#if i had the balls and the galaxy brain for it i would write a massive crossover fic of all these freakin dramas

[rabbit-flaying]

Humanity's Collector

Genres: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Content Warnings: Dehumanization, Kidnapping, Casual Violence, Claustrophobia, Mild Cosmic Horror

Note: I want to get back to positing my writing on Tumblr. Maybe someone will recognize this. Probably not.

"Gosh you're pretty," Glade cooed, its voice sounding a bit like Harlow's mother, a bit like a brook, and a bit like paper being crumpled up and cast aside.

Harlow looked around desperately. For he had to find escape from the strange realm he had woken in. All manner of miscellany took up space in the void around him. It looked like a storage closet, if every storage closet in the world were connected together, and the possessions of kings and paupers alike were granted permission to socialize.

He ignored Glade and stood from his wicker chair, quickly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the realm and number of objects held within it.

Above him the color white stretched out into infinitum. True white, not the dirty kind found in snow and house paint. It hurt his head, making his temples throb and blood vessels contract, so he looked away from it.

"Where am I?" Harlow demanded. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glade," it answered. "You're in my home."

Harlow made the mistake of eye contact. Glade's eyes shone with the light of galaxies, a dazzling rainbow of nebulae, planets, and suns. The entirety of the universe, and many more beyond it, seemed tucked away within the perfectly spherical marbles buried in the putty-like flesh of its glowing face.

He finally broke away from the hypnotic sight, his puny brain unable to handle the visions within. How much time had passed, every one of his neurons firing at once in an attempt to process the cosmos of Glade's eyes? Seconds? Minutes? Hours, even?

He needed answers, yet he did not know the right questions. Glade didn't seem human, instead a creature from a story book. And this monolithic hoard couldn't possibly be real.

"Your home?" he asked in a strangled sort of voice, staring pointedly at the patch of ebony wood ground he stood upon.

"I'm a collector," Glade explained, running their sharp nails, painted with glitter and adorned with scraps of emeralds, through Harlow's silky hair.

"What do you collect, exactly?"

Harlow watched a glittering blue beetle crawl across the ground, finding a hiding spot underneath a red and purple feathered ball gown displayed on a copper mannequin.

"All sorts of things," Glade said, flapping its hands wildly in a mimicry of human excitement. "Your world is fascinating. I remember when your kind learned how to create fire and tame animals. You have grown so much since then. I needed to have one of you for my own. Your creations are not enough any more."

Harlow carefully took in Glade's appearance, avoiding its hypnotic eyes. Despite its alien nature- as clear to Harlow as it would have been to his ancestors as they huddled around campfires concocting stories to explain their world- it chose to appear humanoid, though not precisely human.

Glade was the kind of thing that would hide in a child's closet, and speak to them in a parental fashion, loathing the knowledge that the child would never be believed no matter how loudly they spoke of its existence.

Its iridescent skin glimmered, changing colors with every movement, no matter how slight, as stunning light produced by the void poured over its body. Its proportions sat beyond the human view of normal, uncanny like an airbrushed model, but far more monstrous. Behind its smiling lips were two rows of porcelain and copper teeth, slicing perfectly through its pale gray gums.

Delicate jewelry of book pressed flowers and dragonfly wings adorned its warped elven ears. It was clad in a fur cape, the stitched together pelts of numerous small animals, fur colors clashing and asymmetrical. Its heels, as thin as sewing needles and seemingly impossible to walk on, granted half a foot of height to their seven-foot frame.

"Don't worry," Glade continued. "I'll take care of you. I've been collecting humanity's creations for millenia. You may use what you find around you to its fullest extent."

"I want to go home," Harlow said, finally realizing that this was not a dream that could be banished away by opening his eyes and pouring himself a cup of black coffee mixed with salt. "Please let me go. I'm sure there's someone who would love to be here. But I like my life on earth."

"But I wanted you."

Glade hugged Harlow tightly, mimicking how it had observed humans comforting one another. Its skin had none of Harlow's warmth, and he found this hug as uncomfortable as cuddling with a marble statue would have been, if he had ever been bold enough to break the omnipresent rule of not touching museum exhibits.

Harlow closed his eyes. "I have to be dreaming," he said, his lie cloaked in a defeated sort of tone. "This can't be real."

"Of course this isn't real," Glade said, holding its newest acquisition out at arm's length. "But it isn't a dream either. You are within my home, far outside of your universe."

"Please send me back. I don't know why I'm here, or how, but I can't do this."

"Yes you can," Glade said. "It's easy. I will take care of you, and you will be my plaything. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Harlow broke away from Glade, and took off walking. There had to be an exit. Everything had an exit, whether it be a school or a church or a corner shop. The exits were always there, saddened as they were that so many people were afraid to break the rules and only took advantage of their ability to leave at certain appointed hours.

The void still seemed to stretch on into infinity, swelling larger and larger the farther and farther Harlow walked. But everything had an end if you traveled far enough to find it. Even the deserts that passed past any human line of sight and the mountains that seemed too high to ever climb over.

But now Harlow was applying rules from his original plane of existence to the alien one he had been so rudely whisked away to. And that was very foolish indeed.

"No, that doesn't sound nice," he said angrily, as Glade easily matched his pace, wearing a concerned expression it had stolen from a grandparent not too long ago. "I'm leaving."

"You can't leave. Because I didn't steal you. The original Harlow Finch Echowood is still in his home, playing solitaire and chatting away to his cat. You belong here with me."

Harlow stopped in his tracks, sitting down on an ancient jeweled throne. It had held countless kings before him, but he respected them not, only using their seat to keep from collapsing in shock.

Glade smiled. "We are going to have so much fun, and no one will ever know you to be here. Come now, I have food prepared for you."

"I can't eat your food," Harlow argued, remembering what he had learned from a book that lived in his elementary school library. It had worn a shiny green cover, and the name Susan Macintosh was written inside the front cover before his own. "I'd never be able to leave if I did that."

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for some of my cousins," Glade said. "You will eat, or you will starve. And you're never leaving because you belong to me. It doesn't matter what you choose to do."

Harlow stood up, his dizziness replaced with a red-hot temper. "I hate you! Let me go! You can't keep me here!"

Glade looked deeply wounded, but Harlow knew within the depths of his very soul, that it was only mimicry of human emotion.

"I couldn't send you back, even if I wanted to. Then there would be two Harlow Finch Echowoods trying to live your singular and unique life."

"I don't believe you. I'm still me. I still remember my life."

"You are an exact duplication of the original Harlow Finch Echowood. You have the same soul and the same mind and the same DNA. Of course you still remember."

With every passing moment, Harlow's belief in Glade's words only grew. Any attempt to fight against them was snuffed out by diluted logic and the omnipresent knowledge that he was still alive. He breathed. Blood rushed through his veins. More importantly, his mind continued to produce thoughts and feelings to process the outside world.

"Just combine us again or something," Harlow begged. "I want to go home. I never asked to be brought here."

"I cannot combine nor reconstruct nor mend. I can only make copies of beautiful things, and things not quite so beautiful."

Glade spread its arms, gesturing to its hoard of human objects collected in centuries long past. The treasures of every empire ever risen and fallen was present, both the spectacular and the mundane side by side in a discordant visual melody.

"Why me?" Harlow asked. "I didn't do anything."

"You speak as though this is a punishment. I have simply added you to my collection." It flicked the tears from his face, scratching him with its nail. "Now come, I have made you good food."

Glade gripped Harlow's arm and dragged him far away, weaving throughout its collection at a brisk and even pace, avoiding falling into the gaps between pieces of floor, which only infinitum laid below.

Soon enough, they came upon a small 1950s era kitchen. Two marble counters, a dirty stove, and a teacup filled sink formed a corner tucked away between a row of unplugged televisions and a huge crooked stalagmite growing from the polished tile floor.

Glade opened the oven and pulled out a pan of fresh bread. Its hands were bare, but unburnt by the hot metal dish. It grabbed a knife from one of the many drawers and cut through the bread without displacing a single crumb, before laying the slice out on a neon green plate.

"Eat while it's still hot," Glade said with a bright smile. It was a well used expression by those of Harlow's time who prepared meals for other humans, and it planned to repeat it often.

In its time spent with Harlow, its teeth had dulled significantly, and its gums had taken on a pale shade of pink. Why it had not mimicked a perfect human before meeting Harlow was beyond him, and it seemed perfectly capable of warping its appearance to become more like him.

He reluctantly tried the seed filled bread, finding it to be heavenly and soft. Faerie food or not, he scarfed it down, suddenly famished beyond all reason.

"Thank you," he said automatically.

"I have much food. It is scattered about my home, and easy to find if you look. It never spoils, so you may feast on it as you please."

Harlow sighed, and clambered up to sit on the counter. An act of rebellion his twelve year old self would have been proud of, even if Glade didn't give him the smallest sliver of annoyance, having no understand of manners itself.

"I'm really never leaving…" he said, his voice like a half-deflated party balloon still adored by a kid who refused point blank to throw it in the trash. "If that's it then, what happens when you get bored of me?"

"I never get bored of my playthings."

"How big is this place? Is it a universe, or a realm, or a room in some alien mansion?" Harlow thought these reasonable enough questions, considering his circumstances.

"An infinite pocket dimension," Glade replied. "If you travel far enough, my collection begins to grow thin. There is a boundary of where my possessions lie, and after that is the abyss. It is nearly impossible to find one's way back from nothingness."

"I hate it here," Harlow said, as though he had not made this feeling quite clear before. "I want to be around other people. Not you."

"I will bring you some," Glade promised. "Allow me a few minutes to collect them. You shall have a companion, as all humans crave, or more than one if it suits your fancy."

Harlow froze, debating his own morality versus the loneliness soon to bloom from this isolation. How could he allow more people to be stuck in this horrible purgatory of preserved humanity, just so he could have someone to talk to? The truth? He couldn't bear it. At least, not yet.

"No," he begged, the first tears ever created in this pocket dimension blooming in his eyes. "Please, don't put anyone else through this. I'll be good. I won't complain. I promise."

"Oh, how you confuse me." Something odd bloomed over Glade's face, a poor mimicry of a half-understood human emotion. "I see… Come along then."

Harlow hopped off the counter and followed Glade as it walked under a vast canopy of safety pinned together curtains fashioned from every familiar fabric and exotic cloth created by the hands of humanity.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Glade called in a sing-song voice. "I've brought a new trinket. This one can talk, so I'm sure you'll like it."

People approached Glade and Harlow from the shadows. Well, not people, exactly. They were like Glade, monstrous and wonderful, stepping straight from a story book and into Harlow's waking nightmare. There stood more figures than Harlow could keep track of, intent on viewing the treasure Glade had discovered.

"I finally brought a human home," Glade said proudly, if such a being were capable of pride. "Isn't it just a doll?"

Harlow flinched as numerous hands and insect-like feelers crept over his body, Glade's companions examining him all too closely. He felt as though he had jumped into those foam pits he had so loved as a young child, touched in all directions yet floating in oddly empty space.

"Get off of me," he demanded, forgetting his promise not to complain as he shoved the nearest figure away. "Stop it. I said stop!"

Harlow tried to break free of them, pushing and shoving, even striking at them with closed fists and elbows. But he was pulled back, the creatures murmuring in appreciation on how bizarrely Glade's newest acquisition behaved.

"Stop touching me," Harlow cried. "Please. I hate being crowded. What are you doing?"

"What is it doing?" the specter asked. It brought its freezing yet intangible hand to Harlow's face, as though to seize his tears.

"That is so weird," another remarked, clicking its pincers in an oddly specific pattern.

The different figures murmured to each other, formulating explanations.

"Is it because we're touching it?"

"It's water… I think."

"He's crying," Glade explained, flapping its hands in mimicry of human excitement. "It means it's upset. Isn't it the most delightful thing?"

"I hate you," Harlow said thickly, as tears continued to stream down his reddened cheeks. "I want to go home."

"You are so repetitive," Glade remarked, before perfectly imitating Harlow's voice. "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home."

Harlow finally relented. As the nightmarish figures poked and prodded him, discussing him amongst each other, he only hoped that they would soon grow bored and move on to newer shinier pursuits.

How could he stand to do this for the rest of eternity?

[stygiusfic]

tagged by @kmackatie and wow I haven't done one of these in a hot minute so let's go!

last song listened to: Start Wearing Purple by Gogol Bordello. I love this song and I love this band. I just had the best time doing dishes while blasting this song in my kitchen, so you know this song is guaranteed to make just about anything more fun.

currently reading: The Lord of the Rings trilogy for a book club with friends, and then on my own Stealing History: Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World by Roger Atwood, which is an intriguing non-fiction about the antiquities trade.

currently watching: Dimension20's Starstruck Odyssey. I'm a little over halfway through (Battle of the Brands!) and it's been such a delightful romp. I love the characters and the fine balance between things happening seemingly at random (it's a big chaotic galaxy!) and having a connecting throughline. Also have fully adopted Gunnie's saying "the ball is rolling up"

currently obsessed with:

Baldur's Gate 3! It took me a while to get this game because I knew it would take over my brain when I did and yes in fact I have just passed 400 hours.

Related: my current bg3 character, because I've written a truly unhinged amount of fake banter for him so he qualifies as an obsession in his own right. He is a Dark Urge called Silence who started off just wanting some peace and quiet for his headache to go away. His hobbies are saying disturbing shit like it's normal and making puppy eyes at Shadowheart. He has two basic modes, as you can see here: 1) baby and 2) murder.

tagging: @sharkodactyl, @coffee-writes, @feuxx, @toushindai and also anyone who wants to do this! 😌

[mauesartetc]

hello maue I have very fascinationing question.

How do you visual convey someone strength and power?

for example beerus destroy half a planet which is less impressive than frieza destroy planet namek. It’s funny beerus is way more powerful than frieza yet did which comes a bit weak than what came before.

how you showcase beerus strength than everyone else in dragon ball? Or least characters in general?

Honestly, the way the Dragon Ball series handles power (at least from what I've seen) is part of the reason I never got into it. Everything just had to be this arms race of whichever character could be the most ULTIMATE. After destroying one planet, what's next? Destroying multiple planets at once? Destroying a solar system? A galaxy? The entire universe? It just gets repetitive unless the writing gives us a reason to care. Like I know the whole thing's just a power fantasy aimed at preteen boys, but that sure didn't stop me and my sister from making fun of DBZ when we were six or seven, lol.

So I guess the real question is how to showcase strength in a more interesting way that heightens the tension rather than becoming stale. For example, there's a difference between what a character can do when they're actually trying, and what they can do when they're barely lifting a finger. If they can cause earthquakes just by flicking the ground, imagine the damage a punch would do.

Or maybe, if a character can't be the most powerful being, they've found a way to control the most powerful being. This still makes them intimidating, but through their brains rather than brawn.

Also, displays of power don't always have to come from destroying things. If a character used their powers to create things, but their unsettling personality lets everyone know they could wreak havoc if they wanted, that creates some interesting tension that could build over time.

Maybe this is less about measuring all characters with the exact same metrics of strength, and more about understanding the unique strengths each character has. I don't know the full context of Beerus destroying half a planet, but if it went exactly according to his plan, I might consider that even more impressive than just destroying the whole thing. Anyone can blow up a ball with explosives, but it takes skill to blow up half of that ball while leaving the other half intact.

Anyway, I found this neat video that talks more about what happens when characters are overpowered and their abilities are inconsistent. A lot of the problem seems to stem from giving them way too much power way too early, meaning the writer has to nerf them later on to make them more relatable. Hope that all makes sense.

[monstersinthecosmos]

17. fics you'll continue next year

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

(end of the year fanfic asks!)

17. fics you'll continue next year

For VC I'm trying so hard to finish up my Vamptembers because life got so hectic I dropped the ball ! MAYBE I CAN FINISH BEFORE END OF THE YEAR! I actually worked on it this morning!!! I really feel the need to close that project out though oh my god.

For Sheith I'm gonna keep working on Tonight the Stars Revolt! It's my child! I just write it very very slowly I apologize!!!!

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

This is a Sheith fic but wow wow, @rifa finished the Bonded series this year (Honour Bound & Honour Bound II!!) and I had reread them from the beginning to like spiritually prepare for the fic to be over and I just cannot express how masterful these two fics are and how worth reading if you can stomach the content. (Mind the AO3 tags!)

But wow like, such an incredible use of beloved fic tropes that are used in such a subversive and fresh way, absolutely galaxy-brain ideas about the omegaverse and the world building that was done here, the psychology!, the slow burn! INCREDIBLE ENEMIES TO LOVERS. INCREDIBLE HYPERSEXUALITY AROUND TRAUMA. INCREDIBLE BODY HORROR. And then the conversation about being queer! About gender!

ANYWAY fucking masterclass in fic writing, in storytelling, in porn, just fantastic, I'm never gonna forget it!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I really recommend it even to VC folks and if you need a quick breakdown on the characters so that it has some context please don't hesitate to ask!

(If it helps to have a VC analog to understand the ship dynamics I did talk about that once here LOL niche topic I'm passionate about)

[soulsxng]

5, 11, 20

@sansloii | Mun topics | Accepting!

5. Dash Commentary

I always think that dash comm can be a lot of fun, even though I'm slow, (because I always have too many things going on around me and get distracted lmao) and am usually behind in the commentary, personally. It's almost always over the silliest stuff too, and the dash just collectively loses its shit? Love it.

Usually I'll do like...one or two things for something like that, and then just jump into people's DMs in all caps laughing about it instead. I've gotten into a lot of really good interactions and threads with people from dash commentary stuff!

11. Magic anons

Ehhh? I don't really have much of an opinion on them. Personally, I don't care to reblog them-- I've had a lot of people in the go too far with certain ones, and just make it uncomfortable/weird/frustrating. Or I'm an airhead and forget about it the next day, because I reblogged them late in the day, went to sleep, and it was subsequently flung into the farthest reaches of my galaxy brain.

Still though, if I see other people doing them, it's fine? I usually won't send an m!a in, but I might send in an ask or something for someone that has one actively on a muse!

20. Violent threads

I love violent threads, but only with writing partners I'm more comfortable with? Mostly because it takes quite a bit of planning out, and discussing the abilities and such of our muses, sometimes going back and changing things a little bit when they get confusing or don't quite fit. They're complicated!

That's why I tend to prefer threads like that on d.iscord, either full on, or just vaguely going through important things that were said and done. Then, something I did on my old blog but haven't really done much of here yet, is I would write a drabble of it on here from my muse's pov. One during the fight, and then another smaller one for their thoughts, etc after it's all said and done.

Ah, another reason that it usually has to be with partners I'm more comfortable with, is because tbh a lot of my muses are old as balls. Not all of them are super powerful, but for those that are...yeah, I know it can get frustrating for people. When I'm more used to my writing partner, it's easier to be like "...Hey, so do you want to maybe pre-est something with another muse, so they can pop in to help out?" or "This fight has obviously been coming for a while, so assuming your muse has been trying to do some research, here are some weaknesses that they might be able to exploit", or whatever else. Pretty much, evening the playing field a little gets a lot easier when I know the muse and mun better!

Though that's not to say that if someone just wants their muse to get absolutely thrashed, that I'm not willing to do so, or vice versa! Those can be a lot of fun, too!

[extraordinarilyextreme]

ok so i started watching Reunion: The Sound of the Providence

i’ve been thinking about writing Guardian fics (fix-it fics because what the fuck) but there’s a lot of the plot/logic (namely the freaking Longevity Dial and the whole science of mixing light and dark energies) that i’m still trying to completely understand

anyway here’s an AU that i might never write because school will kick my butt:

-Shen Wei (Wu Xie, obv cuz Zhu Yilong) goes on all these tomb exploring adventures

-Da Qing i guess would be Zhang Qiling/Xiao Ge’s role cuz long-life/immortal or whatever

-ChuGuo will probably be there too cuz 1) they’re cute and 2) i wanna explore the relationship between Lao Chu and the Envoy [even if he’s not the Envoy in this life lol but their dynamic is kinda cool too]

-Ye Zun is a good guy but i wouldn’t have him appear until like a quarter way through because he’s a dramatic hoe... anyway he’d probably save his twin’s life at some point and gloat about it (even though he was actually worried out of his mind for his stupid brother)

-this tv series is about chasing thunder and the whole thing is about a thunder god... but the AU i suppose might be chasing earthquakes? about a mountain god? 

-this series also mentions a “spiritual tool/holy tool” that was “probably from a meteorite” if i’m not mistaken and HM doesn’t that sound like the Hallows of the Guardian drama

-but instead of something that allows people to understand thunder/understand the word of the Heavens, Shen Wei finds an old lantern...

-(the other random thing i noticed was that Wu Erbai pushes up his glasses with two fingers the same way Shen Wei does, which is definitely just a coincidence for the actors but i just thought it was cool if this habit came from his uncle)

-idk dude just the angst of Shen Wei running out of time... and maybe right after they save Zhao Yunlan from the lantern, three months has passed :’ )

-also Zhao Yunlan is immortal now because i said so (but also cuz drama canon that being exposed to the Hallows does things to you)

[themagical1sa]

oh now, holding this pain just like on the day I left you alone

the pain grows more every day endlessly before me, like deja vu

hi. my name is Isa Capi and I refuse to sleep once again lol my brain is so weird for wanting to be depressed on a rainy November night like tonight. in the Philippines. it’s the perfect kind of night to get cozy and sleep. if I didn’t want to sleep, I would have rather worked on some college assignments, but my brain doesn’t want to work either! what the heck 🧍 well, since my brain doesn’t want to sleep nor work and I don’t want to be depressed, I am now making a compromise by making something my brain and I can agree on: writing a vent-comfort drabble. this has happened before with my first Tagalog-written drabble and it worked well as a distraction from Being Mentally Ill™ lmao without further ado, here is the drabble.

⏳ WRITING START : 11-17-2022 ⌛ WRITING END : 11-28-2022

#️⃣ WORD COUNT : roughly 2.1k words

🏷️ TAGS : post-ISWM, Captaineer (The Captain/Head Engineer Mark), angst to comfort, holy shit veeery angsty now that I think about it, the Captain is Tired, we have Impostor Syndrome and it's Horrible, I am once again reiterating angst to comfort

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS AND HEADS-UP :

dabbles into what having a horrible and intrusive mental state feels like with impostor syndrome.

colored text (particularly colored red and blue) has been utilized for a visually immersive reading experience.

reader discretion is advised. in other words: read at your own risk.

“Good work today, everyone. You are all dismissed.”

You watch as everyone leaves the conference room, satisfied smile still enduring on your face. Once the last of the head officers and their assistants have left, you finally let yourself collapse slowly to the floor, barely leaning on the wall as you did so.

You’re tired.

You are so overwhelmingly tired — exhausted, even.

Then again, who wouldn’t be, after jumping through countless of lifetimes and endangering countless lives?

Who wouldn’t be beyond exhausted carrying unfathomable guilt while leading the first human colony outside of your own solar system and galaxy?

Good God, you didn’t think it would come to this.

You didn’t even think you’d even be here at all.

You curl into a ball from your previous sitting position, hugging your knees to yourself as you close your eyes.

How did you get here?

A lot of thoughts zoom by your mind as you sit there in the conference room, alone beside the door while contemplating your life decisions.

You were given this role of Captain because the world’s authorities thought of you worthy, but were they right to trust you with the Invincible?

Do they know about how much you had managed to screw up the multiverse?

How did you even get here?

Did you even deserve to be here?

You couldn’t trust your own mind at this point. Intrusive thoughts become louder by the second, making you hold your head as you shake it. “No, no, shut up,” you whisper to yourself. “I deserve to be here. I worked so hard and so well that I was entrusted here. They saw me fit. I deserve to be here.”

You reassure yourself, but your attempts feel futile as the intrusive voices in your head speak ever louder and more erratically. No, you don’t, they retort. You just faked your way into becoming Captain like the impostor you are. You’re a fail YOU FAILED!– failure and you’re undeserving of being Captain. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY? They should have put you down when they had the chance. You shouldn’t be here– who are you to be here?

You’re very aware of how it’s becoming worse — you should be having this breakdown in your room, in your personal space. You want to berate yourself for not having left the conference room earlier, but you decide against it as you try to get up, leaning on the wall for support before moving forward to the long table in the room. Your mental state has worsened your breathing, your once normal rhythm now quickened into panicked breaths. You try to take a deep breath before turning to the door–

“Captain?”

–where you see your Head Engineer, looking at you with worry clearly showing on his face.

“Mark,” You try to smile, but you’re self-aware of how it isn’t quite hiding your pain. “I was just about to leave. Did you forget something?”

Mark blinks as he looks around the empty conference room before worriedly looking back at you. “No, I– I was looking for you, Cap. Are you okay? How long have you been here?”

You softly (and yet, bitterly) chuckle at Mark’s response about finding you. You shake your head slowly as you say, “I’m fine, Mark. I haven’t been here too long. I was just about to leave.”

You mentally pick yourself up — it feels like carrying more than one dead body for you, and this is just you picking yourself up — and you try to make it seem like you’re not slowly staggering as you exit the conference room, but then you hear Mark say,

“I remember, Captain.”

You stop just at the doorway.

“…what do you mean you remember, Mark?”

You are now turned to him, seeing his face darken with trauma and regret.

“Everything,” Mark answers, his voice deep with remorse. “I– I remember how we kept jumping into universe from universe, and I– God, I thought it was you, but I– it was all me, Cap. It was me–”

“No,” you sternly interrupt him despite your current mental state. “It wasn’t just you. You may have built the Warp Core, but I was the one making rash decisions. I was the one who put everyone in the multiverse at risk. I put everyone on the line and I was the one who hurt everyone, including you.”

Mark is baffled with the way you’re owning up to what happened. “But you–”

“But I’m nothing!” You suddenly burst out, unable to stop the tears beginning to flow and stream down your face.

This takes Mark back, baffled and shocked as you unravel in front of him.

“I was the one entrusted with the lives of every single person on this ship,” You continue, “and that’s including you! Do you know how that feels, carrying that responsibility?! I was supposed to keep everyone safe, and I was supposed to make sure we all get through the journey unharmed, but I– but I–!”

You stop. You realize you’re unraveling.

You realize that you’re unraveling in front of your Head Engineer.

You realize that you’re unraveling in front of the only other person who knows about what happened.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this, not when you’re the same person who continuously looked for him; not when you were the one who persevered through lifetime to lifetime, hopeful that you could stop him from repeating his same mistake that destroyed the multiverse and trapped it into a destructive loop.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this.

He didn’t deserve to see you like this at all.

In fact, he shouldn't have to see you, his Captain, unraveling so messily like this.

You scoff; and then, you let out a bitter laugh.

“Ha… haha…” Your voice resounded, broken and unsure as your eyes darkened with your bitter smile. “I’m… I apologize for my outburst. That was… that was really unbecoming of me. I should go now.”

You turn to finally leave, but you feel a hand hold yours, halting your departure once more.

“Don’t…” Mark begins, trailing off. “Don’t go yet.”

You don’t move. You don’t even turn to look at him when you say, “Let me go.”

“No.” Your Head Engineer deadpanned, voice solid and stern. “I’m not letting you go.”

You turn your head a little, as if leaning to look. You don’t, however, as you refuse to see him.

“Let me go, Mark.”

“No. I’m here, Captain. I’m here, holding on to you, and I’m not letting you go.”

You suddenly remember when you held him back from the wormhole.

He was begging you to let him go, to let him fix what he thought was your mistake — but you knew how it was all him, and that even his older self knew he needed you to stop him. You spent lifetime after lifetime letting him slip through your hands until you finally, finally got ahold of him and never let him go.

It seems the tables have turned.

“Why…?” You weakly ask, voice barely above a whisper. “You know. You know how I put everyone in the multiverse at stake. I put everyone at stake and I treated it like a game. I was horrible for that and you know it.”

Mark could only shake his head, beyond baffled at what he was hearing from you. “What?! Captain, no! I don’t think of you that way, not anymore. Nobody thinks of you that way–”

“Well, I do!” You finally admit, turning so quickly to him that you feel a little dizzy. “I finally realize why you and Lady resented me so much, and– God, I didn’t see it, but I killed so many people– so many dead, and it was all because I thought we were just starting over!”

At this point, you’re sure you look much like a mess. Your hair is unruly from the way you held your head earlier, and your eyes are flowing with tears — tears that have long stained your cheeks and flowed until they drop to the floor. Snot is beginning to run down your nose. You’re sure you’re far from pretty and/or handsome.

You’re far from pretty and/or handsome.

Even so, Mark can’t help but love you more anyway.

“I thought…” You speak again, catching his attention once again. “I thought that… I thought if I find you, if I find you and hold on… I thought it would stop. And I was right– older you was right, even– and we restored the multiverse.”

Your eyes drop to the floor, closing them as you remember all those bodies — all those corpses — that came out of the wormhole for every time you died and/or jumped into another universe.

All those corpses.

All those lives.

All those people– dead because of you.

“We restored the multiverse, Mark,” you state to him, but your voice has become more broken as you hold back a sob before looking at him in the eyes.

“We restored it, Mark, but what did it cost? What did my foolishness cost?”

You couldn’t stand anymore — not when you’re already falling apart. You had half the mind to lean onto the wall before sliding down to the floor again. You don’t care about appearances anymore; it’s just you and your Head Engineer, anyway. You try to take deep breaths as haunted memories flash in your mind. You close your eyes and put your gloved hands over them as an attempt to stop seeing such flashbacks, but you can still see it all like a waking nightmare.

The fact that you can still remember almost clearly makes you whimper.

You don't feel it at first, but Mark had crouched to level with you, hands reaching to your shoulders. Before you know it, you find yourself in your Head Engineer's arms, wrapped in his warm embrace.

Mark hugging you feels very comforting — grounding, even. The voices in your head begin to die down, and the intrusive nightmarish distortion of your memories start to fade as your mind relaxes. Your breathing slows, and you find yourself leaning more to your Head Engineer as he carefully cradles and comforts you.

His voice is soft when he speaks.

“You know, Captain,” he begins somberly, “I'm really glad you held on to me.”

What he said makes you look at him with your tired, cried-out eyes.

“...what makes you say that?”

Mark sighs as he gently strokes your hair, closing his eyes as he thinks back to the loop. “Well, I was just making the same mistake after all,” he reasons out. “I remember catching wind of that.”

You remember when his older self realized it back in the diner, telling you that you had to stop his younger self. “Oh... you remember that, don't you?”

He chuckles bittersweetly. “Yeah, somewhat...”

You chuckle with him, subconsciously glad that you can recall the events of the wormhole without your mind twisting it maliciously.

“I kind of remember when I hoped that you'd stop me,” he admits, voice soft as he recalls the time. “I don't think I was consciously hoping, though... but that Warp Crystal always found you, didn't it?”

What he just said makes you think.

For every loop reset, you come back to a sabotaged ship. You recall when you do reach the door to the Warp Core Chamber and how the Warp Core was looking for a suitable host and how it always said suitable host located when it scans you.

“With that said, Captain,” Mark begins, taking you out of your reverie. “You're not as horrible as you think. In fact, I believe you really are the best of us, because you never gave up on your crew — you never gave up on me.”

Your Head Engineer gently takes your face by the chin, making you look him in the eyes as you sniff. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying, cheeks stained with all the tears that have been flowing. You're evidently vulnerable, and Mark takes it upon himself to take care of you for the time being.

“You never gave up on us, so don't give up on yourself, Cap,” he softly states, “because I believe in you just as much as you believed in me.”

You feel your heart ache and you cry even more — but now you gratefully smile.

“Mark, thank you,” you say, voice weak and cracked. “Really, thank you.”

He reflects your smile sincerely as he chuckles. “I should be thanking you, Captain. But yeah... you're welcome.”

The both of you stay there, cuddled up together on the floor as you steady yourself and your breaths. You lean onto your Head Engineer's shoulder as he cradles you, hugging you and holding your head. Your intrusive thoughts have all died down now, and all that's left in your headspace is a sense of comfort and contentment. You finally feel at peace with yourself.

Whatever had happened is all in the past now, and you've never been more glad that you experienced it all with him.

P.S. I really meant to utilize the colored text more specially to simulate the Captain's headspace post-ISWM. I like to think that post-ISWM, they build their new colony, they start having doubts about themself, which slowly and eventually leads to nightmarish distortions of their memories. It then develops into a horrible state of mind — hence the red and blue. You can say they're like… glitches. Errors, if you will. Oh, and you know how, in a distant place in the multiverse, we are part of an amalgamated being that glitches red and blue? How their red is often passionate rage, and their blue is often a calculated calm? Yeah.

Anyway, writing this helped me feel better, even if for a little bit. I've been feeling horrible about myself lately (hence this entire fic lmao) so it's nice to let it out somehow. This was cathartic. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading this.

The divider used in this is a cropped photo of steil egil liland's Blac Blue and Green.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

rate, from 1 to 10, weird Napoleonic ships that were on Ao3

I mean, what constitutes "weird"?

I am, after all, a purveyor of fine Galaxy Brained takes when it comes to pairings.

I suppose I will apply my not-at-all standardized or rigorous or consistent concept of "weird" with 1 being "whatevs/normal" and 10 being "we should marry because our brains are the same brains"

I am only taking non-real relationships. Like, no Napoleon/Josephine or Arthur/Kitty or whatever. Also no fictional things (so no Assassins Creed etc.)

Napoleon/Alexander I - 1. This is entry level Napoleonic shipping. People shipped it in 1806 and people ship it now. Weak in the weirdness category.

Napoleon/Duroc - I give this a 2 only because no one in 1806 was like "hmmm, let's make miniature portraits of them kissing". But it's also entry level. Not weak, though, because Duroc is tender and I love him. They're also a solid heart-break ship, but in a different way to Napoleon/Alexander

Jean-Baptiste Bessières/Jean Lannes - 5. Solid. They're marshals, it's going to be messy. It's going to be spicy. It's Bessieres, the man with the best nose and the biggest balls when it came to confronting Napoleon. And Jean "I call Napoleon a whore [affectionate] in public" Lannes. It's also a pairing I wouldn't have initially thought of, so points for originality.

William Pitt the Younger/William Wilberforce - 4. Not common, but that terrible Amazing Grave movie really set them up so it's less out of left field as one would think. Also Willy Pitt Jr. ran with a racy and wild crowd when young so I can see him making out with Wilberforce, drunk, at 5am and being like "it's fiiiiiine"

Napoleon Bonaparte/ Ludwig van Beethoven - FINNALLY some real meat on the bones! I give this a 9. This is a solid ship that I am now invested in, having thought about it for approximately ten seconds. Love it. Anyone who writes music for another person, only to have their heart shattered by that person, then just retitles it and is petty about it all - Glorious. Whoever over on AO3 that wrote some hard smut for these too, call me maybe?

Napoleon Bonaparte/Jean Lannes - another 1 to 2. Unoriginal. Everyone thinks of them after pondering Napoleonic pairings for more than ten minutes. Lannes was as clingy as Duroc but was feistier about it. Napoleon's heart shattered at both their deaths. Yes, yes, been there done that. Give me something weirder.

Napoleon Bonaparte/Arthur Wellesley - OBVIOUSLY I am here for this pairing. I give it only an 7 on the weird scale though because they are SUCH classic Enemies-to-Lovers that it's like...textbook. They might not have met in real life, but Arthur supposedly did save Napoleon's life on the battle field when that sniper had N in line of sight and asked for permission to shoot and A was like "we're generals fighting a battle, not assassins" or something along those lines. Also, BOY HOWDY have they met in my head. As always, any who ship them, ummmm look me up?

Alexander I/Metternich - GOOD. YES. This is a 10. This is a: hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahh I love it. Bonkers. What even! Galaxy Brain. I will say, I wouldn't read anything with them because Alexander annoys me on a personal level, but I fully respect this ship and those that are into it.

George IV/Female OC - eh a 3. Purely because Prinny is usually not sought after material, in terms of fiction, so respect for that. But it's straight and not buck-wild as a concept so 3.

Fouché/Talleyrand - OK SO YES. But the ONLY reason this isn't getting a 10 and only like a 9 is that I thought of this when I was fourteen and if fourteen year old me was like "those two old men fucked but in a hate-fuck way" then I feel like it's sort-of low hanging fruit? BUT. It's also fucking WILD because of the two men involved so hence the high rating. Fouche and Talleyrand would ROLE in their graves and this delights me.

I’ve revised my thoughts on the above - they’re a 10. It’s weird. They’re absolutely a 10 together. Eat it, Charles-Maurice. 

Napoleon Bonaparte / Sir Sidney Smith - giving this a solid 9 because of rare-pair reasons and like William Sidney Smith was a Piece of Work personality wise and so was Napoleon and the two of them just like...fucking on a boat is delightful. Also, as Napoleon's prisoner for that while in Paris, I feel like it can go to some weird dark places which pleases me. 

Alexander I/Caulaincourt - 10. THIS IS A 10. WHAT EVEN. Sorry Caulaincourt and anyone is like above a 5 by virtue of involving Caulaincourt. Bless him. Napoleon would be j-e-a-l-o-u-s and hahahah oh man. Ohhhh man. yeah. this is for sure a 10.

Berthier/Napoleon Bonaparte - Ooooh I think this is a sweet 7.5. Maybe an 8. But it's an 8 that can call me maybe?? the person who thought this up? Berthier out here defenestrating himself because of Napoleon. Heartbreaking. Berthier all overworked and under appreciated - my love for the civil service continues. Yeah. This is a little weird, a little unepxected, but I roll with it.

Talleyrand/Napoleon Bonaparte - ok so I can't decide if this is a 10 or an 8. Because as soon as I saw this pairing I was like "YES. this is it. This is Gold" but then I was like "wait, though, it makes a lot of sense. I can make this work" which lowers in the weirdness category. what even is weird. Regardless of whether you feel it is an 10 or an 8 in your soul, the person who came up with it can invade my brain and heart all they want. Gout and all.

Ok - there are endless pairings in the Napoleon RPF tag on AO3 and I've picked from the first two tabs. There were some I didn't include for various reasons (Bessieries/Duroc, par exemple) but I hope you enjoyed.

And if anyone wants to take a swing at Talleyrand/Napoleon or Beethoven/Napoleon or Fouché/Talleyrand, I'm *here* for you.

[labyrinth-runner]

If you are currently taking prompts could you please write me something along the lines of Padmé being overwhelmed by the twins and Obi-Wan being there for her? It would be greatly appreciated. signed, a tired parent

Okay. This is a little shorter than I would have liked, but I'm at school this week and I really wanted to finish this but this is all the squirrel brain could produce between classes.

Padmé was frazzled. When she had decided to raise the twins on Tatooine so that they would be closer to their aunt and uncle, she thought she was making the best choice. After all, no one would look for her on a desert planet when she was made for the temperate planets like Naboo. 

She was made for temperate planets like Naboo.

It was a harsh fact that bombarded her day in and day out. Her curly hair hated the humidity of Tatooine, and her skin hated the dry, rough sand even more. It was everywhere. It stuck to her clothes, was under her fingernails no matter how hard she scrubbed. No matter how many times she swept, it would still coat the floor of the hut that she shared with Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan.

He was the only person that made the drastic change of pace of her new life bearable. But, he still wasn't there all the time. No, he had to work to support the four of them. That left her alone with the two tornados that were her twins. When Luke wasn't crying, Leia was having a tantrum over not getting her way. She missed when they were newborns and looked at her as if she were the sun. Now, they looked at her as if she would burn them. She wouldn't. She loved the twins, but they drove her insane sometimes, always getting into trouble the moment she turned her back to do something for herself.

Padmé bounced on the balls of her feet, Luke strapped to her back, Leia cradled against her chest as she tried to soothe them to sleep. She paced the floor of their home, one might mistake her jaunty movements for dancing.

Dancing.

She missed dancing. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror and froze. Did she really look like that? Her hand gently reached up to trace down her jaw as she took in her appearance. Her hair was unruly. Dark circles framed her eyes. Her clothes were wrinkled and stained with leftovers from the twins' lunch. She cast a glance around the hut. It was a mess. Toys were strewn across the floor. Clothes were in piles. And the sand.

Padmé wanted to scream. This wasn't what her life was supposed to be like. She wasn't supposed to be alone on a speck of sand with two children. She wasn't prepared for this life. She was used to action and politics and not feeling idle. That was the worst part for her, feeling idle. She loved her children, but looking in that mirror, Padmé realized that she'd lost herself along the way.

"Who even am I?" she whispered to herself. It was those four words that held all the weight in the galaxy. It was those four words that made her wonder where her life had taken a wrong turn. It was those four words that broke her.

That was how Obi-Wan found her when he came home, standing still, children clutched to her while she and the twins cried in unison.

"Darling, Darling what is it?" he asked, pulling her into his chest. He placed a sweet kiss on her forehead.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she sobbed against his neck.

He sighed, stroking her hair as he held her. "Let me put the twins to bed and then we'll talk."

They weren't fussy for him. Something about his presence calmed them as he gently took them from their mother and coaxed them into sleep. Then, it was time for him to take care of their mother.

He took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom. She watched as he ran her a bath, gesturing for her to get into the warm soak when it reached a decent height.

She averted her gaze, fumbling with her clothes. She didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see him judge her for how she looked.

But he didn't judge her. He simply held his hand out for her to take as she lowered herself into the tub.

They were silent for a long while. Obi-Wan rolled up his sleeves and washed her hair, massaging her scalp as he washed the sand out of her brown locks.

"I know how you feel." He finally said. His words were soft as he rinsed out the soap. "I spent all my life being a Jedi, and now there's no order and I'm no longer a Jedi, not truly. But, with change comes new roles. I may not be a Jedi, but I'm now a father. I may have lost the Order, but I've gained a family." He gently tipped her face towards him. "I've become a husband."

"I know how to write a bill, and I know how to persuade people to join my side, but being a mother..." Padmé shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It's so much harder. They don't sleep. They're stubborn."

"If I recall, you rarely slept, and you are the most stubborn woman I know," he teased.

She shot him a look.

He held up his hands in defense. "All I'm saying is that you may not be a Senator, but you know all about dealing with unruly people. Mothers deal with unruly children. I'm sure you're doing much better than you think. The twins want for nothing. You feed them, dress them, bathe them. And of course you love them. There's no perfect mother, Padmé, but you have to take care of yourself before you take care of them."

Padmé leaned back in the tub. "I just used to be so much more."

"You are everything to this family. How much more is there to be?" He kissed her forehead. She leaned into him.

"What will they think when they learn that I was a beautiful, brave Senator and I gave that up to be a nobody that does nothing?" The water was getting cold. She pulled back, standing to wrap herself in the towel that Obi-Wan held up for her.

"They'll know that you are a beautiful, brave mother who sacrificed things that were near and dear to her for two people who have become nearer and dearer to her," he insisted. "Besides, you talk as if all of those days are behind you. The future is always in motion. When the twins are older, you won't be nearly as consumed with their care. You could always get back into things. The galaxy will always need people like you."

Padmé stepped back into their bedroom, her gaze softening on the two cribs in the corner. "I don't regret it. I just wish that they could grow up the way I wanted them to."

"I know, Darling." He rested a firm hand on her shoulder.

"They have everything they need, though," she admitted.

"Oh?"

"They've got love. They'l be just fine."

[justanotherghostwriter]

Fire in the Hearth

Author's note: It's another of my favourite days of the year! Happiest of birthdays, dear @marijayne-writing. I am so absolutely privileged to even know you, let alone be the constant recipient of your love, generosity, humour, kindness, time, compassion and galaxy brain skill. I hope that this next year treats you well! This is just one of two very, very small tokens of love to remind you I'm very glad that you're alive. Thanks to my twin, @lizanthium, for taking the time to beta this at crazy hours of the morning.

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“Like quiet evenings in the kitchens under Caldera, where the ministers and advisors and visiting nobles would never see them. 

Fire Lord Zuko’s advisors treated her with open distatain, their disapproval thick in the silence that stretched between The Last Southern Waterbender and the Fire Lord. But the Fire Lord’s kitchen staff didn’t mind Zuko or Katara as they sat side by side at a long counter, peeling potatoes or mangos or boiled eggs while the words tumbled out between them like water over the stones in a cool river bed.” — Marijayne, Ghosts Through the Smoke. 

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It wasn’t that Zuko wanted to be disobedient. After so many wrong choices in his life, now with the weight of the entire country over his (often aching) shoulders, Zuko very much wanted to be… well, good. Responsible. Merciful. Wise. Humble. He knew, with only a little bit of self-resentment, that he was none of those things by himself, and so he’d resolved to listen to the Sokka-dubbed Team Avatar, Uncle and the White Lotus as much as possible in order to attempt to tease apart a tangle that a hundred years of war had caused.

Zuko truly meant to take lessons from Sokka, with his intelligence and his eye for the bigger picture. And Aang, who was still so young but who often had solutions Zuko couldn’t even dream of hoping would be possible. And Katara, with her skill and compassion that blended beautifully into such strength; a torrential river that wound around some obstacles and cleaved through others, unyielding but soothing, life-bringing to all who interacted with her. 

(Even when they didn’t want life poured back into them. She wouldn’t give up. She never gave up without a fight, and he’d never understood the saying properly until she taught him other ways to fight that ended in her hands, chapped from long days of healing Fire Nation citizens, clenched as she silently took the scorn of Fire Nation nobles.)

It simply boiled down to the fact that Zuko’s plans very often didn’t work out the way that he planned them. And, as wise and well-meaning and probably right as his friends were, there were simply too few hours in a day for him to begin fixing the mistakes of his family and the seeds they had sown in people’s minds and hearts. (His own mistakes, too; as small as his life had been before being crowned, he’d still had an impact. And it was rarely positive, let alone useful). So when Sokka said, “Go to bed, for Tui’s sake, it’s late as moose lion balls and you look like shit.” or when Aang said, “It’ll be fine in the morning, Zuko, I know it! People can’t be that angry over this topic, for sure!” or when Toph said, “You’re going to be utterly toe-fluff useless if you fall asleep on them like you keep doing on me, Sparky.” or when Suki said, “Zuko, the Kyoshi Warriors are here to protect you. Even from yourself. Please eat this and stop being a pest, Jerkbender.” or when Katara looked at him with blue-ice-steel in her gaze and reminded him that he wasn’t yet fully healed, that he needed sleep, that she’d resurrect him only to kill him herself if he messed up all the hard work she’d put into healing him (and “Please, Zuko, I’m… worried about you”) Zuko understood what they were trying to do and say. He saw the reason and wisdom in their words. He just knew he could not adhere to what they were asking, because his destiny was to serve this country, and that would require sacrifice, especially at the beginning of the detangling. 

He made a show of going to bed early enough. But he trained himself to wake up after only a short cat-nap (okay; usually it was nightmares that woke him) and then he stealthily crept out his window and to his study, the essence of the Blue Spirit moving his limbs and sharpening his senses until even the expertly-trained Kyoshi Warriors didn’t see him go. They were growing suspicious of the way he was always exhausted in the morning, and the way that he was sometimes in pain (that he tried to hide, but Toph and Katara and Suki together were… more terrifying than Azula, in some ways) even before breakfast, but he hadn’t been caught yet and aimed to run with this utterly uncharacteristic luck until luck finally remembered who he was beneath the robes and the crown and the placid expression and dumped him as it had for his whole life. 

The night that, in hindsight, started many things was actually a very early morning about three weeks (nineteen days exactly) after Aang had defeated Ozai. Zuko had woken sluggish and sore already, a long day of walking around military bases and flying on Appa pulling at the lightning wound that he swore he sometimes still felt sparking deep within him. But he dressed simply, as usual, and crawled out his window, as usual, and returned to his mound of paperwork by one candle muted enough it would not easily be seen out the window or under the door, as usual. But he could not concentrate, even for the short spans he had taught himself to fit between bouts of fatigue or distraction from the tight ache across his shoulders and deep within his chest. 

Uncle was still the smartest person Zuko knew, and so he took Iroh’s imaginary advice and slipped quietly to the dark palace kitchen for some tea, sniffing out the almost-correct blend from memories he wished he didn’t have. (He’d once turned nauseous enough to almost throw up, fourteen years old and smelling that tea for the first time since he’d drunk gallons of the stuff for pain day in and day out, rocking sickeningly on his ship. He’d since gotten used to the smell and taste again, but it still brought ghosts as guests when all he wanted to do was drink alone.) Zuko brewed the tea, poured himself a cup and slumped, ungracefully, at a low bench in the kitchen, watching the dark hearth and (brooding) contemplating his life. 

He learned later that the head chef, Ryu, lived inside the palace because his wife was a captain of the palace guard. He learned later that Ryu was restless on the nights Akira was not in bed beside him, choosing to instead go to the kitchen to prep meals or spices in advance for the next few days while he had the time. What Zuko learned that exact night was that Head Chef Ryu bleat-bellowed like a goat rabbit when he was startled (and that he was not a Firebender, which was very good for Zuko and his aim to not get wounded again any time soon). 

In Zuko’s defence, he saw the man coming in, humming, and had expected to be caught at once by the man’s faint lantern light. He had, however, been completely passed by, which put Zuko in that awkward position of trying to catch the man’s attention without startling him. Eventually, Zuko did the very eloquent delivery that consisted solely of, “Um…” hoping that it would ease the man into knowing he was not alone. 

He got the bleat-bellow instead. And Ryu turning around brandishing a kitchen knife. 

“Sorry,” Zuko said, raising both hands, sheepishly. 

Ryu dropped the knife. And then followed it to the ground at once. “Firelord Zuko. I… I’m so… Apologise… I…” 

“Oh, no, no, rise. Please. I just… I wanted… tea.” 

It took quite a while for them to talk circles around each other and come to the joint understanding that Zuko wasn’t there for any malicious purpose and could stay and not be in Ryu’s way. It was uncomfortable, at first, because Ryu was hyper-vigilant around Zuko (and Zuko was awkwardly vigilant around Ryu) but they slowly relaxed around each other. The third early morning Zuko escaped to the kitchen for solace, he found red-bean buns neatly covered by a cloth with his name on it, and he didn’t tear up as he ate them (the first thing since yesterday’s breakfast, he realised as his taste buds exploded) but it was a close thing. The early morning visits turned into late night visits turned into escape-no-matter-the-time-of-day visits, and the entire kitchen staff got used to his presence faster than his sheepish embarrassment burned out of him. 

(Some months later, it came to Zuko’s attention that Ryu had gotten one kitchen maid relocated because she was telling people — just her family, but still — that Zuko routinely came to slump in a corner of the kitchen in which they’d made a crate throne for him when his real throne felt too much. They’d found her someplace else to be, but the consensus of the entire kitchen was that she didn’t belong there if she couldn’t understand the most important things.) 

Mimi, he found out quickly enough, was the one to be most worried about: her deviousness was on par with Toph’s. She once asked him to peel and slice a papaya and then taste a slice from every side of the fruit to make sure it hadn’t gone sour, and Zuko was mostly done with the papaya before he realised that they didn’t need papaya for anything they were preparing that day. Mimi was also the one who ran, apron thrown over her shoulder, to fetch Master Katara, who had just arrived back in the Fire Nation after a month-long absence (thirty-two days. Zuko had felt every one of them even though he’d been fully supportive of her, and all his friends, leaving him (alone) to go and impact the world in the ways that they could). Mimi towed Master Katara into the kitchen with her lips firmly pressed into a line, and Zuko had been startled enough by Master Katara’s sudden appearance that he’d forgotten he was dizzy, feverish and lightheaded and had leapt to his feet. 

Some people caught him, luckily, and the familiar glow of Mater Katara’s healing water was the first thing that registered when the world returned to him. She chewed him out, of course, and he took it, because he’d missed her. And then he snapped back, because he’d missed her and because things were not as simple as she made them out to be. And her response was, of course, “Well then explain it to me, you… you… you…” followed by a word in Water Tongue that he didn’t know but could very definitely guess at.

While Ryu walking in on him having tea in the kitchen had started everything, that moment was what started Just Zuko and Just Katara in the Fire Nation palace kitchens. In front of the cooking fire that first night, he told her how difficult things really were, knowing that the words were safe among the (exaggeratedly loud) clanging of pots and pans and banging of chopping knives. There in the kitchen it didn’t matter that his advisors distrusted and disliked her. There in the kitchen, she set a rule that they could only talk about “work” for a short amount of their visit; just enough that their titles could thaw from around their throats and lips and spines so that they were free to sit relaxed and talk softly and find laughter. There in the kitchen he learned she hated papaya and skinned mangoes the wrong way around and laughed at jokes with innuendos in them, but only behind her hand. There in the kitchen he taught her more Fire Tongue, not just the harsh directives and curses she knew best, and she taught him to sing songs she’d last heard from her grandmother’s lips (but only ever in the dark of night when they were truly alone, the promises of “we’ll clean that tomorrow” their only witnesses). 

There in the kitchen, Zuko fell in love, just a teenager who watched a beautiful young woman in her element, balancing the care of cooking for others and the strong strokes of a warrior wielding a knife by her own choice; a hopeful-man who wanted to be able to stand by her side as she navigated the world. He’d thought he knew all of her in those quiet and those raucous hours, and then he stepped into the world with another mask in place (this one also literal, for once) and met the legend so many had been talking about. It didn’t take him long to recognise the Painted Lady; his soul had grown used to the rhythm of hers. Sometimes, he longed for the quiet moments in the kitchen where neither of them had to fix a world that often didn’t want fixing. If only they’d been born to different destinies. 

But then… but then, a simple destiny could never contain a heart like hers. And he could never be content only trying to change things through legislation and talk. And so he came to her as a stranger, learning to be content with giving his services and his being to her when she didn’t know who he was, remembering never to offer her papaya on the nights they watched over the world together from rooftops. There was no fire in the hearth, there, but he was still warm in the ways that counted. Free in the ways that counted. Tethered in all the ways that counted. And, as they always did, they learned afresh how to communicate. And how to fall in love. 

[reidyoulikeabook]

48 from touch prompt list and 75 from prompt list 5 🥺🥺🥺 im so proud of you love such an amazing achievement i love you

-efirstly i love you thank you so much 🥺 secondly the PERFECT two prompts together you have a galaxy brain and i can truly not thank you enough for this!!

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol consumption & brief olden-time being married young talk.

Prompts: #48 - Dancing with each other & #75 Talking in an Elizabethan style to woo somebody

A/N: I listened to the ‘So Close’ song from the Enchanted soundtrack the entire time I was writing this so...put that on if you want!

A reminder I’m taking prompts for my 1k celebration until May 21st! :)

If Penelope Garcia loved two things in this world - Derek and science fiction aside - it was costumes and parties. So it made sense that for her birthday, she’d decreed she’d be throwing an Elizabethan-style ball. And that everybody had to dress up accordingly. Derek, always eager to put a smile on her face, had offered to throw it at one of his houses.

So it was there that you were headed, on this glorious Saturday night. In a not-so-glorious and infact, quite heavy, Elizabethan era gown. It was a good job you’d elected to take an Uber, because quite frankly the dress weighed a ton. It would have been impossible to drive in.

Good job they didn’t have cars back in the Elizabethan era.

Not that women would have been allowed to drive them anyway.

You’re only a little late when you arrive. Fashionably late, you’d go so far as to say.

“____!” Penelope greets with a squeal, rushing out to embrace you into a hug. You don’t even make it all the way through the door before she’s on you with a flurry.

If you thought your dress was a lot, you have to hand it to the birthday girl. She could never be upstaged. How her gown actually fit inside the house was a mystery, it was huge - puffy with a corset that cinched her in tightly at the waist. Her hair was coiffed into perfect curls. She looked stunning; like she’d stepped right out of a painting.

“You look amazing!” You tell her, squeezing her tightly.

“So do you! I’m so glad you took the theme seriously!”

“I take all themes seriously when it’s you threatening me about them.”

She laughs. “Well Derek did too. And Spencer, the others...” She frowns, “Well, I’d like to say they tried, but Rossi definitely didn’t. He did, however, pay for a gazebo and a live band so I’m willing to let it slide.”

You smile, allowing her to take you inside. She babbles some more on her way in about all the decorations, food, and how next time she’s going to make everybody send her pictures of their outfits beforehand.

She’s right about the gazebo though - it’s beautiful. It has elegant fairylights adorning it, illuminating the place in a candescent glow. The live band is an instrumental one - there’s even a fiddle.

Where the hell did Dave find a fiddle?

He’s rich.

That has to be the satisfactory answer for now. There are far more pressing matters at hand: like everybody’s costumes.

Horch is wearing some fancy suit, Emily has one that’s similar, Rossi clearly is just dressed in his normal attire. J.J appears to have picked one up from a fancy dress shop, but if anyone could make that look good, it’s her. Derek looks an absolute dream - clearly dressed by Penelope. It’s Spencer though, unsurprisingly, who has gone all out. He has a miniature version of one of those puffy collars on, his suit a gorgeous maroon colour. He even has white tights on, with the boots that matched. If there were prizes for best costume - which knowing Penelope, there might well be - she’d be up against some fierce competition.

“Spence!” You chime, opening your arms to greet him, “I love your costume!”

“I love yours too!” He beams, hugging you tightly, “The skirt of your dress is very fitting to the period.”

“Thank you!” You say, reluctantly letting go of him to greet everybody else in turn.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off him though, and everybody knows it. You and Spencer had been dancing around each other for months, the epitome of the will-they-won’t-they, and you can’t help but hope that tonight you might finally cross that threshold.

It’s Penelope’s birthday.

Who are you kidding? Penelope would be ecstatic to claim credit.

***

You’re giddy, not just with the glass of wine in your system. With happiness, the exuberant kind that comes from watching all your friends exist among one another. It doesn’t hurt that Spencer barely leaves your side the entire night. He’s a veritable treasure trove of Elizabethan era facts. You’ve learnt more than any history class could possibly teach you.

A slow song comes on, which is when you decide to seize your opportunity.

Now or never.

You bump your shoulder against his. When you have his attention, you nod towards the dance floor, “Come and dance with me.”

He furrows his brows, clearly weighing up his options in his head.

You affect an Elizabethan lilt, “Thou art going to leave me alone at the ball, fair Lord Reid?”

“I could hardly dream of it,” He says, imitating you, “Would thou care to dance with me?”

He offers out his hand. You take it, noting how he gets the barest blush on his cheeks.

“Thou had me practically petrified, I thought you may never ask,” You tease, accepting his hand, squeezing it once for reassurance.

He laughs, nose crinkling. He rests his hand on your hip hesitantly, only solidifying his grip when you rest yours on his bicep. His other comes to rest on the other side, just above where your dress puffs out. The song playing sounds vaguely familiar, although it’s harder to place with it being an instrumental version.

You lean into him, side-stepping in time with him. He’s not a dancer by nature, that much is clear, but he is surprisingly good at leading.

It’s easy to let him guide you around the dance floor. You stutter a bit, almost tripping. His grip on your hip tightens.

“Be careful fair maiden,” He reprimands teasingly, “Thou wouldn’t want to fall.”

“Thou wouldn’t want to be seen with a maiden who has made a royal fool of herself.”

He shakes his head, “I could hardly bare it.”

“I do not know how you can bare to be seen with me regardless. I’m practically a haggard spinster,” You say, with a dramatic sigh.

He twirls you around, voice slipping back into his normal tone, “Actually it was mainly women from wealthy families who would marry young, from age 12. With poorer or middle class families it was most common for women to be in their mid-twenties by the time they got married, the average age was about 24.”

“Still younger than me,” You retort, stepping in time with him. You’re pressed up against his chest now.

His breath fans over your cheek, from the way he’s bent, from the way you’re leaning in to him. His big hand spans over your back, holding you close to him as he steps to the right.

“Well,” He says, affecting the English accent, “Thou art a lady of the highest stature. A commoner could not possibly hope to marry one such as yourself.”

You giggle, “Oh fair Lord Reid. Whenst will I possibly find a husband?”

With surprising ease, he dips you, allowing you to fall gracefully into his arms. He’s study, supportive. Before you know it, you’re back on your feet.

“Thou might be looking in the wrong places.”

“Pray tell, wherest would one suggest a lady like me ought to look?”

“Perhaps closer to ones home,” He says, English accent - if you could call it that - slipping a little, favouring sincerity.

“How much closer?”

His hands return to your waist, and yours to his chest. There’s only an inch between your bodies. He looks down at you with sincerity brimming in his eyes, “Perhaps a little closer.”

Your hand trails up to his chin. It dips at the mere weight of your thumb resting on it, “Gallant Lord Reid, perhaps this close?”

“Perhaps,” He swallows, voice morphing into the accent again, as if he’s afraid to be vulnerable, “Thou art a maiden, thou art to be courted before marriage.”

“And where would one court a fair maiden like me?”

“Where would the fair maiden like to go?”

“Wherever, as long as you’re the one taking her.”

He swallows. His eyes scan your face, watching how you deliberately look to his plump lips. He hesitates for only a moment longer, before leaning in and planting the most delicate kiss upon them.

If it wasn’t for the elated drunken giggles of everyone else around you, you’d have been lost in the bubble of a moment forever. It’s okay though, because at your wedding, Penelope is sure to tell the tale of the Elizabethan ball where you - the fair maiden - finally got together with your perfect Lord. You have to admit, it’s a good one.

Permanent Spencer tagslist: @ssa-m-187 @reidingmelodies @cyanide-mustard @shesalatesh @sapphic-prentiss @geostarr @kathrynisadogperson @rem-ariiana @spoonielivingfree @starsandshit90 @spencerreidat3am  @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician @calm-and-doctor @ssa-m-187  @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @purplewaterbottles082 @reidsnose  @wheelsup @ellesgreenaway @sunlitspence @spencerreid9 @drspencerreidd @reiding-recs @bauemily @cmily @retrxbarnes @jhillio @txmhoelland @spenxerslut @im-autistic-not-stupid @amoeebaa @veridianluv @sad-bitch-h0ur @nighttimerain123 @ytj2304 @reidtome @converse-spence @randomfavtingswall @bethc54 @hubbybowenss @sebstan-is-the-man @justanothercrazyfangirl @eli-side-blog @vntgreid @reidmeastory @reidemandweep @ggublerss @s1lverhand @cigarette-day-dread @newtmyheart @i-understood-that-reference @willowrose99 @v-is-obsessive

(message me to be removed - visit my taglist form to join!)

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[grogusmum]

In Which, Dad and Me Have Ice Cream For The First Time and Survive Brain Freeze.

A Galaxy Far Far Away Short, As told by Grogu Djarin

NOTE: Feeling silly this morning! So I thought I'd try writing a little something from Grogus point of view. This is part of the A Galaxy Far Far Away AU. (Quick and probably a bit messy in the edit department)

WARNINGS: all about eating

🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦🍨🍦

I love food.

When Dad and me came to Earth, I had no idea how great the eating would be.

I like lots of things about Earth so far, it smells good in the woods and at your house. And there are so many fluffy friends, some of them let me eat their eggs. They don't mind at all!! Tabitha and Willow sleep with me and keep me very warm, but sometimes their tails and whiskers tickle my nose. I want to ride Seamus like a Blurrg, but we haven't discussed it yet. You are nice and shine with a purplie-pinkish aura. And you talk a lot, and then say sorry about talking a lot, but it's okay! Dad's yellow and gold aura glows extra bright sometimes when you do this. You also sing and make me and Dad feel good and warm. Best of all, you make lots of yummy food!

Anyways, right after my nap... that I didn't really need that much, but you tricked me to sleep by rocking me and singing that pretty song about rainbows... you and Dad came into the room to get me. You had a big smile, your eyes were happy, and said we were all going to have ice cream, and that it is the most yummy thing in the universe. Well, I figured you had obviously not eaten frogs yet so...

Dad and your energies was kind of big at that moment, they bounced off of each other like the two wanted to mix but as soon as they touched, they would pull back, like little shocks... I know what shocks feel like because Dad thought I was an electrical engineer once.

ANYWAYS, I sat in my seat, which is great, I get to be right up to the table like the big people. I tucked Long Ears next to me in my seat. You call her Rabbit, but she told me her name is really Long Ears...

You went over to the cooler that has lots and lots of food and opened one of the doors and pulled out a container. And said there were lots of flavors and ways to eat ice cream, but we'd start simple.

You took three bowls down from a shelf then opened a drawer to pull out three spoons and one big one.

I couldn't help getting excited, you had been so scared earlier today, but you seemed so much happier now. Ice creams must really be good!

I watched carefully as you scooped the white stuff with brown swirls, using the big round spoon. You filled each bowl, the ice cream looked like little balls. You told us that it is very cold, "so go slow".

You put the bowl and spoon in front of me and handed one to Dad, so he could take off his helmet in the other room. I wish we could all eat together. Then you sat with me at the table, watching.

You smiled and told me to try it. I picked up my spoon and scooped up a little and tasted it. It was so creamy and sweet and definitely cold. I could hear dad making quiet yummy sounds too, these ears aren't just for looks, you know! And, as usual, Dad maked an understatement.

"It's- this is very good."

I shake my head at that guy sometimes! And as usual I needed to clarify that it was more than very good and started telling everyone so, but you know, language barrier. So I waved my spoon and couldn't help but laugh, because it is so so yummy! I could hear dad laugh, so I knew he was getting me. You laughed too, and said you knew we'd love it. You were right, I do !!!

But that is when I forgot your warning! I couldn't help digging in for my next bite...

The same thing must have happened to dad because we both cried out. It was a sharp pain in my forehead! Why would food do this to me?

You made both a sorry face and I might laugh face! Ma'am, this is serious! Food is hurting me!

You told us it is brain freeze. And APPARENTLY, it happens when you eat ice cream too fast. Then you said to put our thumbs on the roof of our mouths- quick! and you said sorry.

I put my thumb in my mouth like you said, pressed it to the roof. It worked. You then stroked my ear. Which is nice. And you asked if it felt better. Which it did.

Dad did a chuckle and said you did warned us, which is true. I nodded! I want to try all the other ways to eat it but I will never ever forget to go slow with ice cream again... 

ALL

@its--fandom--darling @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @jessie-writes-things​ @pedro4ever​ @oloreaa

AGFFA

@darthmama1618 @artemiswastaken @persie33​ @yourneighborhooddisaster​ @janebby @terecord

[socktron]

some shiro headcanons

since it's his birthday i thought I'd write some up for the space dad 💖🌈🌸💞

• shiro flat out refuses to celebrate his birthday on the 28th of february when it isnt a leap year because he feels like its cheating and will only celebrate on the first of march

• lance: does it ever hit you that you're almost twenty and you think... god... im old

• hunk: oh yeah all the time

• shiro, a 25 year old:

• shiro is kind of embarrassed on the days leading up to his birthday because he is That Person, but the gang still want to do smt for him so they decide to throw him a party

• as it turns out, throwing a surprise party on a ship where you're the only seven people is pretty hard

• allura, sticking paper man trains that hunk helped her make to the walls and covered in paint and glitter:

• shiro:

• allura: this is an ancient tradition for altean royalty and is something to be taken very seriously

• everyone expects keith to know what they need for shiro, and he does for the most part, but it turns out that lance knows quite a bit himself.

• hunk: does anybody even know what kind of cake shiro likes?

• lance: chocolate sponge with chocolate icing. he also really likes it when they have rainbow sprinkles and those tiny silver balls, but i dont really know how we could find them-

• hunk: how do you know this

• lance, sweating, thinking about his crush on shiro when he was fifteen and that he stalked him online regularly: uh. he told me.

• pidge is so bad at keeping the party a secret. they barely get any sleep and are therefore prone to being a blabber mouth. keith resorts to knocking cups off the counter as a distraction

• he actually really likes popular pop music!!! his brain is secretely that of a teenage girls and lance swears hes heard him humming nikki minaj in the shower before. he denies it to this day (he absolutely was)

• pidge, who purposely messes up shiros age just to piss him off: you dont look a day over 32 shiro!

• shiro: thanks pidge. five laps around the training room :)

• keith is absolutely the worst at trying to hide the birthday party. he cant lie to save his life and lying to shiro?? impossible

• shiro, knowing full well keith cant lie to him: so keith, where has everyone been recently? i wanted to catch up on some training but everyones been missing

• keith, panicking: dead

• for someone so smart,, shiro is shockingly oblivious. the rest of the castle have nearly revealed what they've been doing several times but shiro is on two hours of sleep and unable to comprehend what he assumes are their regular dumb antics

• back when he was on earth shiro never did anything extravagant, he only ever had dinner with his parents or stayed in bed with adam, and they would watch shitty reality tv show with a bottle of wine

• younger shiro: hey adam... do you think that i actually have delayed aging because im born on a leap year. will i live forever

• adam: takashi go to bed

• keith has given him little presents before and he has teared up,, he kept them all on the shelf on full view and constantly pointed them out for the next month much to Keith's embarrassment

• the party is space themed!! they managed go find some glow in the dark stars from an earth store and set up a hologram to show the galaxy and hunk made one of those cool galaxy mirror cakes. lance gets him a face mask kit and demands they have a makeover, whilst keith carries on his little tradition of giving shiro small trinkets he thought reminded him of him

• shiro is genuinely touched and didn't at all expect this. with everything that happened with the galra he forgot about his birthday and almost starts to cry

• shiro, during his birthday party with two hats on his head: everyone knows the more hats you wear, the more valid you are

• keith: you look stupid

• shiro, already putting on a third one: you're just jealous you didnt think of this first

• keith under his breath: dammit how did he know

• they all have a huge movie night with a bunch of earth dvds they managed to scrounge up from the space mall. hunk and pidge somehow make a working dvd player for them all to use

• hunk: ok shiro, since it's your birthday you can choose what we watch!

• shiro, already pulling out a dvd: have you guys watched naruto

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[clearsuitcasecookienerd]

See You in the Stars (part 1)

hey y’all... so I did a thing... I wrote out one of my brain’s fic babies and here we are. a huge thanks to @lumosinlove for bringing these wonderful characters to life. and a huge thank you to everyone that encouraged me and helped me write this. y’all are truly the best <3 and yes, this is a multipart fic so be on the look out for more :)

Kasey loved to just stare at the moon and stars. He always had, for as long as he could remember. It was grounding. As grounding as having a mini existential crisis about how small and insignificant you really are can be. Staring at the moon and thinking about how a small hunk of rock that is gravitationally connected to the giant hunk of rock you’re living on can influence things like the ocean, it’s wild. It makes all your problems feel just a little bit more insignificant. The way space just expands and expands for literal light years and is full of stars and burning balls of gas and massive hunks of rock and the way there has to be life out there somewhere, because we really can’t be all that special. Space made his problems feel just insignificant enough where he could manage them. And space was always just outside the window. Except for where its day time, but the phenomenon that is clouds and the sun, that is another topic in and of itself. 

As a kid, Kasey would get in trouble for staying up past his bed to look through his telescope up at the stars and moon. He didn’t understand why he was getting in trouble, he was still lying in his bed after all. When just lying in bed wasn’t helping him fall asleep, Kasey had begun to look out the window. Through his window he could see the stars and sometimes the moon. Over time he began to bring home books on the stars and the moon in addition to his hockey books from the library. At night, when everything got too quiet except for his thoughts, Kasey would stare at the stars and the moon and think about how maybe the thoughts running through his head that wouldn’t shut up maybe weren’t that important. Because they sure didn’t affect the moon, or the stars or any of the other thousands of galaxies in the sky. So if a burning ball of gas could have giant rocks circle around it hundreds of light years away then maybe he could pass the upcoming math test, or get his reaction time faster. And maybe it didn’t matter if he let in the goal that lost his team their last game against their rival. Because if it didn’t change the universe was it really that big of an issue?

So a couple months in to playing for the Rangers when Kasey found out Alex O’Hara had a similar fascination with space, grabbing take out and driving to a spot where they could lie on the ground and just stare into the sky after a long practice, or something equally as draining, became second nature. When Kasey had a rough game in goal or Alex was frustrated, all it took was one small jerk of the head to the side to let the other know that time with the sky was needed. 

It was when they were lying in their spot, staring at the stars, when Kasey knew he had to tell Alex. They had called him this afternoon, “Hey Winter, we’ve got some news for you.” Calls during trade season weren’t rare, but Kasey had hoped that maybe he would escape this season without one. But sure enough, here he was, lying in the grass, staring at the sky and trying to figure out how he was supposed to tell the teammate that had quickly become his best friend, that this was probably one of the last times they’d be able to do this. 

After he had hung up the phone, Kasey had slid down the wall he had been leaning against for support. He was leaving. He was packing his bags and headed for Gryffindor. Sure the Lions were a decent team, they had that rookie Black that was really promising, but they didn’t have everything. They didn’t have the family he had created with the Rangers and they didn’t have Alex. Alex who he had quickly grown close with and who knew there was someone under the goalie face that everyone said he was so good at. Alex, he’d have to let him know. Maybe under the stars, where everything just feels so insignificant. Where maybe moving away from everything he knew will feel just a little bit less meaningful.

A simple “stare at the stars tonight?” text and a couple hours later, Kasey still didn’t know how to explain the call he had received.

Alex had been talking about something for a while. Kasey hadn’t meant to stop listening but honestly all he could think about was Gryffindor and what the move would mean. Would he and Alex stay friends, stay in contact? Growing up, most kids didn’t understand what it was like to be so devoted to something the way Kasey was to hockey. But Alex, Alex understood and he understood the pressure to do well and perform.

Alex remembered those nights with Kasey under the stars. When Kasey Winter, the Rangers goalie, would take off his mask and become Kasey, someone Alex had fallen in love with. Lying under the stars and staring at the twinkling lights and the glowing moon, Alex met the man under the mask. But the first time he had stared at the sky with Kasey, Alex had lied. Well not completely. 

Alex’s car had overheated on the way to practice that night and as he had pulled off the road and called the mechanic, Alex realized he would have to catch a ride home with one of the guys that night. After practice, he had gotten lucky and the team decided to grab dinner together at the local sub shop. When Kasey offered up a spot in his car for carpooling to dinner, Alex tried his best to nonchalantly take him up on it. 

Alex loved the sub shop, he truly did, and so when he had realized he’d eaten too much it was already too late. Standing up, with what felt like a stomach the size of Texas, he had never been more glad he had chosen to wear sweats home from practice. As the hockey players began to move the tables they had shoved together back to their original locations, Alex had taken a deep breath and asked the question that would solve the problem he had been trying to figure out all night.

“Hey Winter,” Kasey turned around and gave him a half smile.

“What’s up, Hazard”

Scratching the back of his neck, Alex had completely stumbled over his words “So my car broke down on the way to practice and I called the mechanic and he towed it back to his place but he said he didn’t have a rental on him-” when he had looked up, Alex saw a subdued yet amused expression on Kasey’s face.

“Do you need a ride O’Hara?” Kasey had asked, trying to help the man out of his misery.

“Honestly that would be great if you don't mind,” Alex had said, “my apartments on your way home.”

Kasey had cracked a half smile and turned, swinging his keys on his finger and throwing a, let's go then, over his shoulder.

It wasn’t that Kasey was a bad driver, he was actually half decent. He stopped at stop signs for a full 3 seconds and he had stopped to let a squirrel cross the road. But after countless subs, Alex’s stomach wasn’t feeling too hot. As the shoulder of the road widened, Alex had seen his chance.

“Hey Winter, can you pull over for a second up there? I think I need a breather.”

As soon as Kasey had stopped the car, Alex hopped out, gulping down mouthfuls of the fresh air and staring at the still horizon while bent over with his hands on his knees. He hadn’t even noticed Kasey get out of the car and lean up against the passenger side until his nausea had subsided and he stood up. Kasey had been staring up at the sky. Glancing up, Alex noticed the stars were out and the moon was bright. Alex had simply said he thought the sky was pretty cool and it made him feel like a small little guy on a floating rock in the middle of an expansive stretch of space. And while he wasn’t completely lying, and he did feel pretty small, it wasn’t until he saw Kasey’s eyes light up out of the corner of his eye that he truly found the sky to be pretty cool. That night a bond had formed between the two hockey players. What Alex had thought was just a random comment he made after hoping he wasn’t going to lose his supper, was something that Kasey had been thinking about for years. It was something that grounded Kasey. And to have someone else think that… well Kasey felt slightly less alone on the big rock that exists in a wide expanse of space surrounded by balls of burning gas and other chunks of rock. And maybe feeling a little less alone could be a good thing.

It had started slowly, when the team would get together for dinner Alex would make a point of asking Kasey for a ride. And if they drove by a nice area, if Alex asked Kasey to pull over, Kasey wouldn’t question it. It took a couple nudges but once Alex heard Kasey talk about how staring at the stars caused everything in his life to seem just a bit smaller, Alex knew he was going to have to schedule star staring into his calendar more often. 

Telling Alex had been hard. How do you say, I got traded and I leave for Gryffindor in 2 days. Well maybe just like that but that seemed too big. Staring off into the stars hundreds of millions of miles away it seemed easier.

“-and so then he shakes his head and tries to tell me-”

“That star over there is Sirius. It’s the brightest star in the sky.” Kasey interrupted Alex seemingly out of nowhere.

“Oh that's cool, isn’t it a part of that dog constellation?” Alex had known what was happening. 

Kasey did this when he had something important to say that he wanted to seem a bit less meaningful when you are staring at the stars and realizing how insignificant your existence was. Or at least that's how he put it the one time Alex asked. Kasey would bring up a random star fact Alex knew he had memorized as a kid and Alex would play stupid and ask about it until Kasey was ready to talk about what was really on his mind.

“Sirius Black… that rookie, he’s going to be my new captain” Kasey had trailed off.

Alex had stared at the stars in shock, letting this settle in, “Oh?” he questioned.

“I got traded to Gryffindor.” Kasey had said in what Alex had coined his goalie voice. A stoney voice to match the stoney goalie face. “I leave in two days.”

“Well then,” Alex replied, “I’m glad we got to do this tonight.”

After they had stared into the vast night sky that Alex had begun to appreciate as much as Kasey did, Alex had finally broken the silence. 

“You know, they have stars and a moon in Gryffindor too.” He had said matter of factly.

Kasey scoffed and raised his eyebrows as he had glanced over to look at his best friend, “No really? I wasn’t aware of that.”

Alex sighed and had looked over, “I just meant that even if you’re there… maybe we can still do this when you’re not busy. We can just lay down and stare at the stars and remember how meaningless we are together.”

That had made Kasey smile. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that while Alex hadn’t originally shared his fascination with the sky, they did share an interest in spending time together and clearing their heads.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Kasey chuckled following the first smile Alex had seen of the night.

“I don’t know Winter, why don’t you use that smart head of yours and think us up a plan,” Alex replied with a roll of his eyes. 

“What if…” Alex had responded, with his voice progressively getting softer, “whenever you look at the stars, you remember that you and I, two tiny specks of nothingness, are looking at the same sky and if we can see those flaming balls of gas so many miles away then we must not actually be that far apart.”

“Yeah, that’s nice.” Kasey responded just as quietly. “I’m going to miss you Posie.”

Alex had smiled lightly, “I’m going to miss you too, but you’ll be up there.” He said as he had gestured up to the sky. “I’ll see you in the stars Bear, always.”

And as they lay there in the silence that followed, maybe, just maybe, Alex had meant what he said a little bit more than how he would to any other friend. But also maybe Kasey needed to hear it, to hear that he wasn’t as alone as he thought, after years of feeling insignificant on a floating rock. On a rock where nothing you did really mattered in the scheme of things, where nothing really mattered because you were so small. Where it didn’t matter that Alex was slowly falling deeper and deeper in love with his best friend. Or where it didn’t matter that Kasey was leaving the one person that made him feel grounded in a world that constantly made him question his relevance His relevance on a giant rock that spun around a ball of flaming gas that existed in an endless galaxy of other balls of burning gas and giant rocks where there were likely other people whose lives weren’t relevant in retrospect either.