, right? Or maybe develop some disgusting habits?"

Despite everything, Y/N laughed. "You're suggesting I start picking my nose at business dinners?"

"I'm serious!" Alexys insisted. "Or what if—"

"What if you just talked to him?" Ela interrupted pragmatically. "This Wonwoo person might be just as trapped as you are."

The thought hadn't occurred to Y/N. In her mind, Jeon Wonwoo had been a faceless corporate puppet, willingly participating in this archaic arrangement. But what if he was another victim in their parents' chess game?

"Nurse Y/N to Emergency, Nurse Y/N to Emergency."

The overhead page pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She gathered her barely-touched lunch.

"Duty calls," she sighed, standing up. "I'll figure something out. I have to."

As she hurried toward the emergency department, a plan began forming in her mind. If Wonwoo was as reluctant as she was, perhaps they could form an alliance. A temporary arrangement with a predetermined expiration date. They could pretend just long enough to satisfy their families, then orchestrate some kind of falling out.

It was desperate, perhaps even foolish. But as Y/N pushed through the swinging doors of the ER and the familiar controlled chaos enveloped her, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would not give up the life she had fought so hard to build.

Seungcheol was already gloved up when Y/N entered the trauma bay, his calm presence a welcome sight amid the flurry of activity.

"MVA, three minutes out," he called to her, his eyes crinkling with the smile hidden beneath his surgical mask. As the ER's most experienced trauma nurse, Y/N was always his first choice for critical cases.

She nodded, slipping into the familiar routine with practiced ease. Gloves, gown, mask—the ritual momentarily pushed aside her personal crisis.

"Heard you got called to the executive floor earlier," Seungcheol remarked as they prepared the crash cart together. "Everything okay?"

Y/N hesitated. Despite Seungcheol being her closest friend at the hospital, something held her back from sharing her current predicament. The situation felt too raw, too complicated to explain—especially to someone whose opinion mattered so much to her.

"Just quarterly performance reviews," she lied smoothly, checking the laryngoscope light. "Nothing exciting."

He studied her for a moment, clearly sensing there was more to the story, but the wail of approaching sirens saved her from further questions.

For the next three hours, Y/N lost herself in the work she loved—stabilizing patients, anticipating needs before they were voiced, bringing order to chaos. Here, in the ER, she wasn't the reluctant heiress of the medical group; she was simply Nurse Y/N, respected for her skills and dedication.

By the time her shift ended, Y/N had almost convinced herself that she could find a way out of her predicament. Almost.

"You look like you could use this," Seungcheol said, appearing beside her locker with a steaming cup of coffee—made exactly how she liked it, with a splash of almond milk and no sugar.

"You're a lifesaver," she murmured gratefully, accepting the cup.

"Rough shift," he commented, leaning against the lockers. "You handled that crush injury like a pro, though."

Y/N welcomed the shift to professional topics. "The ortho team said we saved his arm. Sometimes I forget why we do this, and then days like today happen."

Seungcheol smiled, the kind of smile that usually made her day brighter. Today, however, she couldn't fully return it, her mind still preoccupied with tomorrow's meeting with Wonwoo.

"You seem distracted," he observed. "Sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

Y/N took a measured sip of her coffee, buying time to compose her thoughts. "Nothing worth mentioning. Just tired." She forced a lighter tone. "Tell me about that new protocol Dr. Kim was discussing yesterday. The one for pediatric traumas?"

She could see Seungcheol wasn't entirely convinced by her deflection, but he respected her boundaries enough not to push. As he launched into an explanation of the new protocols, Y/N nodded along, grateful for his friendship yet oddly relieved to keep her impending engagement private—at least for now.

Some burdens, she decided, were better carried alone until she had a clearer path forward. Perhaps after meeting Wonwoo tomorrow, she'd have more answers than questions.

"Whatever's going on," Seungcheol said suddenly, interrupting his own explanation, "just remember I'm here if you need anything. No questions asked."

The simple offer of support without demands for explanation touched Y/N deeply. "I know," she said, her throat unexpectedly tight. "Thank you."

As they parted ways in the hospital parking lot, Y/N felt a strange mix of guilt and resolve. Seungcheol deserved her honesty, but until she understood her own situation better, silence seemed the wiser choice. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and perhaps then the path ahead would become clearer.

The Jeon estate was exactly as ostentatious as Y/N had expected—a modern glass and steel structure perched on one of Seoul's most exclusive hillsides, overlooking the city like a watchful sentinel. As the security gates parted for her parents' Mercedes, Y/N smoothed down her conservative navy dress, chosen specifically to project seriousness rather than bridal potential.

"Remember to smile," her mother murmured as they approached the entrance. "First impressions are everything."

Y/N bit back a retort. If her parents wanted a corporate puppet, they should have groomed Haerin for the role. Her younger sister would have thrived in this world of strategic alliances and business dinners.

The thought of Haerin triggered a pang of longing. If only her sister were here instead of "finding herself" in Italy. Their last conversation replayed in her mind:

"You should be the heir," Y/N had insisted during their video call. "You actually want this life."

Haerin had just laughed, the Mediterranean sun glinting in her hair. "I just want to be in Italy and be rich."

"You just want to be in Italy and be rich." Y/N mocked in sing-song tone.

"Yes, thank you, next!" Haerin had quipped, ending the discussion with her typical breezy dismissal.

Now, as a stern housekeeper ushered them into an expansive foyer, Y/N wished for just a fraction of her sister's carefree attitude.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon awaited them in a sitting room that could have been featured in an architectural magazine—all clean lines, expensive minimalism, and strategic splashes of color. Y/N instantly recognized Jeon Siwoo from business magazines, his silver hair and commanding presence befitting the CEO of one of Korea's largest tech conglomerates.

Introductions were made, pleasantries exchanged, but Y/N barely registered the conversation. Her attention was fixed on the conspicuous absence of her supposed fiancé.

"Wonwoo sends his apologies," Mrs. Jeon explained, noticing Y/N's wandering gaze. "He was called away to handle an emergency at our Busan facility. He's flying back tonight and is looking forward to meeting you properly tomorrow."

Y/N couldn't decide if she was relieved or frustrated by the delay. On one hand, it postponed the inevitable awkwardness; on the other, it prolonged her anxiety.

"Perhaps it's for the best," her father said smoothly. "The young people can meet privately tomorrow. Sometimes these arrangements are better discussed without parental interference."

Mr. Jeon nodded in agreement. "Wonwoo will pick Y/N up at noon. I suggest lunch at the Sky Garden—private, yet public enough for propriety."

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral as her future was arranged like a business meeting. Tomorrow, she would meet Jeon Wonwoo, and everything would change. Her mind raced with questions: Would he be as reluctant as she was? Would he consider her plan? Or would he be exactly like their parents, seeing her as nothing more than a beneficial merger?

As the evening progressed through an elaborate dinner where business dominated the conversation, Y/N remained largely silent, mentally rehearsing what she would say to Wonwoo tomorrow. By the time they left, she had a clear strategy: she would be direct, practical, and unemotional. This was a negotiation, nothing more.

The following morning dawned bright and crisp, autumn painting Seoul in shades of gold and crimson. Y/N had barely slept, her mind cycling through various scenarios of how her meeting with Wonwoo might unfold.

At precisely noon, her phone pinged with a message from an unknown number:

I'm outside your building. Black Tesla. - Wonwoo

Direct and to the point. Perhaps this was a good sign. Y/N grabbed her purse and headed downstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs despite her determination to remain calm and collected.

The sleek black car was idling at the curb, its electric engine silent. As she approached, the driver's door opened, and Jeon Wonwoo stepped out.

Y/N faltered momentarily. The man before her was not what she'd expected. Business publications typically showed him in formal attire at corporate events, looking serious and unapproachable. Today, dressed in dark jeans and a simple white button-down with rolled sleeves, he looked younger, more approachable—and annoyingly handsome, with sharp features softened by warm eyes behind round glasses.

"Y/N," he said with a slight bow. "It's nice to finally meet you properly."

His voice was lower than she'd anticipated, with a gentle quality that didn't match her mental image of a cutthroat tech executive.

"Likewise," she responded automatically, accepting his gesture to enter the car.

The interior smelled of new leather and something else—a subtle, clean scent that she assumed was his cologne. As he slid into the driver's seat, Y/N steeled herself. Handsome or not, this man represented everything she was fighting against—the loss of her autonomy, the end of her carefully constructed life.

"I know a place that's more private than the Sky Garden," Wonwoo said as he pulled into traffic. "If that's alright with you. Somewhere we can actually talk."

Y/N turned to study his profile. Was it possible he had his own agenda for this meeting?

"I'd prefer that," she admitted. "I have some things I'd like to discuss."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I thought you might."

The drive was mostly silent, but not uncomfortably so. Wonwoo seemed content to focus on navigating Seoul's busy streets, occasionally pointing out a landmark or asking a neutral question about her work. Y/N provided brief answers, saving her energy for the real conversation ahead.

He eventually parked near a secluded botanical garden, leading her to a small café nestled among trees just beginning to turn color. The place was nearly empty, offering the privacy both apparently craved.

After they ordered—he knew precisely what kind of tea she preferred, which was mildly disconcerting—Wonwoo leaned forward, his expression serious.

"I think we should address the elephant in the room," he said directly. "This arranged marriage."

Y/N appreciated his straightforwardness. "Yes, we should."

"I understand this must be difficult for you," he continued, surprising her with his perception. "Being told who to marry, having your future decided without your consent."

Something in his tone made Y/N pause. He didn't sound like someone equally trapped in this arrangement; he sounded like someone trying to be understanding of her predicament.

"Isn't it difficult for you as well?" she probed.

Wonwoo's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in their depths. "My situation is... different."

Before she could ask what he meant, their drinks arrived. Y/N wrapped her hands around the warm mug, gathering her courage.

"I have a proposition," she said once the server had left. "A way for both of us to satisfy our families without actually committing to a lifetime together."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his expression cautiously interested. "I'm listening."

"We pretend," Y/N stated simply. "We go along with the engagement, play the happy couple in public. Meanwhile, we live separate lives as much as possible. After a suitable period—maybe a year or two—we stage a falling out. Something believable but not scandalous. We part ways amicably, our families maintain their business connections, and we both regain our freedom."

She held her breath as Wonwoo considered her words, his expression thoughtful. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke:

"And what if it doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if our parents don't accept our breakup? What if they push us back together?"

Y/N hadn't considered this possibility. "Then... we make the falling out more dramatic. Irreconcilable differences. Something they can't fix."

Wonwoo studied her for a long moment, his gaze so intent that Y/N fought the urge to squirm in her seat.

"Three years," he finally said.

"Excuse me?"

"Not one or two. Three years. That's how long we commit to this charade. It needs to be believable." He leaned forward slightly. "If we announce the breakup too soon, they'll know it was planned."

His logic was sound, though the thought of maintaining a fake relationship for three years was daunting. Still, three years of pretending was better than a lifetime of reality.

"Three years," she agreed tentatively. "But with conditions. I maintain my career. I continue my medical missions. No children, obviously."

"Agreed," he nodded. "And I have conditions as well. We live together in the house my parents have already purchased. Separate bedrooms, of course," he added quickly, seeing her expression. "But we need to appear committed. They'll expect it."

Y/N swallowed hard. Living together would complicate things significantly. "Any other conditions?"

Something shifted in Wonwoo's expression—a subtle change she couldn't quite identify. "Just one. We make a genuine effort to know each other. To be friends, at least. Three years is a long time to live with a stranger."

The request was reasonable, even practical. If they were to convince the world of their relationship, they needed to understand each other.

"Alright," she conceded. "Friends. But nothing more."

Wonwoo extended his hand across the table. "Then we have a deal. Our three-year plan begins now."

As Y/N placed her hand in his, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something—something in the way his hand lingered around hers, something in the quiet intensity of his gaze.

What she didn't know, what she couldn't know, was that Jeon Wonwoo had just agreed to a plan that aligned perfectly with his own agenda—three years to make the woman he'd admired from afar fall genuinely in love with him.

The house was beautiful—Y/N had to admit that much. Nestled in a quiet neighborhood that somehow managed to be both exclusive and understated, the modern three-bedroom structure was nothing like the ostentatious mansions their parents inhabited. If she had to be trapped in a fake engagement, at least the cage was gilded.

"Your things arrived this morning," Wonwoo said as he unlocked the front door. "I had them placed in the master bedroom. I've taken the room down the hall."

She followed him inside, noting with surprise the warmth of the interior. She'd expected cold minimalism like his parents' home, but this space was inviting—clean lines softened by natural materials, large windows filling the rooms with light, and carefully chosen art that seemed to reflect both Korean tradition and modern sensibilities.

"Did you decorate this?" she asked, running her fingers along a handcrafted wooden shelf.

Wonwoo shook his head. "A designer handled most of it, but I made some adjustments. I wanted it to feel like a home, not a showpiece."

Y/N glanced at him curiously. There it was again—that disconnect between the corporate heir she'd imagined and the thoughtful man before her.

"Let me show you around," he offered, leading her through the space.

The tour ended in a kitchen that would make a professional chef envious—state-of-the-art appliances, expansive countertops, and a view of the small but immaculately landscaped garden.

"Do you cook?" Y/N asked, noting how at ease Wonwoo seemed in this space.

"It's one of my few hobbies," he admitted. "Work doesn't leave time for much else." He hesitated, then added, "I thought I might make dinner tonight. If you're comfortable with that. Consider it a housewarming."

The offer surprised her. In her family, cooking was the staff's responsibility; the idea of the heir to a major corporation preparing dinner was foreign.

"I'd like that," she found herself saying.

Later, as she unpacked in her new bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed with messages from Ela and Alexys:

Well??? Did you meet him? Is he a troll? A robot? DETAILS, WOMAN! - Alexys

Hope you're okay. Call if you need anything. Mingyu says Wonwoo is actually decent, for what it's worth. - Ela

Y/N blinked at Ela's message. "Wait, Mingyu knows Wonwoo?"

As if on cue, her phone rang with Ela's call.

"You didn't know?" Ela sounded surprised when Y/N asked. "They've been friends since university. Mingyu never mentioned him because, well, you know how my husband is—he doesn't like to name-drop."

Y/N sank onto her new bed, processing this connection. "What else does Mingyu know about him?"

"Just that he's not like other chaebol heirs. Works ridiculous hours, actually earned his position rather than having it handed to him. Mingyu says he's brilliant with technology but awkward with people." Ela paused. "Did you propose your plan?"

"Yes," Y/N confirmed, lowering her voice although she was alone in the room. "Three years of pretending, then a clean break."

"And he agreed?" Ela sounded skeptical.

"Surprisingly easily. I think he's as trapped as I am."

There was a strange pause before Ela spoke again. "Y/N... did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?"

Before Y/N could respond, a gentle knock on her door interrupted the conversation.

"I need to go," she told Ela quickly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She opened the door to find Wonwoo standing there, sleeves rolled up further and an apron tied around his waist. The domesticity of the image was so at odds with what she knew of him that Y/N momentarily stared.

"Dinner's almost ready," he said, seemingly unaware of her reaction. "Nothing fancy, just some doenjang jjigae and banchan."

"That sounds perfect," she replied, following him downstairs.

The kitchen was filled with mouthwatering aromas, the countertops lined with small dishes of perfectly prepared side dishes. As they settled at the dining table with steaming bowls of stew, Y/N found herself genuinely impressed.

"This is delicious," she admitted after her first bite.

A pleased smile curved Wonwoo's lips, transforming his serious face. "My grandmother's recipe. She insisted I learn to cook for myself, even though my parents thought it was beneath me."

"Your grandmother sounds wise."

"She was," he said softly, and Y/N noted the past tense with a pang of empathy.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the awkwardness of their situation temporarily set aside. It was strange, Y/N thought, how quickly the human mind adapted to new circumstances. This morning, she had been dreading meeting Jeon Wonwoo; now, she was sharing a home-cooked meal with him as they embarked on a three-year deception together.

"I've been thinking about our arrangement," Wonwoo said as they finished eating. "We should establish some ground rules. Beyond what we've already agreed on."

Y/N nodded. "That makes sense."

"For instance, we should discuss how we handle public appearances, family obligations, holidays..."

"And dating," Y/N added, thinking ahead. "If we're going to be living separate lives, we need parameters for discretion."

Something flickered in Wonwoo's eyes—so briefly Y/N thought she might have imagined it. "Of course," he said evenly. "Discretion would be paramount."

Their conversation continued late into the evening, mapping out the contours of their pretense. By the time Y/N retreated to her bedroom, she felt surprisingly at ease with the arrangement. Wonwoo was reasonable, practical, and seemingly as committed to maintaining their independence as she was.

As she prepared for bed in her new home, Y/N remembered Ela's question: Did you consider that he might have his own reasons for agreeing?

She dismissed the thought. Whatever Wonwoo's reasons were, they aligned with her goals. That was all that mattered. Tomorrow would be another day of adjustments, of learning to navigate this strange new reality. But for tonight, at least, she could sleep knowing she had found a way to protect the life she cherished.

In his own room down the hall, Jeon Wonwoo sat at his desk, a small smile playing on his lips as he closed the leather-bound journal where he'd been writing. On its cover, inscribed in his neat handwriting, were the words:

“Our three year plan.”

[foxstens]

just imagine being riko though

you're 20 years old and you've been raised to believe that you are above everyone else by virtue of being born in this family. but at the same time you've been aware your entire life that said family does not care about you

your entire worth hinges on the faint hope that if you become the best at this sport (the only thing you have), maybe, just maybe they'll finally look at you

the erc says kevin - your second half, your confidante - is a better player than you. you nearly destroy him in your rage and you're not sorry, not really, because this is what happens to those who defy the moriyamas. but you don't know how to live without him, either

and kevin doesn't come back. you use up all your cards but him and his new team keep defying you and things don't go as they're supposed to. your father dies without giving you the recognition you've been trying to earn, you're not even invited to the funeral. the foxes make it to finals and kevin walks onto the court with his tattoo covered up

against all odds they win. a racquet breaks your arm and maybe some part of you realizes that you did this to yourself. for the first time ever, your brother stands in front of you, having watched you fail at the one thing you're supposed to be the best at

his face is the last thing you see

[adam-scott]

Bend It Like Beckham (2003)

[panharmonium]

OBSESSED with how lorelai calculatedly says the most inflammatory thing she can think of in order to stop chris's parents from targeting rory. this woman is standing in a tank of starving sharks and she dumps the chum bucket over her own head the instant straub makes her daughter uncomfortable. she doesn't cause a scene for no reason; she strategically weaponizes everybody's low expectations of her in order to stop straub from attacking rory and encourage him to attack her instead. and it WORKS. and she just sits there takes it. i see your daughter is just as out of control as ever, richard. but lorelai doesn't care what straub says about her because that was the point; she wants to him to come after her and forget that rory is there. if you'd attended a university as your parents had planned, and as we planned in vain for christopher, you might have aspired to more than a blue-collar position...you might not want to take such a haughty tone when you announce to the world that you work in a hotel.

and then she sends rory out of the room to safety and she sits there and continues to take it. she seduced him into ruining his life. she had that baby, and ended his future! and it doesn't matter because they're chewing on her and not her daughter and that was the point. she played them. they fell for it. and it doesn't mean that the things they say don't hurt her, because they do. it means she's willing to let herself be hurt in rory's place.

you can see the tense disapproval on lorelai's face when the group turns expectantly to rory like they're waiting for her to perform some kind of circus trick, and even though the gilmore grandparents + chris do it out of genuine admiration and pride, they don't understand how terrified rory feels about being asked to demonstrate genius on-demand in front of people who are already judging her for being born. rory looks reflexively at her mother with HELP written all over her face, and one needling comment from straub is all it takes for lorelai to offer herself up as a convenient (and familiar) punching bag.

[hepbaestus]

I wish fic writers would get the same amount of support and admiration as fan artists do. (Long rant incoming and no I'm not even going to put it under a read more because it would be skipped over if it was.)

This might sound biased, coming from someone who posts fics and does not have a lick to talent when it comes to art, but just, please, read and try to understand.

It fucking sucks to see something that two different people have spent hours working on and only one gets the attention it rightly deserves because there's no stigma of it being "creepy" or "perverted" like fanfiction does and as publicly too.

I do understand that this will likely never change and that I'll have to get used to it as a fic writer, but, the fact that I'm having to 'get over it' because that's just how it is in fandom-spaces sucks. It shouldn't be like that, it's demoralising, and frankly off-putting. It makes me, and likely others who won't publicly say it, not want to post our written works.

Like there are times where people are literally spending hours and hours planning, drafting, proofreading and then correctly tagging a fic only for it to get no recognition or more critique than adoration. Whereas a fan artist can spend maybe a couple of hours on what they'll call a doodle and get all the praise. This isn't to bash any fan artists because goddamn I know y'all love what you do (and rightly so) but it feels like a stake to heart seeing two sides of the same coin being treated with completely different levels of respect.

Like I also understand that, with how people's attention spans are lessening, that not everyone is bothered or able to read something that's 5k+ (or even 1k+) words and I get it, but also? Give it a chance? You might, now stick with me here, actually like what you read. I know. Shocker.

And, then, if you do actually read something someone has kindly put out into the world for free, don't put comments in your bookmarks or the comments section stating how you "wish it was written different" or "from another character's pov" or when you decided to drop the fic. The author does not want to know when you dropped their fic. Just move the fuck on. If you want it a certain way so much, fucking write it yourself (or if the writer has commissions open, commission them like you would an artist). It is rude to leave comments like this and so incredibly disheartening for the writer of that fic to see such comments. If you have a critique about a fic, privately talk to your friends in the same fandom as you about it or if you don't have that put it in a private discord or something. Unless the author has explictly stated that they would like critiques, which is when you would comment some critiques if you had any, you do not need to leave unwarranted critiques. It is rude and unnecessary.

I could share screenshots of people who leave unwarranted critiques to fics in their comments section or bookmark comments, but because I'm a kind individual who frankly cannot be bothered to compile several tumblr posts of solely images, I'm not. But do know that we do see every comment under our works and saying "oh I didn't think you'd see it" is not a fucking excuse. People who make fan creations often look into their comments to see people's reactions, in hopes of having spread the joy or similar emotion they had when writing or drawing their piece.

And content creators who review fan art with praise and then immediately make fun of fic writers, I despise you. Genuinely. The fact that you think it's okay to uplift one part of your creative audience while not doing such with the other is disgusting. I do understand that there are boundaries that a person will have towards both forms of media but completely writing off one form of fan creation while entertaining the other is genuinely one of the most saddening things. It creates a further divide between these two sides of fan creation and reinforces people's mean attitudes towards fanfic writers simply because how they express their love for a piece of media is not easily viewed. There are, obviously creators who do acknowledge but stay away from fanfiction and I respect that; it's about actively going into those spaces to criticise and, in some cases, bully, those writers about something they're passionate about. If you're that insistent on leaving a negative comment on something, please, for the love of everything get a fucking life.

This is a long winded way of saying respect people who make fan content because, 99% of the time, they're doing it for free and for their own entertainment.

[arkhamochi]

Batman & Robin (2009, vol. 2) #ochireads

BATMAN REBORN By Grant MORRISON & Frank QUITELY

"The new Dynamic Duo uncovers clues involving the mysterious death of Bruce Wayne before facing off against each other in a heated battle that both heroes will regret — if they live through it! Includes THE BLACKEST NIGHT, as well as stories that lead directly into BATMAN: THE RETURN OF BRUCE WAYNE!" [x]

DISCLAIMER: This retrospective may assume that you have a baseline knowledge of some of these arcs. Remember, this is all in the spirit of friendly story analysis and healthy discussion! All opinions are my own.

OVERVIEW:

Hooooo boy, okay, this one is kinda WEIRD. This volume is mostly filler for "The Return of Bruce Wayne", the greater DC event at the time. Damian is out of commission for the first half (due to the events of the previous volume), but whatever Damian moments are in here are more foundational than at first glance, even if it is at the expense of other characters.

REACTION COMMENTARY: (5 minute read)

Talia: "Isn't he magnificent?" Damian: *looking like a soggy piece of naan bread*

Co-parenting moment with your adult ward's ex girlfriend. Alfred's affection/care for Damian is a lot more unambiguous here, and now I really wish we could've seen their relationship grow in the comics (instead of it being implied "off-page")🥺!!!

To be honest, Morrison's narrative justification for introducing Damian still isn't satisfying to me. It's implied that Talia has promised Damian to inherit the Batman/Wayne empire. Now that he's super involved with the Batman gig, Talia is acting all confused and incensed about it. Am I thinking too hard about this?

SO CUTE!!! A little sweater vest moment as a treat 🥺! Another subtle nod to their genuine relationship, where Damian feels close enough to gossip with Alfred (albeit right in front of the poor subject).

I'm not sure if this is purposeful, but Damian's conversation also seems more relaxed and free flowing (compared to the previous arc). Outside of Robin activity, I don't imagine Damian going outside much, and he definitely doesn't have any friends, so he'd naturally spend a lot of time with Alfred.

Context: it really is a zombie clone!

What a smart cookie! It's a brief but interesting insight into Damian using his own unique knowledge of the Lazarus Pit to quickly deduce that this Batman is a fake, compared to Dick. I wonder if this is supposed to be a direct implication that Dick wouldn't have resurrected the wrong Batman if Damian was with him to challenge the idea?

Also, once again showing Damian has immediate and genuine concern for Alfred's wellbeing.

I have to share this whole sequence of teamwork! Could it be, Alfred and Damian are the secret Dynamic Duo!?

That spit is so iconic, so petty, disrespectful even to a zombie... Even when falling to his death, Damian doesn't scream. There's an initial shock, then reservation. Maybe he's even a little embarrassed? Disappointed in himself? Even the -tt- hints at some annoyance.

Damian has lived his life, not for the sake of living, but to achieve great things. It must be a little humiliating for someone like him to seemingly die in such a vulnerable and "pathetic" way. Does this imply that he doesn't fear death, or that he doesn't give himself permission to feel fear at all?

Fear not! Dick arrives just in time to save him! And Damian is immediately back to his quippy self, making sure that Dick knows exactly what he thinks instead of a "thank you".

Of course, Batman and Batwoman defeat Zombie Batman and save the day :)

Who let this 10 year old into the boardroom???

This whole segment is so appropriately silly. It's interesting how this might be the only time (in canon) Damian has been involved with W.E. affairs, and then he's kinda never put in a scenario like this again. Maybe Morrison was getting a feeler for where Damian's strengths outside of vigilante work might fit? Or maybe it's for a one-off gag.

Either way, I can believe that Damian would enjoy scrutinising data like a challenge to be won, but truthfully would have no interest in running W.E. But clearly it's a concept that didn't take off anywhere, so it doesn't really matter THAT much 😛

A/N: Ok so this post has been in my draft for over half a year up to this point, and I'm only picking it back up now. Apologies for the rustiness in my analysis.

Completely unrelated, have I mentioned how funny this batmobile looks to me? It reminds me of the biddybuggy from Mario Kart...

Anyway, uh...

Really beautiful panel here (even though the context behind it is super silly, so we'll just ignore all that).

Damian was raised on the legacy of Al Ghul, but technically that one only goes back 2 generations. Being promised (by Talia) to inherit the Wayne fortune, I wonder how much he knows about the history of his Father's side at this point? With Bruce (assumed to be genuinely dead at this point) out of the picture, is there an added pressure? An added loss? One day, will Damian's portrait be on this wall?

Just imagine if Bruce's portrait was already up, and then just a single beat of Damian looking at the blank space next to it... But once again, the writing kinda glosses over this character opportunity to forward the plot instead (not a bad thing, but just a shame that the potential is now lost).

GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, good food, good food...

They've obviously built up a healthy rapport at this point, so it especially hurts when Dick doesn't realise the depth of his insecurities (he even brushes it off twice, omg!!!).

For all the surface-level boasting Damian peacocks about his superior skills, (arguably) having already proved himself being worthy of the mantle of Robin, Damian knows, consciously or subconsciously, that it isn't enough. Despite how well he's settled into the role, true approval must come from his father in an emotional bid, and Damian is anxiously aware of exactly how Bruce feels about him.

I've always heard about how Morrison "character assassinated" Talia, and to be honest, my uneducated ass always thought "surely it can't be that bad". My god, it really is that bad.

It's unfortunately difficult to separate this characterisation from "canon" since it seems to be the main catalyst for why Damian chooses to stay in Gotham. Damian's motivations in his introductory comics were pretty vague and poorly written imo, so I am assuming this is Morrison's way of establishing something more definitive-- it's just a shame that Talia's writing has seemingly taken the fall for it.

#1 DICK GRAYSON STAN, DAMIAN WAYNE, RAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is...... silly.... this is so silly... And yet, I must admit, this twist had me gagged.

Context: During Damian's spinal surgery, Talia inserted a device that let's her control his body. Slade then takes over (trying to get revenge on Dick as well).

Jesus, this is grim 😻! Slade kinda catching some shade for being an old man tho hahaha. Really emotional panels from the Quitely; the desperation, struggle, and absolute trust between Batman and Robin is so raw and uncomfortable (positive!).

In an era where Damian was still universally hated, it's nice to see in-context moments of Damian's selflessness and maturity, despite the fandom rhetoric of him being a selfish brat.

DAMIAN CONVINCING HIMSELF THAT (he thinks) BRUCE WILL TAKE THE MANTLE OF ROBIN AWAY WHEN HE RETURNS AAUUUGGHHHOOUUUGHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Something else that I love about Damian's character that I don't see get brought up often is the theme of unconditional love (for family). Even after what seems like an ultimate betrayal in love and trust, Damian still respects his mother, calls her as such, and still holds on to the expectations that, in a roundabout way, he could still make her proud.

This is similarly the case with Bruce, where Damian believes that Bruce has no affection or trust towards him, but he still respects him (and their relationship) as his father.

To cap this off, I also wanted to include this "writer's commentary" by Morrison lol.

Overall, this arc had a little more bite than the last! Everything is obviously overshadowed by the "Bruce Returns" event, but we got some really definitive Damian moments... even if it was at the expense of Talia's character...

Anyone else have favourite moments to share? Personal analysis and thoughts? Let's talk about it 🥰!

[candy-pants]

I'd never tell you not to run I'd never hold you to a place you can't dream of So if the end is all it was I'll take it

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[the-marshals-wife]

Lydia: I’ll take the moral high ground, thanks.

Beetlejuice: I would join you, but bad knees and all that.

[jade-of-mourning]

sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

[diaz911]

This is such an underrated moment for me. It's one of the first Buddie scenes after the will reveal and on first glance it's just like Buck being Buck. He worries about people, he's a fixer, that's Buck, but this is more intense than general concern.

The hard emphasis Buck puts on need says so much here. Because Buck thinks Eddie had a heart attack at this point, he thinks something is seriously, medically wrong with his friend, and if he is dying that means Buck might be responsible for Christopher soon and he's taking that so seriously. He is all in immediately about being Christopher's guardian and demands that Eddie keep him informed on what's happening with their family and it just, it means a lot to me that Buck pushes to be a part of their lives and that Eddie's words actually had an impact. Buck believes he's not expendable anymore, that Eddie and Chris need him, and he's accepted that responsibility with everything he has, and I just think that's love your honor.

[averlym]

ghost story premiere day! check @melliotwrites for more info

[annestie]

Do you think Jake ever ran out of stories to tell his kids and so just decided to use like religious stories? The kids don't know. How would they know? So he continues telling these stories until Norm somehow stumbles upon him doing it one day like:

Norm: What are you guys doing? Little Lo'ak: Dad's telling us about old human heroes! Norm: Nice, which ones? Batman, Superman- Little Neteyam: Moses! Norm: ... Norm: Jake Jake, desperately: I ran out of stories. They're insatiable. Norm, sighing and sitting down: Yup, Moses. Did your dad tell you about the parting of the ocean yet?

[one-flower-one-sword]

well I know what you want from me you want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception setting you free won't you come and dance in the dark with me? show me what you are, I am desperate to know nobody better than the perfect enemy and I know what you want from me you want the same as me my redemption, eternal ascension setting me free

for @bladesmercy's fic The Fear of Falling Stars

[oftenlyshitposting]

"how old did you say your professor droid was?"

shin grunted when sabine had narrowly evaded her strike, the wooden bokken saber barely grazed sabine's nose. that's the second time sabine had to be grateful that they are not sparring with real lightsabers at the moment.

sabine strikes. "i don't know for certain, but i kinda remember him mentioning somewhere around..." the mandalorian jumped backwards when shin striked with aim towards her torso, huffing harshly. "uh, i think more than a few thousand years old."

shin halted in the middle of a strike, bokken raised mid-air. her eyes remains focused, but sabine deciphered the slight widening of her eyes indicates shock and/or confusion. sabine wants to bet its both.

"a few thousand years old." shin repeated, slowly.

sabine nodded. "yeah. he's as old as the jedi order itself, if not more."

shin drops her stance, her bokken slowly returning to her side in a manner of ending the sparring. she huffs, curt and sharp. "i suppose that explains it..."

sabine quirked a brow, leaning onto her bokken. "explains what?"

"how he knows of my master."

"oh," was all sabine managed to say in response. "i guess he taught your master how to build a lightsaber too, back in the days. huyang said his design is pretty unique." sabine then nods at the wall of lightsabers in the training floor, specifically at shin's old lightsaber. "just like yours."

"i was not taught in the temple," shin reminds sabine.

sabine laughs, nodding. "yeah, i know. it doesn't mean you don't carry the same unique lightsaber. yours even had a little more personality."

shin tilts her head, muttering, "i crafted it myself."

"i know." sabine reached at shin's lightsaber, the hilt flying gently into her palm. she studies the well crafted hilt; shin's first weapon. "it's still beautiful."

"even when i used it to stab you?" shin's voice is level, but her tone was teasing.

sabine laughed, shaking her head. she returned the lightsaber back to the wall, next to her old one. her padawan lightsaber, the gift from ezra. both shin and sabine had retired their old lightsabers when ahsoka concurred their apprenticeship. it was only a few cycles ago when ahsoka had knighted them as jedi knights and cut off their padawan braids.

shin crafted her own new lightsaber, finding an appropriately bonded kyber crystal in huyang's collections, much unlike her first lightsaber's crystal of kohlen. both her and sabine held their breaths as shin ignited her new lightsaber, and gasped when the blade emits a brilliant yellow hue; almost golden.

sabine focused on building her new lightsaber the next day, only slightly nervous under ahsoka's eyes. she felt a particular crystal in huyang's collections calling to her, and ahsoka encouraged her to bond with the crystal. she never really thought anything when she ignited it the first time, expecting a bright blue hue like ezra's, or even the same green as her old lightsaber. her eyes widen when it emits a striking violet, the blade humming confidently.

ahsoka nods proudly at her padawan, congratulating the two newly knighted jedi knights. shin thanked ahsoka with a grateful smile, while sabine was beyond ecstatic and was jumping around with her new (and a pretty one, at that) lightsaber.

ahsoka's voice crackles through the comms, earning their attentions. "sabine. shin. hera's on comms."

"c'mon," sabine nods at the cockpit, "sounds to me like there's gonna be a new mission."

shin nods, following closely behind sabine as they entered the cockpit. hera's hologram projection stands in their comms, while ahsoka and huyang are sat on the seats. hera nods at the two young jedi knights with a smile.

"hera! what do you got for us?" sabine asked as she leans between ahsoka's and huyang's seats, shin peeking from behind her shoulders.

"ezra had new intel on rogue imperial remnants activity, and we're going to investigate it further," hera briefs carefully, continuing with, "i hear whispers of shady clonings ongoing on that base, some kind of ambitious project to imbue the force into these clones. from ezra's intel, this group is continuing moff gideon's works."

"moff gideon." sabine repeats the warlord's name with a distasteful hiss.

hera nodded, almost understandingly. "we should assume there will be hefty and nasty resistance from them, so gear up. we'll rendezvous at home one, i'll be taking the ghost and my fleet with you."

"a joint operation?" shin spoke from behind sabine, inquisitive.

"yes. senator organa had just approved the mission. we're clear to go."

"i love that woman," sabine remarks excitedly, earning a questioning head tilt from shin, and a collective amused look from both ahsoka and hera. "uh, i mean, she's just so... y'know..." the mandalorian flustered instantly, backtracking awkwardly.

ahsoka laughs, shaking her head amusedly whereas hera merely sighed visibly from the holo. sabine groans as she facepalms herself from embarrassment. shin doesn't say anything, but sabine didn't even need her to, because she can sense her amusement in the force.

"anyways," sabine drags with a final exhale, mitigating her embarrassment, "go on, hera?"

ahsoka jumps in instead, "you two should get ready. we're already en route to home one's coordinates."

shin tilts her head, confused, and was about to offer some kind of input, when sabine grabs her hand and drags her out of the cockpit. the mandalorian had a faint knowing smirk on her face but didn't tell shin anything until they returned to the bunks to prepare.

sabine tossed shin's new vambraces, at the blonde. "you wanted to say something?"

shin hums, observing sabine. "yes, actually. why did you pull me out?"

"vambrace check. adjust shields?" sabine calls instead, adjusting her own as she waits for shin to copy, amused when shin sighs and began setting up her vambraces.

"shields adjusted." two pairs of energy field shields emits from shin's and sabine's vambraces. shin also checks the weaponries inside her vambraces, making sure everything is in top shape. "what is your rocket count? mine is on three."

sabine taps on the little screen on her right vambrace, replying, "i'm on five. if we need to use 'em, i'll shoot first."

shin nods, before shifting her weight on one leg. "okay. now, will you tell me why you dragged me out of the cockpit?"

sabine grins, mischevious. "well, if you missed it, ahsoka kicked us out to chat with hera."

"okay...?" shin doesn't quite get it; doesn't ahsoka chat with hera all the time? sabine shoots her a look, which doesn't really help shin understand anything.

"you're so adorable when you're confused like this," sabine said with a laugh as she clasp shin's new pauldrons on her shoulders. "ahsoka looks at hera like she wants to raise jacen together."

shin tilts her head, processing. sabine lets out a silent chuckle, amused by the blonde's clueless face. the mandalorian had to hold back a laugh when the gears in shin's mind appear to finally click, the same time she finished clasping on shin's custom-made beskar alloy breastplate.

"oh," shin muttered, the exposed tips of her ears dusted in soft pink, "that... made sense."

sabine shakes her head softly, landing a small kiss on shin's temple. she adds, "you are so endearing, cyar'ika," that made shin's eartips grew pinker, as the mandalorian made her way to the cockpit after ahsoka's voice crackles through the comms to summon them back.

if sabine had missed it, shin was thankful.

ahsoka and sabine were getting ready to punch in the coordinates for the hyperdrive jump, shin and huyang were sat behind to re-check everything else to ensure all are well. once sabine had cleared to jump, ahsoka initiates the hyperdrive sequence to home one's point. they arrived in a short count of leaps, as the fulcrum's position was not that far beyond from home one's system.

once ahsoka and sabine landed the t-6 ship in the landing bay, shin and ssbine descended the ramp not too far behind the togrutan jedi master. up ahead, the general of the new republic's fleet stood, a welcoming smile adorning her battle-hardened face.

"general syndulla," ahsoka greets, tone slightly teasing in contrast to the formal salutations, "always good to see you again."

hera sighs, shooting ahsoka a look (sabine dubs it THE look, which shin never really understood what it means but plays along anyways), "you too, 'soka." she turns her gaze to the younger jedi knights, "sabine, shin. great to see you two as well."

sabine goes in for a hug, full-bodied and warm. she then cheekily quips, "it's been a while, hera. don't you miss us?"

"well, i've already got ezra and jacen tag-teaming with chaos in this ship," hera laughs, "so, i wouldn't say i miss your shenanigans by that much, 'bine."

"oh, i'm wounded! woe becomes me!" sabine dramatically returned, placing a mock-distressed hand on her temple as she leans against shin's shoulder. ahsoka merely shakes her head at her antics, while hera chuckles in amusement.

shin, partially playing along, pushes sabine in faux disgust as she mutters, "you are too dramatic, even for a mandalorian."

"woe! woe! backstabbed by own comrade!"

"i stabbed you once, on your stomach."

hera and ahsoka laughed at shin's dry humour, recalling their first meet, while sabine pouted as she mumbles, "that's supposed to be my card to use."

the general brought the fulcrum crew to a meeting room to go over their plans and to contact ezra, as he was still commandeering his own recon unit at their target location. they were set to dispatch two five-pilot x-wing squads under the ghost and the fulcrum as the respective leaders.

hera and ahsoka are to command the ghost, while sabine and shin are in charge of the fulcrum. sabine flashes a smirk at shin, which was responded with an exasperated sigh. shin takes out ten credits out of her pocket to hand over towards sabine.

"told you."

"i cannot believe you bet for this."

sabine shrugs. "you played too, cyar'ika."

"what are you two up to?" ahsoka questions, arms crossed in front of her.

"just a lil' bet," sabine pockets the credits, mischevious, "on how the teams are split."

hera eyes ahsoka, an inquisitive kink of her brow was responded with a shrug. she asks, "what bet?"

"ten creds i say you and ahsoka are teaming up together." sabine shot the older women a knowing look, smirking when ahsoka returned with an exasperated face. she points her thumb back at shin, "this one wasn't buying it."

"for the record, i did not participate willingly."

"you are ridiculous," ahsoka sighed.

"i don't get it?" hera was still lost, not quite understanding the bubble they are in.

sabine laughs, while the togrutan jedi master shakes her head to dissolve the atmosphere. "ignore her."

shin blurts out, "sabine says ahsoka and you act like you would raise jacen together."

hera's eyes widen, as ahsoka slow turns towards a cackling sabine and a flustered shin, incredulous. "you two are unbelievable."

to her credit, shin did appear guilty as she shifts her eyes down and mutters, "i am sorry."

sabine ceases her laugh, wiping a tear from her eye, "oh, gosh. that was peak entertainment for me. sorry, guys. it just had to be said; you two are horrible at hiding your pinings for each other."

shin might be hallucinating, but she swears ahsoka's and hera's face grew a shade darker as they avoid each other's eyes.

"to be fair, ahsoka did better than sabine back then. she used to look at me like she would leave the jedi order and devote herself to me instead."

hera's eyes widen for the second time, ahsoka mirrors the general's reaction as well upon hearing the blonde's admission. sabine had stopped laughing, frozen in her stand while seemingly all the blood in her circulation spreads slowly on her face.

ahsoka, after regaining the room from sabine, turns to sabine with an amused expression, teasing, "devoted to a fellow padawan, are you?"

sabine sputters, losing brain to mouth coordination as her face is almost as red as her pilot jacket.

"at least, that was what huyang told me," shin added, her voice deceivingly innocent, though the thin smirk ghosting her lips tells otherwise.

"my, my, sabine," hera joins, arms crossed in a delighted manner, "you've come a long way from your planet-skipping womanizing tour, huh?"

"womanizing tour?" shin parroted, intrigued.

"okay, that is our cue to leave!" at that, sabine suddenly regained her motor functions as she grabs shin by the arms and drags her back towards the landing bay. she shouts back, "see you in ten, guys!!"

shin was amused the whole trek back to the fulcrum, watching sabine distractedly sets up the ship. the mandalorian's face was still pinkish and her energy remained flustered.

shin teases softly, "you are very antsy, commander."

sabine's ears grew red at the nickname, and shin was looking forward to seeing that reaction.

"we are not having this conversation."

shin steps in front of sabine, tilting her face to meet hers by the chin. "not now, we won't. but, we will."

sabine swallows, eyes crotchety, yet nodding anyway. she managed to rasp out, "yeah… okay…"

"that's my girl."

[lostximagination]

11/8/24

-

It was just a few scant months ago that Issac Riley and Anna Kahale met with a literal lightning strike. A lot happened very quickly, and the both of them are still adjusting to the changes in their lives.

Anna has to learn to control her newfound magic, and Issac has to deal with the drastic changes to his life from finding out he was the legendary magical figure known as the Master.

Kevin Anderson is still at large, leaving the both of them in grave danger, especially Issac, as he’s still recovering from his last encounter with the dangerous witch hunter.

This is made much worse as threats from the far past are returning, and quickly… And as the first Master in centuries, it’s on Issac to deal with them, and defeat the returning Darkness before it gets too strong. Can he handle the pressure, even with Anna’s help, or will he crack under the strain, and potentially doom the world with him?

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