#if it is to be assumed (i confidently did anyway) that these drawn from existing models

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[taldigi]

If Sabrina does get added to fashion club, I'm curious to see where she falls on hero-villain spectrum. Personally, I could see two options for her. First is she's like Claude, still "evil" (though she more so just a bitch) but the whole ending the world and nullification/ erasing all emotion thing is way too far for (especially when she see what it did to Amber). The second idea is that she's like Orochi in Fav & Mad, someone to pure acts on her whims and desires and it's those whims and desires that dictate in what circumstances she's either a ally or foe to the heroes.

So, we have two designs for "precanon sabrina."

We have "Sabrina Ratif" The bible describes her as a "rule stickler" and she seems to have access to a "class call" notebook. She definitely has a "teacher's pet" energy about her. She is also described as a chatterbox- talking nonsense in order to seem interesting- and can even lie to inflate her sense of importance... turning lying into an art.

sounds a bit familiar, hm?

and we also have this design. Which still seems to lean into her "class president" or "uncool nerd girl"

wait hold on this is official documentation how did that slip through... i'm going to assume that was a translation error...

I'm assuming this piece of info about her is about the same time that art was made, as Juleka was described as "She’s a bass player in a Goth band" and her design in this line up.. lines up with the description.

(the design, if anyone needs a reminder.)

Reeling back to Ratif, (and by extension the later design) is that she is very wooed by Chloe: "She worships Chloe, whose beautiful blonde hair, matte skin and personality she admires."

(what Chloe looked like btw. Still rocking "Melody from the QK's look", while slowly transitioning into the villainess we know today.)

A pale white girl admiring someone's "matte skin and blonde hair" feels like something I am wholly unable and unequipped to make proper commentary on. But I get very very bad vibes with how Sabrina is portrayed as "worshiping her beauty" and, considering how this attitude is carried all the way through the canon show..

Well.

I understand that teens tend to judge themselves harshly compared to their peers, and that someone like Sabrina (who has a cop for a dad) might pressure herself into being someone who dresses "properly" and gets top grades. Kids get that way, desperate for approval... and when she encounters Chloe- who seems to pull off her looks flawlessly and with confidence- it's no wonder she is drawn to her, even if that relationship makes her self-esteem worse.

"Ah, her hair falls so easily into waves, and my hair is so unnameable." "Her clothes are nicer than mine" "She's able to say what she wants so freely without worrying what people think of her."

I think this is a great bedwork to elevate Chloe as a character, to show the extent of her selfishness and to use and abuse others who are emotionally fragile or are in less than ideal situations. (a thread that canon lost because she does this to ONLY Sabrina and her father... then backpedal entirely because they later have the narrative state that this is what they want. Everyone else tolerates her at best.)

Sabrina doesn't need to be a complicated character, tertiary characters don't need tons of depth and character development, and they exist to elevate other. more important characters. However, it doesn't mean that their stories can't be meaningful. Sabrina breaking free of Chloe's influence can suggest that "Even the most hopeless can break free of being star struck"

While directly unconfirmed, I think this IS her as Dragonfly. Greenhopper and Killer Bee are clearly Alix and Chloe, and the three were depicted and planned to be a trio of bullies. Plus, her red hair and green eyes pop aren't on any other character. At this time of development, it was known that the miraculous could erase disabilities, so her need for glasses was probably erased as well.

Anyway, on to how I would adapt her for FC

I think her wild hair makes her stand apart, but pulling it back into something more controlled hybridizes her design a bit and since it still translates that she's a bit more conservative and trying to keep herself together. I kept the glasses. Below the knee dress, big puffy sweater... she's got self-esteem issues and wishes so desperately she could be as bold as Alina, carefree as Alix, or as much as a shining beacon of confidence as Amber (so many A names!). So much so, that she has become a bit worshipful of Amber- swayed by her golden voice.

Her lack of self-confidence is made manifest via "Garmitt" her faerie, who is SO full of confidence that he is dead-sure that he is actually a dragon, rather than a dragonfly. It is him that pushes Sabrina to assert herself, and try to become what she wants to be.

When she sees a rule broken, she stands up for it- just like her papa- regardless of whether or not the rule was good or bad or even fair or appropriate in context: because rules are rules. She wants to make her dad proud, but he is too busy being focused on taking down the vigilantes: Ladybug and Chat Noir. So much so that it takes time from his private life- meaning his daughter is often left to grow up on her own. She wants to hate them too, but she admires them very much- Ladybug's wild creativity and Chat's confidence- and their genuine kindness to her, causes her to question what she strives to do.

For the first part of the story, she is a direct threat- the hall monitor, the enforcer. She shrieks to the teachers when something is up- she bars Marinette and Felix from escaping to deal with a wish-maker or renegade villain. She watches Marinette in the bathroom to make sure she's doing bathroom things rather than escaping class. She offers to do tasks that would help our heroes escape and threatens to debunk their alibis.

She is part of the Journalism team, working on the school paper. She's a great reporter when she tries, but her lack of confidence makes her stories lack a certain touch (for example, a new exhibit at the museum written by her is great, but she fails to interview people.) and she also fills in the gaps with white lies. However, Alina is helpful to her here, giving her genuine feedback and patience.

Unfortunately, Alan sways her easily, feigning interest in her in order to learn details- after all, she is the police chief's daughter. When Garmitt is stolen from her by the order. She is finally able to put her foot down- her indecision breaking and slowly building confidence is given a boost by the loss of her Faerie, and what the villians thought would be a person too lilly-livered and spineless to spill beans ends up being a catalyst to terrible losses. Specifically the threats of Amber & the police force... who are being heavily bribed by Fury and TsuTec.

so to summarize. She's a teacher's pet, and her story intertwines not only with LB and CN's, but Alina via the journalism club. Ultimately, she does the right thing, because despite what she does, she does view it as the right thing. She's ultimately a narrative payoff to the heroes being heroes & good people. She shows how dangerous some of the villians are- through her loss of Garmitt, manipulation by Alan and Amber, and the neglect of her father- who's obsession is fueled by corruption & money.

[vibesfc]

love island thinkpiece that no one asked for: the ekin-george dilemma

george's behaviour was problematic regardless of whether ekin-su touched him or not simply because he continued to touch her after she asked him to stop. ekin saying she was too hot seemed to me like a fake excuse to leave the bed and evacuate an increasingly uncomfortable situation.

iirc ekin friendzoned him three times: in bed, on the terrace and at the recoupling when everyone was saying goodbye (and she probably did it off camera as well). she clearly wasn't interested in his advances, and the fact that she had to repeat herself shows that george didn't respect her boundaries. he took her rejection as an invitation to try and change her mind, rather than for what it was: a rejection. his actions were not okay; his persistence was not sweet or "cheeky", it was dangerous. george 100% knew that "we're just friends" = "no". like, this is not a novel strategy. she was clearly using the friendzone as a way to reject him with limited conflict/awkwardness.

besides, i don't think anything significant happened anyway because the producers would have exposed her if they had any evidence to support their very vague allusions (cf. tittygate, multiple pool boners, extensive footage of bits being done under the covers, ekin's balcony etc).

they (george, producers) are exploiting ekin's femme fatale persona for clout by acting coy and encouraging speculation. i'm certain that the reason they haven't definitively confirmed anything is because there isn't anything to confirm. just because a person is confident in their sexuality does not mean they are willing to have sex with whomever ffs.

her storyline with davide and jay – which she consented to – is not an acceptable reason to throw ekin-su under the bus. imo this is starkly different from the typical drama of islanders fighting or hooking up with one another. to pedal this narrative as a source of entertainment, when the situation is so ambiguous and ekin is so uncomfortable, is seriously unethical.

i understand that love island is a controversial show and would not exist without chaos/conflict, but a line does need to be drawn somewhere and the producers have overstepped. the amount of slut-shaming i've seen directed towards ekin-su is atrocious and undeserved (not that slut-shaming is ever deserved lol). if you're going to stir up rumours like this, at least give her a chance to speak as well.

sidenote, who exactly is the well-being officer on the island? they're obviously not very good at their job. love island is a psychological hellscape and, if they're going to use the contestants' misery for entertainment, they should at least have experts on hand to help them through the experience. it's ridiculous that psychologists arent consulted until after the series is over.

this is my first season watching love island. while i loved the show to begin with, and obviously remain hyper-fixated on it, i don't know if i can in good conscience continue to watch the programme. it's tricky because, eight seasons in, one can only assume that applicants understand what they're signing up for and have, therefore, implicitly permitted the public to pick their very person apart. yet, the level of distress seen in islanders is far greater than what they (or anybody) should be expected to handle.

as i've mentioned elsewhere, the lack of silliness and sincerity and true friendship (which was present in seasons passed) is depressing and draining. not to sound like a broken record, but there is a difference between dami, for example, receiving public judgement for his actions in casa (which he chose to pursue knowing the consequences) versus tasha being reminded again and again that 4.5 million people around the country (or however many viewers there are) do not like her.

likewise, ambushing ekin-su with these rumours and inviting public slander for a narrative she has no control over – and a situation we're not even sure took place – is out of order. the amount this non-event has been criticised, to the disadvantage of ekin-su and no one else, is unwarranted and unfair. surely there is a way for the producers to make the experience fun on both sides, for viewers and contestants. genuinely, my favourite moments of this series have been (in no particular order):

the boys "pranking" the girls with a fake female bombshell (davide)

danica teaching the islanders how to twerk

danica's resilience

gemma calling ekin over to scream about chocolate

gemma telling luca to concentrate while she's speaking

ekin putting makeup on luca

ekin crawling around the terrace

ekin's enemies to lovers arc with davide

jay counselling davide about his feelings for ekin

indiyah and ekin slyly helping the other girls with their hair and makeup in the background

all of indiyah and dami pre-casa amor

indiyah standing up for herself post-casa amor

indiyah's friendship with danica

heart-rate challenge

ikenna's twitter handler

memes

despite the drama that took place, not one item on this list required any great manipulation or falsehood by the producers (that i'm aware of, at least) and were imo the best parts of the show.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

At My Worst (Chapter 1)

Work Summary: Thanks to his enduring popularity in the fandom, The Author pops back into existence and the egos must suddenly contend with someone they thought was gone forever coming back from the dead. No one is more shocked than Dr. Iplier, who can't help but remember how things used to be - and slowly fall back into bad habits, despite his better judgement.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of past violence/discussions of death (more tags on AO3)

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

Last he knew, Dark was ripping his eyes out.

Then, he was nowhere and nothing.

Now, he suddenly is, where before he wasn’t, and the rush of sensation returning is terrifying and paralyzing. But he still knows who he is, he knows his name and that he’s a figment, and he remembers his life. Rather, his previous life, he suspects.

It doesn’t take long for The Author to get his thoughts back in order and regain the presence of mind to look around. He appeared standing, and somehow didn’t fall, but he doesn’t trust his legs enough to move just yet. He’s surprised by the fact that he can look around, that the eyes he viscerally recalls losing are back in his head, fully functional. The area he’s in looks familiar, reminds him of the forest his cabin sat in, but it becomes apparent that the place is different now. The trees are less wild, the ground more even. He’s standing on a path, perhaps a nature walk or hiking trail. Last he remembers, there were no such trails in his woods.

He finally walks, letting his instincts take him to where his cabin should be, though he already has a feeling it won’t be found. Sure enough, he goes as far as he can down the trail, leaves the path and goes onward, and eventually finds himself at the edge of a neighborhood. Where the cabin used to be is a two-floor house, probably built for a family with kids, and in the surrounding street are even more such houses.

Author doesn’t know how much time has passed, but clearly, it’s been a long time since his cabin stood. He has to wonder what became of his books, his life’s work. Were they saved by the other egos, or are they forever lost?

For a moment, he isn’t sure what to do. But he’s a clever man, so he thinks. If he exists, surely the other egos must be around somewhere, too. All he has to do is find them. But if they aren’t here, then where?

He walks back the way he came, back to the trail, passing the place he appeared in and continuing onward. By the time he makes it to the trail’s beginning, night has fallen, and the parking lot by the trail is empty. He walks past the parking lot, comes to a road, and walks. It’s not so late that no cars are driving, at least; it only takes a few whizzing by his upturned thumb before one decides to stop.

“Where you headed?” asks the driver, an ordinary-looking man with a moustache. Author wonders how entertaining he’d be in a story.

“LA,” Author says, settling into the passenger seat like he belongs. For having not existed at all twelve hours ago, his easy confidence returns quickly.

“Heh, aren’t we all?” the man chuckles, pulling off the roadside to start driving. “Anywhere in particular? I can put it in my GPS.”

“Not really,” Author says, “Just get me to the city and I’ll take it from there.”

The man shrugs, but doesn’t pry. Maybe he wouldn’t be a protagonist, but possibly a character just there to help the protagonist along, as he is now. Then again, his unquestioning nature would make him easy death fodder, too.

On the way to the city, Author tries to look around the car, just to see if he can figure out what day it is. The radio playing tells him the day of the week and the month before long, but he can’t figure out the year. It’s not a terribly long drive to the city (Author remembers how long it took to get to Dr. Iplier’s clinic, and the distance isn’t that different) (Oh, Dr. Iplier, he must be somewhere too, does he still hate Author for what he’s done?), and once he gets there, Author has but one favor to ask.

“Thanks for the ride, but quick question,” he begins as he unbuckles his seatbelt, “Any chance you have a pen and a notebook in your car I can have? Or even just a sheet of paper and something to write with?”

“Uh, sure,” the man answers, confused by the request but not so much that he won’t grant it. He rummages through the glove compartment until he pulls a notebook with some corporate logo, and a pen with the same branding. “Have these, got them from work a long time ago but I don’t need them.”

“Perfect!” Author exclaims, taking the notebook and pen. He flips through the notebook, taking in the sight of blank pages, empty canvases, ready for him to make his own. “Have a good one, man.”

The man nods, rolls up his window, and drives off, leaving Author standing on a random sidewalk just inside Los Angeles. But he’s not bothered, because he finally has his tools. He can do anything or get anywhere. He knows that Dr. Iplier’s clinic has likely gone the way of his own cabin if it’s been too long, but the egos must be somewhere in the city. Author doesn’t know why he feels that way, but he supposes his instincts have the right idea. He’s always been a creature of impulse, so he does exactly what he did when the sun was up and lets his legs carry him where they may.

When he gets hungry, he enters a fast food restaurant and opens his notebook again, this time to write. While in line, he reads the cashier’s nametag and puts pen to paper: When The Author reaches the front of the line and orders, Stella pays for his meal herself. And she does, without skipping a beat. Author stays in the building to eat, and internally snickers at the confused look he sees on Stella’s face when she realizes what she did, seemingly for no reason.

As far as Author can perceive, it hasn’t been very long at all since he last used his power. But his body can tell it’s been a long time, somewhere deep in his mind knows it’s been forever since he picked up a pen and changed reality to suit his needs. A part of him is glad he’s still got it, but how could he ever lose it in the first place?

Back to walking. It’s late at night, but his mind is too active to be tired. It wouldn’t be the first time he was up all night, whether pacing his cabin trying to untangle the next scene of a story, or painting LA red in search of inspiration, or tormenting a character in the woods, or staying up with Dr. Iplier until the sun came up and he had to return to his clinic in the early hours, yawning through a cup of coffee. Thinking of his doctor only makes Author’s mind buzz even more. How long has it been, truly? What must Dr. Iplier be like now? Can they start over again, now that Author’s been reset?

The more Author walks, the more he feels a pull to keep going. It’s as if there’s a GPS unit inside his brain, telling him which way to go. He has no clue where he’ll end up, but he follows anyway, not having anywhere else to go. Besides, perhaps he’s being led to the other egos, maybe some element of himself is being drawn to them. He still knows that he’s a figment, of course, and that being a figment makes him a little more magical than the average human, a little more special, even ignoring his reality-bending powers. Part of him wants to use his writing to get into a locked car and drive to where the magic inside him is leading, but even at this hour, he knows it’d be quicker to walk.

It’s morning by the time Author feels he’s gotten somewhere, nearly a day has passed since he found himself alive again. By now, the streets are once again full of people and cars, and the swelling sounds of conversation and car horns remind him of his trips into the city with Dr. Iplier. His feet finally come to a stop in front of a huge building. It doesn’t look very different from the other corporate skyscrapers standing along the street and stretching into the horizon, but it radiates magic. It’s a beacon, and Author can tell just by looking at it that this is where he’s meant to be, this is the place he’s meant to stay.

He’s startled out of his reverie by someone bumping into him, barking at him to watch it, and moving hurriedly along. Author is disgruntled, but has little time to get angry before yet another person does the same thing. He moves out of the way of traffic to stand under the magical building’s awning, away from the crowd. Amazingly, no one even seems to see him anymore. No one acknowledges him, or even looks at the building Author is standing in front of. Whatever magic it has, humans can’t see it. Perhaps that’s the point, perhaps the building’s magic is keeping it hidden. Author can’t help but be impressed. If he’s right, it must be Dark and Wilford’s doing; no one else would have enough power. Still, keeping a building shrouded constantly would take a lot of energy, and though Dark and Wilford are powerful, they aren’t powerful enough for something as big as this as far as Author remembers.

As if he needed more confirmation that it’s been a long time since he last existed.

Still, he’s made it to where he wants to be, and he’s not about to stop moving forward now. He walks to the door, pushes the double-doors open, and steps inside.

The doors open up into a wide lobby, high-ceilinged. Off to one side is another set of doors, wooden and old-looking. There’s quite a few other, more typical doors along the back wall, a couple labeled that lead to staircases and some without labels that likely lead to other rooms. There’s also an elevator in the center of the wall. The lobby is much bigger than the outside of the building would suggest, and Author has to assume it’s more magic at work. He has no more time to wonder, because one of the unlabeled doors opens.

Out steps another man, with hair swooped low and orange sunglasses and a tank top with the Bing logo on it, of all things. He stops mid-step at the sight of Author, and Author can’t help but pause, too. He doesn’t know who this person is, but he can tell he’s a figment. Not only that, there’s something too familiar in his hair, his face, his height. This figment is another one of Mark’s.

Author already felt like he’d found the right place, but now he knows for sure.

“Woah, how’d you get in here??” asks the figment, walking up to Author as his shock gives way to confusion. “Wait, are you a new ego?”

“You could say that,” Author replies with a shrug.

“Oh, sick!” the figment exclaims, now grinning with excitement. He reaches out to shake Author’s hand, and his grip is stronger than Author expects. “My name’s Bingiplier, but like, everyone calls me Bing. What’s your name, dude?”

“The Author,” Author answers, a little bewildered by Bing’s energy. Granted, he certainly seems like someone Mark would conjure up as a joke, but most of the true joke egos barely lasted a week.

“Oh cool, you write and stuff?” Bing asks. He frowns for a moment. “I gotta admit, though, I’m totally blanking on what video you’re from. I don’t watch all of Mark’s videos, but like, I don’t think anyone was expecting a newbie to show up soon.”

“I do write,” Author replies, though his mind is buzzing with the new information. No one’s expecting him? Then how is he here? “I can reality-bend with writing. I write it, and it happens.”

“Nice!” Bing says, “That’s, like, super-powerful. We haven’t had a real reality-bender show up in ages. Actually, your deal kinda reminds me of The–”

“Hey.”

A monotone voice, deeper than Bing’s, interrupts. Author and Bing both look to see someone else approaching. Author can’t help but grin, because this is an ego he recognizes. Googleplier’s hair is still long and shaggy, he still has his glasses, and even though figments don’t truly age, he looks older somehow, more mature. He’s not glitching the way he did when Author knew him, and his jaw is stronger, his stature more imposing. It takes a moment for Google to see Author past Bing, and it takes a moment more for him to register what he’s seeing. His eyes widen behind his glasses.

“Author? Seriously?” Google asks, incredulous.

“Wait, you know about him? Did I just miss the memo on a new ego coming or something?” Bing whines before glaring at Google. “Are you here for an actual reason, or just to butt into my conversation?”

“Ollie wants you, you won’t answer his pings, and the others are still charging,” Google answers, deadpan. Bing pauses a moment, face screwed up in confusion, before understanding slowly dawns.

“Oh, he did ping me. I was busy talking to the new guy.”

“Ping you?” Author interjects.

“Oh yeah, I’m an android!” Bing says brightly. “So’s Google, but he’s just the old default.”

“Leave already before you get dismantled,” Google growls at Bing, but his eyes don’t leave Author.

“Ugh, fine,” Bing sighs. He flashes Author a peace sign as he walks away. “See ya round, dude!”

Google waits until Bing is out of sight before approaching The Author.

“How are you here?” he asks, more bewildered than Author has ever seen him.

“You tell me,” Author scoffs, “You were always the know-it-all. All I know is that one second I didn’t exist, and the next second I did.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a day? Popped into the woods where my cabin used to be.” Author stares hard at Google. “How long has it been? Since Dark tore my eyes out?”

Google hesitates for a long moment before responding.

“Six years,” he says.

Author’s jaw drops.

“Six years??” he gasps.

“Six years,” Google repeats. “It’s 2021, now.”

“When did Bing show up?”

“2017. Four years ago.” Google thinks for a moment. “Technically, that makes him older than you.”

Google’s right. Author was only a couple years old when Dark killed him. At this point, he’s been dead longer than he’s been alive.

“Jesus Christ,” Author mutters. He can hardly wrap his head around it.

“Jesus Christ is right,” Google growls, “How the hell did you get here? You died. You faded away.”

“I already told you I don’t know!” Author snaps. Google gives him a look like he doesn’t believe him. “Look, I appeared, I felt the urge to come here, and now here I am. So now what?”

“Now I have to take you to Dark.”

“Yeah, no. I remember how our last interaction went.”

“You have to,” Google sighs, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Every new ego has to meet with him–”

“I’m not new.”

“–And besides, nothing in this building happens without him knowing. I don’t like dealing with him either, but I’m not about to get in trouble for not telling him about you.”

“No choice, huh?” Author sighs. “Alright, let’s get this over with, I guess.”

Google leads Author to the elevator in silence. He presses the button for the sixth floor – the highest one – as Author thinks.

Six years. He still can’t conceive of it. Even for a normal human that’s a decent chunk of time, but for a figment, it’s like a lifetime. Plenty of figments don’t even make it to six years old…though clearly, Google and Dark have, and Author has to wonder who else has. Six years and six floors of this building means a lot of new people.

“Figures you and Dark stuck around,” Author muses to Google, “The fans always do love the grumpy ones. And now there’s Bing, and that “Ollie” and the “others” you mentioned…”

“That would be Oliver, Chrome, and Plus,” Google says, “The three of them are androids, other Google units, in fact.” That fact makes Author bark out a laugh.

“You got clones, now??” he snorts, “That’s awesome. Think I could borrow one for a story?”

“No.” Google’s response is instant, paired with eyes glowing icy blue.

“Alright, alright,” Author sighs, “Six years and you still haven’t gotten a sense of humor.” He pauses for a moment. “How many of us are there now?”

Last Author recalls, there were eight, including himself. Google barely needs a moment to mentally calculate it before he has an answer.

“Twenty-one,” Google answers.

“Twenty-one??” Author exclaims, jaw dropping.

“Twenty-two, now, with you. There’d be even more, but some have faded away.”

“Is anyone I knew gone now?”

“No, the oldest ones are still here.”

That means Dr. Iplier is still here. Author can’t help but feel relieved. He’s not sure what he’d do if he found out Dr. Iplier had faded away sometime during his absence. He’s so cheered by the thought that he forgets why he’s in the elevator until it finally stops at the top floor.

Right. Dark’s still here, too.

“I’ve already sent Dark an internal ping,” Google says as he leads Author out of the elevator. “He’s expecting you now.”

“Snitch,” Author mutters under his breath. Google rolls his eyes, but he chooses not to respond verbally.

The pair pass several doors as they walk, and Author wonders how many of them lead into the bedrooms of egos he hasn’t met. He wonders what Dark is like now. After all, Google seems to have barely changed aside from no longer glitching constantly. But he remembers how the people outside couldn’t even see this building, remembers the sheer size of the place, and knows that Dark must be much more powerful than he used to be to be able to pull it off. Too soon, Google and Author arrive at a door that’s much nicer than the others so far. Google knocks, something that the Google Author remembers would hardly ever do.

“Come in,” says a deep voice from inside. An older voice, but the same one that Author remembers well.

Google opens the door, and The Author steps inside.

Dark is not like Google. He doesn’t look the same as he did before. His hair is longer, swooped to the side. His eyes are still deep brown, nearly black. He’s wearing a suit and tie now, his skin is gray. Most striking is his aura. Where it used to be minimal, only wisps of smoke that showed themselves occasionally, it is now a swarming mass of writhing black tendrils surrounding him. It shakes even as Dark stares evenly at Author from behind a large wooden desk. Dark’s expression is cool and calm, and his hands are folded on his desk, but there’s tension in his shoulders and a hardness in his eyes.

“You’re dismissed, Google,” Dark says to Google, “But do not mention this to anyone.”

Author glances at Google, who nods and leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving Author and Dark alone.

“So,” Author says breezily, pushing down and hiding his discomfort. He’s not scared, but he does feel awkward, and a little annoyed to have to see Dark at all. “Nice place you got here.” He flops into a chair in front of Dark’s desk. “I hear there’s twenty-two of us now, crazy how time flies.”

“Exactly how did you come back?” Dark asks, without a hint of humor.

“I told Google like three times, I don’t know!” Author says, his annoyance getting the better of him. He takes a breath and calms before continuing. “I don’t know. I woke up in a forest, the same one where my cabin is. Or used to be, it’s just houses there now. I hitched a ride to the city and walked until I got here. It’s been about a day since I woke up.”

“I see.” Dark sighs, leaning back slightly in his seat. “This has never happened before.”

“I’ve gathered that.” Author frowns at Dark. “I might as well address the elephant in the room. Are you gonna pull out my eyes again or what?”

“No,” Dark answers, voice tight and aura swarming faster, “I will not. Things have changed since then, that is no longer how I deal with unruliness.”

“Is that what you call it?” Author mutters, “‘Dealing with unruliness?’ Does that make you feel justified for killing me?”

“You’ve been gone for six years,” Dark snaps, “Don’t pretend you know anything!” All at once, Dark’s form cracks, a shadow of himself turns away to scream in frustration. The scream is cut short, the whole thing lasts only a moment. Despite himself, Author nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What the hell was that!?” he shouts.

Dark settles himself, chuckling quietly. His aura calms somewhat, but it continues to churn the air.

“As I said, things have changed.” Dark rolls his neck, it cracks like the vertebrae are clacking against each other. “To put it in a way you would understand, my story has been rewritten in recent years. There’s a lot for you to catch up on.”

“I’ll pass,” Author retorts, “I’m not about to stick around here with you.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice.” Dark’s eyes go steely. “You may have guessed from the large number of us that Mark is much more popular than he used to be, which means we need to be more careful. You recall my desire to unite us all in a single building.”

“The building I died in, right?” Author snaps.

“Yes,” Dark replies coldly, undeterred by Author’s attempt to fluster him. “This building, in fact. The more popular Mark gets, the more recognizable we become, and the more vital it is for us to avoid attention. This building is imbued with magic to prevent humans from seeing or entering, and there are rules about the ways in which we may interact with them.”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t write my stories–”

“You can write as many stories as you like,” Dark says smoothly, “And you may use humans as…protagonists, if you so choose. But your stories may not be published, and you may not develop close relationships with humans.”

“And if I break the rules?”

“You get to visit my void.” Dark grins. “A place made of pitch, so dark you cannot see your hand in front of your face, cold and just quiet enough to hear its voices. It only takes a few hours to break someone weak. For someone strong, maybe a week.” He tilts his head. “I suspect a day or two in there, with no one to control and nothing to do, will drive you mad. At the end of a week you’d be tearing off your own skin just to feel.”

Author wants to scoff at the dramatics, but there’s something in Dark’s eyes and posture that makes him believe it.

“What if I leave anyway?” Author asks, “Strike out far away and find my own place?”

“Then you’ll have all twenty-one of us looking for you, whether actively searching or keeping an eye out. Once you’re found, the punishment would be immense. We’ve had egos run off before. The longest one ever stayed lost was eighteen days. Perhaps you could last longer, but your punishment would be that much longer as well. And if my void does not deter you, there’s a holding cell in the basement that’s designed to cancel out magic and keep figments contained indefinitely, where you can stay until you come to your senses.”

Author glowers, considering. It’s clear that he has no choice but to go along with the arrangement, but he’s too stubborn to give in yet.

“Any other rules I should know about?” he asks derisively, “Is there a dress code? Do I have to ask you if I want dessert after dinner?”

Dark glares at Author for a long moment.

“My, not even death could change you.”

He lets his own words hang in the air before continuing.

“The other main rule here is that you cannot harm another ego. Self-defense or defense of another ego won’t be punished, but aggression and attacks will.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who tore my eyes out,” Author growls.

“You can watch your attitude,” Dark snaps, voice dangerous and aura waving wildly. “I’m still the leader, and you still need to respect me. You may not have changed, but I have, and I am much stronger than you can imagine. If you continue to draw my ire, you will find out just how much stronger I’ve become.”

Dark wasn’t nearly this imposing back in Author’s heyday. He didn’t have this maturity, this intimidating tone of voice, this simmering rage that only shows itself in bursts. He used to be pettier, whiny, more mean than cruel. There was a reason Author didn’t fear him, and it was that he could tell, clear as day, that Dark was threatened by him. But the Dark that sits before Author now is not threatened. He’s angry, but not defensive. He means every word he’s said to Author, and Author knows that Dark will make him regret pushing his buttons if he persists.

So he stays silent for a long moment, and Dark’s aura gradually calms, and his expression smooths back out.

“Good, we understand each other,” he says, “Now, you need to meet the other egos. I’ll call a meeting for the others.”

“Google said the others I was around with are still here,” Author says, remembering, “Are they coming, too?”

“Yes,” Dark says, “But their meeting alerts will have…context. They’ll know it’s you before they arrive.” He sighs then, raises a hand to rub his forehead. “Speaking of context, there’s something you should know before this meeting occurs.”

“What’s that?” Author asks, curious. Perhaps a little nervous, given Dark’s behavior, but he’d never admit it.

“After you died, a new ego appeared, one who looked somewhat like you, who had no eyes. It came about that he had all your memories, but he wasn’t you, isn’t you. His name is The Host, and as far as we all knew…you became him, you were reborn as him.”

Author thought he was done being surprised, being shocked. But this revelation is the worst of all. He became someone else? There’s an ego here that has his same history, and the six years he missed on top of that? A clone like Google has, but one that has a different life, has a life at all. Someone who’s The Author, but isn’t. Someone The Author was supposed to be. The one who came from the ashes of Author’s death. While he spent six years in darkness, this other him, this Host, was living the life that should’ve been his. It only gets worse the more Dark explains. Author hardly perceives Dark’s words, but he perceives their meaning, especially when another name is mentioned. The shock builds and deepens.

It’s not enough that Host now has Author’s body, his memories, his life.

He has his love, too.

His doctor.

Dark explains that Dr. Iplier and Host have been in a relationship for years, and something inside Author crumbles.

This is the man he was so excited to see again, the man he’d hoped he could start over with once he found him. He’d dreamed of that on his long walk to the building, dreamed of Dr. Iplier lighting up at the sight of him, dreamed of them both apologizing to each other for how they ended things, dreamed of them reconnecting, rekindling, loving each other all over again. But the dream shatters further the more Dark speaks, and the more Dark speaks, the more Author’s vision tunnels and the louder the blood rushes in his ears. Dr. Iplier didn’t wait for him. He moved on. He moved on with this facsimile of Author, and did so a long time ago.

Author doesn’t hear what else Dark says, he’s too busy thinking. But no matter how much he thinks the situation over, he can’t accept it. He won’t allow this ache in his chest, this burning in the back of his eyes. Dr. Iplier may have moved on, but some part of him must still love Author, if he moved on with the newer version of him. The way they loved each other was like nothing else, even six years later there’s no way Dr. Iplier has forgotten Author, has forgotten what their love felt like, has stopped missing it. Author will find his way back to him somehow, fix their relationship and fix his own breaking heart.

There has to be a reason Author came back to life. There’s no possible way him and Dr. Iplier could end like this. And Author may be a lot of things, but he’s not a quitter.

He can’t give up on Dr. Iplier, his heart won’t let him.

[hopeymchope]

Anon finally figured out The Definitive Answer for why so many people worship Bakugo, because there's a blog post by lovecrafts-iranon where, refreshingly, he actually comes right out and SAYS the reason why fandoms worship assholes: he thinks Dudley should have been Harry Potter's protagonist instead of Potter himself, because "good people doing good things are a boring snooze, while cruel and vicious people are entertaining." So he, and others like him, judge morality by "what entertains me".

Wow. I found that Dudley post, and it has SO MANY notes, and NOT EVEN ONE OF THEM IS SOMEONE DISAGREEING. How is that possible?

But I'd like to take a moment to look at this post in more (i.e. WAY TOO MUCH) depth. With pull quotes!

There is so much potential for growth, and at a nice slow pace because he would need to be dragged kicking and screaming every step of the way and have several reversions.

I guess it's true that he'd have to go through a lot more radical change than Harry did. And that would definitely be interesting to see unfurl, in a fashion. But Harry has to learn self-confidence, learn to cope with death (in the sense that he has to process it for the first time), learn to accept the things he can't change... all the things that people in the targeted demographic age of the readership are simultaneously dealing with. Dudley, on the other hand, doesn't have any reason to learn most of that stuff. He's only relatable to readers who are also massive assholes. Dudley's already overconfident - he's full of himself, and him being told that he's basically the Chosen One will only make it much worse. Will he have to cope with death? I mean, maybe someday. But we start with him only caring about himself, so it's unlikely he'd be too terribly affected if someone died in front of him. That would require him to care about someone else. And learning to accept that he can't change everything is something he'd probably struggle with in a semi-interesting fashion, but do you want to watch a spoiled brat who believes he can scream until he gets his way FINALLY start to learn that maybe he should stop screaming and start facing facts? Shit, that just sounds like modern politics. And coping with people who can't face reality is intolerable and infuriating.

Magic, aside from being not real, is a special kind of repulsive evil [to him]. Merely mentioning magic is the only thing that can temporarily revoke his Specialest Boy status.

I think the author is stating that this is a thing that's true of Dudley in the existing novels? Maybe I'm misunderstanding, and this is something that the author of the post wants to introduce into their AU fanfic. If it's the former, however, then I want to point out that there's no evidence that Dudley held any opinions at all on magic before Harry was declared a wizard. His parents sure did, but they never spoke of magic and refused to acknowledge it, so they naturally never said a word to Dudley about it.

So Dudley actually has no reason to be repulsed by the notion of being a wizard. In all likelihood, he'd be overjoyed to be told that he's a super-powered being of importance who everyone in the magical world has heard about. He'd probably want everybody to genuflect when he entered every room from then on. (I am assuming that Dudley must still be the one who has to eventually defeat Voldemort according to prophecy, but I guess he wouldn't be "The Boy Who Lived." His parents were obviously never killed; the fact that they raised him a certain way is what defines his character. He'd need some other kind of legend to cause his fame.)

Harry would never cause problems on purpose, while Dudley would never stop doing so at Hogwarts!

A character who is actively the source of all the trouble they're in isn't remotely sympathetic; I root AGAINST that kind of character. I want LESS of them. I want them to lose.

That's actually part of why I hated the new Snake Eyes movie — every bad thing that happens can logically be laid at Henry "Snake Eyes" Golding's own [probably gorgeous] feet. I'm not rooting for someone like that.

Harry gets to experience friendship and acceptance for the first time, snooze, while Dudley would have to face lack of friendship and rejection for the first time (there is nobody who wouldn't be put off by 'hates magic' even if they were fine with the rest of his personality)! Now that's fascinating!

I still think seeing a lonely boy with no sense of self-worth make his first friends is interesting. But I admit that Dudley facing rejection and lack of friendship for the first time DOES sound fascinating. The author has got me there.

And imagine him going home for Christmas break loudly announcing how happy he is to get away from all those awful wizards only to find out his parents treat him much differently now, their love having been completely conditional all along.

Would it be, though? I guess this is up to the perception of the author, but I kind of imagine Vernon and Petunia taking it as a personal victory if their own spawn is declared the special Chosen One. Their kid being a powerful wizard known around the world, and Lily's kid being no one in particular? They'd visit Lily's grave for the first time ever just so they could dance on it.

I could go on and on. I remember looking to see if there was any Dudley goes to Hogwarts fic as a kid and there was one popular one, but it let Harry go too (boo, the realization there might be something wrong with how his adopted brother is being treated back at home should be a shocking revelation to him), let Dudley become too nice too fast (it should be a long, drawn out process where he never gives an inch he doesn't absolutely have to!) and was too easy on him (characters suffering is good).

Author is assuming that Dudley - now christened a mighty wizard of destiny, the literal Chosen One - would actually perceive of there being something wrong with how his lowly muggle cousin was treated. I'd say: Highly doubtful. He'd just continue to be an asshole about it.

And the longer you drag out an asshole getting redeemed, the more I'm going to feel like "Well I don't fucking care if they get redeemed by this point; they've had every possible chance and every possible piece of evidence thrown at them, and they chose to remain an asshole, so fuck them. They deserve nothing."

At least the author wants Dudley to suffer. Not that I agree with the notion that characters suffering is automatically good, but asshole characters DO often deserve that shit.

BOTTOM LINE: I... just... I guess I shouldn't be surprised that people would actually WANT to focus on horrible assholes? That people want those fuckers to be the heroes instead of actually decent human beings? Because there are so many awful people in the world, so I guess it must be relatable enough for them. But dammit, I'm still surprised.

No, no, no. FUCK no. Being an asshole does not inherently make someone interesting; it just makes them an asshole. They deserve to be punished, not celebrated. They might still be interesting as an antagonist, but I'm sure as hell not going to root for them. And if you're going to insist on spending valuable focus time on these characters, you'd better at least be acknowledging that they are the VILLAIN of the story.

Which is honestly a more logical role for Dudley anyway. If Voldemort told Dudley that he's an exceptional being and that the inferior muggles else should be made to serve at his feet? Dudley would totally go for that. He'd become the whiniest, brattiest Death Eater.

Besides, Dudley is a particularly weird choice for their post, because he's NOT interesting! Not even as an antagonist! Dudley only exists as a one-note plot device. He deserves no attention.

[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Five

Summary:  In the final chapter of this story, Ginny and those with her close in on the crime syndicate. But will Ginny be able to protect Luna before it's too late?

              Read on FFN.                                  Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @lytefoot @cheeseanonioncrisps

Special thanks to @rabisacos for all their help with writing about Brazil!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny had to admit, she had been expecting something a little more impressive.

After they had broke their way through the door, the agents (combined with Sky’s local activists) had led the way inside. A long, winding pathway that descended down a good few hundred feet. Ginny couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that the crime syndicate hadn’t bothered to expand or reinforce the existing cave system that much. If anything, they had simply installed some minimal lighting and left things as they were.

Which made it embarrassingly easy for the agents to get the drop on them. Ginny sighed, as yet another group of syndicate members were left tied up on the floor. Honestly, her gym had better security than this place!

The syndicate had clearly assumed that no-one would even realise they were even there.

‘Well,’ Tonks said, opening a door to let Ginny through into a room they had just cleared of syndicate members. Sam had gone on ahead with several other agents, as had Remus. ‘We know what they were up to here.’

‘This is a lab!’ Ginny said, gazing at the various test tubes stored along tables. ‘Good grief, no wonder they wanted somewhere close to the plants!’

Tonks nodded.

‘From what the kidnapped scientists have been telling us,’ Sky said. ‘The crime syndicate were trying to create biological weapons to sell to extremist groups worldwide. Looks like we have now got everyone, except for…’

‘Wait, where’s Luna?’ Ginny asked, her forehead creasing with renewed worry. ‘Why haven’t we found her yet?’

Tonks was about to answer, when a loud clanking sound reached them through the nearby wall.

‘Let me go!’

Ginny’s eyes widened in horror. That was Luna’s voice!

‘You’ve brought MI6 down on us!’ exclaimed another voice from the same direction. It sounded dangerous. As if who spoke wanted to hurt Luna.

Without thinking, Ginny rammed her shoulder against the wall.

Like the rest of the infrastructure, the wall was of dubious structural integrity, and crumbled under Ginny’s weight, leaving a hole just big enough to crawl through.

‘Ginny, no!’

But Sky was too late. Ginny had already scrambled through. As she climbed out on the other side, she could hear Tonks shouting into her earpiece for back-up.

Ginny looked around her. The other side of the wall backed onto another part of the cave system. It didn’t seem to have the lighting used in the main passageways, and was piled with old boxes and rusty crates.

However, it was also not much more structurally sound than the wall Ginny had just burst through. There were several large holes in the ground, dipping down into utter blackness. Ginny could vaguely hear the sound of water running below, but it was a very long way down.

‘Those fools in MI6 should have never gotten here!’

Ginny’s blood turned to ice. Hurrying forward in the direction of the raised voice, she came to a corner, and peeked round, taking care not to move too quickly.

There was a thump as Luna fell to the ground. Ginny felt her heartrate increase with worry as she saw her girlfriend glare at the man standing a couple of paces in front. Luna looked mostly unharmed, but there were a few cuts and grazes along her arms and legs. Her dirty blonde hair was far scruffier than normal, and there was a clump standing up on end from where it had been pulled out earlier. Luna was now lying near the end of one of the chasms in the ground, which had curls of plant roots growing around the edges. There were ropes tied around Luna’s arms and legs, preventing her from rising to her feet.

The man standing in front of her was…

Ginny’s eyes widened.

He was tall, and thin, and very pale. He had a vaguely aristocratic and snake-like face, a weird mixture of jagged edges and uneven bone structure. He was wearing a black shirt and trousers.

He was also holding a gun.

‘You really think you could lead MI6 here and suffer no consequences?’ he spat. ‘You thought you could pool the wool over Thomas Riddle’s eyes?’

He aimed the gun at Luna, but then seemed to change his mind.

‘No; a shooting would attract too much attention,’ he said, switching his gun to his other hand. ‘I imagine the fall from this height into the cave system will suffice. Goodbye, Ms Lovegood-’

‘NO!’

Before she knew what she was doing, Ginny had barrelled forward and slammed herself into Riddle, knocking him over. Shouts echoed around them, but Ginny didn’t know if she or Riddle was the one making them.

But Ginny had thrown herself too far forwards. With her momentum, she rolled over the ground, tumbling with no control, until she reached the edge.

She heard Luna scream nearby, and Ginny felt herself slip right over the side.

Her limbs flailing, Ginny’s hands wrapped around the root of the strange plants growing just under the edge of the chasm.

The plant held, and Ginny felt her legs dangling beneath her.

Looking up, she could see a scuffle happening. Tonks and Remus had caught up with them, and were wrestling Riddle to the floor.

‘Ginny!’

There was a great tearing sound, and then Luna’s head appeared above her. The blonde woman had clearly broken her bonds through sheer desperation.

‘Luna!’ Ginny cried, trying to pull herself up. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Nevermind me!’ Luna yelled, reaching down and wrapping her arms around Ginny’s. ‘We need to pull you up!’

There was a slow, drawn out ripping sound. Ginny saw the plant root begin to tear. The added weight was weakening it.

Dust began to fly, and Ginny was horrified to see cracks begin to appear in the ground around the edge. The plant seemed to be holding the place together.

Her grey eyes widening in horror, Luna pulled even harder on Ginny’s arm, and the redhead rose slightly higher. But the blonde just wasn’t strong enough to pull her the whole way up, and Ginny didn’t have the strength to do so either.

‘No!’ Luna cried, tears begin to slide down her face. ‘No! I’m not losing you now!’

‘Luna…’ Ginny exclaimed. ‘I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I promised-’

‘Don’t be silly; you did protect me!’ Luna replied, her eyes wide as she struggled desperately to pull Ginny up. ‘You saved my life!’

Ginny found tears slipping down her own face.

‘Luna… I… I love you.’

‘Don’t tell me that when we’re about to die!’

‘You don’t need to die!’ Ginny cried. ‘Just let me go; you can get away before the ground collapses!’

‘No,’ Luna sobbed. ‘I’m not leaving you! I… I love you, Ginny; I’m not letting you go!’

‘Oh, how touching…’

Ginny looked up past Luna. Riddle was standing above them, pointing his gun at Luna’s head. Ginny could hear the sounds of Tonks and Remus groaning in confusion, as if drugged.

‘Chemical compounds have their uses in close-quarter fighting,’ Riddle said. ‘But I’m getting off-topic. Ms Lovegood, I’m afraid that you and your little girlfriend may well have to take a tumble into oblivion.’

A horrible smile stretched across his face, Riddle pressed his gun up against Luna’s head.

‘After a bullet in both your heads, of course-’

‘And just what do you think you’re doing to my sister and her girlfriend?’

BANG!

Ginny stared up in shock, as Riddle crumpled to the ground where he had been stood. His gun fell harmlessly to the ground; the trigger hadn’t been compressed.

Standing above them was a tall redhead, his blue eyes serious and yet utterly confident.

‘Ron?!’

Before Ginny knew what was happening, Ron had grabbed Ginny’s hands and -combined with Luna’s strength- Ginny was pulled back up and onto solid ground. As they all scrambled away, the edge of the floor finally gave way, crashing into the chasm below.

Luna had wrapped her arms around Ginny, and Ginny did likewise. She could still tears streaking down Luna’s face as she leaned into Ginny’s shoulder.

‘I’m… I’m okay,’ Ginny said, softly to her girlfriend. ‘I’m not going anyway.’

Luna nodded, sniffling as she cradled Ginny in her arms.

‘You okay, Ginny?’

Ginny looked up. Ron had crouched down next to them.

‘Could be worse,’ Ginny said, not letting go of Luna. ‘But Ron- what are you-’

‘You didn’t tell her?’

Ginny turned round.

Neville was crouched beside Tonks and Remus, administering what was presumably an antidote to the drugs Riddle had given them.

‘Didn’t tell me what?’ Ginny exclaimed. ‘And, Neville, why are you here? I thought you were back in Rio?’

‘We needed as many people as we could muster,’ Ron said. ‘And it always pays to have someone who knows about plants round here.’

‘Ron, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here! In the amazon! At an underground base!’

As if purely to confuse Ginny even further, Harry was handcuffing Riddle nearby. There was the sound of running feet, and Sky appeared, with several agents. She immediately dropped down to the ground and began to administer to Luna’s various cuts and bruises. Reluctantly, Luna let go of Ginny, so that Sky could reach the cuts on her arms and legs.

‘Tranquiliser darts,’ Ron said, motioning to his gun in answer to Ginny’s unspoken question. ‘That git needs to stand trial. Luckily, one of the scientists in this place was being held against their will, and decided to give me these when our team turned up.’

‘Wait, your team-’

‘Actually, it’s my team.’

Ginny turned. A very familiar face had appeared from round the corner, accompanied by more agents.

‘Oh, Kingsley’s here too?’ She exclaimed, sarcastically. ‘The whole gang’s here; why don’t we wait around and see who else turns up?’

‘Weasley, this isn’t standard procedure,’ Kingsley said, speaking to Ron.

‘Neither is letting civilians get involved with missions or raids, but here we are,’ Ron replied. ‘How the heck did Riddle get Luna and Ginny on their own anyway?’

‘Why do you think?’

Tonks was sitting up, rubbing her throat as the antidote took effect.

‘Ginny ran off ahead the second she heard Riddle threatening Luna,’ Tonks continued. ‘It was a miracle me and Remus got here in time.’

‘In time to get knocked out by Riddle’s drugs, apparently,’ Remus said, his voice raspy. ‘You all sure took your time.’

‘Er, sorry,’ Harry said. ‘It took us forever to scout out the entire base. Does Ginny know about our involvement now?’

‘Bit late to be asking that now, mate,’ Ron said, before turning to Ginny and Luna. ‘No biggie; me and Harry are secret agents. Spooks, if you will.’

‘This would explain a lot…’

Ron laughed.

‘Sorry I couldn’t say anything. Only spouses and parents have security clearance, and even then it’s pretty strictly controlled.’

‘Did he get you badly?’ Remus asked, leaning closer to Tonks. He sounded concerned. ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve-

‘What, worried about me, Remus?’ Tonks chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder. ‘You did all you could. Not that I mind you worrying about me, of course.’

Remus smiled, his cheeks reddening, and Tonks face responded in kind.

As Riddle was dragged away by the agents, a cheer went up from the kidnapped scientists and the local activists.

‘You’re very resourceful, Luna.’ Sky said, as she and Ginny helped the florist to her feet. ‘I think you’ve done rather well, given how much of a dangerous situation you were in.’

‘Thank you. But I knew that you would all get here eventually.’ Luna said. ‘Thank you so much for tracking this place down.’

‘You’re most welcome,’ Sky said, smiling. ‘You did a great job of showing where the entrance was. Quick thinking with the hair. No wonder Ginny likes you so much.’

Ginny felt her cheeks flush as Luna smiled at her.

 *

 It was a long car ride back to Rio. Sky was accompanying them back. Ginny and Luna had fallen asleep against each-other. When they had woken back up, they had greeted by the perplexing sight of Sam reading what looked like a fantasy book. The cover showed a man dressed in a golden suit.

‘He always was an idiot,’ Sam muttered, chuckling under his breath. Then he noticed the two women staring at him. ‘What?’

Ginny and Luna exchanged confused looks, but didn’t ask for details.

Several hours later, the jeep finally came to a stop outside the hotel in Rio they had been staying in. Ginny slipped her hand into Luna’s.

‘Well… back in Rio.’

‘Actually,’ Ron said, as they climbed out of the jeep. ‘There is someone else you know here. You remember the research team who Neville was working with?’

‘Yeeeesss…’

‘Well-’

At that moment, Ron stopped speaking, as a bushy-haired woman darted out from the hotel and kissed him full on the mouth, throwing her arms around his neck as she did so. Ron responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted her off her feet.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake… Hermione’s involved, too?!’ Ginny said. ‘Really?’

‘Shut up, Ginny, I want my ginger man,’ Hermione said, briefly pulling away from her husband’s lips. ‘I’ve been stuck in a research block halfway across the city for the past week. No Ron to spend time with. Unlike you and Luna who got to make some lovely memories here.’

Ginny exchanged looks with Luna, and the two women blushed.

‘I guess we can’t have a proper holiday in Rio, can we?’ Luna said. ‘Shame, really.’

‘Afraid not. Considering the amount of diplomatic stress this has caused,’ Sky said, ‘I think it’s better that you all get back to the UK as soon as possible. Just for security’s sake.’

‘Keep in touch, Sky,’ Ginny said, shaking the older woman’s hand. ‘You’ve helped us so much; I don’t know how we can ever repay you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Sky said, as she hugged Luna. ‘A small part of the Amazon has been protected, and that’s something to celebrate. But, if you are asking, how about a wedding invitation?’

‘O-oh…’ Ginny said, as she and Luna both blushed again. ‘I… well, we haven’t really gotten that far along yet.’

Sky smiled, placing her hands on their shoulders.

‘Doesn’t seem that way to me.’

As Ginny and Luna smiled at each-other, Ginny was distantly of Sam getting his phone out, and beginning to speak into it.

‘Where is my cow?… is that my cow?..’

 *

  Dear Sky,

I’m glad to hear that the logging companies have been pushed back. Myself and Neville have been organising protests for later this month about the continued logging in your part of the Amazon delta. Hopefully, we can get the British government to embargo the logging companies. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Speaking of starts, me and Ginny have set a date for next spring. Hopefully, your invitation should be arriving soon.

Love,

Luna

xxxx

 Luna put down her pen, and slipped the letter into an envelope. She was sat at the desk in her room above the shop. Evening sunshine was peaking through the window nearby. Writing out Sky’s PO box number put her in mind of the memories of their time in the Amazon delta. So many memories, both good and bad.

She was just sticking the stamp to the front when Ginny knocked on her door and crossed the room.

‘Time to go, Lu,’ the redhead said, wrapping an arm around Luna’s waist and kissing her on the neck. ‘Our reservation’s booked for seven.’

Luna smiled, and kissed Ginny on the cheek. She followed Ginny downstairs and out through the shop. Outside, London was turning hazy on the sunny Friday evening.

‘Do you think Sky’s invitation has reached her yet?’

‘Bound to,’ Ginny said, as they left the post-office, after having posted the letter direct to Brazil. ‘I mean, Sam’s already received his, and we don’t even know what country he lives in!’

‘I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even live on earth at all.’

‘Like, on some other planet?’ Ginny chuckled, intertwining their fingers as they approached the park. ‘You’ve always had a wonderful way of looking at things.’

‘Says the person who insists we go to the same restaurant every time we have a special occasion.’

Ginny gave a freckled smile.

‘It’s where we had one of our first dates; we can’t not go to it. Especially on the two month anniversary.’

Luna chuckled, squeezing their hands together.

‘I know. And I love you for it.’

‘I love you too, Lu.’

The two women smiled at each other, looking forward to a wonderful evening spent between the two of them. A small bit of perfection in a very bizarre but utterly wonderful world. A world that wasn’t perfect, but was steadily getting better. With love, and dedication to make things better. And that was fine with both Ginny and Luna.

Bands glinted on their ring fingers, reflecting the golden evening sunlight. Both rings resembled a basketball hoop entwined with a hyacinth. The future was like a blooming garden; full of possibilities. And both Ginny and Luna intended to explore those possibilities.

 The End

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! This has been a lovely fic to write, and thank you for the lovely comments! I don't have any plans to continue with this AU storyline in the future, but I do have plans for other Linny AUs. Stay tuned!

[mar1garden]

going batty part 1

masterlist

warning: this will be salty. very salty. if you think it’s ooc let me know and i’ll do the best i can to fix it, but the characterization in this show is so shoddy already that there isn’t much i can do. alya salt, adrien salt, lila salt, bustier salt, class salt. this is also my first posted fic!! if u wanna be on the tag list let me know 💙🌹

The first impression Damien had of his new class was that they were loud. Even as he walked up the stairs, he could hear voices in the classroom. It seemed a debate was occurring, though he couldn’t quite make out the two sides. He reached the top of the stairs, but before he could even make a grab for the door handle, the room fell silent. Damien was about to thank whatever deity was watching out for him and silencing the roomful of screaming children he was about to walk into when he heard another voice from inside the room.

“Of course she’s in love with him,” an effeminate voice said matter-of-factly. “But he barely knows she exists. It’s tragic, really. She tells me about it every time she sleeps over- oops!” the voice continued. Damien didn’t know who was speaking, and he didn’t know who they were speaking about, but he knew from their cadence and their confidence in “accidentally” spilling secrets that he couldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. Damien sighed deeply to think that he was joining a class of liars and idiots as he reluctantly opened the door to the classroom. Once more the class quieted- chaos had broken out once more after the liar mentioned her little tidbit, which he expected had been the goal.

“Ah! Our new student! M. Damocles told me to keep an eye out for you. Would you like to say a few words to the class?” a woman- presumably the teacher, though she did nothing to show it- asked. She smiled expectantly at him as he moved to stand in front of her desk, facing the class.

“I’m Damien. I’m 15 and I’m an exchange student from America. I do not wish to distract myself from my studies during my time here, so please do not try to make friends with me. I’m not interested,” Damien told the class sharply. He walked briskly to the only open seat in the room- back row, next to some girl who smiled gently at him before returning her gaze to the front of the class. Interesting, he mused. By her bright clothes, he had expected bubbliness. Perhaps a high-pitched greeting. A hug, maybe. This was a pleasant surprise, though it was the only one of its kind he had had all week.

On Monday, they had received video evidence of a super villain in Paris. Tim had suspected it was CGI, especially since Paris was visually completely fine when he hacked some security feeds, even though the video clearly showed the Eiffel Tower falling. Bruce had decided that they really ought to at least check before writing it off, and Damien had drawn the short straw.

On Tuesday, Bruce had told him his cover for being in Paris was that he was an exchange student. He wasn’t allowed to be Robin while he was there, as it may put his identity at risk. He wasn’t allowed to leave until he had confirmation that the thing was either a hoax or genuine, unless he was in actual danger.

On Wednesday he packed. He couldn’t take weapons with him, obviously, because airport security may be a joke but he was pretty sure they would catch an actual sword stuffed in his bag. That afternoon he had flown to Paris and gotten settled in.

And now it was Thursday. Damien had learned much about the class very quickly, mainly that it was composed of a liar and some idiots. He had learned his deskmate was quiet. He had learned that he was far enough ahead in the syllabus that he could afford to study people in class.

He hoped the rest of the week was calm. Even if it meant he had to stay longer, he would rather have time to get settled before suffering a villain attack- if the whole thing was real, anyways. He pulled his focus back to the task at hand- assessing the class and finding any useful allies or sources of information. He recognized the girl next to the liar as the Ladyblogger. This meant the Ladyblog was likely an unreliable resource, which he mentally jotted down. That was good to know.

Damien cast a sideways glance at the girl next to him. She was patiently listening to the teacher and obviously tuning out the other students. When Damien bothered to listen, he noticed them gossiping about her. So Marinette was her name, huh?

Every rumor he heard was traced instantly back to the liar, and with each word he noticed the girl next to him tense imperceptibly more. He mentally scoffed. It was clear that she wasn’t going to stand up for herself. How pathetic. She was preferable to the liar or any of the blind idiots, but certainly not by much. So lost in thought was he that he flinched when the bell rang. Where had his restraint gone?

Marinette turned to him once the bell had rung. In a voice clearly pitched down so others wouldn’t hear, she spoke for the first time that day: “You’re Damien, right? I’m Marinette, the class president.” He scoffed slightly. The whole class clearly hated her, and she refused to stand up for herself. How had this mess become class president? As if she hadn’t heard him, she continued: “If you need anything, let me know. Here’s your class schedule and syllabi, and here’s a map of school. If you’d like, I can give you a tour later and explain the multiple purposes of some of the classrooms.” She handed him a short pile of papers and waited, as if she expected a response. When she got none, she nodded and left, and somehow, that made Damien feel worse than he would have if she had scolded him on his lack of a ‘thank you.’

The rest of the day, he remained in the same classes as her. He sat next to her in a majority of them, as she was often the only person with no seat partner. She remained quiet and focused, and she continued to pointedly ignore the other students, though it seemed he was not among their ranks. When he asked any questions, she answered quickly, quietly, and to the best of her ability, which he appreciated. She may be useful yet, if her succinct answers to non-hero questions were any indication of her general temperament. As he thought this, the bell rang for lunch and the class began to pack up. Damien wasn’t sure if he should risk the caf or head off campus, but as he turned to ask Marinette, he noticed that she had frozen in place. Her bag was half packed and resting on the table as she looked in surprise at someone standing at the table.

The boy was blonde and green eyed. He had had the liar hanging off of him, which either meant they were working together or he was a bigger idiot than them all. He smiled condescendingly at Marinette and Damien, then he turned solely to Marinette. “Marinette, may I speak with you real quick? It’ll only take a minute,” the boy asked, though it was clear ‘no’ was not an option. At the girl’s small nod, he turned to Damien. “Do you mind if I steal her for a sec?” he asked. Damien raised an eyebrow.

“Seeing as she’s a human being and therefore not property, I don’t see how you could steal her, but be my guest.” The boy smiled that same smarmy smile at him, and Damien decided that too many unlikeable people disliked the sweet girl next to him. He didn’t want to be among their ranks, and while the girl could do with a bit more spine, she had been nothing but pleasant to him. As the boy maneuvered her away to speak, Damien moved a bit more quietly. It would be easy for his trained ears to overhear, and they should both underestimate him, so it would be simple to eavesdrop.

“Mari, you didn’t say anything to him, did you?” the blond asked, looking searchingly at the girl in question. She sighed in response.

“Is that what this is about? I promise, I didn’t tell him anything. I think he knows she’s lying, and if he asks, I won’t lie to him to protect her, but I haven’t told him anything and he hasn’t asked.” Marinette rolled her eyes at the boy. Damien couldn’t help but notice that her posture, while visibly scared when other students were around, was simply bored when only Blondie was there. The boy had sighed in relief at Marinette’s words, but had quickly tensed back up.

“Wait, if he asks if she’s lying, you’ll just... tell him? Just like that? Mari, you can’t do that! He doesn’t know us, he doesn’t need to know our secrets!” the blond protested. He assumed a superior expression and quickly looked at Marinette in as disappointed a way as he could manage. The aforementioned girl glared at him.

“Agreste, I’m not going to lie. I refuse to do so, especially to try and protect a girl who hates me. Damien is perfectly kind and has been nothing but cordial, I have no reason to deny him information that may affect his time here. I won’t make him listen to some liar thinking it’s the truth.” Marinette ended the conversation there, walking back to the desk quickly and packing her bag before leaving class. Damien took this in with an air of quiet amusedness, though he was touched that she defended him.

Maybe his time here wouldn’t be so impossible after all.

that’s where i’m ending the first part! if you’d like to be tagged in the next part let me know! have a wonderful weekend folks! ~💙🌹

[oddlyhale]

As much as I begin to see the horrors of RWBY fndm and how crazed BB fans can be, there'll probably be no comparison to the psychotics I had to deal with in the HH fndm.

While I can totally find myself being tolerant with all RWBY ships, there's something territorial when it comes to HH ships. It's a different beast on its own, especially with the popular artists that can and will control their fanbase.

Boy do I have a tale of 2020 that had me deal with the mental gymnastics these wild shippers put me through. The sheer hypocrisy, the fear fans had of standing up to them, the collective harassment.

In a synopsis, before we start:

Hi, my name is Hale.

Alfa and Alex are probably the most psychotic people I’ve ever met when it comes to my online daily life. I used to think my ex-friends were the bane of my existence, but Alfa and Alex started making me think just how angelic my exes were in comparison.

So let’s begin.

When I first met the Double AAs, it was Alex first (awhile back in late-June 2020 during Vaggie Week) but it was indirect. I was on my Instagram when I was tagged by a random user in something Alex had drawn. This was when I first saw the kill art of Vaggie. I was so upset that I had yelled at this random user for tagging me, as well as showing it via screencap on my twitter, as a warning to never do this to me to my followers. Keep in mind, I had censored Alex’s name from the screencap, not the random user.

However, Alex saw this somehow and became hysterical, thinking I was targeting him for what he drew. This caused an uproar of his fans to come attack me, and it did cause me to become scared and get away from my account. Alfa decided to insert herself into the mix, but I didn’t care enough for her to say anything. It was mostly Alex and how much he was “scared” and cried about the “fandom being so hateful and scary.” He went private for a while I believe, but Alfa was still going hard at me and sending more of her fans to come harass me.

If Alex ever says he is a strong and brave man, don’t believe him. He fears the HH fandom.

Anyhow, after Alfa’s fans had done their best to gaslight me, I didn’t give in. In fact, I made amends with the random user that tagged me. Somehow they assumed I would like the art of Vaggie being killed, which was childish to even believe in. Nonetheless, I forgave them, and we moved on from there.

But even when we both resolved this together, Alfa and Alex decided that it would be fun to make this “kill Vaggie art” a meme, or trend. With their huge followings combined, they were able to get their artist fans to join in and start creating so much hate art of Vaggie. Many of them drew her head being cut off, mutilated, raped and cheated on.

Alfa and Alex adore gaslighting the hell out of people. While they draw such hideous things, they will go ahead and say, “but it’s just fiction, it’s not real,” and call you psychotic for even caring so much about their bad behaviour. I can only imagine what Alfa’s husband goes through everyday since Alfa loves to make people second-guess themselves often.

Keep in mind, Alfa and Alex are the same people who will cry and shake when their fictional ship is invalidated and written out. They often wish nothing good for Viv and her team that are providing these ungrateful children with the show and content they so badly want. It shows you just how privileged they had grown up as children, doesn’t it?

This wasn’t fun, it was horrible. I didn’t realize just how many toxic people existed in the HH fandom until this “trend” began to spread.

But the funny thing that I'll never forget is how apeshit Alfa went when I had the audacity to draw Alastor plus sized. She accused me of being a pedophile, supporting MAPs. Even though she leans towards being pro-ship (likes incest, OK with lolicon, will condone drawing necophilia.) But me? Having the sheer audacity of drawing Alastor fat? It burned her so bad.

As well, this was being pushed on the VAs during a small livestream. The chat wouldn’t stop asking, “what do you think of the Vaggie kill art going around?” Of course the VAs ignored these questions, but it was really rude to even ask these things. Especially when Vaggie’s VA was in the same livestream.

But then this trend was proven to be a lie, by Alex’s own words. He dropped the ball in a one-off conversation with an anti that “he only created this to get back at the Chaggie shippers.” So retroactively, this trend was worthless.

What also began to start becoming obvious was that Alfa was too afraid to do anything on her own, and thus, she will recruit some darlings to defend her. Alfa seems to have more defenders than she has any confidence to defend herself, and when she has no choice but to stand up for herself, she will buckle and hide. She is weak, is what I had learnt.

I decided to just ignore Alex and Alfa as much as I could. With a friend though, I was given updates of what was happening on the Double AAs’ side in the meantime, and it’s amazing to see just how vile they can be with their own fans and haters. Especially with their new puppy named Salty. (I think that’s their name, another weak ass bitch.)

As months went by, the major event that stirred from the AA camp was when they were harassing Pastel Sky. This would be where the big reveal of just how horrible the AAs and their friends truly are, when they have nobody to harass except for kids. HH has a wide audience of children involved in this fandom, hence why many other artists keep saying we should try to be good examples for them, and keep them safe. But not for the AAs.

Pastel was ruthlessly attacked by them and it was all unwarranted. What they were angry about was that Pastel had the nerve to have negative opinions when it came to AAs, and they broke their own rule of “don’t like then block.” Even Galactic Potatoes (Spuds) would go out of their way, again, to gaslight Pastel into believing that what attacks she received on Twitter was allowed, because Pastel was asking for it. Spuds is well-known to gaslight, a thing they had learnt from the AAs quite often.

Pastel was a minor at the time, and it really doesn’t matter if Pastel was just 17. I don’t care if Pastel was only 17 and that “well she’s almost 18,” because regardless of age, harassment is not the answer. Follow by that, fighting with minors is actually fucking stupid and braindead. Spuds tried very hard to justify why attacks were OK, and that Pastel “should learn” how to grow up. I then learnt that Spuds went into hiding afterwards.

That was until the Double AAs’ discord chats were exposed, showing that they were practically mouth-watering at Pastel’s pain, romanticizing her apparent abuse and trying to convince each other how her punishment on Twitter was correct. Even one (I believe was Jay because he loves me and wants me back) wished that I would die. This would be the third time he asked me to die indirectly, which justifies my points on how toxic and abusive they are.

This entire event seemed to have unraveled a new wave of truths, and it’s sad to know it had to take a literal minor to have their masks fall off.

In 2021, Alex was exposed to be a thief. Stealing commission money for “stress pills.” If Alex is on a path of drug addiction, I hope it’s not the case. That’s a terrible place to be, and hopefully he’ll be clean and grow up for once. I still don’t care enough about Alfa, after now knowing all she is, is just a dramatic housewife with nothing better to do in her life. Perhaps if they just got jobs instead of stealing money from fans, they’d be leading well-productive lives.

From what I understand, many of the toxic fans of the Double AAs have either dropped HH fandom, or have deleted their accounts. Good, I hope they stay gone. The fandom deserves better, not trash.

Needless to say, the best advice I can give to those in the HH fandom that come facing the Double AAs is to not be afraid of them.

Over time, once you get used to their behaviour, you come to realize that this is their default. They’re not likable, they’re not nice, and they aren’t appreciative of one singular thing you do for them (hence Alex stealing from his own fans.)

It’s their M.O., they are just that cruel. So don’t fear them, but challenge their behaviour. Don’t stoop to their level of wanting to draw hateful art, though, that will fuel them. Talking down to them like their idiots always works like a charm.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

If anybody from the Double AAs’ camp ever finds this and reads it, I just wanna say that you are doing a great job, sweety. Thanks for proving me right by the new year. I appreciate the honesty for once. It only took you a year, just think of what other things you’ll do in the next year.

[corsaircaptain]

I find it weird that ships like spike x rarity, rainbow dash x scootaloo and Danny x surprise exists. Not only are they all adults with minors but a lot of them would either be toxic or out of character for the characters. Heck I think spike x Danny, Babs x scootaloo, Danny x scootaloo, spike x scootaloo, rainbow dash x surprise, and rarity x surprise make more sense then the minor x adult parings. Yeah it's just fiction but you should at least take the characters personalities into consideration.

Although you probably won't answer this. So what's the weirdest ship you know of? Ps pinkie has a book full of ships not kidding.

“Okay, so there is way too much casual pedophilia in the My Little Pony fandom. I won’t sugarcoat it, but why in the skies are you asking me about it, @zook-x? To be clear, I want no part of that discourse. You list Spike x Danny as a ‘good’ ship, but are we talking about G1 Spike? Because G1 Spike is a baby, not... however old G4 Spike is; whereas Danny is 10-11? Maybe? You can’t just pair minors off and call it a day, the younger they are the closer the ages have to be.

 Also, to be clear, when shipping minors, I mean fluffy Luca-style stuff... no clopping... that comes later. But then there are the prudes who say you can’t sexualize anyone who was ever a minor... and... I’ve got some bad news for them. We were all kids once, get over yourselves, if you hate a ship, own up to it... don’t become a frichen anti and spend 24/7 harassing everycreature until they commit suicide or leave tumblr or whatever your goal is. That one enemy I mentioned earlier was after me for two years for roleplaying a 19 year old turtle online because “technically it's ephebophilia” is something only a pedophile says. Which, whether or not that’s even true, is not a thing I’ve ever said. In fact, this marks the first appearance of that word on any of my blogs, which doesn’t really matter since 19 is more than legal anyway.

I’m always living in fear that somepony is going to call me out for the age gap between myself and Rainbow Dash... and I don’t even know how big the gap is because I’m afraid to ask Dashie how old she is in case it’s a big gap.”

((Rainbow's Birthiversary cake has 21 visible candles on it, which I assumed meant that she was obviously somewhere between 21-35. That was what I was thinking when I made Celaeno 32, but then some RD accounts have made their versions of Dashie as young as 19... which, I guess is their right, but it’s just weird. Do I say “Oh, in this AU Celaeno is 19 too?” Or does that sound too desperate? Here’s a mock-up of my reasoning: Red=Far Side, Yellow=Near Side, Orange=Both Sides... but later, when Superman turned 80, he had the same wedding-cake-as-a-birthday-cake set-up with literally all 80 candles on one side... the side that wasn’t facing him. So, is this just a mistake so common it’s accepted? Did some artist do it right in the past and they got so sick of people writing in, confidently incorrect that the cake didn’t have enough candles drawn on it that it just became the industry standard to place them all on one side, Last Supper style, so it looks really weird?

In that case, is RD, and thereby the mane 6 (minus Pinkie Pie who would be 20) supposed to be 21? Then there’s the really inconsistent way they handle the passage of time. The CMC haven’t aged a day, but the old librarian who ‘lost’ her job after Twilight left for Ponyville has been gone so long, the current staff hasn’t even heard of her. So anyway, the ‘half your age plus seven’ rule (which I have no idea where it comes from) means that Celaeno shouldn’t chase Dash unless she’s 23-or-more. Which is coincidentally the age picked by the main Rainbow Dash... and by ‘main’ I mean the one who managed to get the canon URL first... besides that other one without the hyphen who isn’t even a brony.

Fortunately nopony has called me out on it... yet. But that doesn’t mean I can’t overthink it every second of every day. Why not just make Celaeno younger, you ask? Because then, by the rules of fate, I will run into a 35 year old RD.))

[floralcalaveraa]

MEET THE MUSE

Rules: Answer in-character. Repost, don’t reblog.

► NAME ➭ He waves around proudly at the imaginary crowd his mind conjured, assuming a performance that one would put up when live on camera for an interview. Typical Guzma, thinking that he is all that, but he is not. “Hey y’all~” He says with a chipper, sing-song voice to continue convincing ... the dashboard? “Clean the wax outta yur ears; I’m only gonna say this once and I expect chu to say the WHOLE fucking thing when you call me. It’s Guzma Kehlani Kaliko- I’m joking.” The emotion in his performance stops abruptly at the end and he acts like normal again. But then again ... when was he ever normal? His voice is modest now. “Just keep it up to Guzma.”

► ARE YOU SINGLE? ➭ Guzma doesn’t hold back on widening his eyes upon registering the question and emphasizes the reality of his words when he curls a curl on his finger and bats his eyes, pretending a coy nature. “Yeah~ So if anyone out there single too and you want a good sex, come on down; my number is-” And then a convenient beep censors the sound of his voice because Guzma is doing too much.

► ARE YOU HAPPY? ➭ “Hmm, I’m aight right now. Is not like ... I’m going through anythin ...” He asks himself, looking at the sky for an answer. “Or am I?”

► ARE YOU ANGRY?  ➭ “Who isn’t? I know I am. Like, when’s a rich white guy gonna give me all his money ya know? Those fucking billionaires don’t know how to spend it, like, give me your money I’ll show you.”

► ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED? ➭ All that talk from earlier? That magic disappears. Guzma falls silent for a moment, but tries to salvage his enthusiasm from earlier. “Weeeeeeeeeeeell ... they never married to begin with? Yeah, very telling of their relationship, ya know?” ‘I don’t want them to ever marry. That is not love, I wouldn’t attend to it should it ever happen.’

NINE FACTS!

► ‘BIRTH’ PLACE ➭ “In. This. Stupid. Region. Called. ALOLA!” Each word came with a jumping stomp to the ground, like if this tantrum would make the region he chanted out loud crumble in his stomps.

► HAIR COLOR ➭ He grabs a strand of his hair, stretches it out, and watches it recoil back to its original curly condition, feeling a bit shy to divulge. “It’s ... it was my daddy’s hair color. I didn’t like that. So I colored it to look like my mami’s ...”

► EYE COLOR ➭ “A stupid fucking grey. Can you believe that? Not even the universe wants me to own anythin’ gold like damn give me a fucking break.”

► BIRTHDAY ➭ “...” He remains silent, connecting the dots about this scheming universe. “Y’know, this life really doesn’t want me to be first in anything; July 2nd.”

► MOOD ➭ “Now that I made that realization, I’m feelin’ pissed.” Guzma says with a relative ‘ :-) ’ expression and relaxed voice.

► GENDER ➭ “A guy, wish I was a God though or somethin ...” A hand grabs his chin lightly, but pensively. “Or a bug ...”

► SUMMER OR WINTER ➭ “OOOh summer’s are sexy! Ya feel me?”

► MORNING OR AFTERNOON ➭ “I know I’m gonna sound like a cheesy old white lady but like, watching the sunset be kinda romantic tho-”

ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE!

► ARE YOU IN LOVE? ➭ “I either hate or love the people in my life. Never in between-”

► DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ➭ “Oh that’s fucking cute, yeah. It only exists to the right people though, not bitches like me.”

► WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP? ➭ Who ended his confidence? This question. It’s going to make him mention Her name. Her. And that scares him. Madam Prez. He sinks into his chair in shame. “I ... I’m the one that messes up.”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART? ➭ “Yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker~” But his pride ends when he is left at the thought of the  loneliness that comes after break-ups.

► ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS? ➭ “... Yeah.” It is brief, in fear that entertaining it more would make him reveal the reasons why. After all, he wouldn’t want to bad-mouth Lusamine, no matter how vile she was to traumatize love for him.

► HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ➭ “No because then they’ll smell my b.o ya know?”

► HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER? ➭ “Not that I know of ... I don’t know-”

► HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ➭ “I guess ... I know that there were times I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying ‘I love you’ to someone ...”

CHOICES!

► LOVE OR LUST ➭ “Lust hell yeah 😎” Love.

► LEMONADE OR ICED TEA ➭ “I don’t give a fuck I just crave a refreshing drink right now; all this talking and answerin’ invasive, personal, intimate, scar-opening questions to a complete stranger has my throat all dried up like yo sex life.” Giving drawn out answers does nothing to help.

► A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS ➭ “I have my stinky siblings at Po Town. Sure they can be annoyin’ as fuck eatin’ my food, wasting water, stanking up the bathroom, wasting money, leaving the house messy, and all that, but I wouldn’t want them any other way.”

► WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN ➭ “Aw c’mon! Both are sexy! ... Aight, the one that will end with me gettin’ laid- ...” He sighs. “Aight, the one that would get me to know my companion better.”

► DAY OR NIGHT ➭ “I like to feel dramatic in the night. Like, ‘staring out from the window, musing about yo regrets and desires while seeing nobody but chu outside thinking about yo life’ kind of dramatic.”

HAVE YOU EVERS!

► BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT ➭ “Apparently not cuz my parent’s ain’t find me yet haha!”

► FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS ➭ “’Falling up the stairs’ sounds like some Loony Toons shit if I’m honest- Just imagine, you falling down the stairs, but then rewind it to make it look like you fell upward. Lol.”

► WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ➭ A hand grabs at his chest, at his heart, as he yells at the top of his lungs, “GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!!” Stability. Love. Healing. Those he had to let go in fear of having them punished by Lusamine. Honor. Respect. Freedom. And in truth, money, to support his family.

PREFERENCES!

► SMILE OR EYES ➭ “Oh I love both; a smile in someone that doesn’t do it often though. And eyes, those that are gold, blue, or green are pretty ...”

► SHORTER OR TALLER ➭ “Ain’t nobody gonna beat me and my 6′9″ ass. ‘Sides, I love my shorties anyways.”

► INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION ➭ “Attraction. Not askin’ anyone to be smart in order for me to like chu-”

► HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP ➭ “I only get casual hook-ups, night-stands ... C’mon, just look at me-”

FAMILY!

► DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG ➭ “Talkin’ bout the one in Po Town? Yup.” He nods proudly, not acknowledging his biological one.

► WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE” ➭ “Baby, I got a fucked up life-”

► HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME ➭ “Yeah. Best decision I ever made or else I wouldn’t find the real family I have now.”

► HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT ➭ “I kicked my own ass out before my daddy did.”

FRIENDS!

► DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS ➭ “Ooh that Plumeria, I can’t stand her! Her big butt be hogging up the whole sofa when we watchin’ t.v! Do you understand how irritatin’ that is?!” Seconds after this ‘wrath’, he bursts into laughter.

► DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS GOOD FRIENDS ➭ “No because they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, sexy friends.”

► WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND ➭ “Oh come on don’t make me pick n choose- Plumeria and Gemali (his Golisopod) has been my longest, how about that?”

► WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU ➭ “Oooo it’s just me, myself, and I baby- Ain’t nobody gonna understand my twisted mind better than I.” Can be deciphered by Plumeria or Lusamine.

tagged by: @obliviouskind​ wrow cryus, having a spot for love .. u know cyrus if u say josefina’s name 3 times she will appear easy as that

tagging: @maxskulline​ , @akuromatico​ , @kyohansha​ (me🤝erik: making you do this twice. BUT OKAY SRSLY U DONT HAVE TO ONLY IF U WANT-) , @unovasgambler​ , @theprxfessorpair​ (hemlock!) , @draconscious​ , @littlesilverplatinum​​  (me🤝myself, hand-gripping my other hand: making you Erik do this twice.)

[theshapeofhorror]

Comparing and contrasting Halloween 2′s Michael Myers to Halloween 1978′s

After re-reading this: warning. Snark about / towards Halloween 2 ahead.

Halloween 2′s portrayal of Michael is an oddity to me. I constantly see other sequels trashed for their portrayal of Michael, yet never this one - even though, from a writing point of view, this is really where the train started to derail from its tracks. The writing of Halloween 2 is an absolute mess and Michael is no exception to that - don’t get me wrong, I have crazy amounts of nostalgia for this movie and I love Dick Warlock as Michael Myers, but if I’m being honest, this portrayal fails to capture any of the original movie’s fascination and quite simply doesn’t work as a good continuation of Halloween 1978′s Michael.

(There is one scene I’d call an exception to that, but it can’t carry the rest of the writing / portrayal / movie on its own.)

Let’s get into it.

1. The good - The costume

One major reason why I think this portrayal is quite well-liked amongst fans is that, unlike a lot of the other sequels, it got Michael’s looks right. It’s honestly super wild to me that I have to cite this as a positive - this is a character who doesn’t talk and gets defined by his looks and body language. Insane that for most of the sequels they failed to get this basic yet crucial aspect of the character right. But anyway... 

All snark aside, Michael does look pretty great in this movie. I chose that screenshot of a side-view specifically to highlight the following: they actually had someone play the character whose physique and height fit Nick Castle’s from the original movie. The mask is the same, if grittier/dirtier (which works, considering he rolled around in the grass after getting shot and all), and also big points for continuity - you can actually see the bloody holes in the coveralls where Loomis shot Michael at the end of Halloween / start of this movie. The coverall looks good, too. 

Based on looks alone this portrayal doesn’t disappoint and actually happens to be one of my favourite in the whole franchise. (I’m especially partial to that scene where Michael stabs Laurie’s empty bed.)

This movie, quite different than Halloween 1978, isn’t afraid to give the viewer full-on frontal shots of Michael, starting right from before his first kill less than ten minutes into the runtime all the way up to the end. In a way I feel this detracts from the tension, but I can see why they did it - they probably thought “Hell, the viewers know what he looks like anyway if they saw the first movie, might as well”. 

2. The good p.2 - Throwbacks to Halloween 1978

I don’t consider this a necessity, but some easter eggs / throwbacks are always appreciated (by me). Halloween 2 in parts does a pretty good job of capturing and recreating some of those iconic moments.

The first 15-ish minutes of this movie in general are, thematically, almost a 1:1 of Halloween’s intro scene; we get a long POV shot of Michael lurking around and watching Loomis (Judith), then Michael picks up his weapon of choice, then the first kill (stabbing with a knife). Though this is also where Halloween 2 quite diverges from the beaten path in some ways, in giving us a full-frontal of Michael and the mask and a close-up of his eyes.

3. The bad - Different way of killing

Objectively, if I strictly view this movie as a slasher, this isn’t a negative, and I think most people don’t take it as such. I sort of don’t either - the kills in Halloween 2 are visually impressive, creative, and have some nice gore. (I love the syringe kill, for example - the lighting / visual ambience in that scene is awesome.)

However... they don’t fit the character of Michael as established in Halloween 1978. In that movie Michael kills for gratification, because he gets something out of it. The kills are drawn-out, have long build-up with extended stalking, and all relate to choking the victim in some way or form. Michael only chokes one character in the entirety of Halloween 2, and that guy doesn’t even die from it. There are no vocalizations either. That’s not to say that Michael can’t change his motivations for killing or change his character - but Halloween 2 takes place during the same night as the original movie.

It’s simply unbelievable that Michael, who, at the end of Halloween 1978, still tried to go for choking Laurie despite her having escaped and injured him, would suddenly throw all of that out the window and stab Alice’s throat mere minutes after the end of the first movie. Unless...

4. The bad p.2 - Different motivation for killing

... they went back and changed his whole motivation for killing.

Which they did. And it’s flimsy writing at best.

So, Michael’s motivation for killing in this movie is getting to Laurie. He’s somehow connected to the idea / spirit of Samhain now and wants to end his family line, or so the movie (and later sequels) make it seem. Most of the other victims kick the bucket because they might end up between him and her in the hospital. As for why he kills Alice and some of the others that technically wouldn’t have? No idea. I guess maybe he still enjoys killing, but really, I only assume that because of the context of Halloween 1978. This movie doesn’t do anything to prove / hint that he does, aside from the hot tub scene which feels almost out of character compared to the rest of the portrayal.

5. The bad p.3 - Don’t fix a thing that isn’t broken

A rule that Halloween 2 doesn’t give a damn about. This movie doesn’t even try to continue Halloween 1978 in this regard. Michael was after Laurie from the start because they’re siblings now, even if neither him nor Laurie ever even interact with that tidbit. It might as well not be in Halloween 2, but it changes a lot for the original movie. You get a certain sense of retcon when you look too closely, something I have never enjoyed in any form of media.

Though it has to be said that I neither hate the idea of a more supernatural Michael nor the sibling plotline itself. Some other entries to the franchise explored the second one to decent / great effect (RZ1, H20) and the Thorn trilogy (Halloween 4-6) is my absolute guilty pleasure among slasher movies.

6. The bad p.4 - Robo / Zombie Michael

This isn’t a knock on Dick Warlock as an actor at all. Some of the earlier Michael scenes of this movie show that he can give a convincing portrayal of the character.

He has the stiff spine and lack of shoulder movement.

The confidence.

And the fluidity. (I like the oddly fitting description of Michael from the otherwise questionable ‘78 novelization: his gait was quick and graceful for a big man)

Really, what happens mostly in the last act of the movie is something I personally think should be blamed on direction and writing - Michael chasing Laurie through the hospital at a snail’s speed isn’t only based on acting. The script determines that he walk over very slowly and swing at her legs when she climbs up the pipes, the script determines he swing like a zombie at empty air after Laurie shoots his eyes. 

Nevertheless, and whoever is to blame, Halloween 2 features zombie!Michael.

As well as robo!MIchael. (Despite how good he might look in that scene)

And it just doesn’t fit anything we saw in that first movie.

7. In conclusion

Michael Myers in Halloween 2 is a very, very different character than we saw in Halloween 1978. He has different motivations, kills for different reasons, no longer threads the line between human and supernatural but instead full-on crosses it; he moves differently, kills differently. He fails to be a continuation of the original Michael; he’s more his own character than anything else.

Halloween 2, apart from the hot tub scene, doesn’t manage to capture the fascinating “evil, fucked up psychopath threading into supernatural territory at times but still displays decidedly human behavior and quirks” nature of the character of Michael Myers; it feels empty and flat compared to the original movie, and it paved the way for the absolute mess that some of those later sequels / portrayals of Michael would turn out to be.

However... it is a portrayal that’s easy to simp / thirst for, as Dick Warlock happens to be a very attractive man who looks great in the Michael Myers costume. And, also, the hot tub scene exists. :)

[taytayize123]

How one night can change your whole life ✨

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR MGK. So please I ask you fans and mutuals who love him to be kind. I hope you like it. 🙊💞

It had been a fucking shit year and a half for me given, going through health issues, doctors and nurses that truly didn’t give a shit about how you felt about treatment where they’d just throw endless amounts of pills at you when you clearly tell them that you’ve done your research and other people have achieved remission through eating healthy, working out, and keeping anxiety low yet of course they don’t actually care how you feel. You are just there for them to get a buck out of you and keep the chain going. That whole experience had put me into two depressive meltdowns and to seek professional help by gaining a therapist. When I started therapy I began to realize how much resentment I held in about family members and past friends who’ve treated me like shit and i’m done being walked all over. A strained relationship with my mother. A barely existing relationship with my sister. The only person who seems to take interest in hearing me without having overly dramatic reactions is my dad yet, having a sit down conversation with him is hard so often I got left on my own. My solace in life is music and lately it had been one man that I kept going back to when I was feeling defenseless, stressed, not good enough etc. That was Machine Gun Kelly aka Colson Baker I had really taken a liking to Hotel Diablo about a year ago, something about him had intrigued me so much that I needed to hear every song and lyric. While I may have not struggled with poverty or coming from a broken home as he did, I related to his inability to express emotions the way he needed to be okay in life so he then found an outlet to channel all that rage, anger, sadness, sacredness etc into something that was not only powerful but got him out of that life of struggle, yet it also created new issues for him like finding out who his real friends are in life. Anyways, when he rapped or sang it made me say to myself; “Peyton you are gonna be okay.” an actually believing that for the first time in awhile. 

While, vibing hard to Kells listening to every album as well as learning all the lyrics by heart. Started to develop favorites of his, my attitude started changing as I dove deeper into his music and overall personality. I began to appreciate how he simply didn’t care if he pissed off people as he was being his true self in the process I began to have the confidence in myself to put up or shut up and really stop letting those around me walk all over me and tell them no when they ask me to do something for them knowing they aren’t ever gonna return the favor or assuming I should do something for them just cause I’m family that’s bullshit. Within, this new feeling that i was experience maybe a little good karma came my way because I had gotten a ticket to his latest tour. It was fate or destiny I swear to god because he sold out in my town in ten minutes flat. It felt like I was rewarding myself for really working on my self but also the angels above putting something positive in my life for the first time in a long time and I was so thankful! 

The day was here, October 13th came fast and I was so excited that I was getting this opportunity to see him live and I am stoked. Now, given that my mother asked me to use my car that day, I ended up telling her she could take it but to drop me off early at the venue and I would just chill all day before the concert. It wasn’t an issue, the venue had a hotel on the premise as well as a restaurant, bar, cute outdoor beer gardens and wooden areas to explore. I had chosen to go to the bar and order some lunch and sit up at the bar and read for awhile. 

“Hi, yes could I order the cheese burger with tots please.” I ask nicely to the bartender. She pressed the buttons on the order device and smiled back at me. “Of course. Your order should be up in a minute hun.” she said in a pleasant tone and walked off. I had put my purse up on the counter and dug out my book which happened to be a book about Jimi Hendrix and his life. I’ve always been drawn to musical types I guess, my want for caring for those who struggle and need support somehow has always been attached to people I find interesting. “Here you go love,” the bartender places down my order and my drink as I thank her nicely and turn my page popping a tot into my mouth getting lost in the words yet it stops when I hear

“Do you mind if I sit here?” 

I don’t even look up from my book, and nod happily. As I pick up my drink to take a sip I look up and see him. Machine Gun Kelly sitting next to me. My heart started beating a thousand times a minute but my brain tells my body to PLAY IT COOL. As I smile at him he smiles back,  Hi. I’m Colson, what’s your name? and what are you reading?” he asks me  peeking at my book. “It’s a book about Jimi Hendrix. I am really big into music and just find people who do something in the music field interesting plus he was one of the best guitarists in the world. I’m Peyton nice to meet you.” I say, slowly swallowing still trying to keep my voice even yet on the inside I was FREAKING OUT rightfully so I think. He grins at me as his order arrives, “Yeah, he was an inspiration to me to start playing guitar.” he says picking up his burger and taking a bit. He puts it back down. Noticing a bit of ketchup on his chin I let out a little giggle as I hand him a napkin. He lets out a boastful laugh, “Oh thanks hun, damn where are my manners eating like a savage in front of a pretty girl like yourself.” I look down at the floor. “Nah, I’m not pretty I’m sure you’ve met prettier girls than me.” I say, my happy upbeat tone dropping to one of unsure and self doubt. Still looking at the floor, as I feel fingertips on my chin. He brings my face up to look at his. “Peyton, you are pretty, even beautiful there’s something so real and authentic in your eyes and that is true beauty.” he spoke with such a low but meaningful expression. Staring into those kind blue eyes of his as he is looking back at mine an explosion of a unnameable feeling is spread throughout my whole body. I let out a shy giggle even letting out a short snort, which I snapped back to reality I groaned putting my face in my hands. Colson lets out another sweet chuckle, as he pulls my hands away from my face now holding them in his. “Stop it Peyton, that what you just did was adorable. I have to ask you, will you come back to our backstage area so we can keep talking. There is this pull to you and I can’t figure it out but I need to know more about you. Please.” He spoke with such a gentle tone as his eyes pleaded with mine looking for any hint of a positive answer. I smiled, “Of course, I’ll go with you Colson. Let me pay and we can go.” I said, fishing in my purse for my wallet as I took it out. He already handled the bartender his black amex card and she had cleared the purchase. I stand up in my wedged heels bringing my short 5′3 ass to maybe 5′6, still only coming up to his mid chest looking up at him. “Colson you didn’t have to do that.” I whined, once again Colson cracks another grin looking down at me. “You’re just so adorable. Good thing I don’t mind a bit of whining you’ll learn when to or not.” he smirks at me as he cracks a dirty joke making me laugh again. We turn to leave the restaurant, his hand intertwined with mine. His hands are strong, calloused; years of playing guitar and holding a microphone for hours on end. Fingers wrapping into mine. His other hand firmly placed on the small of my back guiding me which way to go. I thought to myself, as I walked with him; “Whatever will be tonight will be and live life to the fullest.” as the lyrics from his song 27 floored my brain. 

“ Yeah, forever young, though, haha Always be those crazy kids running wide-eyed down the boulevard, huh 27.” 💞 

[whatapunk]

Holy butts I wrote a second chapter!! I am soooo thankful for everyone who liked or reblogged the first chapter because truly, truly, truly you gave me more motivation than you could possibly realize! 

A couple things: 

I’ve included dialogue from the s02e01 scene where Kanan and Hera have a very Han/Leia hallway argument and I definitely don’t want to take credit for such things (I only wanted to add it to help me with my flow a bit)

Right now I’m firmly trying so very hard to fit it perfectly into canon (it’s just something I like doing, idk) but eventually it might go a lil more AU, I just haven’t decided yet

This shit had me on wookieepedia searching the most random stuff, but rest assured, there is garlic in the Star Wars universe

Enjoy!

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: t for now, m in future chapters (I'm guessing) for language and some non-explicit intimacy

Word Count: 2446

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1

Chapter 2

Kanan sat on the step ladder leading up to the Liberator’s control panels. His presence was a silent mark of informality in the middle of the crew’s debriefing meeting with Commander Sato. The rest of the crew, plus Ahsoka, stood around the holo-console in the middle of the floor. Sato was saying something about the Ghost crew- his crew- but Kanan was barely half listening. For one, every other word that came out of Sato’s mouth was some military formality and, thus, not something that interested him in the slightest. But the main reason he wasn’t listening was that Rhia Denley’s image was still burned into his thoughts.

Seven years. When you hadn’t seen someone in this galaxy for seven years, you started to assume you never would again. At least, that’s how Kanan had felt. 

However, suddenly she was here again- she existed again, something Kanan had tried hard to convince himself wasn’t even true. It was easier to convince himself she was something he’d imagined than for him to remember her and the way she’d crushed his young heart years ago. Besides, thinking about that heartache had always made him feel guilty once Hera was in his life. Now, however, he was feeling so many things he didn’t even have room for guilt.

What he did have room for was a hefty amount of bitterness, and for more than one reason. First of all, he was already bitter before Rhia showed up; he’d hardly hidden his feelings and had become almost spiteful about how they had been sucked into a military operation. But even that wasn’t totally separate from his thoughts about Rhia.

Rhia and Kanan had become a “thing” on Gorse, very soon after Kanan had set up what passed as a life there. Their meeting was by chance, but they had run into each other briefly when he was even younger and worked with a smuggler named Janus Kasmir. It was actually Rhia who told him about low-profile jobs on Gorse then, so he wasn’t altogether surprised that she ended up there eventually too. While he wasn’t much more than a kid when they first met, when they reconnected on Gorse, he was older and far more interesting to Rhia. They quickly became infatuated with one another for the better part of four months, which was practically a lifelong commitment to Kanan. Before Hera, Rhia was the longest relationship he’d ever been in. 

Rhia, however, had bigger goals than being a bartender’s girlfriend and working as a miner on Cynda. Rhia, much like Hera, was interested in the Rebellion. She’d made this clear early on, but she didn’t try to preach to Kanan, and he’d liked that about her. However, once she’d found a connection to a group of Rebels on the Holonet, she had tried- more than once- to get him to come with her. That’s what made running into her here, of all places, all the more exasperating and awkward. He’d ended up here anyway, despite his countless protestations- and he didn’t even want to be.

Seeing Rhia again reminded him, among other things, of all of the reasons he told her he didn’t want to join the Rebellion. And that reminded him that they were all still true.

Kanan heard Sato say something about the Spectres being “invaluable,” and then suddenly Chopper burst into the meeting, much to Commander Sato and Hera’s dismay. He was going on about an emergency incoming transmission, and, frankly, Kanan welcomed the change. His bitterness with this situation, this Rebellion- this meeting had reached its peak.

***

Less than ten minutes later, Kanan’s bitterness had already gotten him into trouble, and with Hera, no less. 

After telling Chopper to play his transmission during a “secret debriefing,” Hera had scowled at him for the rest of the meeting. He’d tried to rush out and get out of her line of fire once they were dismissed, but she’d caught him in the hallway and firmly let him know he wasn’t authorized to do that.

“Authorization! Procedure! That’s what’s bothering me!” he’d raised his voice, uncaring of the people that were attempting to walk past them as they argued. 

Hera put her hands up gently, sighing at having finally gotten him to drop the passive aggressive quips about their work lately. It wasn’t hard to guess what had been bothering him, but he was a grown adult who should be able to talk to her, of all people.

“All right. Talk to me,” she said, lowering her voice. Kanan sighed and did the same.

“After this mission, I want us to go back on our own,” he said firmly. “Fighting alongside soldiers isn’t what I signed up for.” At that, Hera frowned at him and shoved him into an open doorway, pointing a gloved finger in his face.

“You seem to be forgetting these soldiers helped save your life,” she said, looking at him with those big eyes that could be both demanding and softening at the same time. After that remark, he couldn’t meet them.

“And I’m grateful,” he started, “but that doesn’t mean I want to join their little army. When you and I started together, it was ‘Rob from the Empire, give to the needy,’ a noble cause. Now we’re getting drawn into some kind of military thing! I don’t like it.” 

Somehow Hera’s voice became more serious and more earnest.

“We are fighting a bigger fight, but it’s still the right fight,” she said, all but pleading with him to understand that they’d been fighting in the name of the Rebellion all along. Kanan wasn’t having it.

“I survived one war. I’m not ready for another one,” he said, turning away from her. She grabbed his arm. “I saw what it did.”

“To the Jedi?” she asked, almost whispering. He looked back at her.

“To everyone.” He left the doorway and continued walking down the hall, hearing Hera’s exasperated sigh behind him. 

Kanan loved virtually everything about Hera, even her flaws. She was incredibly stubborn, but since he was so go-with-the-flow, it never really got in their way. In fact, it practically complimented his own personality. She would get adamant and obsessed over something, and he would follow her anywhere and do anything she asked of him. At least, that’s how things had gone for them for the past seven years, right up until the formal Rebellion had rescued him from the Grand Inquisitor. Now it was suddenly a reality of Kanan’s world that he was part of a military operation and that could only lead to one thing: war. 

Hera had been familiar with war her whole life, but not in the same way Kanan had. He’d fought in battles as a young teen alongside his master, Depa Billaba and seen the realities of it all over the galaxy. Hera’s own world was war-torn, for sure, but her role in that war was far different than Kanan’s. For the first time since he’d met her, he felt like she was incapable of understanding him.

Kanan headed to the only place he really wanted to be right now: his quarters on Ghost. He felt like meditating, if only for the quiet. He lost himself in his thoughts there for maybe an hour, and eventually his sour attitude had at least subsided. He remembered his harsh tone with Hera and his obvious instigation of Chopper in the meeting. He still didn’t care about what Sato thought, but he felt bad for making Hera look bad. Now, it felt like such a childish thing to have done.

He left his quarters and, once seeing the Ghost was still empty, he went back out into the bay. It was less busy now, as most of the cargo that littered the area earlier had been taken elsewhere by now. His eyes scanned for Hera; he knew he should apologize to her. When he didn’t see her, or any of the Spectres, he set off down one of the hallways that he believed led to the commissary. He hadn’t taken the time to get to know his way around this ship (by design) so he honestly had no clue where to start looking for her. He’d gone pretty far without seeing anything resembling a commissary and was about to turn around when an amazing aroma hit him and made his stomach growl: garlic. 

Something told him to follow the smell, which led him down a corridor that opened up to a large galley. Standing in front of a pan sizzling on the stove, as Kanan had expected, was Rhia. She looked up at him, surprised, but then smiled.

“I should have known this would attract you,” she said with a smirk, then turned her attention back to the sizzling pan, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me here,” Kanan added, grabbing a seat at an empty table near the stove. “You know how I feel about your cooking.” She looked up and grinned at him.

“The same way everyone does,” she said, confidently. She left the pan and attended to a cutting board with what looked like an onion and some kind of pepper on it. 

Kanan’s stomach growled again. Rhia was an amazing cook and loved every piece of food he’d ever seen her hold. She only ever ate ration bars or drank nutritive milk when she absolutely had to. Otherwise, she kept her own stock of spices and quality ingredients and went well out of her way (and budget) to get fresh produce. Kanan’s mind drifted back to memories of watching Rhia cooking in her kitchen on Gorse. He remembered breakfast with eggs and some sort of mushroom, watching her move her hands skillfully around knives and pans and the ingredients, often wearing nothing but-

“So,” Rhia started, pulling Kanan out of his memory. “You finally joined the Rebellion.” Kanan’s brow wrinkled.

“What do you mean by finally?” he asked, already feeling himself becoming defensive. Rhia rolled her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, slicing into her pepper, grinning.

“And no, I did not join anything,” Kanan said, putting extra emphasis on “I” and jabbing his thumb to his chest. She looked back up at him as she scraped ingredients from her cutting board to the pan. 

“That was Hera Syndulla, wasn’t it? Captain of the Ghost? You’re part of Ghost crew, right?” she pressed, confused. Kanan was more than a little surprised.

“You’ve heard of us?” Kanan asked, his vanity getting the better of him and nearly allowing a smile to creep onto his face. Rhia rolled her eyes again and laughed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kanan. I’ve heard of Captain Syndulla, not her first mate,” she joked, laughing more at the fall of Kanan’s expression. Then realization struck her. “Wait, are you the one we just blew up a star destroyer for?” Kanan grimaced.

“Yes, but that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell them to- and it was Chopper who-” Rhia held her hand up, seeing him getting defensive.

“Kanan, I don’t really know anything about what happened. I wasn’t here for it, I just heard about it. I was on a freighter headed to a rendezvous. I don’t even know who Chopper is,” she said, going back to her pan.

“He’s our droid,” Kanan said flatly. “Anyway, my crew performed the rescue. I was aboard Tarkin’s destroyer.” Rhia looked up at him again, this time a little more serious.

“What was that like?” she asked.

“Not fun.”

Rhia didn’t push the topic further. She grabbed a pan of noodles that had been sitting over to her right and mixed them into the skillet with some oil. Kanan was suddenly fascinated by the chipped edge of the table in front of him. 

Satisfied with the meal in front of her, Rhia reached into a cabinet behind her and pulled out two plates and then matched them with two forks. She set them out on the table Kanan was sitting at and then divided the noodles in half. Before she sat down, however, she went back to the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. When she set them down the table Kanan looked up at her, arching his eyebrow. She went to a backpack that sat on the floor behind the counter and pulled out a glass bottle with no markings and a familiar light brown liquid sloshing inside. She poured herself a drink, placed the mouth of the bottle over his glass and paused, looking at him, silently offering the drink. 

“I can’t think of what goes better with your dinners,” he said, and she poured. 

As soon as Kanan took a bite, his memories were triggered all over again. He was pretty sure he’d never even eaten this specific dish before, given her access to such a wide variety of ingredients. But it didn’t matter. Rhia’s meals were memorable for some sort of shared quality that bound them all together, even when they were drastically different. Not only that, but he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten, and how much longer it had been since he’d eaten something of this quality. For a few minutes they ate in silence, Kanan unavailable for any and all conversation. Eventually, Rhia spoke.

“So explain to me how you haven’t joined the Rebellion?” Kanan sighed, but the food had made him quite amenable to discussing just about anything. He did, however, take a drink before he replied.

“I didn’t know we were a cell. I didn’t know there were cells. Hera was the only one who spoke to Fulcrum and knew of the larger operation. I found out when I was… rescued,” Kanan ended quietly. Rhia could tell that being rescued and needing so much from so many, made him uncomfortable. 

“That had to be quite a shock,” she said, sensing the need for a new subject. “So you and Hera, when did you two meet?” she asked. Kanan looked at her, surprised. He could tell by the way she asked, she knew that they were together. Rhia gave him a “give me a break” look.

“Kanan, really- my ‘pilot’? Shit, I’ve seen explosions that were more subtle.” She chuckled and took another drink, emptying the glass. Kanan did the same. Rhia offered up the bottle again.

“Another?”

Kanan looked at it, hesitating. He hardly drank at all anymore, let alone like he did when they were living on Gorse. However, depending on where this conversation was going to go, Kanan felt like he would need something more than blood in his veins. 

“One more.”

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

The Aftermath

Part two of the Subverted Expectations AU (aka the shy!remy + confident!logan au) (ty @notveryglittery for being able to think of names when I can’t) Part one here

Summary: Never trust a disaster queer to make good choices- aka, Remy runs from the cutie Content: Lots of swearing, reference to a bad relationship, Remy being a disaster queer for a lot of reasons, nb!Remy, agender!Logan, and polygender!Virgil Pairings: Sibling sleepxiety, future romantic losleep (these pairings apply for the whole au) Notes: This one-shot may not be super exciting a read, since I’m focusing more on plot/world building in this one, but I have a lot of one-shots lined up to follow, so... yeah. that’s a thing.

~~

    Remy wasn’t sure how many more words were spoken between vim and Logan before vy ran, but vy was pretty sure it wasn’t many. As soon as Logan had flashed that fucking smirk and called vim pretty, vy was well aware that if vy didn’t take preventive measures, vy was going to die right there, on some random lawn with party music blaring in the background.

    So, as soon as vy trusted vimself to stand, Remy got up and sprinted away as fast as vir legs would take vim. Vy was pretty sure vy heard Logan call after vim, but vy didn’t care. Vy knew what ne wanted: vir death. Vy refused to let nym take vir life. Remy planned to lose that thing via a caffeine overdose.

    Vy spotted vir house soon enough, Remy more than glad for the fact that the party vy had been pulled to was only a few blocks away from vir house. Normally, vy’d have to convince Roman to drive vim home, and given how utterly hopeless of a romantic Roman was, Remy knew that wouldn’t have worked out in vir favor.

    Key already in hand, Remy had the door open only a few seconds after vy came to it, quickly slamming it shut and throwing the deadbolt once vy was properly inside. Finished, vy turned and pressed vir back against the door, sliding down it and letting out a relieved breath.

    “Alright, motherfucker, I’ve got a bat and I’m not afraid to- Remy?”

    Remy looked up at Virgil, raising an eyebrow at them. She was welding a wooden baseball bat, which he was now lowering upon realizing it was only Remy.

    “I don’t think you’re supposed to announce your approach.” Remy snarked.

    “I figured it was just some drunk kid about to make a mistake.” Virgil responded, letting the top of the bat rest against the carpet as they leaned her weight on it. “Looks like I wasn’t too far off.”

    “Hey! I’m not drunk!” Remy exclaimed, offended as vy glared at Virgil (though the action was pointless given Remy’s sunglasses hid vir annoyed gaze). “I’m stupid, not an idiot.”

    “And yet you’re slamming doors at eleven o’clock at night!” Virgil yelled back, more exasperated than angry. “Why the hell are you doing that?”

    Remy crossed vir arms and slumped further against the door. “I was running away from someone.”

    Virgil’s eyes widened. “Were they trying to hurt you?” He asked, beginning to lift the bat back up.

    “Worse- they were trying to KILL me!”

    Virgil lowered the bat. “Oh. You saw someone cute.”

    “No!” Remy protested, although as soon as vy spoke vy knew vir tone was too adamant for Virgil to believe vim. “I wouldn’t- I don’t run away from cuties, Virge, I run towards them.”

    “Bullshit.” Virgil replied. “I know how much of a disaster queer you are. Though normally you just hide off in some corner or another, not run all the way home.”

    “Yeah, well, if home’s close-”

    “No, that’s not it.” Virgil cut vim off, looking thoughtful. Before they could hazard a guess as to the real answer, however, there was a set of three clean, precise knocks on the front door. Remy froze.

    “Ne followed me home.” Remy said, going pale. “Fuck.”

    Virgil raised an amused eyebrow. “What did you expect to happen? You were probably in the middle of talking to whoever this is and ne got worried when you suddenly sprinted off.”

    “I expected nym to let me flee in embarrassment and be done with it!” Remy exclaimed, ignoring when another set of knocks echoed out. “It would’ve been the polite thing to do, anyways.”

    Virgil’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Well ne’s here now…”

    Remy’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare.”

    Virgil’s grin only grew as she called out, loud enough for the person outside the door to hear, “Just a moment!”

    “I hate you.” Remy hissed as vy got up and pushed past Virgil, moving to hide in the living room. Vy could’ve tried to remain in front of the door, blocking Virgil, but vy knew the chance that Virgil would just shove vim out of the way and open the door while Remy was still in sight was too high. Virgil just chuckled and pulled open the front door.

    Though Remy didn’t dare risk peeking around the corner of the room to watch the exchange, vy knew that it was Logan Virgil opened the door to before their conversation had even begun.

    “Good evening, Mx…?”

    “Just call me Virgil. Pronouns on the necklace.” Virgil answered, and Remy didn’t need to see him to know they were tapping her pronoun necklace, currently bearing his he-she-they charms. “And you are?”

    “Logan Raven, ne-nym-nir pronouns, non-gendered terms.” Logan introduced nymself politely, which Remy considered very rude and misleading given that Logan was only here to further murder Remy.

    “Well then, Mx. Raven, how can I help you?”

    “I’m looking for someone- I believe vy ran into this house?” Logan said, prompting Remy to shrink further into the living room in a weak attempt to hide vimself even more. “Vy’s a high school senior, goes by Remy?”

    Holy shit the fuck why the hell does ne know my name-

    “You know vir name?” Virgil asked, also sounding surprised- though not nearly as surprised as Remy felt while vy was having a small crisis of identity over why one of the most popular kids would know vir name.

    “Of course. I make it my business to know the name of the prettiest student in school.”

    Remy was going to die. This was illegal, vy was pretty sure, to compliment-kill someone while they weren’t even around. Not to mention the fact that it was a lie- had Logan seen nymself?  Ne already knew the name of the prettiest student in school because ne had been born with it.

    “We’re also in two of the same classes.”

    Now, Remy frowned. Two of the same classes? Vy was fairly sure vy’d remember if Mx. Logan Raven was in vir classes-

    Oh fuck.

    Oh fuck.

    “I like that reason better. Less creepy.” Virgil said, their and Logan’s conversation continuing despite the realizations and breakdowns Remy was having. “And Remy might live here. Can I ask what you want with vim?”

    “Just to make sure vy was safe. Suddenly running away from someone is a bit worrying for the other person, after all.” Logan said, and Remy really hoped vy was imagining the hint of genuine worry in nir tone. “Oh, and to give vim this.”

    Remy heard a slight rustle that must have been Logan pulling something out of nir pocket before silence as ne (presumably) handed whatever it was over to Virgil.

    “Is this… a business card?” Virgil asked, sounding confused.

    “I normally hand them out to bigots who claim it’s too hard to use my pronouns.” Logan explained. “But I wrote my cell phone number on the back of this one- so Remy can call me, whenever vy wants.”

    “I see.” Virgil said. “Would you like to give this to vim personally?”

    “No thank you.” Logan responded, and Remy had never been happier to hear those words. “I know how to respect a boundary when I see one. Besides, I will be seeing vim at school tomorrow either way.”

    Virgil chuckled in a way that Remy knew meant she was laughing at vir expense. “That you will.”

    “It has been a pleasure speaking to you, Virgil. I hope you have a lovely rest of your night.” Logan said respectfully, pausing for a moment before adding, “And you as well, Remy.”

    Though Remy was well aware Logan couldn’t actually see vim- ne had likely just guessed that Remy would be listening into the conversation- vy still froze in place, as if by holding still vy could make vimself disappear. Vy remained stock-still until the sound of receding footsteps was replaced by the door closing and Virgil approaching vim.

    “So,” Virgil said as he came to stand in front of Remy, offering vim a small rectangle that Remy assumed was Logan’s ‘business card’, “that’s the kid who’s trying to kill you? Because ne doesn’t really seem like a killer.”

    Remy snatched the card away from Virgil vy replied, “Then your first impression of nym wasn’t a very good one.”

    Virgil laughed while Remy studied the card. The front of it was simplistic, the cardstock tinted a dark blue while black letters spelled out ‘Logan R.’, nir pronouns written beneath nir name. Flipping it over, Remy found the promised number- written out in a neat, blocky font, with a heart added to the end of it. The heart was small, and drawn with sharper edges than a heart ought to have, but it was still a heart, and it still brought a blush to Remy’s cheeks.

    “I’m going to burn this.” Vy vowed.

    “Why?” Virgil asked, tone a mix of amusement and bewilderment. “Ne’s a pretty kid and you both clearly have an interest in each other. This can’t be the worst thing to happen to you.”

    “It’s not just that.” Remy said, moving past Virgil so that vy could start pacing the room, still fiddling with the business card in hand. “Logan’s one of the most popular kids in the entire school, Virge- I didn’t even know ne knew I existed!”

    “You guys are in classes together.” Virgil pointed out as they moved to sit on the couch, watching Remy pace.

    “I sit in the back! I try to pretend the room’s empty! I don’t notice who else is there!” Remy exclaimed. “And even then, why does Logan care? Why would ne notice me?!”

    “Because you’re pretty?” Virgil answered mockingly, only getting a half-hearted glare from Remy in return before vy returned to vir frantic pacing. Virgil sighed. “Okay, come on. Something about this has you really bothered, and it’s nothing you’ve said so far. What’s so wrong about having a cool cutie like you?”

    Remy glanced at Virgil, briefly stopping vir pace, before starting again, not answering. The silence stretched for a moment before Remy said, abruptly, “Ne’s my soulmate.”

    “...So the cool cutie is also your soulmate, thereby allowing you to love nym without even having to worry about society trying to beat you upside the head because of it.” Virgil said, looking at Remy like vy was acting funny. “I still don’t see the problem.”

    “Well, problem A, I’m a queer disaster who can’t look at nym without blushing, so honestly, rude of the universe to pair us together.” Remy said, letting out a dry laugh at vir own words. When vy glanced at Virgil, however, she only raised an eyebrow, waiting for the part Remy wasn’t saying. Remy sighed, finally stopping in vir pacing to fall onto an armchair. “Problem B, our family’s view of soulmates isn’t exactly the norm. Most people think that if you’re soulmates, you have to be meant for each other. Logan barely knows me and yet ne’s calling me pretty and giving me nir number and I just-”

    “You don’t want nym chasing after nir soulmate and not you?” Virgil finished, and Remy nodded, looking down at the card vy kept folding and unfolding.

    “I don’t want to end up like mom and dad.” Remy admitted quietly.

    “Mom and dad are fucked up.” Virgil replied, getting a laugh from Remy. “You’d have to mess up pretty badly to end up like them. And I don’t think Logan’s as bad as you’re making nym out to be.”

    “Ne’s a murderer, Virge, and I’m nir new victim.” Remy said, waving Logan’s card at Virgil. “Ne’s popular, and confident, and fucking gorgeous as hell, and way too smart to be in my classes, and ne’s focusing all of nir charm on me, just like a murderer-”

    “Sounds like someone’s been obsessing.” Virgil interrupted, smirking when Remy flushed. “I’m just saying.”

    “This is why I hate you.” Remy said, though there was no heat in vir words, only in vir cheeks. Virgil laughed as Remy got up, heading towards vir room. “I’m going to go to bed and pretend neither you nor Logan exist.”

    “You know you have to face nym tomorrow, right?”

    “Considering I’m currently in denial, no.” Remy answered as vy headed down the hall, ignoring the rest of Virgil’s laughter as vy entered vir room and shut the door behind vim. Vy leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a sigh as vy once more examined Logan’s card and nir number and that damned little heart.

    Vy glanced at the trashcan sitting next to vir dresser. Vy really should just throw it away. The only thing the card was doing was making vim feel flustered for no good reason. Pushing vimself off the door, Remy headed over to vir trash can, holding the card over it…

    ...before tossing it onto vir dresser instead. After all, it was always important to have a reference to someone’s pronouns on hand. That was why vy was keeping it. Definitely. No other reason.

    Remy sighed, pushing vir hands up under vir sunglasses and pressing the palms against vir eyes. Instead of the thoughtless darkness vy had been hoping for, however, blocking out all the light simply sharpened the image of a cocky, smirking Logan in vir mind, which was the opposite of what vy was going for. Remy groaned as vy removed vir hands from vir eyes, going back to turn off the lights before half-stumbling to vir bed.

    Vy dropped vir sunglasses unceremoniously on top of vir night table before vy fell on top of vir bed, unconcerned by the fact that vy was sleeping in vir clothes. Remy had more important things to be concerned with, after all- like how vy was going to survive almost an entire school year avoiding Logan. All vy had to do was become invisible. Or drop-out of school. Or punch Logan and make nym hate vim.

    Remy’d figure out something. It couldn’t be that hard to avoid the coolest kid in school who was in some of your classes and knew where you lived, right?

    Drowning in denial, Remy fell asleep.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 54

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. Tag lists are closed

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 54: Learning and Encouraging

The general placed your lunch order for you, stating there were specific things needed for your course. When the droid arrived it placed a rather elaborate place setting in front of you. Lots of silverware and glasses that you weren’t familiar with.

The general seemed to want to make sure everything was precise and forced you to maintain a straighter posture than normal, “Now m’lady it is important that you take such a lead at this formal dinner. Other than the Supreme Leader, you will be the next highest ranking person there.” He then started to show you by example how to do things.

“So everyone will be looking at me and judging me. Got it.” You instantly got nervous. You hated being the spectacle of everyone’s judgment.

“Now, now m’lady, they will simply be following your lead, as will the Supreme Leader. One of the reasons why you are learning such things is that he needs to be shown what to do, he will follow your example. He has been taught these things, but he tends to either ignore them or forget them. He will be searching your mind and following you at the dinner,” Hux informed you.

“Searching my mind? Like he will literally be following my lead? I don’t know if I like that.” Truly you didn’t, it rather creeped you out.  

“Well, m’lady it is either you or I, and I think he much prefers your mind versus mine. I can tell you that he does it anyway, if you know where to look you can feel him moving around in there.” He pointed to his head,  “You might find that it is a good way to communicate without alerting others. I have found it rather useful at times.”

You considered this for a moment. He was in your head? You knew he read your thoughts, but you assumed that he didn’t do it all the time. But now you thought twice about it. Could he see what Adlez and you were doing? Would it even work if he knew what you were trying to do? How good was his concentration? This was something you were going to have to test.

“Ok, so if I do this correctly then he will take my lead?” You weren’t sure if that was the best thing.

“Yes m’lady, but I might recommend that you rather overly think it when you do. Like yelling in your own mind or rather when you pick up a glass you need to truly think about picking up a glass or a fork. He will need to be led by you as to what to do, less we want to make fools of ourselves.” He then went through what each item was used for and in what order you were to use them.

You eventually got to actually eat your food, “But it is very important to note that anytime you get up from the table all males will stand with you,” said the general. “The Supreme Leader will probably initiate this. You do not have to stand when another woman gets up, but any male that does not stand for you is someone who is insulting you.”

“Do you have a feeling that someone might try to insult me?” This was not something you wanted to repeat, not after the last time.

“There may be some at the dinner that do not appreciate that your planet has not been in the last few galactic wars. And now it is reaping the benefit of the First Order’s graces without doing the work.” You could tell this was not his personal feelings, only possible opinions that he was relaying to you.

“Would they possibly be the same people who are in favor of General Pryde staying around?” You had a gut feeling.

The general did not answer exactly but shared a pointed smile with you as he turned back to eating his lunch. You got the message. You were about to fight an entirely different battle. One that Kylo wasn’t proficient in, one that you would lead on your side.

“They may also make snide remarks about you m’lady, so you best be prepared. Adlez and Olivia-Rose will make sure you are presentable. It will be best if there are no marks along your neck. While they may be something, the Supreme Leader enjoys, it will not be something appreciated by them less you be in a different position; like that of a courtesan and not a lady.” He pointed to his own neck, miming to where your marks were.

“We won’t have that,” stated Adlez. “If anything, that will be the women they call wives that they will bring along.” She seemed ready to take this battle for you. You wonder if it was ever insinuated that she was one in her previous marriage. High society women were known to be catty and backstabbing.

“Of course not, but Lady Ren may have to remind the Supreme Leader as to the purpose of covering herself up.” You could tell that both you and the general knew that he probably wouldn’t be happy with the decision to cover them up.

Your hand went to the mark behind your ear, the one he almost seemed to insist be there at all times. Not that the other marks didn’t mean anything, but this was the one he darkened and remarked every morning. You had a feeling that this was the one that would have to stay, his little mark of ownership over you. His signature, his brand.

“I will try to do so general, but perhaps we can find a dress that makes covering them less tedious?” You turned to your ladies with the question.

“I have just the dress in mind, m’lady. It will show off a bit of your back but almost nothing of your collarbone and what is shown will be easy to cover. One of your many beautiful floral dresses,” said Adlez.

“We are confident we can cover any mark, the Supreme Leader decides to leave,” said Olivia-Rose.

Both of them made you feel better, you were glad you had their company otherwise you would be all alone here. Floundering trying to make this all work, lost trying to find your new role. They were essential to your success.

After lunch, you all made your way up to the second level. You walked past the place where your drink from the other night had crashed. There was a stain in the carpet there. You stared at it for a moment before taking your spot. Adlez noticed the stain and walked back downstairs before coming back with a brush and a bottle of seltzer water, salt and a rag. She went to work lifting the stain if only she could do that to the memory.

The general informed you that you would be skipping around in order of lessons until the Supreme Leader informed him that you were to do some of the others he had in mind.

Ch. 19: The Chaperon and Other Conventions

Ch. 27 Part 1: Notes and Shorter Letters (para. 1-24)

Ch. 27 Part 2: Notes and Shorter Letters (para. 25-59)

Ch. 27 Part 3: Notes and Shorter Letters (para. 60-97)

Ch. 27 Part 4: Notes and Shorter Letters (para. 98-140)

Ch. 27 Part 5: Notes and Shorter Letters (chart How to Address Important Personages - to end)

Ch. 28: Longer Letters

“Once you are officially introduced as the First Lady, Lady Ren of the First Order and because you are not married to the Supreme Leader at any official events, you are not to go off alone with him. I believe the Supreme Leader has designated myself as your official chaperon at the dinner. You will also take up some duties, including some official correspondences with some of our allies. When we get closer to the dinner the Supreme Leader and I will sit down with you and go over your new duties,” the general then stood and folded his arms neatly behind his back.

So you were not only were you and he going to be watched by everyone, you couldn’t be alone together for five minutes. You were also going to be given new duties and responsibilities. Part of you was happy because you were going to be trusted with things, but part of you was dreading having to possibly do something you didn’t want to do.

“It is also recommended that for the next few meals following up to the dinner that you follow that same set up to practice your etiquette. It should now be set up on your meal preference list to eat this way. Even though the Supreme Leader will probably just follow you, it may not hurt to have him eat like that with you beforehand,” you could tell that the general was giving you a hint. You would agree that Kylo had some manners to work on and it wouldn’t hurt to start early.

The general then took his leave as you followed your ladies down to the dressing room to get ready for dinner. You saw the lieutenant linger for a moment before he also took his leave.

You then got ready with your ladies, putting you in another rather simple dress for the evening and doing another simple but elegant style.

“So is there anyone that has caught either of your eyes on board,” you asked both of them.

Adlez caught your eye in the mirror you could tell that she knew what you were doing. “Not particularly for me, but I have had fun with some of the officers at the bar.”

Both of you watched Olivia-Rose blush and duck her head when both of your attention turned to her. “There is no one in particular.”

“No one in particular, or someone who hasn’t noticed yet,” asked Adlez taking the lead. Her all-knowing eyes settled on her younger counterpart.

“I don’t know if it would even be appropriate, or even if it would be reciprocated,” Olivia-Rose said in her own defense. She looked stressed and worried.

“It is most certainly reciprocated and really all you need to do is ask permission from Lady Ren,” said Adlez to her. She then looked at you, asking permission for her.

Olivia-Rose then caught your eye in the vanity mirror, you got up and took her shoulders in your hands. “Of course you can, all I ask is that if it doesn’t work out that you will be able to work together. He is my assistant after all, and you will have to be near each other every day.”

Olivia-Rose just blushed and ducked her head. Eventually, she nodded in response. You then walked over to the vanity mirror with her and Adlez to inspect their handiwork. They did an excellent job, as always.

“Adlez do you think you can get me ready for bed by yourself?” You turned your head to the older woman.

She met your eye in the mirror and answered it with a smirk, saying, “Of course I can.”

You then turned to Olivia-Rose, “I expect that you should be able to track him down. Or do you want me to send him a message? I am giving you the opportunity to do it now before things get too hectic for all of us.”

She blushed and ducked her head once more, “I can find him m’lady and thank you.”

With that, you dismissed them both and headed to the living area to wait for Kylo to return for dinner. You had some things to discuss tonight, one of them being the execution tomorrow. You just hoped he could keep a level head for once so that another night together wasn’t ruined.

[charliesradiodemon]

Charlastor Week Day 3: Cooking

(I’m cheating here lmao sorry. This one was gonna be the Human AU fic but then I had a better idea for both prompts in terms of direction

Also is this fic about a healthy relationship? Nah.

Warning: contains blood, talking about cannibalism and murder)

Day 3 Cooking 

“Alastor!“ a sharp gasp made Alastor whip his head around to the shack’s door. Blood had splattered across his wicked grin. He found the silhouette of who he recognized was Charlie standing at the door. He couldn’t see her expression due to the outside light behind her obscuring her face, but he could only imagine the delicious horror that graced her features.

The bloodthirst set in once more and the one thing he wanted to see was his lover and prey’s face twisted in horror and despair before her sweet light drained from her eyes.

It was too bad. Charlie was a special gal who was closest to his heart than anyone ever could ever get. In a way he did find a kind of love with her in their three years together. She was always lovely and interesting and the fact that she hadn’t bored him yet surprised him. It certainly was a crying shame that his favorite prey was about to meet her end now that she’d seen too much. He had no doubt that he’d miss her as he savored each delicious piece of her.

Through the obscurity, Alastor could see that she brought her clasped hands to her chest. “You...” she paused.

Alastor approached slowly, a butcher’s knife in hand. “Yes, Charlie?”

She stood in place and didn’t move. While he appreciated her thoughtfulness to not run away and just accept her fate, Alastor was partially disappointed that he couldn’t give chase to the doe. After all, they always tasted best when they desperately fought for their lives. “You’re the New Orleans Butcher...” she whispered just enough for the two of them to hear.

‘She even whispered my secret. What a lovely, thoughtful girl.’

With a wide grin, he replied with confidence. “Yes indeedy! And what are you-“ he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks unable to continue.

Once he was close enough so that the light that obscured her face dissipated, Alastor found a small smile on her lovely face. She even seemed to be suppressing a laugh even.

“And here I was worrying about that...”

His smile remained but faltered slightly at the sight. What about this situation was so funny? Did she not understand what was going on? He almost felt concerned for the strange woman. “Worrying about what my dear?” Why was this so funny to her? She was about to die by her lover’s hand!

“Alastor... I think we’ve been hiding some crazy secrets from each other.”

The man tightened his grip on the bloodied butcher’s knife in his hand. “What do you mean?”

She stepped closer with her relieved smile in place, impossibly calm as she approached slowly. “I’ve been thinking about the future a lot recently. And I know this is selfish of me, but one day I’ll have to leave. And I was thinking, when that time came I’d never see you again. I’ve always wanted to see the good in people and see them go to Heaven, but you... I-I was sure you’d go to Heaven and I’d never get to see you again. And it’s awful, but somehow... I’m relieved,” She was now in front of him, no trace of fear in her eyes. Only a soft smile full of joy and tearful relief. Alastor had no idea how to react. He couldn’t move his legs let alone lift his arm to end the odd woman.

His lover looked up at him, her brown eyes clear even under the dim light. But then she blinked and Alastor could have sworn he’d snapped. Her sclera glowed a brilliant red while the iris was a golden ring around her black pupils. The sound of something sprouting from Charlie’s head took his attention away from her eyes. Two long horns sprouted amongst rapidly growing golden hair.

“M-my word...” Alastor whispered, not knowing what else to say. His heart pounded in his chest, making him feel all sorts of emotions. But none of those emotions were negative in the slightest.

“I’m sorry if this is too much for you. I didn’t want you to see me this way.” Seeing his expression and hearing his tone, Charlie’s gaze fell to the floor in assumed dejection. She probably looked like a hideous monster to him. She acted too hastily and now she had to be ready for whatever came next.

“What are you then, my love?” The words made Charlie’s eyes widen in shock. The term of endearment truly caught her off guard and for a moment she didn’t know what to do other than look back up at him with the same shocked expression he had just a moment ago. “You can tell me Charlie.”

His expression softened back to the smile she was familiar with as if a moment ago he wasn’t planning his next meal around her. His darkened eyes were almost loving. If he was frightened at all, he was good at hiding it.

Charlie clasped her hands together, suddenly feeling awkward and shy. “I-I’m a demon. I’m from H-Hell.”

It came to Alastor as a surprise. She was the single most pure creature to exist. What had she done to earn her eternal damnation? “It can’t possibly be. You’re the sweetest little thing to grace the Earth. Tell me, how is it you ended up in Hell?”

The ease of his questions only surprised Charlie further. It was as if this was just a normal occurrence and he was asking her about her day. “I was born there.” She replied truthfully, attempting to sound natural about it.

Alastor, butcher knife still in hand, placed his free hand on her shoulder and continued, “So when you said you had to go home one day, did you mean that you were going back to Hell?”

Charlie nodded and suddenly she was drawn into his arms. “You silly, sweet girl.” Charlie felt the handle of the butcher’s knife pressing against her back, but she wasn’t worried. She trusted her Alastor, not like the cleaver would harm her anyway. She reciprocated the hug with a small smile until she realized something.

She peered up at him with a questioning look. “And what about you? How long has this been going on?”

Alastor hummed as he thought for a moment. “About seven years or so,” he said casually as if he were just speaking about the weather. It nearly unnerved Charlie that he was so casual and calm about this. Then again, she wasn’t any better with her own secret.

“So I suppose I’ll be seeing you in Hell one day.” He chuckled, pulling away slightly to look her down.

He failed to mention what exactly he did with those he slaughtered. He also failed to mention that Charlie herself would have eventually ended up as another source of food for him once he felt she outlived her entertainment.

“I’ve been here for three. Wow... I never would have suspected!” She pulled out of his embrace, not realizing that she was now covered in blood.

“Yes that is the point, darling. If everyone suspected, well I just wouldn’t be here now would I?” He laughed with a shrug. To his surprise, Charlie let out a closed-mouthed giggle. Then again she was a demon, murder must not mean much to her.

Alastor raised his eyebrows and grinned widely. “So as a demon would you approve?”

“I mean as a demon I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to “tempt” people to sin. But I also don’t necessarily like it. I... really don’t actually.” she said hesitantly as she turned her gaze to the bloodied workbench in the corner. It still held the fresh corpse of a man Charlie couldn’t recognize.

‘What was he going to do with the man? None of the bodies of his victims have ever been found... The only thing the New Orleans Slasher would leave behind were splatters of blood and bits of his victims.’

Alastor belted a hearty chuckle. “You’re not a very good demon, dear.”

“Ah yeah...” she huffed an awkward chuckle as she turned her attention back to her lover in front of her. “My dad’s reminded me of that for a while now...”

“I bet. Now as much as I’d love to continue this conversation, this isn’t the place for that my love,” he nodded to the door and shot her a reassuring grin. “Why don’t you head back in the house and once I’m done out here we can talk.”

Charlie smiled half relieved and half gratefully. She leaned up and kissed the part of his cheek that was free of blood. “Sounds good. Do you want me to make you anything?” Her demonic form dissipated with another blink of an eye, which Alastor watched with full interest before walking back to the workbench.

“Coffee would be nice sweetheart. Oh and I must apologize. It seems I’ve left a mess on you.” he gestured toward her front and Charlie immediately looked down. She jumped in surprise and then sighed.

Charlie pouted and inspected her dress. “Al, you need to be more careful! I’m really not supposed to do this but...” she paused and snapped her fingers. A rush of hellfire consumed her for a split second before revealing a spotless dress on the slasher’s cleaned lover. He was at a loss for words at the spectacle. Charlie let out a content breath and continued, “This is my favorite dress!” She turned and made it back to the threshold before turning back to Alastor, who looked dumbfounded. “Please make sure to wash up before you come back in please? Blood isn’t fun to wash up you know.”

Alastor awoke from his daze. He nearly burst out laughing, but merely chuckled at the odd request. “Yes dear.”

Once the door closed, Alastor went back to work feeling a strange sense of ease, excitement and intrigue all in one sensation. Who was once his prey and simple ingredient was now his confidant. It almost felt good keeping someone who knew of his hobby around strangely enough. Maybe it was the sudden rush of adrenaline?

Or maybe it was because he’d realized that he’d taken a demon for a lover. And while he did genuinely love Charlie in a strange way, knowing now that she was a demon only seemed to spark a new feeling of excitement that he refused to extinguish. “A demon...” he muttered as he cut away at the bone of his latest kill. “The little dear is just full of surprises.”

He made quick work of his preparations. Once he packed and stored his future meal in a natural underground freezer, he wiped off the excess blood from his person, per Charlie’s request. The underground storage was at the peak temperature to store meats now that the first snowfall coated the ground. Properly packed, the human flesh would hold up longer. He’d make a fine meal later, but first he needed to chat with his lovely demon waiting for him.

He found her in the sitting room, reading a book peacefully with a pair of steaming cups beside her. When she heard his footsteps, she looked to the door and smiled. “Your coffee’s waiting for you.”

Alastor took the cup closest to his unoccupied chair and took a sip. “Thank you darling. Now, I hope you know I have plenty of questions. And I’m sure you do too.” he walked to the sofa and set his coffee cup down on the coffee table. He pat the seat next to him, to which Charlie smiled and obliged. He took her hand in her’s and let their clasped hands rest on the cushion between them.

The little demoness turned to face him, looking like she was ready to burst. “Alastor, I actually only have one question for you.”

“Go on.” he replied calmly.

She tensed. Alastor detected this sign of distress but remained unmoved. “Did you... ever feed me human...?” Charlie asked shyly. She prayed that her thoughts were wrong. She pieced together that he probably ate his victims seeing how he put so much care into the butchering of his victims.

“Oh no dear, I would never,” he replied promptly. He felt Charlie relax as soon as he said it. She wouldn’t know how to feel if she found out that she ate human meat. She’d had so many meals at Alastor’s house that once the idea entered her mind, she feared for the worst. “Not only would it be rude to feed it to someone who would not appreciate the taste of human flesh, I am also selfish. I don’t have it often, but I’m willing to share with you if you-“

Once her question was answered satisfactorily, she cut him off. “Nope! No no no thank you!” She shook her head wildly and crossed her arms into an ‘X’. “You can have all of it.” once she finished speaking, she placed her hand back into his grasp and plopped her head onto his shoulders with a sigh.

Alastor chuckled and took another sip of coffee while it still steamed in its cup. “How generous of you, dearest. You’re a demon are you not? I’m surprised that you have an aversion for human flesh!”

“Haha... yeah... I’m just not the biggest fan...”

They spoke for a bit longer before the grandfather clock reminded the pair of the time.

“Oh! I haven’t prepared dinner yet!” Charlie cried. She let go of Alastor’s hand and stood. She made her way toward the kitchen before turning to Alastor. “What would you like for dinner? We still have venison.”

Alastor stood as well and grinned. “Allow me to assist you my love. I’m sure my talents with flesh will help you greatly.”

Charlie scoffed and nodded. “Alright come on funny guy.”

It didn’t feel right, but she was happy. Sure he committed heinous actions, and he probably intended to turn on her one day, but Alastor was still the same Alastor she knew. It was awful but she wasn’t fazed by his hobby for murder and consumption of other humans. Once she was gone, it was inevitable that he’d one day find himself in the fiery pits of Hell and reunite with her. It didn’t matter what he did at this point. As long as he stayed by her side, she’d be content.