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dreamties · 3 years

Text

Billy & Stu's Adventures in Puppy Care

18+ / NSFW Accounts Do Not Interact

A/n- I wrote this a few months ago...thought i'd finally share. sorta nervous about this :O

Word Count: 1858

description: Y/n spends the day as a sleepy, affection starved puppy with their favorite people.

ship: billy loomis / stu macher / reader

this is about SFW pet regression so don't be weird !! for the love of slasher movies, DONT. BE. WEIRD !!

Y/n comes home from work in the very early hours of the morning, exhausted to the bone and just wanting to curl up and sleep. They still had to shower off the day's grease and sweat, and start breakfast for everyone. Sleep would come...but not soon enough. They try to wipe the sleep out of their eyes as they head to the bathroom, they take a quick glance at their boys in the other room. Smiling at the sight of Billy and Stu cuddling into each other, Stu with his long arms wrapped around the smaller boy. They’re quick to scamper off to the bathroom, no matter how much they wanted to stay there and take in the gorgeous view of their beloveds so at peace. No matter how much they wanted to nestle their way in between them. Bask in their warmth.

Their shower is long, spending time stretching their limbs and properly grooming themselves. Lathering a sweet and calming lavender scented shampoo along their body. Taking too long under the shower head, making sure all the suds are washed off themself and none of it clings to the tub.

Next, is breakfast. They put up the hot water for coffee and tea. Put the bread in the toaster, sort through various items in the fridge, trying to find jam. Finally acquiring strawberry jam, and taking the butter out as well. They scramble eggs, and plate the food on three plastic dishes. They place everything at the table, finally heading off to their bedroom again to retrieve their boyfriends. They place gentle kisses to each of their foreheads, then shake them awake. Billy’s the first one up, pushing himself out of Stu’s grip- much to his begrudgement.

“Aww, c’mon! Just a little longer,” he whines.

They let out a tired chuckle, “You can cuddle more later, breakfasts ready.”

The three of them sit down, and begin to dig into the meal. Y/n gets up when they finally hear the kettle whistling, making everyone's morning beverage of choice. They sit back down, a hot mug of tea in their hands. They take a sip, slipping their tongue out as they accidentally burn it.

They shake it off, and give an apologetic look to Stu, “We’re out of your favorite, we’ll have to stop at the store tomorrow. You two don’t have work, right?”

Stu pouts and Billy answers, “Not today.”

They give a pleased smile, “Good. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

Both of their eyes glimmer at the news- “What did you have in mind?”

“Really? I just wanna...destress for a bit. Work was awful last night.”

They both frown. “Is it your boss again?” Billy asks.

They nod.

“Y’know, we could always-” Stu begins.

They narrowed their eyes at him, “If you suggest to kill my boss again- I swear to god, Stu!”

He raises his hands up in defense, giggling and smiling. “I surrender, I surrender.”

Billy and Y/n can’t help but smile at his antics. The three of you finally finish up, dishes in the sink, coffee filters and old tea bags in the trash.

“The two of you mind cleaning the dishes?” They yawn out, rubbing at their eyes.

Billy leans against the edge of the sink, giving them a soft look, “No problem.”

“Thank you,” they sigh, slumping into Billy. Nuzzling their head against him, aching for attention.

He smiles down at them, curious- as realization slowly dawns his face. “What do you want, pup?”

They brighten at the name, continuing to nuzzle him. He brings his hands up, one to pet through their hair, the other tracing across their neck. “You want your collar?”

A few quick nods later, and moving the three of you to the bedroom- Y/n finds themselves kneeling on the ground awaiting the collar. Stu’s rummaging through piles, trying to remember where they stored the thing- it wasn’t often that their beloved found themselves in this regressed state, so they often misplaced the gear needed to keep things exciting and safe for Y/n.

Stu finally finds it, Y/n curiously sniffs at his hands, the item looking suspiciously different than usual. He pets their hair, guiding them to kneel back on the ground. He then leans down to put it around their neck- stepping back to admire their look. They turn their head to peer at Billy, showing off the pretty, red collar in the process. In big, curly letters the top of the pendant reads Y/n . Their shared apartment address is written at the bottom along with their wonderful owners' names.

“Does our little pup like their new collar?” Billy grins down at them, scratching the bottom of their chin. “Good, good baby.”

Y/n spent most of the day following their partners around as they did chores. From napping on the kitchen floor as they did the dishes to hiding in the laundry as they attempted to clean and fold it. Once or twice they go off to do their own thing- possibly planning other murders- where they leave them alone. It’s not all bad when that occurs, they find their doggy bed- a perfect fit for their size- in the living room. They rest in it’s comforting hold till their loved ones make their way back to them. They find themselves fluctuating between their regressed state of mind and not throughout the day, it finally settles to a consistent regressed state as the day comes to a close.

Billy grabs a red ceramic dog bowl from one of the bottom cupboards- it’s tucked away neatly, covered in a worn towel to prevent it’s breakage and protect it from dust. He hands the bowl to Stu, who pours a considerable amount of dry cereal into it. He moves to set it down, and Billy lets out a not entirely gentle, “Be careful.”

Stu rolls his eyes, “I’ve got it,” and places it on the ground, next to the edge of the counter. While he does that, Billy gets out bowls for them and milk from the fridge, placing two full bowls of milk and cereal on the table.

They sit down and begin to eat, idly chatting with each other. Billy tries not to laugh too hard from something moronic his boyfriend says. Sparing odd glances at their other partner, who's got their face right up against their bowl, while they happily munch up their kibble . Billy snickers, looking away from them. They were too cute and silly for their own good.

Y/n’s the first to finish up. Instead of waiting patiently for their owners, they crawl underneath the table, finding themselves next to Billy’s chair. Unbeknownst to him.

They nudge their head against his leg, achieving nothing but a small jolt of surprise.They let out a sharp whine when he doesn’t react immediately.

Billy looks underneath the table for a brief moment, “What’re you doing down there, Y/n?”

They keep rubbing at his leg. Stu, who has just finished, looks down to see what the commotion is. “Aww, they just want some love,” he grins. “C’mere.” He pats his lap, inviting them to him.

It was awkward trying to situate themself on Stu in a way that felt comfortable and puppy-like, but had little to no feelings of how non-regressed, human them would sit. They end up lying their head on his thigh, letting out a pleased noise as he pets their head.

“What kinda manners you teaching our little pup over there?” Billy teasingly remarks. He sighs, taking in the blissed out state of his partners, and how happy Stu seemed to be as he fulfilled their smallest desires. He quickly finds his way standing next to Stu’s spot.

“Let's take this to the bedroom,” he gestures away from the table. “You’ll be more comfortable, Y/n- and you.” He points a finger at Stu.

Stu chuckles, face falling slightly, and smiling nervously at Billy. “What? What’d I do?”

He smirks at him, having fun playing around with Stu, “You gonna be a good boy, too?”

“I’m not usually?”

Billy barks out a laugh, “You’re a fucking nuiscance.” It’s not said with malice, but an odd sense of affection. He glances down at Stu’s lap, noticing Y/n’s eyes drooping shut. “Looks like our baby’s getting tired.”

They perk up at the name, wide eyes staring up at Billy. The two boys chuckle. “Gonna carry em, okay?” Stu mentions, petting down their hair once more. They nuzzle against him at the idea. “You like that, huh?”

Eventually, Stu picks Y/n up, cradling them in his arms. He places them safely on the bed- though it takes as a second as they struggle with him, trying to stay wrapped in his nice, warm embrace. They whine as they’re finally left on the bed by themselves- Billy and Stu changing into proper bedroom attire. Billy’s in boxers and a white tee- while Stu has chosen quite a minimalistic approach. Boxers only. They try not to pay mind to Y/n’s whining too much, as they finally stop- dejectedly curling up on the mattress.

Stu’s quick to join them, as Billy lets out a sigh- “C’mere, baby.” They hurriedly uncurl themselves and kneel on the edge of the bed- looking up expectantly.

He places a small kiss on the top of their head, moving his hands slowly across their body- stopping at the edge of their top. He peels their clothes off, with ease and if practiced, till it’s nothing but bare skin. They press into him, thankful for his help. He kisses them again, and holds his hand against their head in a gentle manner. Hugging them close to himself. “It’s okay, love.”

Stu comes from behind pulling the two of you down with him. Y/n lets out a surprised squeak along with a series of giggles. They find themselves laying against his chest, while Billy’s over both of them, trying not to accidentally hurt Y/n. It’s warm in the middle of it, and they feel protected. Stu’s got an arm lazily playing with Billy’s hair, and the other hung around Y/n’s shoulders.

The three of them don’t stay in the position long. Comfortable? Yes. But no one, even their little pup, would want to stay the whole night like this. They needed- and deserved- a proper night of sleep. Especially after their long and tiring day of work, and having to deal with their hardass of a boss. (If he ended up missing or found dead within the following days...well, he had it coming.)

Y/n’s practically asleep when they try moving themselves around. They tuck their little puppy in first, peppering them with kisses and little reassurances. Then Stu climbs under, after sharing a quiet kiss with his boyfriend. Billy’s the last to get in- both boys curling their bodies in a way that allowed their pup to safely cocoon themselves in the middle. Their small bundle of love secured in their grasp. Billy whispers small “I love you”s, as sleep finally takes them in.

216 notes · View notes

yourmcu · 4 years

Text

Mesmerized (ii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,551

A/n: basically a day out with Natasha. you like having her around. she likes having you around. Part 2/? (more notes at the end of the fic!)

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ending’s pretty angsty (help), some thor fluff in the beginning, jealous!nat if you squint

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

gif not mine!! credits to the owner^^

After Natasha left your room she immediately goes straight to hers. She barely falls asleep.

She stares at the ceiling, absorbed in her own thoughts. She tries to shake away the heat rushing to her face whenever the moment you kissed her on the cheek replays on her mind. All it took is someone like you to get one of the toughest people in the compound turn into mush.

She never believes in the ‘love at first sight’ bullshit because, well, it is bullshit. It’s impossible to love someone you just met. But who knows, right? You might just be an exception.

No, Natasha frowns. I just like her... a lot. It’s different.

The next morning, her run consists of her planning out the date day with you, where she’d take you first and stuff. She stops by the front gate of the compound, suddenly worrying. She wants to impress you. But what if you don’t like what she had in store? What if you think she's boring?

You're the type of person that almost likes everything and you’d express it kindly if you don’t. Boring you should be the last thing on Natasha’s mind.

Natasha walks into the kitchen to hydrate herself but halts once she saw the mess you and Thor had all over the counters.

“Wait, hold on- no, that’s - oh god, Thor, that’s too much batter!” You smack him on the arm and laugh, tilting your head a bit to figure out how you’d get the large pancake out of the pan.

“Oops,” Thor says sheepishly, turning around to put the bowl back on the counter, noticing Natasha’s confusion. “Oh don’t worry, Natasha, we’ll clean up after we’re done.”

The mention of the redhead makes you turn as well. “Good morning, Nat.” You beam. Normally, Natasha would sent a glare to anyone who calls her that, someone who isn’t a close friend, but with you... instead of a glare her eyes light up. Giving you a small smile, she greets you back.

“I thought you were going out?” She questions, passing by you to reach the fridge.

“We were, but IHOP’s closed, under maintenance they said,” Thor sighs and you hum in response. “It’s quite alright. I heard you guys are going out anyway-”

Natasha lowers the water bottle from her lips, staring at him. “You heard?”

You spin around to clean up after turning off the stove. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ you mouth to her, which makes her think Steve somehow knows of it already.

Thor lets out a laugh, grabbing the whole pan and twiddling his fork, “you two have fun.” He winks and walks out of the room.

-----

“They were so cute,” you look back at the newly engaged couple near the window of the restaurant. “And really, you didn’t have to pay. I can pay you back.”

Later that afternoon the both of you headed out. Natasha parked her car somewhere and since it was a nice day, not too hot or anything, you both strolled around the city to find a place to have brunch.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m the one who asked you out.” Natasha chuckles, remembering the way you pouted in there begging her to let you pay at least for your own food.

You huff, smiling. “Fine. But I’m getting you back.”

So far you were having a good time with her. You got to know each other more, she told you stories about some of the team’s missions from other countries which were relatively rare, her first encounters with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and in return you told her some about your out-of-this-world missions with the guardians.

And no you didn’t tell her about the history of moon rocks or some shit, nor did you promise to bring her back some. Who even collects those nowadays? Natasha was more interested about your early life, on Earth, which you were thankful for. You were taken away from your father (the only parent you preferred and loved) who was pure human one day by your alien-freak of a mother which you inherited your fire powers from.

You don’t like talking about it. But with her you're surprisingly comfortable.

Natasha smirks. “So we’re going out again sometime?”

“Of course we are.” After two seconds of pure confidence you wish you didn’t say that out loud. “Well, you know, I won’t force you to something you don’t want it’s - it’s your call.”

You're in the middle of telling her about your favorite bar and diner, the one your father always takes you as a child and you even paid a visit there the last time you were on Earth.

“Huh. Isn’t that the one that just closed?” She recalls

“No, really?” You drag out the ‘no’, sighing. “They’re the best. They make their own iced tea and beer and stuff... and - oh!”

You feel something rub against your ankle: a fluffy dog who's looking up at you with its tongue out and its tail was wagging wildly. Natasha raises her eyebrows, her eyes trailing to the abandoned leash behind it.

“Hey there,” you kneel down to pet it with caution just incase its intention is to bite you. But it seems to be happy and tame. “Look, Nat, s’adorable.” Natasha chuckles briefly and starts looking around for a person who looks frantic and is finding, calling a dog.

“This fella belongs to the animal center.” You caress the dog behind its ear while you read the information on its collar.

It isn’t that far, it seems like the dog just escaped as well because the guy running the center was unaware of its absence.

“Thanks!” Said guy smiles in appreciation, reaching out to take the leash out of your hand. Natasha’s mind is focused on how the guy looks at you for the first time. It's the exact same look she gave you that night. Mesmerized, as if it was love at first sight. She doesn’t miss how his hand brushes yours, completely intentional. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t returned him. The pups here just grew out of their mom’s milk and are very hyper. It’s a lot of work.”

You're completely oblivious to this, you’re just glad the dog is back to where he belongs.

“No problem, he’s very sweet.” You smile politely. “Are they up for adoption? It would really help you out if they were, you know, and this one here is well behaved.”

At this point Natasha’s just eyeing the guy like he’d pounce on you any minute now. He’s definitely into you and she doesn’t like it.

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime,” he grins, ignoring your suggestion. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone...” you trail off.

“That’s right, she doesn’t.” Natasha steps in and she catches the guy off guard and surprised that the Black Widow is actually with you the whole time. Natasha intertwines her hand with yours, pleased with his dumbfounded reaction. “We’ll be on our way now.”

You didn’t expect that but you weren’t complaining. Her hands were soft, and it brought this comforting feeling you couldn’t explain. But you clear your throat once the both of you are a few blocks away from the center.

“Sorry, he gave me an off vibe,” Natasha mutters and removes her hand from yours.

“Don’t be, I appreciate you looking out,” you smiles. Her car was getting into view now. “If it helps you sleep at night though, he wasn’t my type.” You joke.

Turns out you weren’t completely oblivious.

Natasha merely scoffs, getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

After the dog incident you both drove around different parts of the city. You went to a different mall to stroll around, commenting on anything you both saw that would somehow lead to a stupid story that happened at some point in your lives.

A local artsy bookstore, not gonna lie Natasha liked reading a good book when she had the time. So did you. It was nice to know that she’s the type of person who liked reading. Quill always got annoyed with you whenever he saw you reading silently in the ship (but when was he not annoyed with you?). The only ones that was willing to try and read back in space were Mantis and Gamora, bless her soul.

“These are good,” you mutter to Natasha. “All my books are on the ship, I think, but if I get to them I’ll let you read my favorite one... if you want.”

Last stop of the day. Natasha claims it’s a surprise.

“I don’t do well with surprises,” you whine, holding back a smile. “Just tell me.”

“No. And besides, we’re already here.” Natasha chuckles.

Your eyes light up on how stunning the scenery was. An edge of the cliff and below is a beach that doesn’t look like it’s visited by people everyday. The beautiful sunset, the sky made up of purple, orange and almost pink magnifies the calmness of the waves crawling gently to the shore.

“I always come here whenever I need to,” she says silently and exhales, walking over to you. “It’s the perfect place to go whenever those idiots get on my nerves.” You laugh lightly at her reasoning.

Natasha pats a spot on the grass beside her. She holds her gaze on you as you sit down, sighing. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she manages to stop staring at you and look up at the sky instead. It's getting darker by the minute, the orange and pinkness started to fade as the sun went down, all of it replaced by light purple, darker shade of blue.

You're used to different colored skies. It would always vary and depend on what planet you were on, plus you always see those stars shimmering up above, so your focus is on the water and the waves. The way they move calms you.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t expect any of this happening.”

Natasha hums. “I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Of course not, I think you’re very interesting and you’re fun to be with.” You say genuinely.

Once the sun is fully down and the moon had taken over the sky, the both of you get up to head back to the compound. “Eating out here would’ve been nice but Steve’s in charge with dinner, he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew we already ate.” The car ride back is silent, but the good kind. A content, comfortable one.

Okay so, your stay took more than a few weeks.

You grew close with the amazing group of people, plus your good relationship with Natasha just kept growing and... just got better.

Thor stayed too because he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t mind. Rocket left one pod for both of you to use that’ll send you to wherever Quill’s ship was up there.

You and Natasha went out when you had the chance, taking turns treating each other to stuff. You learned that Thor included your books when he packed you a bag, and now Natasha was borrowing one of them.

Sometimes you’d join them on missions. You did a great job every time, not wanting to be a burden to a team you weren’t officially in. Sometimes you’d join Steve into a sparring session at the compound’s gym.

Speaking of which, he’s treating both you and Natasha as if you’re dating.

“Would you look at that, your girl managed to give me a bruise. She’s a keeper.” Steve tells Natasha.

“You totally deserve that.”

You also started sparring with Natasha. And Tony caught on with the whole ‘dating’ thing from Steve.

“Oooh, am I interrupting something here?” Tony smirks. He's going back and forth visiting the compound and coming home to his wife and daughter at their cabin. It's working out though. “I think the mat’s unsanitary. Take this to the bedroom.”

“Oh shut up, Y/N was just working on her tackling.” Natasha grunts, leaving you sprawled on the mat, exhausted. “It’s getting sloppy. We’ll go again in a minute.”

-----

“Y/N,” The devastating tone of Natasha’s voice makes you look up. “Quill’s calling. He’s looking for you.”

“What?” She doesn’t answer but instead motions you to follow. In her office is a hologram of your fellow half-human and he looks distraught.

You step in front of the hologram so he can see you.

“What happened to a few weeks, L/N? It’s been almost three months!” Quill says. “Look, come back, bring Thor with you. Our distress signal goes off almost every day and we can’t keep doing this without both of you.”

“Alright, how much time do I have before you lose your cool?” You reply sarcastically, but you're also worried and didn’t want to leave. You know better than to argue with the guy.

Natasha doesn’t want you to leave so suddenly. There’s limited communication between you and her once you go back up there. She grew attached to you.

Quill gives you an obvious look. “As soon as possible! Just - just get back here, please?” Then he abruptly ends the call.

You roll your eyes and left the room to pack, barely noticing Natasha hunched over, visibly sad and anxious that you’re leaving.

She loves you, and now you’re leaving without that knowledge.

You told Thor about it when he passed by the open door of your room. He didn’t look thrilled to be leaving so suddenly. After packing everything up (on his part it wasn’t that much) he offered to carry your bag for you as you said your farewells.

“Sorry guys, duty calls,” you sigh, hugging everyone. “Seeing as Tony’s not here just tell him I’ll miss him or something.”

“Will you come visit soon?” Wanda asks as she pulls away from your hug.

“Definitely.” You turn your head when Steve nudges you, nodding his head to the direction where Natasha is shifting, pacing, avoiding any eye contact.

You walk over to her. She tries holding back tears as you did. She grew attached to you and now you’re leaving. “Hey Nat,” you cup her face, trying to get her to look at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave either, not right now, but-”

Natasha kisses you, pulling you close to her as much as possible. Tears fully streaming down her face. She’s never felt this way before, about anybody, for a long time.

But let’s face it, you both know you loved each other. Maybe the both of you just knew that if you got together, it’ll be extremely hard for your relationship once you left. The long distance relationship thing. Even if you aren’t, it's already too painful for Natasha, like she's caught off guard or something. None of you knew that today's your last night on Earth.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha whispers after pulling away.

You smile sympathetically, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “You know I’ll come back, right, pretty girl?” Natasha exhales shakily and pulls you into a hug.

“You better.”

----

I found a song for this fic-series whatever, please I’m so proud of myself the song reminds me of this story

I’M ANNOYED THAT I HAVEN’T PUT IN MUCH ABOUT THE READER’S FIRE ABILITIES IN THIS ONE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANYWAY (they’re on a date she wouldn’t need it for anything)

369 notes · View notes

sumsebien · 4 years

Text

by design pt.1//Prince Friedrich

prologue // series masterlist

summary: the journey from london to sanssouci is long. what will y/n and friedrich do with all this free time?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none

a/n: hello i am sorry for being so late with this one. the next ones will also be a little further apart than you’ve come to expect from my last series but i think this quality-wise will be improved (hopefully)

The carriage was spacious enough so that Friedrich could sit without bumping his knees against whoever sat in front of him. Right now, that was you. Heinrich was next to Friedrich, briefing him about the itinerary for the day. And Friedrich tried to pay attention. He really did but his eyes kept landing on you every couple of seconds.

You sat quietly. Your face turned away from them as you gazed out of the windows. But then, he heard the faintest of sniffles. He turned to Heinrich. His valet stopped talking.

And then, he heard it again. This time, Heinrich heard it as well, laying the map down in his lap. Their eyes directed towards you.

You were crying.

The two men gave each other a look.

Friedrich hadn’t a clue what to do. He could not recall the last time he had had to comfort someone in distress. He figured it was because a Prince was not the most ideal person for people to confide in.

Heinrich, on the other hand, had three little sisters. Therefore, he was way more knowledgeable. He nudged the Prince’s shoulder, tipping his head towards your figure and mouthed ‘Do something!’

Friedrich shrugged. ‘What?’

‘Just do something!’

The silent conversation and stern looks Heinrich threw him forced a few words out of his mouth. All of them formed without any forethought. “My lady, would you like a handkerchief?”

His voice startled you. You quickly wiped the back of your hand under your eyes and shook your head. “I’m alright. Just something in my eyes,” you said, a weak smile on your face.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, a little bit too quickly for someone who was actually telling the truth. “It’s just been a long day. That’s all.”

You thought they didn’t notice or perhaps at the least would ignore it if they did. You obviously thought wrong. How you wish you could swing the window open and flap away.

It was a completely normal thing that all girls must go through at one point. You should be thinking of yourself as lucky even. The ladies of the ton would happily die to be you right now, moving to Prussia with your husband, the Prince. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Tears began to prick at your eyes again as you thought about a life that was foreign in every sense of the word.

Maybe life in London was not all that bad. Sure there was a certain face you had to keep up at all times but at least there was your best friend Olivia. You never thought you could ever miss the horrible balls and tea parties, the cruel gossip and the contemptuous looks. But as London disappeared behind you, the thought of never returning frightened you.

You inhaled a shallow breath, afraid of alarming the Prince and his valet. They probably thought you weak and pitiful now.

“Shall I get you a blanket? We still have quite the journey,” said the Prince.

You shook your head, not even dreaming of requesting anything from him. “I will just admire the countryside for now. Don’t worry about me.”

You promised yourself that you would stay awake. One of the things your mother managed to say to you in the carriage ride to the abbey was to not fall asleep as “it might put your husband off” in her exact words. She always made it a point to tell you just how ungraceful you looked when you were sleeping. And perhaps you should take her advice. The last thing you would want is for your husband to find you ungraceful just after your wedding ceremony.

Of course, not long after that, you fell asleep.

When you woke up, everything was pitch black. The last thing you remembered was trying to keep your eyes open. But the repetitive sights and the quiet droning of the Prince’s valet made it too difficult to resist giving in to the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

As you blinked and regained your vision, you noticed that you were alone in the carriage. The blinds had been drawn on all windows. You felt yourself panic. Was something wrong? Where was everyone?

As you began to think up millions of ways the trip could have gone wrong, the possibility of a raid came up.

You drew a shaky breath and moved. That was when you realized that you had someone’s coat covering you this whole time. You held it up to the little sliver of light peaking through the curtains and recognized the navy blue color. It was the Prince’s.

Just as you were holding the coat, the door was opened. You nearly froze when you saw Heinrich on the other side.

“Your Highness,” he bowed, “you’re awake.”

The title threw you in a bit of a loop in your drowsy state. It took you a moment longer to realize that he was referring to you. It was going to take a while to adjust.

You masked the initial shock by clearing your throat. “Yes. What time is it?”

“It’s 9 pm, ma’am. Would you like to board the ship now?”

You nodded, picking up your skirt and making your way down the steps. He took the coat for you and held your hand to help you.

“You should wear this, your Highness. It’s a little bit cold.”

The night breeze sent goosebumps up your arms and you carefully draped his coat back on, now noticing the citrusy scent clinging onto it. You held onto the lapels of the coat and followed Heinrich.

The sailing ship was anchored just by the dock, a couple of steps away from where the carriages stopped. It was an absolute beast with towering sails for wings, a strong body made of wood and a long pointy bow spirit as a fearsome horn. The sails flapped in the wind, wanting to stretch free of its frames and fly off into the night sky.

As you and Heinrich made your way up the stairs to the main deck, you could hear the commotion happening before you could see it. Thumping footsteps, shouts and grunts as the crew got ready to set sail.

They did not care that you were here and you liked that. Being invisible was nice. Heinrich, however, did not enjoy it as much. He seemed a bit anxious to have you witness all of this and quickly led you away from all the noises down one flight of stairs. You could still hear heavy footsteps but they were muffled, less prominent than before now that you were one floor below.

The air heavy with moisture and salt filled your lungs as you made your way down a lengthy and narrow hallway. Not too far away stood two ladies. Heinrich confirmed that it was in fact your room.

“These are your lady’s maids-Lea and Ilse. Should you need anything, they shall help you.”The girls curtsied at the sight of you and each nodded at the mention of their names.

You studied their faces, trying to cling to certain features so that you would not forget their names. Both of them had perfectly combed blonde hair, although instead of just a simple bun, Ilse’s hairdo was a little more intricate with the way she wrapped her hair. Lea was a little taller and seemed a little tougher than Ilse with her strong eyebrows and tall gait. Ilse, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and more youthful, reminding you of Olivia.

“Thank you, Heinrich.”

He nodded and bowed his head. But before he could walk away, you called him, prompting him to spin around again.

“May I ask where the Prince is?”

“His Royal Highness is speaking to the captain of the ship, ma’am. Should you like me to call for him?”

You shook your head firmly. “No, thank you.”

When he was out of sight, you suddenly remembered you were still wearing the Prince’s coat. But he had gone too far for you to call him back again now.

You sighed quietly, turning to face the door. Reaching out your hand, you were just about grab the doorknob but found that Lea was already there too.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you held your hands up to your chest, allowing her to open the door.

“It’s alright, your Highness,” she said with a smile.

You took a moment to admire the room before you. Almost everything was made from walnut wood-the walls, the floors, the furniture, covering the whole room in a rich chocolate brown color. The candles washed the room in a soft orange glow, accentuating the warm earthy tones and setting a completely different mood from the shivering wet deck.

You wandered inside, running your hand along the wall panels, delighting in the little crevices on the surface.

“I hope you don’t mind. We’ve drawn you a bath, your Highness,” Ilse said.

You shook your head. “No, of course not. Thank you.”

“Would you like us to assist you with your dress, ma’am?”

You shook your head. “I shall be quite fine. You can take your break now, ladies.”

You expected the two of them to leave right away. After all, it had been a very lengthy day and even though you intended on getting to know the both of them, now was simply not the time for sharing childhood tales. But they lingered on by the door, prompting a “Yes?” from you.

“Would you like supper brought to you, ma’am?” Lea asked.

“I can do that?”

Both of them nodded, probably finding you the oddest lady they had ever served.

“Well, if it is not too much trouble, I’d love it.”

The girls curtsied and left the room.

Now completely alone, you let out a long, tired sigh. It was a terrible habit of yours and you were well aware. You always thought too much whenever amd wherever you could, especially when you were left on your own. Your mind instantly ran over every little detail, picking out anything that might have left a bad impression on your new husband and staff members.

There were simply too many.

With a sigh, you shrugged the coat off of your shoulders, carefully placing it on the bed. If you must admit, you missed the comforting weight of it on your shoulders and the faint smell of orange and cinnamon. You then thought of him. The Prince.

For reasons unknown, you felt intimidated by him. So far he had been nothing but kind and he had done nothing that could warrant such a feeling.

Something inside you just wished you would not disappoint him like you did your parents. It was difficult because you had no idea what his expectations were of you. All you knew was that Miss Bridgerton was who he really wanted. And if that was the goal, you found yourself far from ever reaching it. You might have been born into a higher born family but you lacked the charm that she had. She was always the older ladies’ favorite when they were small. Even now, she had the favor of everyone she met.

You prepared different conversational topics for when he would come into the room eventually. There was nothing less attractive than a tone-deaf lady and you made sure political icebreakers were left far far away for the night. Maybe you could talk about the weather or music. They seemed to be perfectly proper matters of discussion for a lady. Far better than overly formal issues currently happening.

The bath you took wasn’t as relaxing as you had hoped for. Not even the slight sear of the water and the faint lavender scent could rid your mind of thoughts. You decided not to sit for long, your legs growing a bit restless in the water. Just as you finished tying your dress robes, you heard a knock and a voice from behind the door.

“Your Highness! We’ve brought you supper!”

“Yes. Come in!” you called.

At the sound of approval, your maids brought in a tray with silver dish covers on top. They opened the covers for you, revealing a piece of steaming roasted salmon and pudding. You then realized that you were starving. The piece of bread you managed to shove into your mouth earlier today was definitely long gone.

“Would you like some wine, your Highness?” Lea asked.

You shook your head. All you wanted was to sit down and eat everything. And as helpful as they had been, their questions at this moment was not. “No thank you. This shall be perfect.”

“Should we bring you more food?” Ilse added.

“No. I am happy with this. Thank you.”

They finally left. But you had barely sit down when there came another knock on the door. You groaned to yourself. Again?

“What?” you poked your head out, expecting your maids and more questions. But the last time you saw them they didn’t wear blue and there were certainly two of them.

Oh crap.

It was the Prince of Prussia.

Blush crept onto your cheeks as you became aware of your curtness. “Your Highness!”

He had his brows raised at the curious sight of you poking only your head out, leaning against the door rather inelegantly. He stepped away almost immediately. “Oh, am I interrupting you? I apologize-“

“No! I apologize, your Highness. Would-would you like to come in?” You stood up straight, opening the door a little wider. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, wishing to break free from your ribcage.

He shook his head. “I am just here to ask you if everything was alright.”

He didn’t want to come in?

“I am alright. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

He cleared his voice. “Good. Well, it’s been a long day for you. You should get some rest. There will be a lot more traveling for tomorrow.”

“Oh thank you. So should you. Oh-and before I forget.”

You disappeared into the room. In the meantime, Friedrich managed to catch a quick glimpse of your room. He had assigned the largest one to you, his was half the size. But it did not matter where he was. After all, he wanted the best for his bride, no matter who she was.

You appeared again moments later, thanking him for lending the coat to you. He held his coat in the crook of his elbow. “Good night.”

You leaned against the door, your back landing on the surface with a dull thump. You were relieved that he didn’t come in because you were not ready at all. Yet, you could not help but feel the clouds of dread forming over you. Was he being thoughtful or did he want nothing to do with you?

...

The next morning when Lea and Ilse came into the room, you could practically hear their thoughts.

Lea was a bit better at hiding her surprise while Ilse had to look away, turning to the curtains for an escape. As they got you ready, they distracted you with their millions of questions about what you would like for your hair, your dress and your food. But what all three of you were thinking about was the reason why you were alone on your wedding night.

“Do you know where the Prince is?” you asked, finally tired of dancing around the topic.

Ilse gasped, no longer brushing your hair. “Your Highness, was he not here?”

“Ilse, I mean no offense but you are a terrible liar.”

Your comment made Lea choke back a laugh. Meanwhile, Ilse’s face grew bright red as she began to comb your hair again, laughing quietly. “I apologize, your Highness. I just cannot see why he wasn’t here with you. You’re beautiful!”

“Well, I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“I don’t think that is the case, your Highness. Maybe you just don’t know each other,” Lea added, putting on a diamond necklace for you. “You still have plenty of time for that until you arrive at the palace.”

Perhaps she was right. But whether right or wrong, you felt some weight lifted off your shoulders. You felt that way with Olivia too, back in London. It gave us great comfort to know that at the very least you and your lady’s maids would get along perfectly fine.

“Will you two be with me then?”

“Of course!” Ilse assured you, placing the comb down, happy with how your hair looked. “Right, Lea?”

“Yes and there will be another lady too. Your chief of staff.”

You had finished getting ready but your appearance was the last thing on your mind right now. You turned in your chair, curious as to how the Prussian court worked. “Oh?”

Ilse was more than glad to pass around the gossip. “Rumors have it that the King had someone in mind for you. But we left before he made the decision. I bet Heinrich knows.”

...

It was definitely not a good time to ask questions.

When you and your maids got off of the ship onto French soil by noon, there were new carriages that awaited you. Just as you were marveling at the beautiful paintings on the side of the carriages and the gold ornate trims on the wheels, your attention was quickly drawn to the people standing next to the largest carriage at the front.

It was the Prince and Heinrich.

They were in quite a heated discussion when they noticed you looking and promptly paused their conversation.

“Your Highness,” Heinrich bowed.

You looked between the two of them, sensing the tension but did not dare ask for the reason. The Prince offered his hand and helped you into the carriage wordlessly.

Outside of the window, Heinrich got on horse, charging away before your carriage even began to move. It was awfully curious.

“Did you sleep well?”

You tore your eyes away from the window, deciding to focus on him instead. Inside of the carriage, the Prince was a completely different person than he was a mere second ago. He was sighing, his brows knitted, his hands waving about as he spoke to his valet about very important matters surely. But now, he had a friendly grin on his lips, his gaze soft as he engaged in small talk with you.

“Yes. Thank you for asking, your Highness.”

That made him laugh. You did not know just what it was that he should be laughing about though. “You know, you do not have to call me that.”

“I-I don’t?”

He shook his head. “Call me Friedrich. We are husband and wife, after all.”

You nodded. “Well, then, please call me Y/N.”

“We have a deal.”

Silence fell on the two of you after that.

Friedrich looked out of the window, observing the French countryside in the distance, the sound of waves crashing ashore was mere memories now.

You had always been a little impatient in these awkward pauses, never quite sure what to do. You had been rehearsing for this moment in the bathroom yesterday. But perhaps going by a first-name basis gave you the boost of confidence you needed to be the one to break the silence, without the help of scripted conversations.

“Is Heinrich not joining us?”

Friedrich shook his head. “He will meet us at the train station. There was just a little something that needed to be checked.”

As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Just a mix-up with the train schedules. No need to worry though. We will just have to switch the rooms around a bit.”

That was a lie. And you’d find out the truth eventually when you got to the train station. Heinrich seemed pale as a ghost when he saw you and Friedrich emerge from the carriages, rushing towards the both of you. He did not seem to mind that you were there to listen, frantically speaking. “Your Highness, the state train is not coming.”

“When did this happen?”

“I just checked. Apparently, they cancelled it from Potsdam.”

You had no idea what was happening but from the sigh leaving Friedrich’s lips you knew it was not good news at all.

“So we’ll take the standard then?”

“I am afraid so, sir.”

It was exactly what he had feared.

His father was mad and now that they were about to enter Prussia, there was no escaping his wrath. Friedrich did not mind, in particular. He was quite used to his father’s tantrums by now.

Whenever his father lost, he would make sure no one could win.

When Friedrich made the decision to marry you in England, he had prepared himself to face the King once they arrived at the Berlin Palace. He just felt bad for you having to get the wrong end of the stick because of him.

“I apologize,” he said, “I am afraid there is no other way.”

You waved your hand. “It is fine. I don’t think it is a big deal at all. I shall be good with anything.”

“Heinrich, see to it that you book her highness the room. I’ll sit where ever.”

You held up your hand. “Wait, excuse me?”

“There is only one room on the standard train, ma’am.”

“I-I will sit with my maids. I can’t-”

Heinrich looked to the Prince who was looking at you, his lips parted.

He shook his head furiously. “You are the Princess of Prussia. I will not allow you to sit in the back.”

There was only one solution.

Simple and straightforward to all of your current troubles. Friedrich did not want to suggest, he knew you were forced into this mess as much as he was. He was not going to make you do anything. And he was quite ready to sit with his staff, giving you your privacy when out of the blue...

“Then-then we’ll share the room.”

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codythecheshirecat · 3 years

Text

Binary Sunset Ch 1: The Prophecy

Story Summary: Obi-Wan finds himself decades in the future on the ship of a Mandalorian that seems like the last thing he wants is to be sidled with another lifeform. Or two, because suddenly they have a little...tiny... Yoda to deal with. Not actually Yoda, Obi-Wan knows, but still. It's weird, and stressful, and there's an entire Empire that's come and gone (going?). He just wants to rest. Figure out what exactly has happened and maybe, maybe find a way to stop it, if he ever gets back to his own time. Better that than wallow in misery and pain of a past he got plucked from, yet still feels the pain of.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30771671/chapters/75953153

Obi-Wan rubs his face. Christophsis-- and the entire ordeal with Jabba the Hutt’s son-- has been incredibly tiring. And this is only the beginning. The only thing he has to look forward to now is more fighting, more war, and the exhaustion that comes with it. Jedi aren’t generals. They shouldn’t be in this position. But who else would be able to? The army was made for the Jedi. They’re fighting against Sith. There’s no other option, really. And so peacekeepers become the leading force in a war that barely seems to make sense.

Cody left him a cup of tea a few hours ago. He glances at it, but it’s long gone cold. He supposes things could be worse; after all, Christophsis had been an approximate success, all things considered. While there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, that doesn’t mean one won’t come. Quickly, even. Stay positive. He sits back in his chair. His quarters are small, but he’s not particularly bothered by it. A Jedi doesn’t need worldly possessions. Even… even if they do enjoy them, sometimes.

The world seems to flicker around him. Obi-Wan pauses, looking around. No, everything is just fine, just as it should be. But what..? He could’ve sworn something just happened. I need some sleep, he decides. I’m starting to see things. No need to have a repeat of the time Anakin decided to stay up for three days straight and forced me to do the same.

The world flickers again. This time he’s ready for it; he sees gray metal walls and a space not much larger than his quarters. Then everything is right once again. A ship. I’m hallucinating a ship? He stands. Perhaps a bit too quickly, because the world twists in a spout of vertigo and he very suddenly collides with the floor, face first.

He groans. His nose hurts, now. What the kriff?

There’s a blaster pressed to the back of his head. That shouldn’t be there, not at all. None of his troopers would do that. Have I been poisoned? And someone has snuck onto the Negotiator to kill me? No, that doesn’t make sense. Why poison me and shoot me? Maybe they want to take me prisoner?

“Who are you?” A voice growls, sounding just so slightly off from a vocoder. His attacker is wearing a helmet, then. Maybe this is some sort of a joke from the troopers..?

Obi-Wan frowns. “You’re in my quarters.” He mutters. You should know who I am.

“...What?” The voice says.

Obi-Wan lifts his head from the floor, ready to tell his attacker off (it’s unlikely they’ll shoot him now if they haven’t already, him being an annoyance be damned), only to freeze. This isn’t his quarters. This isn’t his quarters at all. It’s some sort of… cockpit? He really can’t see much from his position on the floor, unfortunately.

“Ah, nevermind.” Obi-Wan says. “I’m afraid I have no idea where I am.”

His attacker grunts. “Who are you?”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“And?”

He raises an eyebrow, despite knowing his attacker can’t see it. “And what?”

“How did you get on my ship?”

“I have absolutely no idea. I was on my ship, and then I was here. I don’t even know where here is.”

There’s a pause. “Turn over.”

Obi-Wan does as told, rolling onto his back. He keeps his hands carefully out in the open. His attacker-- or apparent partner in crime, if they’re both equally confused with the situation-- is an armored Mandalorian. Obi-Wan studies the shiny silver helmet for a moment, and then moves to the rest of his armor. Rusty red paint covers most of the rest of it. He wears a tattered black cape. The Mandalorian continues to point the blaster in his face.

“You really don’t know how you got here?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I was in my quarters, on my ship. The world seemed to flicker around me and I thought it might be from lack of sleep, so I stood to walk to my bed. I got dizzy and fell, and then you put a blaster to the back of my head.”

The Mandalorian tilts his head. “One second I was alone, the next you were on the floor.”

“It seems we’re both a bit confused about this.”

“Yeah.” The Mandalorian says. After a moment, he lowers his blaster. “Where was your ship?”

“Orbiting Coruscant.” Obi-Wan shifts. “Where are we now?”

“Heading to Nevarro.”

Nevarro. Hm. He can’t say he knows where that is. He says as much.

“It’s in the Outer Rim. Coruscant is Core, right?”

“Right.” Obi-Wan agrees. “Seems I’ve managed to travel from the core worlds to the outer worlds in… I’m really not sure how quickly, actually. Or how.”

They lapse into silence. There really isn’t much else to say. Yet there’s very much to say. But how to say it? Where to begin? And Mandalorians haven’t worn armor like this in years, if he’s remembering correctly. Not mainstream Mandalorians, in any case. The New Mandalorians. Jango Fett had been an outlier himself. Perhaps when Satine… this Mandalorian may not have wanted to give up his armor. It would explain why he’s in the outer rim.

“If you would bring me to Coruscant, I would be very happy to pay you for your efforts.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Ah, after you bring me there. I don’t believe I have any credits with me at the moment.”

“Are you Imperial?”

That’s- what? Imperial? He frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Are you Imperial?” The Mandal- Mando- repeats, more insistent. “Were you a follower of the Empire?”

Something grows in the pit of his stomach. “What Empire?”

“The Galactic Empire? The one that ruled the galaxy for almost three decades?”

Oh, no. This doesn’t make any sense at all. “What, ah, year is it?”

Mando’s helmet tilts. “Nine.”

“Nine? Nine what?”

“ABY, I think. Why do you want to know what year it is?”

He presses his lips together. “I think… I’ve never heard of the ABY calendar, and if it’s used on Coruscant now... and there hasn’t been an Empire in a very long time.”

“The Empire fell about five years ago.” Mando says flatly. “So yes, there has been an Empire lately.”

“Well, then something is seriously wrong.” Obi-Wan says. He swallows thickly. “I suspect I may not be in the time I should be.”

“Like… time travel?”

“Like time travel.”

Mando sighs. He steps back, collapsing into his pilot’s chair. “I have no reason to believe you.”

“Well, I have no reason to believe you, either.” Obi-Wan sits up. He crosses his legs. “Except, of course, that I’ve somehow managed to appear on your ship with no discernible reason.”

Mando grunts. “Right.”

Something occurs to him. He has no frame of reference as to the date, when his time is in relation to the one he’s in now. If he’s in the past… or the future. He doesn’t know the ABY calendar, but it’s something that could easily be lost to time and renaming conventions. But Mando might be able to help with that. “How long ago did the Clone War occur?” If it’s occured at all.

“A few decades.”

“Ah, so right on time for the Empire, then.”

“Yes.”

I need to meditate on this. He sucks in a breath. “So, the Clone War occurs, the Empire takes over, a few decades later the Empire collapses, and a few years later here I am.”

“Are you from the time of the Clone Wars?”

“Right at the beginning. I think. Enough for me to have suspected it would be known for years to come, which seems to be the case. Well,” he rolls his shoulders. “At least if I manage to make it back to my time I’ll have an idea of what to stop in the future.”

“I don’t think one man can take down an empire.”

“I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have the entire Jedi Order to help.”

Mando glances at him, tilting his head yet again. “Then why didn’t they stop it in the first place?”

“I-” A feeling of cold dread washes over him. “I couldn’t say.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of a Jedi Order--”

“You haven’t? Not at all?” Obi-Wan asks. His chest is tight.

“No.”

“Oh, kriff. Oh, kriff.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Every word out of your mouth only serves to make me feel worse.” Mando doesn’t say anything to that. Obi-Wan swallows. “Do you mind if I meditate here?”

“Go ahead.”

He should tell Mando his name. It’s only polite. “My name is Obi-Wan, by the way.”

***

Obi-Wan meditates the rest of the way to Nevarro. He cracks an eye open to stare at Mando as they enter the atmosphere. “I suppose you have business here?”

“You could say that.”

“And I suppose you won’t want to be seen with me if you don’t have to?”

“Not really.”

Obi-Wan grimaces. He stretches. “Is Nevarro big enough that a newcomer won’t be noticed?”

Mando pauses. He glances at Obi-Wan. “You should stay on the ship.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I would have imagined you’d want to be rid of me as soon as possible.”

“I do. But I want to know why-- and how-- you’re here more. I’ll do my business in town, you stay on the ship and don’t touch anything, and when I’m done we can talk more.”

“And if I want to stretch my legs?”

That earns a glare. He can tell, despite the helmet, that Mando is glaring at him. “Then make sure you blend in.”

...Alright, he doesn’t actually want to piss Mando off more than he already, unwittingly, has. So he sighs. “I’ll stay on the ship. For now. Would you mind at least telling me the business you have here, or is it confidential?”

Mando stands, taking a moment to stretch (as much as he can, wearing all that armor). He walks to the door of the cockpit. “Bounty hunting.”

And then he’s gone. Obi-Wan hears him moving around on the lower levels of the ship, and then the door opens, closes, and he knows, for the moment, that Mando is gone. With a groan, he lays back, letting his hands flop and hit the floor maybe a little harder than what’s comfortable. He stares at the ceiling.

I am not where I was. That’s the only truth he has. I am not on my ship like I am supposed to be, and I don’t know how I got on this one. He might have been drugged, kidnapped, and Mando is lulling him into a false sense of security. To be turned over to the Separatists and the droid army and Dooku. Make it seem like he time traveled to keep him confused. Don’t let him out of the ship or he’ll realize it’s all false.

Or, he really has time traveled. Space traveled, too, without a ship or any other obvious means. One second he’s here, the next he’s there. Time travel is so… unlikely. Unheard of. Fanciful, strange, absurd. And yet it cannot be ignored. I am not where I was. I have traveled through space instantaneously. Why not add ‘traveled through time instantaneously’ as well? Is it really that much less absurd?

He’d meditated on this all already, but it’s a topic that’s impossible to just let go of. He just… circles through the thoughts, theories, over and over again, to try to make sense of it. There’s no sense to be had. It must be the will of the Force, and the Force is rarely easy to understand. It’s still exhausting, though, and no amount of meditation will truly fix that, so for the time being, Obi-Wan allows himself to fall into a shallow sleep.

***

He wakes to Mando standing above him, helmet tilted slightly to the side. Obi-Wan peers at him. “Yes?”

“Get up.”

Ah, so maybe I have been drugged and kidnapped. “Where are we going?” He asks as he does so.

“There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

They leave the cockpit, go down a ladder, and Obi-Wan finds himself in the main part of the ship. It’s small, crowded with a lot in a little space. Mando shoves something into his arms. Obi-Wan looks at it. He looks back at Mando. “A coat?”

“Make yourself look less posh. Take the robe off.”

He does as told. He’s not entirely sure that just exchanging his Jedi robes for a beaten up coat will do much, but he won’t argue. It’s not like they have a lot of options, after all. Mando clearly doesn’t wear coats. He doesn’t think much of it as he leaves his robes in a pile on the floor and follows Mando out of the ship.

They walk through the streets. They’re fairly busy, with people at various stalls along the streets buying this or that. Nobody pays any attention to them, except for a small glance here and there. Mando must be old news, enough that they won’t even pay attention to his companion. They turn down a side street, and then another, and Obi-Wan really doesn’t pay as much attention as he should because suddenly, they’re underground.

In a dimly lit cave system.

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. His hand twitches to his belt, where his lightsaber is, except-- it isn’t there. Of course it isn’t there, because he’d set it on his desk, confident that if he needed it he could grab it easily from the desk and move on to whatever he needed it for. He doesn’t have his lightsaber. He doesn’t even know where to begin looking for it, or if it’s even worth it. Obi-Wan shoves down the discontent curling in his stomach. A Jedi’s lightsaber is their life, yes, but a Jedi is not useless without it. Only at a disadvantage.

They turn a corner. There are more Mandalorians here, sitting along the walls in chairs and carved outcroppings. This must be their home, he realizes. Are they hiding? Nobody says anything as they pass, but he can feel their eyes boring into his skull. They don’t want him here. Why did Mando bring him? Because somebody wants to talk to me?

Mando leads him into a room. It’s a forgery. Obi-Wan watches the flames of the forge for a moment, lost in the blue-white of them. A Mandalorian with a gold helmet sits at a small table.

She tilts her head. “Sit.”

Obi-Wan knows she’s talking to him, and he takes his place in the chair across from her. Mando stands behind him. Obi-Wan knows without looking that he practically towers over him. To anyone else, it would be intimidating. Obi-Wan isn’t particularly concerned.

He nods his head respectfully. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what this meeting is about.”

“Our bounty hunter came to me and told me of you. I wish to speak about what may have brought you to his ship.”

“I see.” It’s what he expected, really, and nothing more.

“I am this covert’s Armorer, and it’s leader. You are a Jedi.”

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He says, expecting something of a similar reaction to Mando’s.

“He said.” He would almost call her voice amused. “I know that name, even if he doesn’t. And I know your face. You are either the true Obi-Wan Kenobi, or you are a very good fake.”

A smile twitches across his face. “Oh, I’m the real Obi-Wan Kenobi, I assure you. Whether that’s good news to you, or bad news, I suppose I can’t say. I can say, though, that I really don’t know how I ended up on that ship.” He shrugs. “The will of the Force, I suppose.”

The Armorer hums. “Indeed. You must have a lot of questions.”

“I do. And I’m sure I have many more questions I don’t yet realize I want to ask. Is it… is it true there was an Empire?”

“Yes.” The Armorer’s voice is heavy, if not in emotion then in the finality that she says it. “The Empire destroyed much in its reign of power. Your Jedi order being one of them. Alderaan. Mandalore. Many more planets, many more people. Even with the Empire gone now, the galaxy is still trying to find order.”

He hates the way his chest constricts, how his throat feels raw. He swallows. It doesn’t do anything. “Are you the last remaining Mandalorians?”

“There are others, scattered, as I expect there are other Jedi scattered and hiding. Not as many as there once was. Not living as we once did.” She looks at him, she’s been looking at him, but somehow, her gaze freezes him with its intensity, filtered as it is through her helmet.

Gold, for vengeance. Red for honoring a parent. Or perhaps the colors of her armor have no meaning at all.

“Mandalorians and Jedi were enemies, once. We fought great battles and adapted to the others’ weaknesses. But now is not the time for enemies. I am no Jedi, and I hold no esteem for the Jedi way of life. The Force is real, however, no matter the name it is called by, and I, too, believe that you were brought here by the will of the Force.” She leans forward almost imperceptibly. “You are here for a reason, Obi-Wan Kenobi. So you will stay with our bounty hunter and discover that reason.”

He licks his lips. “I can certainly do that.” I have nowhere else to go.

With that, he’s dismissed, and he follows Mando back out of the sewers and into the open air, turning over the conversation in his head. Mando must have known this was coming from his previous talk with the Armorer, or if he didn’t, then he knows she isn’t one to cross.

When they step onto the ship and the door closes behind them, Obi-Wan turns to Mando. “So… where to next?”

“Saleucami.”

“Oh… lovely.”

#Star Wars #The Clone Wars #The Mandalorian #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Din Djarin #Binary Sunset #Chapter 1 #Time Travel #Obi-Wan has very little information #Din is of no help

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zukkoxx · 3 years

Text

mha boys jealous moments

w/ bakugo, deku, kirishima

warnings: slight season 3 spoilers, fem! reader

bakugo💥

bakugo rarely got jealous to be honest.

he was confident in your relationship and knew that you both loved each other more than you could express.

but there was something about the way that baldy, inasa yoarashi who used to go to shiketsu high school, talked to you so enthusiastically and made you laugh your ass off that had him fuming

it was the yearly meet up for the strange friend group, bakugo, todoroki, inasa, camie, and y/n.

the group that had to retake their license exam during high school, which resulted into a weird friendship that had the five meeting up every year to catch up.

the meet up itself was normal. at a fancy restaurant in a private area with an interesting conversation going on.

you were sitting between bakugo and inasa.

somehow, the conversation of first dates was brought up, and everyone was sharing the interesting stories of their first one.

todoroki explained how his first date was with momo, since everyone seemed to like them together. but it made him realize they had absolutely nothing in common

especially when it came to tea…

camie told everyone about how her first date was with some sleaze who only wanted her body for one night, which had you shaking your head is disgust.

anyways, the conversation resulted into you hearing about inasa’s first date, where he explained he was so nervous that his quirk went off involuntarily, blowing the food everywhere.

his enthusiastic story telling and the details he added had you laughing up a storm.

you were so engrossed in the story, that you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend staring at the man with an expression that could only be considered as pure acrimony

what the hell was so funny about what this baldy was saying?

“inasa that’s too crazy! i can’t believe that happened.” you breathed out, going to wipe some stray tears away from your eyes.

inasa looked at you with pure delight, pride filling his chest at the fact that he made you laugh so intensely.

you turned your head to look at bakugo who you hadn’t really been paying much attention to for most of the night.

right away you noticed his familiar grimace, that seemed way more irate than usual.

“what’s wrong kats?” you ask absentmindedly, taking a sip of your drink.

he just shook his head at you before looking at inasa. “that’s a pretty funny story baldy…” he mutters. “you know, my first date was with this beauty right here.” your boyfriend nudges you with a half smirk. “only girl i thought was capable enough to handle me.”

“i can see why. y/n’s quite fierce. i’d assumed she’d be able to put you in your place every now and then.” inasa shrugged, a competitive glint forming in his eyes.

“put me in my place?” bakugo scoffed. “please, a few dates after our first one, i already had her screaming under me. she could barely keep up.”

you gasp, turning to bakugo and slapping his hard bicep. “katsuki! why would you say that?”

he just chuckled, watching as inasa suddenly grew flustered and looked away. “just had to make sure that baldy knew who you’d be going home with tonight.” he kissed your cheek, and you turned away from him, pouting in embarrassment

deku 🥦

we know this precious boy had insecurities growing up, but as he got older they went away bit by bit

you played a big part in it. always reassuring him that he was perfect the way he is and he had nothing to be insecure about.

but being pro heroes and being in the public eye almost all the time did leave some room for those wondering thoughts and doubts to creep back up.

fortunately, izuku found new ways to handle those feelings. gave them head on with confidence like he did with most of his problems.

it was a cool night, and you and your boyfriend had just got done kicking some villain’s ass. of course, tons of reporters were surrounding you both.

“miss (hero name)! how would u describe the performance of both you and deku tonight!”

“was this particular villain hard to fight off? you seem a little more hazed than usual!”

you tired to answer every question as quick as possible, but one particular question you wish you didn’t hear had to stumped to the core.

“have you heard about the recent news of you being shipped with another pro-hero?” the reporter asked.

“wha…no.” you tried to respond, but the question just seemed to get other reporters more hyped.

“much of the public believe you should be with another pro-hero! one that matches your style more!”

“people are predicting the end of h/n and deku! what do you have to say about that?”

“um, no me and izu-ah deku are completely fine. i would never leave him!” you try to retaliate.

“but there are tons of other heroes who have their eyes on you h/n! it’d be stupid to not give them a chance!”

you scoffed at the reporter’s words, trying to go against what they were saying when you suddenly felt a hand wrap your waist and a big frame stand behind you.

“don’t you think if h/n and i weren’t perfect for each other, we’d have broken up already?” izuku comes into frame with a hard expression, his question leaving the reporters speechless.

“it’s been so many years, i don’t think we would continue to torture ourselves in an uncommitted relationship if we didn’t love each other, right h/n”

you nodded feverishly, letting izuku take over as he looked directly into the camera “oh, and to all the pro-heroes who have their eyes on my girlfriend, you better keep that fantasy in your head, cause this girl is all mine.”

he gave you an affection squeeze on the hips before pulling you away to the car.

you sighed out in relief and turned to him with a big smile. “thank you for helping me back there izu.” you smile, and peck his cheek.

“of course. anything for you but…you don’t actually think about being with other heroes? right?” you could basically see the sweat running down the side of his face.

“of course not! you’re my one and only deku.” you smile as he leans in, placing a loving kiss on your lips

kirishima 🪨

it’s really hard for kiri to get jealous

he just thinks everyone has positive motives and doesn’t like to assume the worst.

but when it’s really obvious someone is flirting with you, he’ll get involved quicker than he can harden.

you were out shopping with your red haired boyfie, and he had walked away for a bit to look at the men’s section.

it was only about five minutes when a weird looking man approached you, his aura already feeling off

“hey there sexy lady! saw you looking all pretty over here and i just had to talk to ya” he smiled crookedly, making you cringe.

“i’m flattered but, i have a boyfriend.” you try to smile, turning away and shuffling through clothes.

“well i don’t see him around.” the man says.

that’s always their response. isn’t it?

“he’s just over there in the men’s section. so i’d really appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“come on baby! there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun! i’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

god if this man says one more thing to me i swear i’ll-

“you thought wrong sir.” you hear kirishima say, his usual voice dropping a few octaves making the man in front of you clench up.

“i know she’s already told you she had a boyfriend. what will it take for you to leave her alone hm?”

“i’m sorry dude-“

“yeah you are. now get out of here of while you can still walk.” kiri said, making the man skedaddle.

after he was out of sight, your boyfriend put a hand on his chest and let out a breath. “jeez that was scary babe!”

“eijiro, you’re a pro hero who fights scary villains all the time.”

“yeah! but the thought of someone stealing my baby away is my biggest fear!” he yells.

you laugh “good thing that’ll never happen babe.”

posted 7/1/21

really sorry about kiri’s being a little shorter. anyways hope you guys liked this. i’ll be answering requests tomorrow. it’s about 3:30 AM where i am rn so i’ll get some sleep and work on them right away. hope you liked this. leave a request here -> 🥀

gn loves! <3

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

-----------------------------------------------------

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

-----------------------------------------------

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

----------------------------------------------

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

-----------------------------------------------

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

#indrid cold/ duck newton #indruck #taz amnesty #meet ugly #reader request

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organic-guacamole · 3 years

Text

showtime

episode 211 let's go

ok first of all, this is the second to last episode guys... I don't even wanna think about how much pain I'll be in after next week's episode

mr mazzara doing the recap-

this is so weird to me and I don't know why

WHY DIDN'T YALL JUST ASK BENJAMIN FOR HELP, THATS LITERALLY HIS THING

is Nini giving out the cards a callback to season 1 when Natalie Bagley said that Nini gave her a card or something on opening night of another musical?

STEPHY AS THE ENCHANTRESS OMG YES

Ricky in the crown gives me Harry styles in that photoshoot vibes

he's so pretty.

ok but why did we never see Ricky and Ashlyn interact before? it's been like 5 seconds and I already love how they bounce off each other and it's just so natural

OH THEY REALLY DON'T HAVE ANY UNDERSTUDIES-

well that explains a lot...

so Ricky fell on top of Ashlyn and all that broke for both of them was their wrist-

insert Jake Peralta *coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool no doubt no doubt no doubt*

of course howie was amazing as the beast, were we expecting anything less??

Ricky is so beautiful and I will not shut up about it....

let me enjoy this before the makeup crew slaps mud on his face.

Nini and Ricky talking to eachother? in a civil manner? wasn't she avoiding him just in the last episode? hm ok

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY CANT EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS JUST LIKE ME HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS HILARIOUS, WHATS NEXT? THEY CUT EVERYONE OFF CUZ THEY CANT HANDLE EMOTIONS? ...ha

yes Kaden and Rico, my favourite east high boys 🥰

I mean....where's EJ?

THERE HE IS

EJ AND GINA IN THE BACKGROUND... doing something idek

KOURTNEY'S MOM IS BACK YAY

Howie is a shining star, ofc ofc

the smallest fOrk

can't wait to see the fork burst into song about how she deserves more than to be used to eat salad😌

the duster and the bluster.... ok😃

hi Gina!

hi- oh wow I didn't know Robbie Rotten was in this show!!!!!

the portwell look.

that my friends, is a married couple's look✋

GOSH EJ WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

aww Gina's so excited for this

D word?

Die?

Delicious?

Dom Toretto?

"good, clean fun all alone with someone I dig...a lot"

sir that does not sound very clean to me

SEBLOS

Seb looks so cute standing there next to pope Carlos

DID THEYEY REALLY LIGHT ANTOINE ON FIRE-

I NEED TO SEE THAT

Seb's reading Carlos better than big red read the script in episode 102, this is great development after the "fight"

Kourtney really just made the best outfit for herself and let the rest of them suffer

the way Gina immediately goes to hold on to EJ after the announcement

"tonight we're going to put the U in UTAH"

...

"hey where are you from?"

"TAH"

SEB'S SINGULAR CLAP KILLED ME-

he's officially salt lake city's resident thanos

just wity clapping because for some reason I have a feeling he doesn't know how to snap his fingers...don't ask why

Ms Jenn do you mind encouraging your leads before the show? idk just an idea

pepto bismol product placement smhsmh

those flowers are bigger that big red himself-

*bops along to the opening theme*

that whistle at the end slaps everytime

WHY IS THE AUDIENCE SO MASSIVE

I guess they're all here to see Ms Jenn go on as a fork after Nini decides to *go her own way*

wow i am so funny

so they couldn't do many group scenes cuz of covid, but this 300 person crowd is cool? nice

OO THE VIOLIN GIRL FROM EPISODE 6 IS IN THE ORCHESTRA

HOWIEEEEEE

"Mr Caswell", he said, in the loudest voice possible while backstage at a show that's about to start.

Mazzara what are you trying to pull-

I usually like Benjamin but I don't like his tone

"iS yOuR wHoLe FaMiLy HeRe?" LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW THATS A SOFT SPOT FOR EJ

"we've had some good conversations these past few weeks"

right so what's going to happen after you graduate?

what does he think of you not going to Duke?

what did he say about you giving the sweatshirt that's been in the family for 3 generations to a girl you're not even dating?

good old Mr. M

therapist Mr. Mazzara, they all need it.

start with Ricky though.

"Michael Bowen"

dude why did you shave, now you look less like "hot lumberjack" and more "creep at the gas station"

OH-

does she not like Mike anymore?

why does it sound like jennzzara started dating and now they just sit back and talk smack about everyone in their freetime

break the fourth wall-

uhhhh im scared

why am I scared

he's scary

hehe flowers for Ricky, obviously for Ricky, ObViOuSLY

oh boy poor Michael

this man is in love, rip

why does Ms Jenn always look at people with her eyes open so wide

LILYYYY

I'm only excited because I really like the idea of lily and Ricky being friends, nothing more.

ha this guy's got jokes

a MOAT AROUND THE SCHOOL

wheeze

also he's very pretty.

"the wolves and very talented humans"

how dare he forget to mention the very talented wolves and normal humans, smh erasure

"being nice, what a concept" ted talk by Lily who still doesn't have a last name

did she just say lol out loud

same with the hug emoji last episode-

go touch some grass babes

the way he didn't say no, but said he didn't know how the east high kids would react-

not saying he does want to date her but that's an interesting thing to think about, also another thing to write an essay analysis on just to leave it in my drafts for a few months

awww lily genuinely trying to help him

sorry guys, I've been taken by the Lily charm (didn't know it existed until now but oh well)

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I'LL NEVER SHIP PORTWELL?

just look at me now

the Lily wink I can't she's so cute-

HELP ME I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY LIL-

David Attenborough?

oh nvm it's Benjamin narrating the show in a really weird British accent for some reason.

STEPHY GOT MORE LINES YAY GOOD FOR HER

also is this to show that Nini doesn't care about being the star of the show anymore? the way she's supporting everyone else even though she's a fork?

I would pay for a special of the full musical ngl

OOO THE TRANSFORMATION WAS SMOOTH

shockingly

yo where did the makeup come from

man I wish I was a theatre kid

THIS IS STEPHY'S EPISODE NOW IDC✋

my girl is starring

"needs an X-factor"

Simon Cowbell creeps in

"it's a yes from me"

and them boom, he takes Nini and mistreats her horribly and then she comes back to theatre after deciding music isn't for her👍

"I thought she just hog-tied him?"

don't ask sebby, it's better if you don't know.

imagine they spotlight the wrong person and this dude is just some random person that likes writing down stuff during shows.

Ms Jenn just let them do what they rehearsed (at some point we never saw) or else this is gonna end horribly wrong

"help"

same Carlos, same

I love how seb is just his translator rn

I thought he said "great displeasure" instead of "greatest pleasure"....help?

big red coming out from throwing up to see his girlfriend star is the cutest thing in this show.

Ash and Gina dancing is so fun

I'm imagining them practicing at night at their home, watching the movie for the 100th time and making sure their one dance together is perfect

KOURTNEY YES

HOWIE IS IN LOVE AHHHH

I LOVE HOWIE SO MUCH

SEBBY

THIS SCENE HAS SO MUCH GOING ON I CAN'T KEEP UP

THIS IS SO GOOD

HOW???

no because I'm actually crying

I'm dead serious.

we need this musical released as a special

big red is so proud and I love to see it

Natalie: "if you do not by at least 20 dollars in concessions, you do not support art"

rando in the audience: "but I pay for ad free Spotify"

Mr Mazzara clapping in the distance

Gigi, the guy you like is talking to you, complimenting you and hyping you up

YOU LUCKY LITTLE FEATHER DUSTER

aw EJ teasing her about the chocolates in a way that doesn't make her feel bad? take notes Richard

JORDAN FISHER

there is no rest of the show idc Jordan is it for me

THE WIG CAP ON RICKY OMG

they look like they're high and having "deep" conversations on the floor

THE MEAN GIRL WITH THE EYES-

@sunshine-julie-molina YOU HEAR THAT

Natalie really just be coming for them all

Howie what is happening rn

I'm scared

"did you enjoy it"

"very much"

dude wants a kiss so bad

ASHLYN OMG

NO DON'T DO IT BECAUSE OF LILY, PUT YOUR OWN TWIST ON IT

I want a Jordan autograph please

just keep swim- oh pushing...

Gina is literally a giant next to him and I live for it

am I about to cry for the 3rd time in this episode?

yes.

Ricky's leg kicks under the table makes me so happy aw

the portwell glances will kill me.

ah yes, mashed potato snow

Mr. M.... I'm not a theatre kid but even I know you can't have your phone on backstage.

Howie please just do it

CHIP'S BIG LINE I CANT

I LITERALLY HAD TO PAUSE IT AMD SCREAM INTO MY MASK FOR A SOLID 2 MINUTES (I'm not at home rn) HES SO CUTE

oh ok bye Jordan

oo tea

NOT HIM BEING STARSTRUCK BECAUSE HE'S MEETING HIS FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW-

"we're all just glad Gigi has a big brother figure in her life"

excuse me for a few thousand hours while I laugh hysterically

THE CAMERA ZOOM ON EJS FACE AND EVERYTHING-

STOP EJ LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY BUT I CAN'T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY WITH THE STAGE MAKE-UP

someone else said this already but I think it's hilarious that they had to bring in 2 guest characters to create some portwell angst

omg this really is Cici's episode, found family is their thing

elevator music lol

I'm gonna bet that big red took the harness for his surprise for Ashlyn without realising what it was

did Ms. Jenn just....tell her most mentally unstable student....to commit suicide....on a disney show...was that....I'm very....well....what the actual-

oh and there she goes running off instead of trying to make it right

oh wow Nini's the hero, she's gonna save the show 🤩

😐

the judge is doing a sudoku

honestly if I went to the hsm show as well, I'd come prepared for this one too

Lily why are you looking like that-

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE YOU DON'T MESS THIS UP

wow ok, there goes that.

omg

what if Howie was acting weird because he knew what Lily did and wanted to tell Kourtbut Lily threatened him so he was scared to-

anyways see y'all clowns next week when we all simultaneously lose all motivation for the week without Fridays to look forward to.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ej caswell #gina porter #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #seb mathew smith #carlos rodriguez #big red #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #howie my pizza king #lily hsmtmts

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 3 years

Text

all your gods are dead, a zhongkaechi au

Summary: It's a world where Childe meets Kaeya (for the second time?) in Zhongli's kitchen, and the three of them have more in common than they think. Childe-centric. I planned a whole AU for this with multiple sections. As per the others, let me know if you want more and I'll see what I can do.

Rating: T

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, alcohol mention, mild sexual content mention (nothing explicit lmao)

Ships: Zhongli/Kaeya/Childe

Dreams of Peace

The prince of the abyss was sitting in Zhongli’s kitchen, and Childe had never wanted to fight someone more in his entire life.

“Fight me,” Childe said, leaning forward. Kaeya’s baleful blue eye flicked up to meet his, startling in its intensity. He was hungover and half-asleep but sharp as a knife still, Childe realizes, and the thought made something spark in his blood. Looking Kaeya in the eye felt a bit like putting on his Delusion and letting the electricity of it run wild over his skin.

Fucking intoxicating.

But then Kaeya’s eye flicked back down, uninterested and dismissive. “I’m still kind of drunk,” he drawled. “I won’t put up much of a fight, Ajax.” His gaze was still half-lidded as he swirled the tea in his cup, holding it with his palm hovering over the top. “Or is it Tartaglia, now?”

“I’m surprised you remembered,” Childe said, settling back in his chair.

He wasn’t surprised that Kaeya remembered, not really. Or even surprised that Kaeya knew his other name. He had the feeling that nothing escaped the other man’s eyes. No, Childe was only surprised at the sound of his name in Kaeya’s mouth—his real name, the one that he left behind long ago, because the only person who addresses him as such is his father.

And he hadn’t been home to Snezhnaya in a very long time.

He couldn’t decide if it was wrong, somehow, like a coat that didn’t fit anymore, or if it was a nearly-forgotten reminder of an old friend.

“You’re a bit hard to forget,” said Kaeya, and smiled a bit lopsidedly. He took a sip from his tea. “A tiny, wide-eyed child, nursing a sprained ankle in the depths of the Abyss? And one who so brazenly disregarded my warning? I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

But before he could reply—though what does one say to that?—he caught the sound of clothing rustling. “You met in the Abyss?” asked Zhongli, and Childe had almost forgotten that he was in Zhongli’s kitchen. Childe turned to him, grinning. “A long time ago,” he agreed. “Before I was a Harbinger.”

Zhongli raised a single eyebrow but didn’t comment. Childe supposed that he would know all about having multiple names, and the way that each identity stretches over a person like taffy—overlapping and multicolored and difficult to get off. But Childe was the vanguard of the Fatui Harbingers. He could not afford to be only one person, no matter how much it chafed.

Besides, he didn’t mind being Tartaglia most days. It was the name the Tsaritsa gave him, and for that, he valued it inherently.

“If you two are going to spar, I’d request that you refrain from doing so in my apartment,” was the only thing Zhongli said in reply.

Childe reeled back, a hand on his heart. “I would never!” he swore, eyes wide open. He counted it as a victory when Zhongli’s mouth quirked up slightly.

“Not today,” Kaeya said, his voice still rough from sleep. He sipped at his tea and didn’t look at either of them.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Childe asked.

Kaeya paused, then, and took another sip. “Probably not. But don’t you have places to be, Ajax?”

That name again.

It put him off balance, like the world shifted slightly to the right every time he heard it. It was somehow even odder coming out of Kaeya’s mouth.

“Nope,” Childe said cheerfully, shoving down his reservations, and leaned back in his chair. “I’m grounded. La Signora got a bit pissy at me for ruining negotiations with...someone. His face was so forgettable, and it’s not my fault that my fight bled into the clearing she’d picked for a meeting place. I was too busy, you know, not dying, to notice I’d trampled him.”

Kaeya snorted, but Zhongli looked serious. “So, you broke a—”

Childe sat straight up and made a slicing motion with his hand. “Don’t even go there, sensei,” he said warningly. “Wasn’t my contract and it hadn’t even been finished yet. So no wrath of the rock today, alright?”

Kaeya choked on his tea. “Wrath of the what now—” he gasped, putting down his cup.

“The rock,” Childe grumbled. “Sensei gets nearly as pissy as Signora on hot days when contracts are broken. And while I like to fight, I also don’t feel like being snapped in half by one of his pillars today.”

He had a terrible idea, and glanced at Kaeya. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?” he asked, trying not to leer too obviously.

“To imitate an old friend,” said Kaeya laconically, “Die, Fatui scum.”

Childe nearly tipped off his chair laughing. “Those are fighting words,” he said, delighted. “So perhaps—”

“Tomorrow,” said Kaeya, rolling his eye and downing the last of his tea. He looked at Zhongli with a curious expression. “Care to referee?” he asks, and it was a lazy, disinterested question. But Childe was sure that it was anything but. He couldn;t say why. Might be the gleam in Kaeya’s expression, or the way his accent twisted the words into something unfamiliar but still less jarring than the pitch-perfect speech of the locals.

Zhongli shrugged. “I don’t have anything else on my to-do list,” he said, and it was as much of a tacit agreement as anything. Childe grinned at Kaeya and leaned in closer, watching in fascination at the way Kaeya didn’t even lean back to preserve his personal space. Instead, his eye clicked to Childe’s and stayed there, focused solely on him.

“I look forward to our match,” he said, and, this close, he could hear Kaeya’s breath hitch just the slightest bit.

It was enough of a victory that Childe pulled himself out of Kaeya’s space and leaned back, nearly toppling his stool over. He saluted Zhongli and hopped to his feet. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. “Noon?”

“Make it two,” Kaeya grumbled.

“That works,” agreed Zhongli, and with that—because Zhongli wouldn’t break a contract like that, and he wouldn’t let Kaeya either—Childe left. He had business to attend to, despite what he’d said earlier, because La Signora apparently thought grounding him and cutting down his to-do list would be counterproductive.

He was restless for the whole day. Something about the promise of a battle made Childe twitchy. Or maybe it was less the promise of a battle, and more the promise of a battle with Kaeya. He wasn’t sure what it was about Kaeya that made him so anxious to fight him, really. He’d clocked a few things about the man from their encounter in the kitchen, and none of them had been particularly out of the ordinary.

First, the callouses on his hands. Childe knew what an archer’s hands looked like, considering he had to look at his own often enough. He’d seen Kaeya’s hands, wrapped around the cup of tea set in front of him. Long-fingered and tanned, but without any of the hallmarks Childe associated with a bowman’s. And with Kaeya in an undershirt, he’d gotten a good enough look at the man’s shoulders and back muscles to guess that he didn’t have a greatsword. He wasn’t frail, but he lacked the bulk of that every greatsword-user Childe knew.

But the way he moved around the room, even half-asleep and probably still hungover, had given him away. Childe had him pegged as a sword fighter by the time Kaeya had sat down. Something about the way he walked. Like a dancer, almost. More graceful than the stiff polearm-users Childe knew, because he’d seen the way Zhongli fought and moved. He could’ve been made of stone for all it mattered on the battlefield, and he wasn’t the most mobile of sparring partners.

A sword wasn’t particularly strange, though.

And the Vision—that had been easy enough for him to spot, dangling off his belt and giving off a faint glow. Cryo, if he knew anything about Visions, and the exact same icy blue that reminded him of the sky above Snezhnaya. Not the best matchup against his own Hydro Vision, but that didn’t bother him too much.

What had it been, anyway? Not the weapon, not the Vision, neither of those things had gotten under Childe’s skin. He couldn’t figure it out, and he spent the entire day distracted as he tried to puzzle out exactly why Kaeya intrigues him so.

Before he knew it, he’d finished his errands and it was time for him to head back to his lodgings. He was staying at a nice inn, close enough to the harbor that he didn’t have to travel far, but distanced enough that it wasn’t a huge drain. It wasn’t like he couldn’t pay for an inn at the very heart of Liyue Harbor, and wasn’t not like he really has qualms about blowing all that money, but he’d had a gut feeling.

After the Abyss, Childe always listened to his gut feelings.

So he headed back to the inn, waving a greeting to the nice old lady at the front desk. Entered his room, locked the door behind him. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, stretching out with a sigh. “Nobody’s quite caught my eye like that since that traveler did,” he murmured, entirely to himself. And he’d been perfectly justified in being interested in that traveler. He’d never met another person who could control multiple elements without either a Vision or Delusion, and he’d never met once since.

Maybe it was because Kaeya reminds him of the traveller. Aether had always put up a good fight, the kind that got his blood singing in his veins and the world to look as sharp as cut crystal. The kind of fight that let him see, really see, why he was alive in a world where so many people had perished before him and would perish after him.

It took longer than normal for Childe to finally drop off to sleep, even after he did his evening exercise and took a bath. He couldn’t help but ruminate on the strange man in Zhongli’s kitchen, and all the mysteries that surround him. Because he had last seen Kaeya in the Abyss, in that dark, godless world lurking beneath Teyvat. When had he left, anyway? And why?

Come to think of it, he had never asked what Kaeya was doing down there in the first place. He’d always just assumed it was a strange quirk of the Khaenri’ah people, to meander underneath the ground. But the Abyss is a dangerous place. Not the sort of living conditions where anyone would want to raise a child.

And yet Kaeya had been down there, nonchalant and worried all at once, because Ajax had fallen into trouble he couldn’t get out of on his own.

Ajax.

He almost never thought of himself with that name anymore. Had being named as such, by someone other than his father, truly put him so off-balance? He’d need to get a handle on that.

Can’t be getting distracted in the middle of a spar.

#zhongkaechi #zhongli #childe #kaeya alberich #genshin impact fanfiction #all your gods are dead snippets #genshin impact #tartaglia

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

Two Halves - Chapter Eighteen (Zuko x Reader)

Chapter 17

Word Count: 2,200

Author’s Note: Shit’s hitting the fan y’all - not just in Two Halves but in everything else as well. I’m formatting this and ignoring all the impending doom swirling around me by drowning it out with Disney move soundtracks.

You wake before Zuko the next morning, which isn't hard considering you barely slept. Toph arrives under the cover of early dawn, the sky just becoming gray as her ship lands on the palace grounds; you meet her without your husband, as you never got the chance to tell him she was coming the night previous.

“You didn't have to rush out here,” you tell her, clutching her hands in an anxious vice. “It's not safe.”

“When have I ever cared if anything was safe?” she scoffs. “Sparky clearly needs help protecting you.”

The words are delivered with sarcastic wit, but her fingers shake in your palm.

You decide you won't tell her about Qiang’s threat - you don't want to give him reason to hurt anyone else. Instead, you tell her that the palace is under constant, heavy surveillance, and that you're still unsure who exactly is conducting the strange occurrences that have plagued you or what their motives are. Not exactly a lie, but enough that you feel she won't be put in any more danger.

“Do you think you can even trust your guards?” Toph wonders, her arm clenched tightly to your elbow.

“Suki vetted every one of them herself,” you tell her. “But… we still don't know.”

As you walk with her through the palace, nothing feels secure - the servants that pass you all seem suspicious, the guards and metal benders that flank you all looking like strangers through the gaze of your fear. Anyone could be working under Qiang; the thought of being so unsafe in your own home, even with the people you trust most beside you, makes you ill to the point you feel dizzy.

“Zuko should be up,” you blurt. “Why don't you spar with him before breakfast? I’ll meet you.”

Toph’s brow furrows with unease, her grip on your bicep becoming tighter.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You nod, but don't bother to put on a brave face.

“I just feel a little tired,” you reply. “I didn't sleep very well last night.”

Again, not a lie.

Toph considers this for a moment, no doubt gauging your pulse, then concedes, letting you go with a firm, nervous squeeze.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll stay close.”

When you see that she goes without incident, you sweep through the corridor, hastily making your way back to your own, personal bedroom, and locking the door behind you. For a moment, you stand staring at the threshold, considering pushing your vanity or wardrobe in front of it to barricade yourself in.

Your vanity. Your wardrobe.

It sinks in that you haven't been alone in this room since you returned from Ember Island; you moved your belongings into Zuko’s room, opting to sleep next to him and making plans to convert the room back into a sunroom. You pace the floor slowly, inspecting the bed and its thin, billowing canopy, the windows and their gorgeous views beyond lightly veiled curtains; had you stayed in this room, they'd have been switched out for heavier ones in anticipation of winter, but they remain, letting in cool air that chills the dormant space. Dust has gathered on the deep, glossy wood of your vanity, your fingers leaving streaks in their wake as they run along its edge. You pull the single drawer open as if by instinct, something catching in your chest as its only remaining contents slide out from the shadows.

A single pai sho tile - the lotus.

On its side, so minuscule you can barely make it out, is a series of addresses; you discovered the markings one night while nervously toying with the gift from Iroh, finding various locations around the world listed on the piece after inspecting it under a magnifying glass. You told no one of this, not even Zuko, knowing deep down that it was something Iroh meant only for you. Your fingers trace over the address in the Imperial City - a pub by the name of Ichigo’s.

Without a second thought, you dash to the trunk at the foot of your bed and pull a cloak from its depths - the one you and Zuko used to navigate the city unnoticed during your wedding celebrations. You strip out of your ceremonial robes, folding them neatly in the space where the cloak was and replacing them with your traveling clothes. You thank the spirits for the cold weather as you pull the cloak tightly around yourself, making sure it obscures your face before leaving the room once more.

In the corner of your bedroom, there's a hatch; it's hidden under a false floorboard, beneath a thick rug, and leads to tunnels that wind in a labyrinth below the palace. Zuko explained that they've been there for hundreds of years, known to very few select people within the palace walls as an escape for the royal family should the need ever arise.

“It's how we hid when Aang invaded the Fire Nation,” he told you. “It's where I confronted my father and left.”

You raise the hatch from its disguise, slipping into the hole it forms in the floor with a single candle, the lotus tile, and the knife with which Qiang intends for you to kill your husband. In a matter of seconds, the board and rug fall back into place, and you slip from the palace in the dark, the entire world above unknown to your disappearance.

The streets of the Imperial City are unfamiliar to you, but you make an effort to walk with sure steps. Your face is well hidden under your cloak, shadowed by the gray gloom of a silver sky, but it isn't as if anyone is curious enough to slow and peer beneath it; the air is brisk, and people rush past you in a haste to get where they need to go, back into warmth.

Ichigo’s is on the fringes of the city, resting on a small hill beside the docks amongst a cluster of other businesses; together, they form a small alley and marketplace, its shops and stalls either shuttered or lit with hanging burners to fight off the winter cold. As you approach the bar, climbing over a set of wood steps that creak and shift under your weight, rain begins to fall.

The inside of the bar proves much more welcoming than its surly exterior. In one corner, a fireplace burns with a wide, open hearth, a set of thick logs crackling cheerfully within. The paneled walls are decorated in an array of tapestries and promotional posters for other local businesses, and the tables that span the room are cozy and intimate, seated with cushions and placed atop tatami mats that buffer the rough wood floors. The bar itself is also quite quaint; only a few feet long and hosting about four seats, its shelves of liquor bordered by a twinkling string of lanterns and a small, handwritten message board announcing the day’s kitchen specials. What catches your eye, however, is the cluster of pai sho tables against one wall, the one farthest occupied by an elderly man in a white robe; you approach him tentatively, taking the seat opposite him and bowing respectfully under the guise of your hood.

“Are you interested in a game?” the man asks. His voice is kindly, his mouth spreading into a grandfatherly smile as he speaks. “I don’t often find strangers willing to play against me.”

“A game would be nice,” you reply, unsure what exactly you’re doing but knowing this man must be the reason Iroh sent you here. “Do you mind if I play with my own lotus tile?”

“Not at all,” the man accommodates. “I too have my own set of tiles.”

You reach into the pocket of your cloak, placing your lotus amongst the tiles set up on the game board; the man observes you carefully, leaning in to get a better look at the piece you’ve brought with you.

“Do you mind if I see that for a moment?” he asks. “The craftsmanship is exquisite.”

You nod, allowing him to take the piece. He turns it over in his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the intricately carved design and holding it up to his face, inspecting it with great discretion. A nervous flicker tickles your stomach as he traces over the sides of the tile, no doubt finding the inscriptions on its surface.

“You’ve been sent by a friend of mine,” the man finally states.

“I believe so,” you respond. “I’m in need of some help.”

“Then you’re in the right place,” the man says with a grin. He stands, handing the lotus tile back to you and ushering you to follow him. “Come with me. There’s another friend I’d like you to meet.”

Wary, you follow him to the side of the bar, where he lifts a heavy curtain and slips into a back room. You clutch the knife in your pocket tightly, discreetly, hoping you haven’t just made a grave mistake and gotten yourself in more danger. He takes you through the bar’s storage room, moving aside a tower of boxes to reveal a small door, held in place by a simple, secure latch; he snaps it open, leading you through a low archway that descends into the building's basement.

On the other side of the short passage, you find a tiny, yet nicely decorated sitting room - curtains hang from the ceiling creating a tentlike atmosphere, parted in places to reveal maps of the four nations hung on the walls. The center of the room is occupied by a large desk upon which many books and scrolls are scattered, and the air is heavy with the smoke of incense. Under the single lantern that lights the space, you spot the familiar face and humble stature of an older woman.

“Advisor Yong,” you gasp.

She stands in shock, pacing quickly over to you as you lower the hood of your cloak to reveal your face. She takes your hands in her own, clutching them tightly.

“My lady,” Yong breathes with as much awe as you addressed her with. “How did you come all this way? Are you alone?”

“Iroh gave her his tile,” the man who brought you explains. “I assume he sent her for her safety.”

“There are tunnels under the palace,” you add. “I told the staff I was feeling ill and snuck out. Nobody knows I'm here.”

Yong guides you to the table, sitting you down beside her and telling the man to fetch you a cup of tea. The time-wisened lines in her skin seem deeper than usual, creased by a frown that distorts her whole face.

“They'll be discovering that you're gone soon,” she says, “so we must make this quick. Has Iroh told you about his membership with the Order before?”

You shake your head, furrowing your brow in confusion.

“The Order of the White Lotus,” Yong elaborates, “is an ancient society that operates beyond political bounds. We come together to share ancient philosophy and knowledge, but since the war… we act as a sort of lifeline organization as well. Emergency aid for those who need it.”

“Iroh gave me that lotus tile when he was here for the wedding,” you tell her. “He must have known something I didn't because we’re in much more danger than we thought - Qiang threatened me. He wants me to kill Zuko.”

“Qiang…” Yong mutters. “He can't be the one behind this. He doesn't have the manipulative tact to convince so many groups to act according to his will.”

“He made it seem as if they were huge,” you continue. “He told me they had informants all over the palace.”

“He's a good liar,” Yong dismisses, though her expression remains concerned. “Intimidating, too; that's why he was the one to threaten you. But he isn't the leader. What did he tell you? When he gave you the order?”

“He said they'd kill my family. I don't want to lose anyone, but Katara and Aang…”

Yong nods.

“Aang is too important,” she finishes for you. “His death would devastate the world and put countless lives in danger. I promise, we won't let any harm come to them or anyone else.”

She stands once more, offering a hand with which she raises you up. She continues to clutch it, gripping you as if letting go means surrendering you to the enemy.

“I’ll call a meeting of our members within the city,” she states. “We have a few members staffed at the palace who we’ll ensure are at your guard. I’ll alert internal security and have them investigate Qiang immediately.”

The man returns, and Yong instructs him to leave the tea and accompany you back to the palace - as far as he can without compromising the security of the tunnels.

“Advisor Yong,” you say as you're ushered again through the passage and out the back of the pub, “we only have a week. Is that… do we have enough time?”

Yong’s eyes sweep your face, her pupils flitting back and forth as she tries to find the right words to say.

“I won't lie to you,” she finally answers. “I don't know. All I can promise you is that we’ll do our best. We reconquered Ba Sing Se with much lesser numbers than we have now - here's hoping those odds are still in our favor.”

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divagonzo · 4 years

Text

Like a Muggle

A/N: This is inspired (and a roughly written one-shot in my side-verse) by @headcanonsandmore aka Dadcanons and their musing of Ron being an awesome father to his kids.

Rated T for innuendo and some snogging but also veiled references to physical violence and social mortification. 98% Ace Safe. This will eventually end up on Ao3 and maybe FF.net

For now, though, it’s all for the Tumblr crowds.

Edit: Now on Ao3.

Give me my demarcation line damn it!

Ron opened the window to admit the unexpected owl. He was working in the Wheeze's office, trying to balance the books and was instead accosted by a nondescript brown owl. "Letter from Neville?" Ron unwrapped the twine from the owl's leg. "Need a rasher or a kip?" The owl hooted what sounded like a No. "It's from Neville. Does he need a reply?" Yet another hooting no.

"Wanna run on back then since Neville doesn't need anything else?" Ron reached out and let the owl come to him, stroking his head feathers gently before the owl took off again. He unrolled the length of parchment, using the readers on top of his head to scan the letter. Disappointment welled in his heart at first before pride shined. He had to go tell Hermione this straightaway, sod the books for an hour. He grabbed his dark blue cloak for the short walk to the Ministry. Taking the floo was too much hassle for a brisk fall morning. "George, I gotta run to the ministry. Back in a few." "Bring me back those shipping contract papers that Percy has for us, wouldya? Save a plonker the trip." Ron threw up a rude gesture while taking the twenty minute walk to the front of the Ministry. He needed the break anyway from the numbers swirling around his head this morning.

Through the toilets and through security, even with the bailiff who knew who he was and still checked him, in the lift down six floors to the Magical Law Enforcement offices, through the rows of desks for the bureaucracy known as the Ministry to Hermione's personal secretary Miranda Blunt. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're not on her agenda today so I assume it's important for her to see you immediately? Well she's using the Floo with her Italian counterpart on business so it will be a few." Ron smiled, knowing how important Miranda actually was to Hermione. Everyone thought she was just her secretary but only a chosen few - Harry, Hermione, Hemera, and Ron knew that Miranda was also her personal bodyguard at the office, after the few times anyone tried to breach the security of the department to get to her. "Tea, Mr. Weasley?" "Please." "Three sugars, spot of milk?" "I'd almost think you're related to Hermione with that mind of yours." "Nah, it's only for the important stuff. Husband's tea is important knowledge. And it's also a way for you to know it's really me." Ron gave her a lopsided smile while Miranda slipped into the secure office, returning a couple of minutes later with a small tray of tea and a couple packets of biscuits. "Your wife didn't know if you were peckish or not." "You spoil a bloke, you know that?" Ron tore the packet open and inhaled the contents. He'd missed breakfast this morning on account of other pleasant activities then fell back asleep, only waking fifteen minutes before he was due at the shop. Miranda went back to her seat and used the contraption Hermione got her last year, called a typewriter. They'd explained it to Ron that it was like writing on parchment but easier to read for those who had trouble reading so many varied scrips from people. Hermione had even gifted one to Arthur and he spent countless hours using it writing to his kids and grandkids. The door opened up a couple of minutes later and Hermione stood there, making a motion for Ron to come into her office. Ron followed her in and then he kicked the door shut and gave her a enthusiastic greeting, one that she never complained about before pulling back from his lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed. "You rarely come to the office on a Wednesday so what gives?" "I got a letter from Neville this morning and thought you probably should hear it from me than from him if he sent you a letter, too." "Letter?" Hermione pulled her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, a faint imitation of McGonagall and scanned the parchment twice. "Detention! Two weeks! Rose Lavender Weasley, of all the people! Hexing two another students!" She looked at Ron and saw him smirking slightly. "You prat. There's a page two, isn't there?" "Of course there is," Ron handed it over and watched her frown turn to a grimace and eventually into a smile. "She takes after you, she does." Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled. "You were always so good on speaking up for me and occasionally fighting my battles when I didn't realize there was one going on." Hermione went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cup, pointed her wand at it and re-heated the black coffee, and took a long sip. "You must have zero nerves in your mouth," Ron muttered from his seat across the desk. "You get used to it," Hermione pulled out a length of parchment along with her eagle owl quill and inkpot. "Anything you want to add into the letter I will send off straightaway?" "Nah, she should hear from you first anyway," Ron knew he'd write a letter later today and send it off tomorrow morning so Rose would know how proud her dad was for her standing up for others. Hermione went to work writing and in short order, finished it and cleaned up the parchment with her quill. "I considered a howler but I refuse to do that to our child for any reason. I hated getting them when people thought I was toying around with guys during the Tri-wizard tournament. Besides, Neville has everything under control so I'm not upset too much over it." Ron recalled punching a certain git in the nose and smiled. "Who'd have thought that what started as bullying would turn into a trip for three of the bullies to the hospital ward with Hannah and two weeks detention for Rosie for hexing two students bullying Hugo and his friends, and blackening the eyes of the other two when they disarmed her. I don't think her having a broken hand for punching the boy in the nose was too far for her." "And Neville did say the boys pulled their wands first and she was disarmed." "I'm glad I taught her there's no shame in fighting unfairly when it's overwhelming odds." "I do hope there's no ongoing reprisals." Hermione looked at Ron and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, if I know any better, I'm sure the sods in question were told off privately to leave Hugo alone if they knew what was best for them." Hermione let out a stifled laugh. "What kind of idiot takes on a Rose when almost all of her cousins are present these terms? The only one who isn't' there is Teddy, Right?" Ron nodded. Hermione smiled slightly. "Sixth years and she's a third year, Ron." "She's as tall as many of the boys there, Hermione. It doesn't surprise me in the least. And if there are any further problems, Victorie would probably step in and put them in their rightful place, I reckon." Hermione picked up the parchment and scanned it one last time. "I think we do need to send a howler tomorrow." "Really? Why?" "One of the gits is Zacharias Smith's son and he said that “the only reason you weren’t expelled for this is because of your parents.”

Ron's eyes lit up. "Thinking what I'm thinking?" "I am."

Yet another demarcation line!

Rose tromped into breakfast, exhausted. She's been in detention with Professor Sinestra until one in the morning helping her sort maps and other useless rubbish. Hugo was the one who loved Astronomy and the stars. Only thing she wanted was to race around the Quidditch pitch and now she was banned for a fortnight, for standing up for those who needed protecting. It was so bloody unfair! James and Fred said she was brilliant for what she did and so did Molly and Scorpius. Al, being Al, laughed quietly when she said why she'd gotten detention. She looked up from her seat at the table, her friends with her in commiseration, and saw Zeb sitting across the way, scowling at her with two black eyes and a brace around his left wrist. Madame Abbot Longbottom said it was a small price for him to pay for being a bully on first years - that everyone in the school would know his shame. Owls swooped in, each dropping parcels for those who were present in the Great Hall. She glanced up and saw a tawny brown owl carrying a red envelope in it's talons. She felt the utter dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her parents sent her a howler. She knew she'd stepped in dragon dung if they were mad enough to send a howler. She felt the shame on her face and neck, a reminder to her that her Dad was the same way. She saw Professor Longbottom surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, ready to silence it into oblivion if it got out of hand.

One last glance across the way and she saw Zeb Smith smirking, knowing how much trouble she was about to get into.

She took it in a shaking hand and tore the top off, hearing her Mum's tsking loudly. "Fuck," she said under her breath.

"Rose Lavender Granger, detention? Of all the things to get in trouble for, and you chose this," Hermione's voice droned loudly. She was shocked. Mom wasn’t yelling, well, no more than seemed usual. "We are so proud of you for standing up for the younger students. Who picks on first years minding their own business? What prat thinks so poorly of themselves that they'd berate first years for playing in the hallways between classes? " "Who tries to hex firsties?" Ron's voice interrupted. "Rude!"

“Yes, it was very rude and you were right to intervene.” Hermione’s voice carried across the hall.

"We spoke with your head of house," Ron's voice bellowed, "and agree that the punishment fits the circumstances. Two weeks detention is adequate to us." "Sometimes the consequences are a fair price to pay." Hermione said. "Serve your detentions knowing that we are proud of you for standing up for others who need protecting from bullies." "Love, Dad - " - and Mum." Rose released the breath she'd been holding entirely too long and looked across the way. Zeb was no longer at the table and neither were his three friends she'd put in the hospital wing fighting them like a Muggle.

#Dragon's Fics #Hpfic #Romione #Rose Weasley Granger #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Hugo Granger-Weasley #OCs #Neville Longbottom #This ties into my fics from Romione FicFest #where Rose is a quidditch prodigy #and eventually has issues with Mum #But for this one things are still swimmingly good #tw:#tw: off page mentions of physical violence #tw: bullying references

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty One: Old Friends

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Poe pay a visit to Maz Kanata, but don’t find what they expect to.

Warnings: maybe one curse word

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: This day has been...a day...and I almost didn’t get this one out because of how long it took me to edit. There’s so much dialogue in these chapters that can’t be cut (especially about planets created for Resistance Reborn lol) so sometimes I feel like it’s a bit messy. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

————

“Y/n. Sweetheart, wake up.”

I groggily moaned as I forced my eyes open, blinking a couple times till my vision was clear. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep but as soon as Poe had said it was going to be a while till we arrived at our destination, I was out like a light. We were flying a one man ship so I’d inevitably ended up sitting on Poe’s lap, the sound of his heartbeat had soothed me to sleep.

“We’re coming into the atmosphere,” he announced.

“Good,” I yawned, “Anything from the Falcon?”

Poe shook his head, “Nothing yet.”  “Wow,” I breathed as I took a look at the planet we were approaching, “That’s Ephemera, huh?”  It’s beautiful, Bee commented.

“It is beautiful,” Poe replied, bringing one hand off the controls to squeeze my thigh affectionately.

What kind of planet is it?  “It was once a mining planet, like Bespin. But here they mined the tibanna gas to extinction.” Poe explained to the droid, “After it was all gone, the Empire abandoned its colonies and most of the settlers ran with them. Good riddance, from what I hear. It left the planet back in the hands of its original inhabitants and a few holdouts who weren’t there just to cash in but had grown to love the place. And then, surprise, they discovered tuusah.”

“What’s tuusah?” I asked, still admiring the colors of the planet.  “Residue from the mine runoff. Turns out tuusah has medicinal properties, so a new industry was born. Maybe it wasn’t as lucrative as the Empire’s strip mining, but it was a heck of a lot kinder to the planet’s flora and fauna.”

When were they ever kind?  “You’re right,” he said. “The Empire has never been kind. But the planet is a resort destination now, and the capital is called Wish. What a name, right? It used to be Outpost 665 or something boring like that. But now? Wish. It’s one of the largest spas in the galaxy. All kinds of mineral baths and healing treatments and some kind of legendary oxide therapy that’s supposed to make you look younger.”

Poe and I had both seen our share of the galaxy and anytime we’d go on missions together, we’d get into a debate of who knew more about the planet’s history. Once we knew where we’d be going, we’d both usually try to cram as many facts into our heads in an attempt to outsmart the other.

“What?” he chuckled as he caught me staring at him.

“Nothing,” I grinned, “Just enjoying the lecture, Professor Dameron. When’d you find time to study?”

Poe’s lips tugged upwards into a small smirk, “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ve got nothing.”  They don’t have any treatments for droids, right?  “I think you’re safe. Bee,” I laughed, “We’re not here for facials, we’re here for Maz.”  Poe flew us through the pastel clouds of the planet, it was absolutely gorgeous. I wouldn’t have minded coming back at some point. But the thought of visiting planets purely for recreation seemed like a distant dream. Maybe one day Poe and I could vacation somewhere but for now, our trips were centered on war.

A transmission came in from the landing strip.

“Welcome to Ephemera airspace,” came from a breathy, zen-like voice, “Please identify yourself so that we can grant you landing clearance.”  “This is…” Poe hesitated in giving his name, we hadn’t thought whether or not we should’ve been using aliases. Was it likely that the First Order was hiding out on a planet known for their spa facilities? No. But being cautious never hurt anyone, especially people in our situation.

“Poe Dameron, is that you?” a familiar voice came through, “Oh, give me that mike, dear, I can take it from here.” There were more muffled protests on the other side, leaving us confused.  “Maz?” Poe called.

“What? Of course it’s me, you fool. Who else would have asked you to this backwater?”  “Maz, is everything all right?” I asked.  “Baby Solo! Your boyfriend didn’t tell me you were coming too!” she cried happily, putting heavy emphasis on the word ’boyfriend’.

“Yeah, it sounded like something was going on.” I replied.

“Bah. Just some people getting a little possessive with the equipment. Nothing to concern yourself with. I’ve handled it. Now hurry up. I haven’t got all day.”

Poe furrowed his brows as we looked for a place to park, “Uh, I’d be happy to land, but I don’t see anything that looks like it’ll hold the ship up. Am I in the right place?”

“Oh, you’re right. Isn’t that funny? Some kind of security measure, the locals assure me, but really I think they’re just partial to the undulation.”

“Undulation?” I repeated.

“You’ll see. Everything here sways a bit. Now...let me...”

It took a moment of hearing various sounds on Maz’s end before one of the platforms solidified before our eyes.

“What in the...?” Poe mumbled to himself.

“It’s perfectly safe, Dameron.” Maz assured, “Now are you going to land or not? I thought you were on urgent Resistance business.”

I shook my head in disbelief, only Maz could have picked a place like this. “Copy,” I said. “We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Good, good. See you soon. Oh, are you hungry? Have you two eaten? I should have food brought up, shouldn’t I? I’ll have to ask them to prepare something special unless...you don’t have time for a psychedelic experience do you?”

Poe chortled at the question, “Not today, Maz. Like you said, urgent business.”

We landed on the, surprisingly stable, platform Maz had formed for us and headed into the grand looking facility. For all my years of knowing Maz, I still sometimes didn’t understand her. Her connections spanned across the galaxy and back, she knew everybody from beggars on the streets to political diplomats. She had eyes everywhere even if she didn’t move around all that much. Out of all the people the Resistance was seeking aide from, I had no doubt that Maz could probably help us the most.

————

“I’m not helping you with anything,” Maz said, adjusting her goggles to see us clearer. Our faces were nothing sort of shocked. “If you recall, last time I stuck my neck out for the Resistance, the First Order destroyed my castle. Do you know how much I loved that castle?”

“I know, it was spectacular.” I replied, memories of that day flooding back.

“The best. Do you know how long I had had it?”

“A thousand years?” Poe offered.

“A thou...” Max paused, and shot daggers at Poe, who offered her a playful smile in return, “Longer than you’ve been around, flyboy, that’s for sure. So don’t sniff at me like I’m being unreasonable.”

Maz put her hands in a bowl of colorful thick goop and pulled out a handful. It reeked something awful but she didn’t seem to mind as she offered us some, “You want?”

“No, we’re fine.” Poe answered for both of us, my face was scrunched up in disgust at the odor.

Here we were, sitting on lounge chairs inside one of Wish’s day spas putting everything out on the line. And here Maz was refusing to help us. She was perfectly content to sit with her feet soaking in mud and having attendants bring her various teas. She hummed as she rubbed the gelatinous stuff into her face without a care in the world when Poe and I bore the fate of the galaxy on our shoulders.

“What is that stuff? It smells horrid.” I commented, taking another whiff of the air and immediately regretting it.

“Feline poop.” Maz answered casually, “From some species that’s lived here so long that it’s practically native to the planet. Imagine. A planet with no solid ground but plenty of cats. The story is that the founder of Ephemera was a Rothkahar philosopher. He domesticated this species because he thought them of advanced intelligence...or maybe they domesticated him. I forget. Anyway, later on, he found that their excrement had healing properties. High concentrations of tibanna gas, naturally processed into tuusah. Does wonders for the skin.”

Rubbing animal feces into your body to achieve better looking skin. Sure. Totally normal.

“That’s great, Maz,” Poe said, changing the topic quickly, “But can we get back to the topic at hand? The Resistance needs your help.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“We need a place to hide and regroup. It needs to be outside of prying First Order eyes but able to handle our needs for housing, supplies, communications...” Poe explained.

“Didn’t you say there were only a handful of you left on a single ship? What needs could you have?” she replied.

Poe and I glanced over to each other, surprised at how insensitive she sounded. This wasn’t the Maz I knew.

“There’s going to be more,” I pointed out, “The Resistance is scattered across the galaxy and we’re going to continue to grow. We need shelter but we also need people like you. Leia was the only member of our leadership that survived, we need your help in leading the Resistance.”  “Lead the Resistance?” Maz’s eyes moved suspiciously between Poe and I, “I thought that was your job.”

“We…” Poe began, biting his tongue almost immediately. Very few knew about our demotions but we wore shame as if the whole galaxy mocked us.

“Expecting me to do your job for you?” Maz grumbled with a humorless laugh, “You two are the commanders in the room. Or has that changed?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Poe replied quickly, causing me to turn to him in confusion. Were we supposed to lie and cover up the fact that we’d lost our titles? Either way, Maz didn’t seem to care as she lay back in her lounger and closed her eyes. We waited for something, anything, to come out of her mouth. She always had some sort of unique and cryptic wisdom to offer. It was when light snores escaped her lips that it seemed like it was a hopeless cause.

Poe rose from his seat and offered me his hand, “This was a waste of time. We should go.”

“No!” Maz shouted suddenly, grabbing hold of his wrist. All of her trademark personality had left the one eye she had opened and she was dead serious. “Listen closely to me, Poe Dameron. You see me like this, and you think me a fool. Good for me, because when an enemy perceives you as foolish or weak, that is when they are most vulnerable in their arrogance. That is when you strike.”  Upon her last word, she yanked down on Poe’s hand and his feet went out from under him. He landed harshly on his back and had the wind knocked out of him on impact. I rose to help him up but Maz forcefully pushed me back onto my lounge chair with her other hand. She climbed off her seat and stepped onto Poe’s chest, bending over so that her face was almost touching his.

“I see arrogance in you. And that is what gets you in trouble, causes pain.” Maz observed before blindly pointing to me, “And fear in you. It’s controlled you all your life.”

I hated when Maz did this, or at least when it was directed at me. While my ego played a part in the mutiny, fear had been my main motive. Fear played a bigger part in my life than Maz even knew. It stopped me from picking up my lightsaber, it stopped me from telling people that I was Force sensitive, it delayed me from deciding to train as a Jedi…

“We learned our lesson,” Poe gritted out, still pinned down and I didn’t dare to help him.

“Have we?” Maz asked, looking between the two of us.

I struggled for words, I didn’t want to have to recount the events again. Especially to someone who could see right through me. The few times I’d slept since Crait had been filled with nightmares containing the transports exploding and the screams of my fallen comrades. Asleep or awake, I was being forced to relive my mistake constantly.

“You asked if we were still leaders,” Poe started, he could tell I was too wrapped in my thoughts to speak, “The truth is that I don’t know. W-We made some mistakes...”

“Mistakes?” Maz repeated.

“We led a mutiny,” I blurted out, the truth flowing from my lips quicker than I could manage. “We were being kept in the dark and didn’t trust the person in charge. I had just lost Dad and Mom was in a coma and I panicked, alright? I-I felt like I had to do something! I didn’t want anyone else to die and we ended up killing so many.”

“And did you?” Maz jutted her chin up as she looked at me, “Have to do something?”

 I blinked away the tears that filled my eyes, guilt rose in my chest as I thought of Holdo. Standing in the hanger as she watched our transports flee the Raddus, she had everything under control while I’d been scheming behind her back.

“No,” I trembled and ducked my head as if that would shield me from her vision.

“Dameron?” 

“No,” he said, “I’m a soldier and she was my commanding officer. All I had to do was trust.”

I peered up to see Maz plop down on Poe’s chest, a sight that should’ve amused me, but didn’t. The moment had drained me of every emotion that wasn’t sorrow or guilt.

“And now what?” she asked.

“What?” Poe said, his eyes rested on me to make sure I was relatively alright.

“Let’s say you’re right. That your actions, your arrogance, got many people killed. Led the Resistance to where they are now: broken, on the run, destitute, and begging for help.”

As I stayed silent, Poe spoke up, “We fix it.”

“How will you do that?” she asked. “You can’t bring the dead back. You can’t single-handedly rebuild the Resistance, although,” Maz snorted and looked between the two of us, “If anyone was going to try it would be you two.”  “I can bring down the First Order.” Poe answered.

“Alone?” Maz raised her eyebrows in amusement

“If I have to.”

She shook her head, “Arrogance. Still.” Maz adjusted her position so she was kneeling over him, “You know who else is arrogant? The First Order.”

“The First Order is evil, Maz, that’s not a fair comparison.” I stuck up for my boyfriend, sniffling after, “No one knows that better than me.”

Maz adjusted her goggles again, seemingly staring straight into my soul. While I’d never explicitly told her about my family history, she’d always known. If you knew the Solo family, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots as to why we suddenly became a permanent party of three one day. I hoped she wouldn’t push it, that was one wound I didn’t need reopened.

“I’ve seen evil in many forms, children. The First Order is no worse than the Sith, or the Empire, or countless others who would use the dark side. As always, they must be countered with the light. But...” Maz finally climbed off of Poe and came back to sit on her lounge chair, removing her spectacles as she did, “I have my own way of fighting. Not everything is about armadas and starfighters, you know.”

Poe sat up finally, rubbing at his sore back and stared at Maz. I was just as surprised, I never thought that she would be the one to disappoint me. She seemed so…

“You think I’m callous,” she finished my thought, “But I’m not. You will be fine without me.”

I scoffed at her dismissal and stood up, “You’re the last person I would’ve expected to say no to helping, Maz. Especially after what happened to Dad…”  “I sure hope you’re right, lady,” Poe said bitterly, “Because if you’re not, me and mine are going to die. And you can sit with that for a thousand more years for all I care.”

With that, we silently made our way out of the spa feeling like even bigger failures than we had when we entered.

————

I dried the last of my tears as Poe asked for clearance to leave for the second time, only to be denied. One of his arms was tightly wound around my torso, Maz’s questioning had opened a floodgate I’d been trying to keep shut. The mutiny, Holdo, Dad…I wished more than anything that my father was here, he would know exactly what to do. How to rebuild, how to lead, how to atone for my sins…

I growled and smacked the side window of our ship, “Why won’t they just let us off this damned planet?”  Poe tried again to be met with the same breathy voice with a different message, “Negative, pilot. You have company.” 

We looked around through the pastel fog that surrounded us and found nothing. A sudden knock on the window had us both jumping and reaching for our blasters till we saw who it was. Maz.

“Open up,” she said with another tap on the glass.

Poe opened the cockpit and Maz leaned into the small space.

“There’s something I meant to tell you before you ran off like that. But first, where did you get this ship? It’s a relic.”

“It’s a loaner.” Poe answered exasperatedly, “I told you we’re down to scrap metal, everything else destroyed. Now what do you want?”

“It’s a relic, but it’s also a collectible. When you’re done with it, come see me. I might buy it.”

I sighed frustratedly, “Maz, what do you want? We’ve got places to be.” That was a lie, we had absolutely nowhere to go.

Maz waved us off as if we had all the time in the world. “We’ve long suspected that the First Order has been taking children and disappearing people on the margins of the galaxy. But things are escalating now: arresting people on phony trumped-up charges. Small crimes that they’ve blown up into capital offenses, or charges simply fabricated out of nothing. People going missing in the dead of night, their families having no idea what happened to them. Nighttime raids or picked up off the streets and vanished. And the people most likely to disappear? People with ties to the old rebellion. And interestingly enough, we’re seeing it with some old Imperials, as well. Those who have been outspoken about their distaste for the First Order, but also those who have remained neutral. Anyone who might pose a threat, now or down the line.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to our allies?” I thought out loud, “They could’ve been arrested?”  “Maybe. Possibly.” Maz answered with a shrug, “But the First Order used to do it in secret. Now they don’t bother. They snatch people off the streets and don’t even pretend to have whatever planet they’ve infiltrated hold a sham trial. Just death or labor camps.”

“Labor camps?” Poe breathed, it was a heavy revelation.

“Someone has to build all those fancy new ships, eh?”

Poe and I shared a look, trying processing the information. “Thanks, Maz,” he said thoughtfully, “Leia will want to know about this.”

“Yes, I thought she might. Rumor has it that there’s a list somewhere of all the people they’ve taken. A big list. No one’s seen it, but I’ve got people chasing it down. I hear something definitive, I’ll call you.”

“Please do,” I responded with a single nod.

“You sure you don’t want to sell this ship?” Maz gestured to our ship once more.

“Not ours to sell.” Poe replied.

“A shame.”

Poe began to close the cockpit just as Maz called our names, “Poe! Y/n!”

We turned our heads to see a knowing smile on her face, “Be the light.”

————

We’d just gotten off Ephemera when we began to discuss the visit.

Bee initiated the conversation, What’s wrong?

“I guess I expected more.” Poe answered, earning a hum of agreement from me.

Well, what did you expect?

“Anything. I’ve known Maz a long time and never once has she disappointed me.” I shook my head, “Guess I can’t say that anymore.”

I’m sorry.

“Maybe our expectations were too high.” Poe let out a heavy sigh.

I leaned my head back against his shoulder and let out a similar sound. My mind was swirling with chaos, most of which I’d created for myself. I felt like there was going to be a dark cloud of shame that followed me around for the rest of my life. Poe’s reply to Maz back in the spa still had me thinking though, we had to fix our mistake. We couldn’t bring back the people we’d lost, but we could try to make amends. The question of how we would do that, I still didn’t have an answer for but I was determined enough to figure it out.

Communication coming in, it’s from the Millennium Falcon.

I sucked in a breath, it was the first contact I’d had since I’d left the ship. What was waiting on the other end? I felt my anxiety building once again at the extreme scenarios that filled my head. As if he could read my mind, Poe grabbed my hand and squeezed hard. His nerves were just as high as mine.

“Put it through, buddy.” Poe requested, his thumb rubbing over my hand lightly, “This is Poe Dameron, everything all right?”  “Poe!” Rose’s voice greeted, “Good to hear your voice. Wait, isn’t Y/n with you?”  “I’m here, Rose. Is everything okay?” I held my breath as we awaited her answer.

“Falcon’s on land,” she answered, “We’re hoping you and Maz will join us.”

“Maz isn’t coming,” Poe said regretfully, “I’m afraid she’s decided to sit this fight out.”

“What? Why?”

I didn’t want to lie to Rose but didn’t feel right telling her just how disinterested in our sufferings Maz appeared to be. “It’s a long story. Where are you guys?”

“That’s a long story too but the short version? Leia secured us temporary shelter on Ryloth.”

“That’s great news, Rose,” I sighed, turning to Poe who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and giving him a nudge. He shook himself out of his daze, “We’ve got a place to land. Ryloth system.”  “The Ryloth system?” Poe repeated with a small chuckle, “How did Leia pull that one off? I thought Ryloth didn’t pick sides.”  “She’s Leia,” Rose replied.

“She is, indeed,” Poe reenforced as I grinned, I was beginning to think there truly was nothing my mother couldn’t do.

“I’m sending BB-8 the coordinates now.”

I watched as the coordinates appeared on the display screen, Poe examined them, “This says head for the outermost moon. Is that correct?”

“Ambassador Yendor has asked our starfighters to meet there. Once everyone’s collected, he’ll bring you in under cover.”

“Ah,” he said, “So we’re not officially on Ryloth.”  “It’s a bit of a stealth mission. The government knows we’re here but they can’t acknowledge us. We’re working directly with the Ryloth Defense Authority.”

“The Ryloth Defense Authority? I don’t know what that is, but it sounds promising.” Poe said, I heard just an ounce of hope in his voice for the first time in a while.

“Leia can explain once you guys are here. Any word from the rest of your Black Squadron?”  “Negative,” he answered, “But we’re just clearing planet orbital space. We’ll follow up with Black Teams One and Two shortly and give them the coordinates.”

“Affirmative. Leia also wants you to follow up with Inferno Squadron and give them the coordinates, too.”

“We will.” I replied.

“Great. See you soon.”

“Out,” Poe said before ending the transmission, “If I haven’t ever said it, your mother is incredible.”  “I’m pretty sure you sing her praises in your sleep,” I jested, earning a pinch to my side.

 “BB-8, open a secure channel to Black Team One.” Poe directed.

After a few seconds waiting, Snap’s voice came through, “Is that you, Poe? Y/n? Everything okay?”

“All good, here, Snap.” Poe stated, “Checking in on the status of your mission and to give you coordinates to a meeting place.”

There were muffled curses through the speaker of the ship followed by a voice shouting “Yes!”. Snap followed, “Copy that, Poe. And your timing is excellent. Karé and I have left Akiva with Norra and Wedge in hand.”

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Some local opposition and some less than effective surface to air cannons. We took care of it.”

“Good to hear,” Poe replied, “And everything’s good with Wedge and…and your mom?”  “Oh, she’s crazy as ever,” Snap laughed, “But aren’t we all these days? It’s her life, right? I’m going to let her live it.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Snap” I smiled, “I’m going to send you the coordinates right now.”  “Received.” he answered after a moment, “I’ll get them to the team. Listen, we’re going to make a couple of detours to see if we can find any of Phantom Squadron still kicking around.”

“Phantom Squadron?” Poe asked, “They haven’t flown together since my mom was still an active pilot.”  “We need people, right?”

I shrugged, “It’s worth a shot, they’d have experience.”  “See, your girlfriend approves. It won’t take long. We’ll see you on Ryloth before you know it.”  Poe chucked under his breath, “Alright, watch your back out there, Snap.”  “Always do.” Snap answered just before Poe ended the communication.

“So are you calling the shots now for my squadron?” Poe asked with a smile.

I snickered, “All I did was endorse the idea. One pilot is enough for me to manage, I don’t need five of you.”

Without even having to ask, Bee started connecting us to Sura and Jess.

“Poe! Y/n!” Sura yelled, causing us to jolt back in our seat, “I can only talk for a sec. Real busy here!”

“What’s going on?” Poe’s voice drained of all humor, “Are you and Jess under fire?”

“Uhh...you could say that.” Suralinda screamed just as the comm ended suddenly.

“Bee,” I hurried, “What happened?”

I don’t know!  “Well, can you reconnect?” Poe cried, nerves had over taken him.

I’m going to try.

“Keep trying,” he replied, “Something’s happening to them, why did I make the call to send them there? I should have-“  “Stop,” I said, attempting to keep my anxiety at bay for Poe’s sake, “We don’t know anything yet. Do not start beating yourself up before we even know what happened.”  He attempted to take some deep breaths as I kept a hand on him, but I didn’t sense his panic decreasing at all. We waited for several minutes, consumed by fear that our friends were dying, until the connection finally went through.

“Poe?” Jess’s voice rang through, “Is that you? Y/n?”  “Jess,” Poe breathed, his body relaxing back into the seat, “Is that you?”  “Oh yeah. I just tagged Suralinda into the ring, so she had to go,” she answered as she panted for breath. There was an unmistakeable roar of a crowd in the background.

“Ring?” I asked, “Jess, where the hell are you?”  “Barterus. Gladiatorial ring. The ex-Imperial Suralinda was looking for? Teza Nasz? She wouldn’t see us unless we bested her greatest warriors in hand-to-hand combat, so Suralinda thought-”

“Fuck,” Poe cursed and threw his head back, “Suralinda thought she’d throw two very much needed Resistance pilots into the death pits of Rattatak for the sake of simply talking to an ex-Imperial who may or may not be of help to us?”

“Well,” Jess responded meekly after a few seconds, “When you put it that way.”

“Get out of there, Jess,” Poe ordered, “It’s not worth losing either one of you. We need you flying for Black Squadron more than we need this Teza Nasz.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that, Poe. The Rattataki don’t take kindly to quitters. It’s sort of a win-or-die situation. But don’t worry. We got this in hand. Oh!”

There was a crash in the background and the sound of a vibro-ax being charged up. It was going to be harder now to reassure Poe that everything was going to be fine…

“I’m up! Gotta go, don’t worry!”

“BB-8 is going to send coordinates for our rendezvous point,” I said, “Get there in one piece as soon as you can.”   “Don’t mess around.” Poe said, ”And don’t die! That’s an order.

“Order received!” Jess announced before disconnecting the communication properly.

“Insanity…” Poe grumbled, though I couldn’t help myself from laughing, “Something funny?”  “I’m sorry,” I said in between my giggles, “I really hope you appreciate that the rest of your squadron are just as hotheaded as you are.”  He sighed irritatedly at me before I felt his chest begin to rumble with laughter. For just a few brief seconds, everything felt okay. Sitting in Poe’s lap, flying together and laughing.

“We need to make one last call,” I said, asking Bee to put it through.

“Shriv here.”  “Shriv,” Poe greeted, “It’s Poe and Y/n, how’s your mission going?

“Oh, you know,” he answered, ”Lots of flying around and getting doors slammed in our faces. But we did find a couple of old friends of the Rebellion. I think Leia will be pleased.”

“I’m sure she will. We’re headed for Ryloth,” I spoke up, “Does Inferno Squad feel like joining?”

 “Absolutely.” 

“Great. We’re sending the coordinates now.” Poe replied as he pressed the button. 

Shriv answered soon after, “Received. We’re on our way.”

“See you there,” I said and ended the transmission, “Well, that’s a little bit of good news.”

“Yeah,” Poe adjusted a control before asking Bee to jump to lightspeed, "We’re going to need a lot more of it though.”

————

We were one of the thirteen ships that landed on Ryloth in the middle of the night. I was happy to see as many ships as that in the hanger when Poe and I dismounted, it was a good start. He was the first one to spot Mom,

“Leia!” he called out and we jogged across the hanger to get to her. Even though I’d known she was safe on Ryloth, I couldn’t relax until I’d actually seen her with my own eyes.

“Commander,” she said with a nod to Poe. He was so embarrassed by his casualness that he hadn’t even realized that she’d called him ‘Commander’ again.

“General,” he greeted again as he blushed, “Sorry for the informality. Just glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, Poe. You too, Commander Solo,” she said, with a wink directed towards me, “Walk with me and tell me what we have.” I’d have to ask her later what we’d done to earn our titles back.

We made our way through the hanger and explained as many people as we could.

“The two pilots there you know from Black Squadron, Jessica Pava and Suralinda Javos.” Poe pointed towards the duo, plus a recently added third person, “The woman with them is ex-Imperial-officer Teza Nasz. They found her on Rattatak after fighting in the death pits.”

Sura and Jess looked…well, they could’ve looked worse. Jess’s dark hair was matted with blood, Sura had a few bruises and her lip was split. Teza Nasz was easily the most intimidating person I’d ever seen in my life. She wore a one-shouldered jumpsuit made up of various animal skins and mismatched pieces of armor. There were lines that were cut into her arm, no doubt by a knife and she had dark red dreadlocks down her back.

“That warlord is ex-Imperial?” Mom asked, I could hear her stifling a laugh.

Poe explained her backstory and how she’d been an officer in the Imperial Navy, strategist in the Battle of Jakku and was assumed dead shortly after. Suralinda and her had known each other at some point.

Mom was thinking it all over, “Well, she looks like a warrior, not a strategist, but perhaps I shouldn’t judge by looks alone. If she dropped off New Republic scopes that thoroughly and was able to rise to power on Rattatak, she’s probably both. What’s her name, again?”

“Teza Nasz,” I answered at the exact moment the warlord turned around and locked eyes with Mom. There was some sort of silent standoff between the two of them, they were both powerful in their own right. Only once Nasz turned away first did we continue our discussion.

“Who else?” Mom asked before a voice called her name. We turned to see a young girl behind us eagerly waiting to shake Mom’s hand.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person, Zay,” she greeted, “Where’s Shriv?”

“Over here,” the Duros said, walking up to join us. “Good to see you General.”  Shriv had been a Rebellion, now Resistance, fighter. He’d seen everything from the Battle of Endor to the Battle of Jakku during the old days. If you wanted to hear some good war stories, Shriv was your man. I’d only heard of Zay from my mother, I knew that she was recently orphaned and an excellent pilot. Naturally her story tugged at my heart.

After we’d caught up and Shriv had excused himself, Mom asked Zay if they’d located anyone. We made our way over to the civilian transport where she said she thought we’d be happy with what we found. She also filled us in on what had gone on during their mission. Once she got to the point where they were unable to locate many of the people they’d been trying to find, I decided to jump in.

“Maz told us something similar,” I said, “It seems like they’ve disappeared.”  “What does it mean?” Zay asked.

“The First Order, most likely,” Poe answered, “If we know about these potential allies, so do they. They’re just getting to them first.”  We made our way to the transport and took a look at the group. There were two native Twi’lek’s handing out hot towels and water to our allies, everyone was in their own conversations that seemed to die as they noticed Mom’s presence. A single figure broke apart from the small crowd and began walking toward us.

“This is-“ Zay began to say.

“I know who this is,” Mom said quietly before greeting the older man, “General Rieekan.”  As they embraced, I finally placed where I’d heard the name. He’d been a General during the Rebellion, working closely with my mother on Hoth and everywhere else the Rebellion had taken them. Poe, Zay and I broke away from them to let the two old comrades catch up.

“I can’t believe you and Shriv found him,” I patted Zay on the shoulder, “Good job.”  “Thanks,” she beamed at me, before her eyes caught my lightsaber on my hip, “Wait, you’re Commander Solo.”

“Last time I checked.”

“You’re a legend!”  Poe and I exchanged a confused look before I turned back to the girl, “How so?”  “Crait! You took on Kylo Ren all by yourself!” Zay exclaimed, her hands flying to her head, “It’s all over the galaxy how you battled each other. A-And then I heard Luke Skywalker showed up and the two of you fought together. Oh man, I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you!”

How the hell had that story gotten out? I assumed that moment would live and die on Crait, maybe it would spread slowly through the Resistance. I didn’t think I would turn into a galaxy-wide tale. Much less, that it would be told falsely with the embellished storyline that my uncle and I had fought together. I wished that was the truth.

“Well,” I awkwardly smiled, “That’s not entirely true.”  Zay’s face fell as if I’d just crushed some dream of hers, “So you didn’t battle Kylo Ren?”  “Well,” I rubbed the back of my neck, “I did, but-“  “So you are a hero!” she grinned before excitedly shaking my hand, “I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet a real live Jedi knight!”

I could tell I wasn’t going to get in a word edgewise, the girl already looked up to me seemingly. But I felt unnerved at the thought that I was letting someone else think I was a hero. Heroes didn’t lead mutinies and they certainly didn’t get their soldiers killed.

Shouts began to rise behind us in the hanger, we turned to see a crowd was beginning to form. I could clearly hear the punches that were being thrown.

“A fight!” Zay excitedly shouted.

Poe, Shriv and I ran off together to see what was going on. I should’ve known things were going just a little too well to continue that way.

————

A/N: Fun Fact: The conversation between Zay and the reader is based on the ending of TLJ with the three kids reenacting the lightsaber fight. As always, thank for all the support on this series! I’m having the best time writing it 🖤

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shiny-procrastinates · 3 years

Text

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 13

part 12 here

Hello and welcome everyone to the last post in this series. Most people probably would watch this ep right after the other one and there's much to be written, so let's skip the recap and get right to it.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 13

This show in a nutshell.

Really though, poor Iroha. She only came to this town to look for her sister and now she's learnt a cruel secret and is being urged to join a cult. Talk about someone who must have no idea what's going on anymore.

Back in reality, Yachiyo has finally caught up. She tries to stop Mifuyu from showing them the truth, but I'd say it's too late now. Also, Mifuyu's sure being a jerk today. You don't get to blame Yachiyo for letting them come when you're the one who made sure this would happen!

Yachiyo gets upset, and Mifuyu disappears. Iroha wakes up with Yachiyo cleaning her Soul Gem and Yachiyo says this but, nah Yachiyo, they'd have to learn this sooner or later and you don't seem like you'd ever tell them.

Iroha and Yachiyo start making their way out of Memory Museum. Tsuruno and the others were with Iroha when they went down but now they're nowhere to be found. Wait, does that mean we don't get to see their reactions to learning the truth? What a let down.

On this topic, Iroha's also pretty calm despite everything, which is probably part because realization hasn't settled in yet, part because she's occupied worrying about her team... but maybe also in part because Iroha has a wish she can’t regret, so she just doesn't care about the price as much as others. Doesn't she look like this kind of character? "I don't care what price I have to pay if that means I'll save them"-like.

Oh.

Hey Yachiyo 1: that was really outta nowhere; 2: that's not very nice of you, jumping ship just as things have hit rock-bottom. What the hell

Iroha, of course, is as shocked as we are (we are?). Sure Yachiyo had been acting strange since yesterday but this is a bit much. You can't just decide this on your own when 3/5 of the team is MiA

Iroha follows after Yachiyo, pressing her for an explanation, but Yachiyo refuses to give one.

Iroha's understandably upset at Yachiyo's attitude and asserts she refuses to leave Yachiyo's side if she won't give her a convincing reason to. And really, she has all the reasons to lose her cool here: one of her best friends is leading a cult, she's destined to a fate worse than death, half her team is missing and now the last one wants out for absolutely no discernible reason besides because she wants to. Even a saint has their limits.

Also, like, Mikazuki Team is like family to her, Yachiyo can't just decide to destroy her home with no explanation like this

Hearing what Iroha said, maybe Yachiyo realized she wouldn't get Iroha off her tail without saying anything, so she reveals her reason for wanting to disband the team. Yachiyo says that her wish was to survive. However, the way it worked was that she sacrificed others for her own survival. So she thinks Iroha and co. will die if they stay with her.

Even hearing this, Iroha's not convinced. Could such a wish really exist?

So yeah, Yachiyo was having a little crisis there and ended up being eaten by the Rumor(?). Thankfully, Iroha could still see her signal on the Soul Gem GPS, so the girl firms her determination to save her.

While Iroha's doing that, Yachiyo's having a lecture by herself to herself inside the Rumor. Quite the novel way to do introspection, if I do say so myself.

Here, we learn that Yachiyo originally wished to survive in the modelling world (we're never directly told that she's a model but there's lots of visual cues to it throughout the series). She did it because she thought she had to be a strong leader to protect her companions. She didn't want to survive at their expanse; so, uhhh...

She isn't then. Wishes in this series come true in the exact way the Magical Girl wants it to, so Yachiyo's wish can't be killing anyone if that's not what she wanted. She's misunderstanding.

...I wish they'd have put Kanae and Mel's last words in the actual scene they belong to rather than just a still, since they're literally one of the main reasons Yachiyo even reached the conclusion that their deaths were caused by her.

Iroha has learned "hold B to charge".

So, yeah, Iroha must've had a training arc off-screen because even though she's only been shown sucking at battles the whole series, she's now suddenly strong enough to defeat a Rumor on her own. Or maybe she just wanted to save her wife Yachiyo that much.

Iroha defeats the Rumor of Memory Museum (the place's an actual building, if a weird one, so that stays), hugs Yachiyo and is about to literally drag her by the hand to go search for the others, but Yachiyo's still reluctant. Iroha then tells her that Yachiyo and the others are the one who made her this strong, so she'll prove to her that her wish isn't what she thinks it is.

Don't jinx yourself, idiot! Thank god you've got protagonist plot armor.

Now, if only years of survivor's guilt could be cured this easily in real life too.

Yachiyo finally calls Iroha by her first name, accepting Iroha's promise.

The museum starts falling apart, probably thanks to the damage it received when Iroha was fighting the Rumor, so Iroha and Yachiyo have no choice but to leave the place now, even though they haven't found the others yet.

Iroha barely dodges some debris, stumbling, so Yachiyo carries her instead. Iroha's Soul Gem has been drained from fighting the Rumor, so she's having a hard time moving already. Doppels may be a thing, but there's no guarantee that they're safe, so Yachiyo's call of going to the Coordinator's to get a Grief Seed is probably correct.

As Iroha's situation worsens, Yachiyo follows Chibi Kyuubei until almost the entrance. Then, she meets with someone we know very well.

Mami says something about a gospel, and Yachiyo asserts that she and Iroha have no intention of joining the cult.

Which makes Mami snap. This girl is clearly not on her right mind. In fact, one could say she lost her head (ba-dum-tss).

Mami and Yachiyo start fighting, and I guess as expected of a veteran of 7 years, we have to commend Yachiyo here on meeting Mami's blows while carrying Iroha on her back. Yachiyo pleads with Mami to hear them out but Touka, the brat who was just watching the battle, tells Mami she doesn't have to, and Mami just keeps on her offensive.

Of course, there's only so much Yachiyo could do handicapped. But today is not the day Yachiyo's getting a bullet to her head, because

A certain someone who really likes impromptu hydrant smoke bombs is here.

Sayaka! Nice save, shining cape hero of justice! You have no idea who exactly you're calling weak tho

Seeing Sayaka, it looked like Mami had went back to normal for a moment, but nope, she's still borked. Like in all timelines where she learns it, seems like Mami didn't take the truth well here either. The difference is that she can't witch out in Kamihama so something happened instead.

Mami keeps monologuing, with Sayaka of course not understanding a single thing she's saying. Then, Mami starts to doppel out. The girl has seriously lost her mind and is now obsessed with salvation. (and man 10/10 on the VA’s voice acting here)

And here comes the bullet hell! This is so overkill Mami

Sayaka and Yachiyo do their best to deflect the rain of bullets, with Yachiyo turning back and trying to compete in number of spears. Jesus, just how big exactly is the amount of magic a veteran magical girl has? This is insane!

Yachiyo tries to send a stream of spears, who are deflected with one Tiro Finale, with another one headed their way right after

Sayaka blocks the Tiro Finale with her sword. The shot is so powerful one of her arms is torn off AND SHE ATTACHES IT BACK MID-AIR

holy-moly!

Hope this museum has insurance.

Sayaka just barely manages to reflect that bomb, which saves them from being blown to smithereens. Touka was having a nice tea time watching the spectacle, but then realizes she had something else to attend to so she exits, leaving the stage to Mami, who resumes her bullet hell.

Sayaka uses Yachiyo's spears as a platform to get closer and attempts to grab Mami, to no avail. She falls down and tries to take cover, but Mami's bullets are now homing bullets apparently, because they just change direction and start raining in her direction again.

Down below where Yachiyo's hiding, Iroha manages to wake back up, but she looks, like, on the verge of dying or something. Iroha tells Yachiyo they have to help Sayaka and Yachiyo rebukes there's no way they could win, to which Iroha subtly implies she wants to use her doppel, assuring Yachiyo it'll be okay and raising yet another flag.

Mami finally corners Sayaka, but before Sayaka can become blue Swiss cheese, Iroha comes in with her doppel to cover her. Very convenient that she suddenly knows how to control it.

Aaand Yachiyo can do that too, because of course she does, why wouldn't she. (/sarcasm)

But, uhhh, hers is considerably more creepy, what with the extra arms and stuff. Yikes.

Yachiyo says that doppels are dangerous, but one has to wonder when and how did she even learn about them. After all, she did seem surprised when Iroha did not turn into a witch in Seance Shrine.

While that's going on Touka's just out here deciding by herself that Mami would want to die for the sake of salvation. Just, uh, I don't think you can judge that when she's gone nuts, and you're a jerk if you put her in that scenario expecting her to die. Not that anyone had any doubts you're a jerk, mind you.

Also, what does she mean with Mami helping with developing Rumors?

"hey Kyuubei, I don't want to be meguka anymore, can I retire?"

Even using their doppels, Iroha and Yachiyo are not managing to make even a dent in Holy Mami. Iroha ends up getting bashed into a wall, the doppel taking over for real and her becoming a sitting duck for Mami, but Yachiyo yeets Mami before she can shoot. I'm sure this wasn't supposed to be funny but there's just something hilarious to me about Yachiyo just yeeting Holy Mami and her bouncing away.

Yachiyo transforms and shakes Iroha back to reality.

Again, why the heck do you know this, Yachiyo.

Iroha raises yet another flag for herself. What next? Are you going to say you want to marry her when you two go back?

Somewhere else, Touka arrives on her appointment: a speech for the cult. And oh my hell just look at how many magical girls there is! The amount of Black Feathers always blows me away, since the impression I got from og and even the spin offs is that, sure, there are some groups of magical girls around like the Holy Quintet and the Pleiades, but I still though it was more of a rare thing. It's shocking to see THIS many in the same place. (...I suppose the game needed the cannon fodder :x)

HEY what are these two doing here?!

Touka continues her speech over Iroha and Yachiyo's battle.

This cult leader here continues her discourse, preaching about how the power to wish for something is what advanced civilization, so magical girls, who have the power to make a wish reality, are better than normal humans, and so are deserving of being released from their fate.

OH NO, TSURUNO HAS GONE WEIRD TOO

*bonk*

There goes Holy Mami down the collapsing museum.

It's not like Touka's completely wrong (except for saying that magical girls are superior), but if it wasn't clear enough already, their actual actions makes her speech be full of hypocrisy.

Back at the crumbling Memory Museum, Iroha has managed to jinx herself so hard throughout this episode she pierced her own protagonist plot armor. Great job!

Try as she might, Yachiyo just cannot pull her back up, which also makes no sense when you consider how strong magical girls are, but alas.

And to make things worse, Mami is also pulling a literal "you're going down with me", so Iroha, making a split second decision, pulls her hand away from Yachiyo's grasp, lest both of them fall and get buried... breaking the one promise she made probably not even a hour ago.

I think that last thing she said was "sorry", but don't quote me on that.

What a loyal Mokyu. Never mind that if they can turn into water they probably can't die from this.

Yachiyo's about to follow her fate too, but thankfully Sayaka comes in for the save, only giving a brief glance to where Mami disappeared before getting the heck out of there.

Well, people promise lots of things, Yachiyo.

OH I KNOW YOU, what was your name again? It's been so long I forgot.

Back at the The Wings of the Magius' HQ, Touka's done with her speech. The way the anime cuts from Yachiyo falling to the depths of despair to the cult clapping is just *chef's kiss*

Oh no Felicia and Sana also joined the cult :(

EXCUSE ME, WHAT

oh frick we'll have to deal with that too!? Aren't things already effed up enough as is!?

...being meguka is suffering.

Also the song playing over this last sequence, Nigredo, is a real banger. Momentarily filling in that hole Kalafina left in our hearts.

After the end credits there's the teaser for season 2, with lots of overlapping lines and blink-and-you-miss-it frames hinting at the things that'll happen. I'd have to screenshot basically the whole sequence to get everything and season 2 is coming out like, today, so I'm not even gonna bother.

- x -

Aaand that's it folks! Puella Magia Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record Season 1! (still a mouthful)

I cannot express just how hyped I was by the end of this episode back when it aired. Did you get fired up watching it too? I was so into it back then I just couldn't stop theorizing for like, over a month, so eventually the curiosity was just too much and I caved in and watched the game.

On that matter, ironically, despite me loving the game story to bits, this is the ONE episode that makes me wish I didn't go and watch the game. Why? Because I liked this episode well enough before, but now I just can't get over how stupidly better the resolution to Yachiyo's arc was done in the game. I get runtime constraints and all, but it's almost an offense to her character having her believe in Iroha right away just because Iroha said she wouldn't die. Aaaaghh what the heck, I don't know how they could have done this better with the time on the episode but this wasn't it. I'll be eternally salty we got robbed of the full extent of alpha Iroha, too.

So yeah, I do apologize if this post sounded more salty and sarcastic than usual.

One thing I realized re-watching this though is that the reason this episode is so awkward with that character part is exactly because they halfheartedly tried to stick to the game. Yachiyo bringing back her "it's none of your account" and Iroha defeating the Rumor on her own were part of the game, but because they hadn't kept those character traits throughout the anime it falls flat here, because anime Yachiyo didn't use that almost as a catchphrase, and anime Iroha is never shown to be competent enough to take on a Rumor on her own (the opposite, in fact), so those come out of nowhere. Even last episode, Yachiyo 180ing because of what Mifuyu said comes out of the blue in the anime, because we're missing the context that she actually went back to behaving like she used to when she first disbanded her team, and anime Yachiyo didn't have the hold-up with the word "friends", at least not as clearly. On the other hand, Yachiyo being willing to accept Iroha's words right away does fit in with anime Yachiyo, who was always more soft than game version, but here it becomes awkward because they had had her acting like her game counterpart since last episode and then suddenly she snaps back to the anime self again.

What I'm trying to say here is that they should've changed this scene even more to fit the actual characters anime Iroha and Yachiyo are, rather than halfheartedly trying to force it to go the same way as in the game. That's what I think.

Besides that, Tsuruno and co.'s reaction to the truth was cut out, but I'm sure we'll get around to seeing that next season. Holy Mami's fight is cool but... I dunno. Except Sayaka reflecting that Tiro Finale, it felt really uninspired. It could've been shorter if that meant giving more time to the story, imo

Now for things I REALLY like in this episode, there's the whole sequence with Touka's speech. You might've even guessed this considering I said the dream sequence way back in episode 1 is my favorite ever. IT'S JUST SO GOOD. The constrast between Touka delivering this super charismatic discourse about magical girls, the saint of her cause being lunatic and their actions being just the opposite of the noble cause she says they're preaching is marvelous. They even manage to use this time to reveal that KaMoRe and Tsuruno and co. are on the cult. Really, really well done.

This ending tho. Iroha disappearing is the biggest anime original thing to happen besides Kuroe, so that's got me curious to see what they'll do with this. I love the game, so I have complicated feelings about the anime diverging from it, but I can't deny it's exciting to think about what they'll change up. Ultimately, it's more likely that they're just rearranging some stuff to make the progress more straightforward, but it'd be really cool if it went full anime original too. Just I'm not sure on the odds for that.

I'm sure they'll keep us on the suspense until the very last moment possible but I'm sure Iroha's not actually dead. Looking at a meta sense, there's no way they'd kill a main character off-screen. Storywise, it'd be hard to move Ui's mystery forward without the one person who remembers her and they're not just going to drop this plot, and also for Iroha to be dead Holy Mami would also need to be dead and we can't have that because they haven't even went into what's wrong with her yet. So yeah. I'll believe it when I see it. Would it be absolutely crazy if they did? Yeah, but it ain't gonna happen. (please don't make me have to bite my tongue show)

Whew, this post is long af. I didn't plan for this. I don't feel like writing a season impression because all of s1 was mostly set up for what's to come, so I can't say if it was good or bad until the series is over. Originally, I'd planned to put up another post with my theories for s2, but considering that comes out today I'm not sure there's even a point to doing it anymore lol

In any case, I hope I could provide you some fun with these posts! Being honest, the reason I decided to write this was because I've always liked to hear people's opinions on the shows I like, but I don't really have people to watch things with me, so I just read reddit and stuff. Doing that, when I was watching Symphogear s1 some years back, I stumbled across these posts of someone watching it for the first time and had a blast reading those as I watched. So I wanted to provide someone with that experience too. I'll never reach the comedic genius that person had, but I can at least keep you company while you watch :)

...these are also super useful to check back on the order of events too :v

So yeah, writing these was fun, though there were lots of parts where I really went out of ideas of what to say; it forced me to actually sit down and rewatch (or else I'd procrastinate) and made me pick up on a lot of things. That's a plus in my book.

Now that we are done with this, I hope you are as excited for season 2 as I am! I'm not sure if I'll keep writing about it here, so yeah. Whether we ever meet again or not, remember:

Don't ever make a contract with a white weasel.

#Magia Record #magireco #pmmm magia record #puella magi madoka magica side story #this post is super late #it's 7 in the morning #and I haven't slept help

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tessiete · 4 years

Text

So, my mum sent me a prompt, and I...I wrote it. Still working on those in my inbox, but mum’s come first, ya know?

She picked Spotify #12 (Love You Back, by Metric), and she wanted Luke and Qui-Gon bonding. I tried, mum, but Korkie just shows up all the time.

Love, your daughter.

LIFT UP, AND FALL AWAY

Luke travels to Dantooine by himself.

It’s been weeks since Bespin, weeks since he’d been released from medical supervision aboard the Dreamless Sleep and weeks since he’d left all its well-meaning but overbearing clinicians behind. He knows he should go back to Yoda, or hunt for the bounty hunter who took Han, or help Leia rally the scattered rebel forces back into order, but instead, he makes his escape.

There is little enough to recommend the planet. It is an outer rim world with no industry or economy to speak of. There are no cities, or monuments, the largest settlements boasting hardly more than a few thousand people and recent rumours suggest a small but growing number of them may be Imperial sympathisers which doesn’t bode well for him: The Miracle of Yavin; The First Hope of the Alliance. He can’t imagine anything like that will be met with particular enthusiasm here.

But even beyond political allegiances, it is a distinctly unappealing place being both unremarkable and largely unremarked. It is off of any useful trade route. It has few interplanetary allies, and only one weak judicial body to govern the entirety of its surface. In fact, the best thing Luke can think to say of it is that it is nearly as far away from Tatooine as it is possible for anything to be.

And far from Dagobah, too.

He brings his X-Wing down in the middle of a grassy plain, and leaves Artoo to run diagnostics on the ship. It’s his second (since he’d abandoned the first in Cloud City), and so lacking in all the alterations he’d so carefully programmed and calibrated into his previous fighter. He’s trying not to think of it as a nuisance, but an opportunity. A second chance. A second ship. A second hand - he smirks at this, and adjusts the blaster at his hip. He needs a second blade.

But there is something else that he must do first.

The sun is high as he sets off, only a small ration pack slung across his chest, and the blaster with him. Artoo’s whistling complaints grow fainter as he goes, until they are drowned completely beneath the whispers of swaying grasses. They are all turned brown. It is late in the year, and so they are filled with the gossip of an entire season. They brush against his legs, eager to touch this visitor and pass on rumours of his presence to their brethren, the trees, whose voices are heard in the rustle of leaves, then carried off on the wind in birdsong.

In the distance, he sees a herd of grazing iriaz, but they move off long before he is close enough to comprehend them as anything more than silent shadows, silhouetted against the sky. They leave prints - wide tracks scratched into dusty earth, and little pools where they have kicked up some water to sustain them. Common havoc kites circle lazily overhead, riding the updrafts on stiff, unyielding wings. They too, take no interest in Luke, and soon disappear in search of prey. The drone of some insect rises and falls and vanishes, its source remaining unseen. It seems to Luke that all of Dantooine is of a beautiful, but uncurious nature, content to live and let live without extending either welcome or censure to those who cross its lands.

It is in this manner, unencumbered by anything but the weight of his thoughts, that Luke finds himself only a few hours later passing beneath the boughs of ancient blba trees to arrive on the doorstep of a tidy stone cottage in the middle of the Khoonda plains. The base is a round structure, supporting another smaller yet equally round structure on top, like buckets of sand packed tight and upturned upon each other. Where they meet, there is a ring of wood slats, angled steeply downward as shingles to protect from run off, the door an old fashioned vertical slide that folds over itself as it springs from the floor to hide away in the crossbeam above. He knocks, and when a man with blue eyes, and gold hair threaded silver answers, Luke knows why Ben’s ghost has asked him to come.

“I’m looking for Kryze,” he says.

“That’s me,” the man replies, his brow furrowed. He keeps one hand on the door, and the other braced against the wall within to lend him strength should he need it, but there is no fear in his voice, despite the blaster he’s clearly noted.

“I’ve been sent to find you,” Luke says, and Kryze sighs.

“Well,” he says, shoulders sagging, and his body shifting to grant Luke admittance. “You’d better come inside.”

The space is warm, the amber light of the afternoon filtering through rippled glass windows to dance over cluttered walls, and overfull shelves. There are plants, bursting from their pots like Tusken black powder on fire. Paintings cover every inch of the wall not taken up with windows or furniture, and canvases lie stacked atop one another in various crevices and corners where space has run out. Books - proper old volumes printed on flimsi, and in some cases actual paper, stand front to back to front in orderly lines high in their cramped cases, regimented troops of education and exploration. Lower down are curiously bent sticks, twisted knots of dry grass, beetle wings, the shed scales of a rosy drayk, leaves of various size and colour, and a small river stone, smooth and black and streaked with red.

“Various treasures,” Kryze explains, as Luke is lost in his perusal. “You can touch them, if you like. Shall I put a kettle on?”

He wipes his hands upon an old rag, leaving streaks of blue and green, tossing it down beside a murky pitcher of water, and several brushes, and it is then that Luke realises he has caught him in the middle of something personal and profound.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he says. “If you’re busy, I can wait. Or come back. Or -”

“Nonsense,” says Kryze, smiling. The expression is familiar, and Luke smiles back, feeling some common thread strum between them. “I ought to start on lastmeal anyway. We’re having muja dai-ungo for pudding. A favourite, you see, and yet I am the sole chef in this endeavour, since the other beasts which live here are prone to eating the jelly and leaving none for the glaze.”

It is some joke which Luke is not entirely certain of, so he smiles politely but doesn’t laugh as Kryze draws him into the cramped cookroom at the side. Water is set to boil on an ancient hot top, and Kryze sweeps aside a variety of holopads and half-finished string weaves to make space on the countertop. He pulls down two ceramplast cups, chipped and cracked, and smirks ruefully at his guest.

“A hazard of my unfortunate circumstances, you see. They say no plan survives contact with the enemy, and I take it to mean nothing at all survives contact with children. Everything here is somewhat the worse for wear, I’m afraid.” But there is nothing except long-suffering amusement in his voice, as though his pretensions of civility are an easy and happy price to pay for the benefit of such injury.

A shriek, followed by a chorus of laughter tumbles in from outside, and Kryze opens the window for a better view. Luke, overly alert to danger and almost surprised by joy, cannot help but duck his head to look, too.

A woman in long skirts races across the yard, followed by a girl brandishing a stick who looks only a few years younger than Luke, though she feels lightyears away.

“Wait!” calls another voice, high and pleading. As the first two cavort out of sight, a third girl appears, only to stop at the call, and turn back as the fourth, and final member of the party staggers into view. A boy, no older than seven or so, sets himself down upon the ground, crossing his arms in displeasure as the girl walks back to soothe him. “They run too fast,” Luke hears him lament. “And I have lost the poesy you made me.”

Kryze lets out a breath of laughter, assured there is no danger except perhaps to his son’s vanity, and returns to his pot, measuring out leaves and water with equal care. Luke watches the girl give her brother a hug, and coax him off in pursuit of the others.

“My eldest, Jinn,” Kryze explains. “She’s a wild thing, like her mother. And Mav, too, but with a softer heart. Corim is the youngest, and most civilised of the bunch. Thank the stars, or I’m afraid I’d be terribly overrun out here. Do you take anything in your tea?”

“Um, no,” Luke says, thinking of the heavy spices of Tatooine brews.

But the drink placed before him is a thin and watery kind of thing, of a pale pink colour. He can see the ceramplast through the liquid, and raises it to his lips skeptically.

Kryze watches him with that same kind amusement he seems to regard everything.

“It is a local variety of my own invention,” he explains. “Made from dried diabolix berries. Just the dried ones, mind you. The ones off the bush are deadly.”

Luke freezes, the rim of the cup pressed to his lips, the mild sweetness of sun still on his tongue, and Kryze laughs. He’s come here for a purpose, but has instead found himself trapped with a kind of domesticated eccentric.

He sets his tea down as politely as he can, while Kryze doesn’t hesitate to drink deeply from his own cup.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he says. “But I actually came here to deliver a message. From Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

At this, Kryze finally stills, his eyes meeting Luke’s with an apprehensive solemnity. “Of course,” he says. “What news?”

“He’s dead.”

The cup settles upon its saucer with only a faint chime of protest.

“Ah,” says Kryze.

In the following silence, guilt sweeps in, and soon Luke finds himself scrambling for the frayed edges of comfort and sympathy.

“It was fast,” he says. “And he knew what he was doing. He saved my life, and my friends. Vader - do you know anything that’s going on in the galaxy right now?”

That quiet, aching smirk curls upwards once more.

“Of course,” says Kryze. “Why else would I be way out here?”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says.

Kryze stands to clear the table of their tea.

“You say you’ve left your ship a few hours west? It is much too late for you to return to it now. Stay. Eat with us. Have a good night’s rest. Tomorrow, I should like to show you something.”

It is impossible for Luke to refuse this hospitality, not after he’s made such a mess of his own reason for coming here. He owes Kryze this much, at least.

“Of course,” he says. “If it isn’t any problem.”

“No problem at all,” Kryze insists. “There is an orchard down the path. If you follow the screams and laughter you should find it all right. The girls will collect you in time for latemeal.”

Thus dismissed, Luke removes his pack, but keeps his blaster close, heading for the door. At the threshold, he is overcome by a need to know for certain, and he turns back for one last look at the mysterious Kryze.

“Can I just ask,” he begins. “How did you know him? Obi-Wan, I mean. Why did he send me here to talk to you?”

His back to the door, Luke almost misses the reply carried back on the ghost of laughter.

“Oh, that,” says Kryze. “Well, after all, I am his son.”

The sun of Dantooine is much too reserved to intrude, and so it is to the clatter of dishware, and eager voices that Luke wakes the next morning. He stretches, and moves from his room to the sonics across the hall he thinks without attracting notice, but he is met, upon his exit, with the startled aspect of the youngest Kryze listening at the door.

Corim’s jaw snaps shut, and he frowns before declaring quite firmly that, “I wasn’t spying. I was only checking to see if you hadn’t died in the night you slept in so late.”

Luke grins. “Not dead yet, I don’t think.”

“Well, if you don’t hurry, there shan’t be any flatcakes left, no matter what Bebu says.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Luke assures him, and he stalks away entirely unconvinced.

Despite this threat, the table in the main room is still heaped with food when Luke emerges, fresher and more relaxed than he’s been in ages. The Kryzes are already packed tight around the table, but Mav and Jinn happily bunch over to make room for Luke between them. Mav, especially, goes out of her way to fill his glass, and pile his plate with the last of the muja preserves left over from the night before.

“Hey, that was my share,” complains Jinn, her mouth full. “You’ve already had seconds today.”

Mav blushes, and ducks her head, but her retort is vehement for all that her embarrassment is public. “We have a guest,” she says. “And your face is so full of cake you wouldn’t even taste the jelly anyway!”

“I didn’t get seconds!” Corim chimes in.

“Mother!” Jinn demands, taking her appeal to a higher court.

“Jinn, relax,” says Wyla, supremely unbothered, sipping her kaf and reading off her holopad. “Mav, be nice. Corim, I have a treat for you later.”

“S’not fair,” Jinn grumbles into her plate, but Wyla reaches over to pat her hand sympathetically.

“If you’re looking for the worst villain to blame, then examine your father’s plate. He’s more than enough jelly on that cake to last us to next harvest.”

At this, Kryze looks up to shoot his daughter a smug grin, before shoveling a heavily laden portion of flatcake into his mouth. Jelly, piled too high to survive the journey, tumbles from his fork to splatter against the flat of his plate as emphasis of his unjust indulgence.

“Delicious,” he declares. Jinn rolls her eyes, while Luke smuggles in a bite of his own portion.

It is tasty, both sweet and tart and satisfyingly thick. The meal continues through several more hotly negotiated contracts, and concludes with Wyla and Mav packing up the old speeder with the spoils of their orchard, and Jinn agreeing to mind Corim, much to her delight and his wary dismay. Kryze, it is announced, has business to attend to with Luke, and he does not expect their return before nightfall.

“Bring your rucksack,” he says, as they prepare to leave. “It is a long walk, and I shall want for snacks on the way.”

They set off with the sun on their faces, passing once more beneath the blba trees, the little cottage growing more and more distant as they make their way forth on the plains. Luke trusts that Kryze has some set destination in mind, but after the first hour he privately wonders if his guide has been distracted, and has brought them to wander in admiration of the land.

“That there is an extremely rare simbyloona butterfly,” he says, gesturing with a long wooden staff at the erratic path of the insect. “You ever been to Konkiv? Or Sriluur?”

“No,” says Luke.

“They have butterflies there,” explains Kryze. “What about Endor’s forest moon?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, if you ever go, keep an eye out,” he says, pushing on.

The world seems much more alive with Kryze today. Longhoppers leap from the grass as he wades through, warbling tiktiks swoop over head to catch them. One of unique boldness lands upon the top of Kryze’s staff when he stops to show Luke the little dirt mounds of puppi mice beneath their feet. He smiles, and extends a finger to the bird which cocks its head from side to side before giving in to temptation and hopping upon Kryze’s outstretched hand.

“Hello, there,” he sings, soft and low. “Aren’t you a brave thing?”

He holds the bird forth so that Luke may have a closer look at the colourful plumage before lifting it higher to the sky to release it.

“Off you go, then,” he says. “Beautiful animal, isn’t it? Usually quite shy though. You must bring good luck.”

Luke watches the course of the bird, and hardly knows he’s replied until he’s already said, “Your father said there was no such thing.”

“Did he?” Kryze beams. “Well, he always had such odd notions.”

“Unlike you?” Luke asks. It’s not that he’s insulted by the man’s amusement at a dead man, but it does seem somewhat hypocritical in light of the bird, and the paintings, and the tea.

But Kryze takes no offense, only quirking an eyebrow to say, “Where do you think I got it from?”

For all his evident curiosity this challenge seems to be exactly the sort of query Kryze was waiting for, and he begins to tell Luke all manner of things about himself as they move ever on towards the horizon.

“My mother was the Duchess of Mandalore,” he says. “A pacifist, though you’d never know it by the way the galaxy remembers us. And for a year she was under the protection of my father. They fell in love, as tragically and impossibly as any young person could wish, and when they parted my father left confident in his ignorance, and my mother was left with me. It’s difficult to say who came out ahead in that.”

“I thought the Jedi couldn’t love,” says Luke.

“And whoever told you that nonsense?” asks Kryze. “You told me my father died saving you, and he cannot have done that for anything less than the purest love.”

Luke says nothing to this, only twists a knot of grass off in his hand and releases it to the wind. They walk in strained silence until it becomes comfortable again, and Luke exhales in resignation.

“I only just met my father,” he says. “He tried to kill me.”

Kryze looks at him, then stops to look at him harder.

“Oh, I see it now,” he says. “You’re a Skywalker. I might have guessed it, but I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice these days.”

“Are you a Jedi, too?”

“No, no,” he scoffs. “Nothing so serious as all that. But I know enough to be able to tell the blaze of a Skywalker from the general inferno of starfire. I know enough to be recognised in turn.”

“Is that why you’re out here? Hiding from the Empire?”

Kryze grimaces at this, and turns back to the path ahead. A shadow looms, rising out of the ground, and he turns their course to that.

“What makes you think I’m hiding?” he asks. Then, before Luke can parse the riddle in this, he continues. “I used to be in the Alliance,” he says. “Wyla, too. We ran intelligence rings, and sabotage missions. We fought. Even had more than a few close calls with the Empire. But at some point, around the time that Wyla found out about Jinn, we decided that was it. We’d done our part. And when the Rebellion left their base here, we stayed behind.”

“The Empire still exists,” says Luke.

“And it will not be my hand which stops it,” counters Kryze. Then, as the shadow takes the form of a ruined temple sprung from the earth itself, he speaks again. “My parents both died for peace. I think that I owe it to them to live for it. Here we go.”

Vines cling to ancient stone, while tangles of brush climb up and over crumbled walls and gaping cracks in the side of the old building. The trees grow thickly here, still green and lush despite the lateness of the year.

“A wellspring,” explains Kryze, without Luke’s having to ask.

He guides him past hollowed out chambers pierced only by shafts of dazzling sunlight breaking through fractured ceilings, and bouncing off shallow, invisible puddles within. Animals chirrup in the brush, and birds nest in all the little nooks and crannies of decaying architecture. Though it is long abandoned, there is still something light and sacred about the space. The air is fresher here.

“This is a Jedi place,” breathes Luke.

“It was,” agrees Kryze. “Long before the Empire. Come along. There’s something else.”

Beneath a fall of greenery and fallen rocks lies an opening.

“What is it?” asks Luke.

“Caves,” says Kryze. Luke looks at him, still uncertain. “I have noticed that you carry no lightsaber,” he explains.

Luke flexes the fingers of his false hand, feeling the pistons and levers firing in time with his desire, but different from the muscles and sinew of his flesh. It cannot be observed by casual inspection, but somehow Kryze seems to know.

“I lost it,” says Luke.

“Then you shall have to build another.” He gestures again to the cave mouth, and Luke braces himself to go in. He shifts the blaster on his hip, checking the settings. “You won’t need that in there,” says Kyze. “There’s nothing inside but old ghosts.”

He is halfway to moving when he hesitates, and leans back. With his eyes fixed on Kryze’s, Luke unstraps the holster from his side, and hands it and his blaster into the hands of Ben Kenobi’s son. He goes into the caves alone.

It is dark inside, and there is a chill and the sound of water dripping into water somewhere far away. Luke steps carefully. Though the ground is rocky and uneven, his steps are certain and he does not falter. After several minutes of silent exploration, with no strange whispers or startling movement, the fear he entered with begins to fall away, leaving Luke’s mind open to the growing threat of boredom. There is nothing here. He sighs, and turns to leave only to discover the way out has grown just as dark as the path going farther in. He has no torch, no light, and no sabre to guide his path, but his irritation blazes bright enough to guide him and he sets off the way he came.

When he has walked more than twice the distance he came, and then gone back to walk the distance again, he decides there is little he can do but sit and hope that Kryze will come for him. Surely, he hasn’t brought him here to starve after feeding him so thoroughly only hours ago. And for all that Luke feels helpless in the inky pits of the caves, Kryze had not lied when he said his blaster would be of no use. There is no one here but Luke.

He sets himself down against a stone, the seat of his pants made uncomfortably damp by the floor, and quite to his own surprise, drifts off.

When he wakes, there is light.

All around him are outcroppings of crystals in various shapes and colours. Some shine more brightly than the others, and some glow so fervently it is as though they sing. He reaches out to touch one, and the rest all clamour in harmony to meet him.

Every thought of escape is eclipsed by the beauty in the caves, and Luke trails his fingers over each crystal that calls out, following their voices deeper and deeper into the caves. Until, in the deepest chamber, on the shores of a vast underground lake, he is met by something which glows brighter than all the crystals combined.

For a moment, he is compelled to shield his eyes, as the flare bursts forth in effulgent magnificence before dying down to live within the confines of an unrecognisable form.

It is a man with long hair, a kind smile, and wearing the robes of a Jedi.

“Hello, little one,” it calls out, and Luke raises his hand in reply. “I was wondering when I might have the chance to meet you.”

“Do I know you?” asks Luke, stepping closer.

The ghost chuckles. “Not as such,” he replies. “But I know you. You are the student of my student, after all. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“You were Master Obi-Wan’s master!”

“And Master Yoda’s, too,” brags the ghost, enjoying the awe of Luke’s epiphany, but this is a boast too far, and Luke’s face falls into lines of skepticism.

“That can’t be true,” he says. “Master Yoda is much too old to have been taught by you.”

“Ah, and must education end with the cessation of breath? Cannot knowledge outlast us? Cannot learning outlive us?”

“Can it?” asks Luke.

“We are more than what we do in life, my boy,” says Qui-Gon. He sits upon one of the larger stones which border the edge of the lake, leaving space beside him for Luke. “And there is much to be learned by death, for those brave enough to seek it.”

Luke frowns, and moves to join him, trying to puzzle out the ghost’s philosophy.

“Are you suggesting -” he looks to the Jedi for confirmation, not convinced of his conclusion. “You’re not saying that we should just give in, are you? That we should just accept death when we could stop it?”

“Not at all,” says Qui-Gon, and Luke relaxes upon the stone. “It’s good that you fight. It’s important you fight. Don’t rush to death in the vain hope that it will bring you easy satisfaction. Life and death - they are balanced. They are equal. And there is much value to be found in both.”

“Is that why Ben let go?” Luke asks.

“Obi-Wan was wise to concede his life,” says Qui-Gon. “But that does not make his loss any more bearable for you. Or for me. And though I am glad to be with him once again, I will always wish he’d had more time with you.”

There is a smear of clay grown dry upon his knee, and he brushes it off with one hand.

“Me, too,” he says to the ghost.

“But that is Obi-Wan’s lesson for you,” says Qui-Gon, his voice ringing clear across the lake. “He knows what it means to let go, but I -” he says. “I am here to show you how to hold on.”

And in the crystalline light of the caves, and the glittering warmth of the ghost, Luke learns of his lineage, and his family, and all the ways in which he is never alone. Qui-Gon speaks of the past. He tells him of a little boy who struggled and overcame, and a little boy who struggled and fell, and how neither of them loved the other any less. He tells the story of an ancient Order, and a girl queen; of a duchess, and a knight; of children lost to their parents, and parents lost to themselves. He tells of blood, and consequences, and desire, and regret, and joy, and sorrow, and how it all lives on in memory, and in stories, and in relics, and in paintings, and in river stones, and in muja dai-ungo, and in him.

“There is nothing lost,” says Qui-Gon. “So long as you choose to remember it. Neither life, nor love, nor people. Hold on. And don’t let go.”

And as he fades away into darkness, the song of a single crystal cries out, drawing Luke up, and up, and out of the black of the caves into the evening sun.

At the mouth of the hollow, standing with the light in his hair, and Ben Kenobi in his eyes, stands Kiorkicek Kryze. In his hands, a sabre, the kyber inside calling out.

And when Luke touches the hilt, he knows that this one is his.

“I thought it might be you,” says Kryze, smiling. He shifts Luke’s bag high against his shoulder and turns to the setting sun. “Come on,” he says. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

And when he finally returns to his ship, and Artoo, and programmes a course for home, Luke leaves Dantooine by himself, but he is not alone.

#my fic #prompt fill #spotify prompt fill #korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #qui-gon jinn #luke skywalker

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Constant

After all those years side by side, no matter how begrudgingly, Midoriya and Bakugo know each other. Something that they notice more and more during their time at UA. And maybe just the fact that they know each other can be enough to rebuilt what had been lost.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings none really, but tell me if I missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Midoriya and Bakugo grew up together. This was a fact most of the class was aware off with the rivalry and all around weird dynamic the two had, but most of them forgot what it entailed to grow up with someone.

You see, Midoriya and Bakugo didn’t just grow up together, they grew uptogether.

The ‘they knew each other from diapers, spend most of their time together, called each other’s mom auntie’- grew up together.

It had only been recently that the bullying had really picked up steam. Around the time when they got into a bigger Middle School where just having a flashy quirk wasn’t enough to be the best in the school and Bakugo started to feel threatened.

That didn’t excuse anything he’d done, but that wasn’t currently the point. The point was that they knew each other incredibly well, even if they would deny it.

And the denying it meant others forgot. Sometimes, however, a little comment or action would remind everyone just how long of a history they had together.

Today was such a day. The class was fighting in an open field to practice in different environments and stealth. It was hot and all were tired and ready for a break, groaning in relief when Aizawa finally announced it.

Bakugo was also about to plop down somewhere, when Midoriya said: “Kacchan, ant hill,” as he pointed to a spot near Bakugo.

“Hm,” Bakugo just hummed in acknowledgment, not thanking the other, before deciding to sit somewhere else.

“What just happened, bro?” Kirishima asked.

“Ant hill,” Bakugo replied as explanation.

Kirishima still looked confused, so Midoriya explained: “The nitroglycerin smells sweet and attracts insects like ants. If he isn’t careful, he’ll be crawling with them. That happe-”

“That’s enough, nerd. I think he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted, before going back to ignoring them when Midoriya shut his mouth and turned to his own friends.

Uraraka said: “I always forget you two know each other.”

“Wha?” Midoriya replied, “We don’t know each other that well. I mean, we barely interacted constructively in Middle School.”

“You have your moments,” Momo said, “Just here and there, but it’s hard to miss and you’re probably right that it petered out with time. I mean, it barely happens now.”

“Yeah, Bakugo could glare anything you know about him away,” Uraraka giggled and the conversation moved on.

It didn’t particularly stick with Midoriya, nor anyone else for that matter and life moved on. Of course, it popped back up a few weeks or so later, when it happened again.

Midoriya wasn’t usually late for class, or just the morning in general. He liked getting up early and was usually the first one outside.

Today, however, had not been his day. He had a nightmare during the night, barely fallen asleep only to sleep through his alarm and nearly missing his station by almost falling asleep on the train ride over. All of this was topped off by the fact that he had forgotten a goddamn pen.

“Uhm, does anyone have a pen?” he asked softly.

A few people nearby held out a pen to him and he sighed. There wasn’t anything wrong with the pens, of course not, and it was real nice of them to offer at all. It was just- It was just that Midoriya wrote a lot, so he had done research into what the best pens were.

He was a pen snob! There, he said it.

He was a pen snob and he really liked the one specific sort of pen and none of his classmates had it, so he would have to make due with another pen for one day. That wasn’t even that bad, he was just being dramatic.

But his night had already been so shit and all he wanted was his nice little pen, but apparently that was too much to ask.

“Midoriya?” Fumikage asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He was one of the few holding out a pen and Midoriya sighed, before plastering on a smile to thank the other for the pen. However, his hand never reached the pen, because Bakugo sighed before turning around and shoving a pen in his hand while he grumbled: “I don’t even know why you think these write nice. They don’t.”

In his hand there was now a pen, his pen. Well, not his pen, but one like his and he nearly teared up over it.

“Thank you, Kacchan!” he bowed.

“Tsk, don’t mention it, it’s stupid,” Bakugo huffed, turning back to the front of the class.

Later, during lunch Iida and Uraraka asked what was up with that interaction and Midoriya shrugged as he explained: “I like the ways those pens write. It’s a bit embarrassing that I’d prefer to write with them, but I do. I guess, Kacchan must have remembered.”

It was at that point that Midoriya remembered the conversation from a few weeks ago and he hummed thoughtfully to himself. For as much as he knew of Kacchan, it seemed the other still remembered a lot of him as well.

He started to pay more attention to it afterwards. While he still walked on Bakugo’s right side since the hearing in his left ear was slightly damaged, Bakugo still took the same train as him even though there was a station closer to his house, just because Midoriya used to be scared of taking the train by himself.

When they walked, they unconsciously matched paces and even when they weren’t near each other, they were aware of the others position. Midoriya thought the latter one had only been him, but then Kirishima had said: “Oh, I still have Midoriya’s notebook.”

After which Bakugo had snatched it out of his hands and thrown it directly at Midoriya, even though he was on the other side of the room and Bakugo hadn’t paid him any attention. He’d caught it, only because Bakugo had thrown a lot of stuff at him during their childhood.

More small stuff like that stacked up.

Naturally there was also bigger stuff that others in the class caught onto, like with the muttering. He knew he muttered and no one could follow him, but he couldn’t help it. It always happened when they had to give each other feedback.

“Of course if he’s up against someone with a water quirk, they could render him practically useless by using the conductivity of the water against him, so he would have to invest in hand to hand combat, because there are probably more with conductivity quirks and he would have to be able to defend himself against them and know which materials are conduc-” Midoriya muttered.

“Oi, Deku, shut up, he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted him.

“Oh, sorry, Kaminari,” Midoriya apologized.

“It’s- It’s okay, don’t worry, Midoriya,” Kaminari quickly said, “I- uhm, I just didn’t quite catch that, sorry.”

“He says your useless against conductivity quirks and you need to work on your hand to hand combat, you idiot,” Bakugo said, before Midoriya could go on a tangent again.

“You can understand that?” Kaminari asked.

“What? Of course,” Bakugo frowned, “You should have heard him when he was little, I swear aun- his mom was going to pull her hair out for a while there.”

Midoriya blushed and said: “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You failed public speaking in 7thgrade, because the teacher thought you were swearing under your breath the entire time,” Bakugo raised a brow.

Some people in the class snorted as Midoriya got even redder, luckily Aizawa saved him by moving on to the next person giving feedback.

When they were walking between classes Kirishima bumped shoulders with Bakugo and said: “I always forget that you already knew Midoriya.”

“I don’t.”

“So, you understanding him and knowing in which grade he failed public speaking for mumbling, was just a freak accident?” Serogrinned.

Bakugo glared at him, but most of class 1-A had become immune to it, so hejust raised a brow in return. He looked away and grumbled: “Shut the fuck up.”

“Ahw, come on, don’t be like that, bro. I think it’s very manly of you to remember stuff about your friends,” Kirishima said, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m not Deku’s friend,” Bakugo replied, shrugging off the arm before storming off.

He wasn’t that goddamned nerds friend, alright. They just used to be and the dumbass was always following him, it was almost impossible not the know things about him. And his mom was friends with auntie and it was boring to be the only two kids at gatherings, so they spend time actually talking to one another even after they stopped being close friends.

Sue Bakugo for being observant, which was a useful skill as a hero, mind you. So no, he wasn’t the nerds friend, the other had just been a constant.

Nevertheless, he hated how he noticed the other still had the stupid granola bars Bakugo used to enjoy as a kid, because he shared with the nerd and then he liked them as well or how he found himself looking in Deku’s eyes after he had managed to get himself hurt, because he would always say he was fine while his eyes would betray him.

Neither said anything about it of course, they were content to live with the truth that their lives had been interlocked and they knew each other well, without ever speaking a word about it. Well, until they had to move into the dorms that was.

Apparently all the years of familiarity got more obvious when living together.

They didn’t even get time to ease into that realization. It didn’t creep up on them like it had done before, but just happened on the first morning when Midoriya was up first and put on the kettle to make tea.

When Bakugo got up, he saw the tea Midoriya was making and just put a cup next to it with a small grumble that could be considered questioning, before he ambled off to make breakfast.

Midoriya just hummed in acknowledgment and made two cups of tea exactly like his mom used to make, because he and Bakugo had stood next to her with wonder in their eyes as she showed them how and neither had ever taken their tea differently.

Bakugo was making pancakes for everyone, like his dad used to do, because he was on the roster to make breakfast. He plated it for everyone, leaving it blank so that their could figure out their own topics, except for two. One he drenched in syrup and the other he put butter on to melt.

A few other were just in time to see them exchange a cup of tea for a plate of pancakes, while Bakugo grumbled: “All that syrup is going to rot your teeth.”

“Butter is boring though,” Midoriya mumbled back, both were tired and the whole interaction hadn’t caught up to them yet.

It did when Mina slid onto the breakfast table next to them and yawned: “You could have put butter on my pancakes too, Bakugo. Now it didn’t melt as much.”

“How the fuck would I know how you eat your pancakes, raccoon,” Bakugo asked.

“You knew Midoriya’s pancake order,” Mina pouted.

At that both were quiet for a moment, then they quickly looked away, a faint blush coloring their cheeks as they desperately ignored the others eyes. More people came to the table and Tsu asked: “Why are they looking like that, kero?”

“They realized that Bakugo knew Midoriya’s pancake order and Midoriya made Bakugo tea like he always takes it,” Mina informed her gleefully, having realized why her words made the two boys react like that.

“Ahw, how cute,” Hagakure said.

“I’m not cute,” Bakugo growled, before stuffing the last of his pancakes in his mouth and stomping off.

“Someone’s touchy,” Kaminari said. He was just walking up and had missed the conversation, luckily both Mina and Hagakure were there to inform him and he laughed at what had made his friend so touchy.

Before anyone else could be told as well, a still blushing Midoriya squeaked: “Can we please not make a big deal out of this.”

“Why?” Mina pouted.

“Yeah, it’s sweet that you two still know things about each other,” Hagakure agreed.

“It’s a bit embarrassing after so long,” Midoriya confessed, “It’s better now, but we kind of didn’t talk for a long while and Bakugo was kind of mean back then. So, it’s still weird to know that sort of stuff when we feel like we’re just getting to know the other again. And having it pointed out is a bit embarrassing because of it.”

It was quiet for a moment and Midoriya said: “Ah, sorry, it’s too early for rants like that and it’s not a big deal really, sorry-”

“Stop it, Midoriya,” Mina cut him off, “We’ll stop, or at least try.”

“Really?”

“Of course, it’s still funny, but we’re not going to be rude about it,” Kaminari said, “Though no promises.”

“Thank you,” Midoriya bowed before finishing his breakfast too and going to get ready for the day as well.

The others did try to keep that promise and it seemed even people who hadn’t been there caught onto it pretty quickly, because no one commented when Bakugo unthinkingly wrote down a snack Midoriya liked on the shopping list because it had become commonplace in the Bakugo household after Midoriya became a regular guest, nor when Midoriya knew which piece Bakugo wanted to be in aboard game.

It was just something that happened and no one commented on.

Time went on and Midoriya and Bakugo leveled a big part of a fake city and solved a bit of their issues as they got on the road to friendship again.

They had mostly been just friendly with each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to spend time with each other one on one when circumstance made the time for them. It was late, probably already 3 AM and Midoriya was in the kitchen.

A nightmare had woken him and he felt too jittery to truly try and sleep again, so he went downstairs and made himself some tea. He was just about to pour it when a rough soft voice started him: “Can I have a cup too?”

He turned around and saw Bakugo, who was looking worse for wear. Midoriya smiled: “Of course, Kacchan,” and put down another cup to pour.

It was quiet in the kitchen after that. They stood near the counter and sipped their tea, not really making eye contact while still being comfortable.

When he was nearly halfway done with his tea, Midoriya asked: “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really much to talk about,” Bakugo shrugged.

“Happens often?”

“Enough.”

“Never seen you down here before.”

“I usually stay in my room, felt a bit trapped today,” Bakugo explained, “I take it you’re down here often.”

“The tea helps,” Midoriya nodded.

They fell silent again, sipping their tea and not feeling the need to talk. Maybe talking about what woke them up would be good, but neither felt the need to relive what had shaken them enough to keep them from sleeping.

Before they were done with their tea, Bakugo put on the kettle again and poured them a new cup when they were done. Instead of staying quiet and just drinking the tea, however, he said: “Wanna watch something? I think I still have the All Might cartoons in my room.”

Midoriya grinned as he remembered all the sleepovers where they tried to stay awake, but ultimately fell asleep watching those cartoons. He nodded: “Lead the way.”

And so they ended up on Bakugo’s bed, with Midoriya on his right side so that the earbuds they shared could be in Bakugo’s right ear. Midoriya leaned on his shoulder and neither said more as they watched the drawn All Might beat up fake villains.

They woke early from Midoriya’s alarm, who always got up way too early for Bakugo’s taste. He groaned: “Why do you always do that?”

“Carpe diem, Kacchan,” Midoriya grinned.

“Go carpe fucking diem somewhere else, Zuku,” Bakugo told him as he turned around in his bed.

Midoriya grinned with the return of the nickname that had been long before Deku. He slipped out of the bed and smiled: “I will, Kacchan. Oh, and Kacchan?”

“What.”

“The next time, feel free to come downstairs again. It was better with you there.”

Bakugo lifted his head to look at Midoriya. It was a vulnerable look that he still managed to make judgmental and surprised, before he burrowed his head into his pillow again and said: “Sure, whatever.”

“Bye, Kacchan,” Midoriya left the room sneakily, not minding that Bakugo hadn’t replied.

Neither spoke of the night with anyone, nor each other. At least, not during the day. At night they drank their tea and watched cartoons, usually ending in either one of their rooms, to fall asleep next to one another and to be woken by Midoriya’s alarm.

Sometimes they talked about what kept them awake, about the memories that haunted them. But mostly they were quiet, knowing the other understood and they didn’t have to talk about it, that they could be them for a moment and it would be fine.

They had seen the other at their lowest points, they didn’t have to pretend to be strong.

Their nightly tea sessions didn’t really bleed over into their day to day interaction, since it was kind of their secret. They hadn’t planned on it, but it wasn’t something you easily shared, so they kept it to themselves.

The only difference was that they got more familiar with each other again.

Respected rivalsmaking way for friends.

Some others in the class caught onto it. It was hard to miss how they weren’t at each others throats anymore and how they sat next to each other when making homework, or how they didn’t get embarrassed about the fact that they knew how the other ate certain foods.

None, however, had realized how much closer the two had gotten again until Bakugo was annoying Midoriya. He was bored and Midoriya was doing homework. He started just saying: “Are you done yet?”

“No, I just started, Kacchan. Maybe you should start to,” Midoriya told him.

“Don’t want to.”

“Not my problem.”

A few of their fellow classmates raised their brow at Bakugo’s behavior. He always tried to be stoic and uncaring, but that had never been truly him. He just wanted attention and would be annoying to get it, especially with Midoriya, who had always given him attention freely.

Midoriya wasn’t giving him attention now. He had lost the fear for Bakugo and the starry eyed admiration also wasn’t so strong anymore, so he was writing down answers and ignoring Bakugo.

So, he poked him.

Midoriya stopped writing for a second and looked at him with a raised brow, he just looked back with a look that screamed ‘what you gonna do about it?’ and poked again. This time he got a tried sigh and look, before Midoriya went back to writing.

Poking didn’t work, so he turned to the thing he knew would work, the thing he had always done that annoyed Midoriya to no end.

When Midoriya put his pen down to write again, Bakugo smacked the top of the pen, causing him to scribble down something illegible. Midoriya exhaled annoyed, but was determined to ignore Bakugo as he attempted to write again, only for the same to happen again.

“Will you stop that, Kacchan.”

“Stop what?”

“Are you serious? Really?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re smacking my pen. It’s annoying, you know I find that annoying.”

“My hand must have slipped.”

“Just stop.”

“I won’t do it anymore, promise.”

“Hmm, okay,” Midoriya said, still suspicious, before turning back to his notebook, eyeing Bakugo as he put down his pen again.

True to his word, Bakugo didn’t hit the pen again. No, instead he pulled Midoriya’s notebook out from under his pen. A stripe crossed over the page and Midoriya whipped his head towards him, fuming.

“Are you a child? Give that back, you dick.”

“What? This?” Bakugo asked, holding the notebook above his head as he got out of his chair, “Why don’t you come get it.”

Midoriya was out of his chair, before Bakugo could even finish the sentence and running towards him with a battle cry. Bakugo, however, had seen it coming and was already running too.

“No fighting in the dorms,” Iida yelled after them, but was ignored by both.

Bakugo ran around the tables and couches with Midoriya on his heels. Bakugo was laughing, which was weird in itself, but Midoriya was cursing at him, which might be even weirder. Anyone who had been attempting to do their homework was now just watching intrigued as the two chased each other.

“Should we try to split them up?” Iidaasked Momo, “Or get a teacher?”

“They’re not using their quirks, so I don’t think any of the teacherswill have more success than us,” Momoresponded.

“So you want to break them up?” he asked.

Momolooked at the two again. Midoriya was attempting to grab the notebook, while Bakugo stopped him with a hand on his forehead. She sighed: “I don’t know if we can. Maybe wait until they’ve calmed down a bit?”

Right at point Midoriya screamed: “I will lick your hand, Kacchan, don’t test me.”

It was a weird threat to make, but it seemed effective, because Bakugo’s eyes got big and he snatched his hand back as he replied: “Don’t you fucking dare, Zuku.”

Midoriya quickly grabbed his notebook back, before he said: “Of course I’m not going to do that, I’m not stupid, Kacchan. That’s poisonous.”

There was a little pause and everyone thought it was over, but then Bakugo glared: “You little shit,” and the chase was on again.

Uraraka asked: “Was it just me or did Bakugo call Midoriya Zuku?”

“He probably said Deku,” Seroreplied.

“No, I heard Zuku too,” Hagakure said.

They discussed whether or not Bakugo had called Midoriya Zuku while the two ran around the room. Before anyone could ask, it was answered for them. Bakugo had managed to tackle Midoriya, but the other had twisted them around and had set in a tickle attack.

He knew all of Bakugo’s ticklish spots and he was showing no mercy. It had been sort of fun to roughhouse with Kacchan again, but he was also determined to win, so he didn’t yield when Bakugo pleaded: “Zuku, let me go. Zuku, please.”

“What? I don’t hear you, Kacchan,” Midoriya said the innocence in his voice not fitting the situation.

“Zuku, don’t- don’t do-hohoho this t- to me-he,” Bakugo managed through the giggles.

“I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you? This not attention?” Midoriya asked, pressing into Bakugo’s ribs, which he knew the other hated.

They were interrupted by Iida, who took pity on Bakugo. As a younger sibling he had been in that position many times before and he felt that as a responsible class president, he should step in. He said: “Okay, that’s enough, both of you.”

Midoriya blinked almost as if he’d forgotten other were there, before he smiled and let Bakugo go as he said: “Of course, sorry.”

Bakugo rubbed his sore ribs and groaned: “I forgot you were a little shit, Zuku.”

“According to auntie, you’re the little shit,” Midoriya countered.

“Mom didn’t know you were also responsible for the shit we did,” Bakugo huffed.

“Will you ever forgive me for the cake incident?” Midoriya asked.

“No.”

“But Kacchan,” he whined.

“No, I got grounded for that, you know how much it takes for the old hag to ground me,” Bakugo replied.

“To be fair, you didn’t disagree with it and I got a stern talking too as well,” Midoriya countered.

“Auntie couldn’t give a stern talking too if her life depended on it. It can’t have been that bad, Zuku.”

“You obviously have never had a talking to from her.”

“We both know I did, she just does the sad thing that makes you feel guilty, it’s not stern.”

“But you feel bad after!”

Bakugo thought for a second then gave in: “Yeah, okay, it does make you feel bad.”

“See, we both had consequences.”

“I’m still mad about it.”

“Okay, so I am not following any of this,” Mina interrupted, “But since when do you call Midoriya Zuku?”

“I don’t.”

“You literally just did. It’s not manly to lie, bro,” Kirishima backed Mina up.

Midoriya burst out laughing when Bakugo didn’t reply and just looked away as if not seeing them would make the question disappear. Midoriya was more than willing to throw his friend under the bus and answered for him: “Kacchan has always called my Zuku, I think he stopped in Middle School.”

“I started calling you Deku when we were eight, dumbass,” Bakugo corrected.

“Yeah, but you called me Zuku at gatherings with auntie and uncle until Middle School,” Midoriya said.

“Whatever,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “The fact is that I stopped and don’t call him that.”

“You know that lying doesn’t work if everyone just saw you do something else, right?” Midoriya grinned.

“Shut the fuck up, they must have misheard,” Bakugo insisted.

“Why would you be embarrassed about this, kero?” Tsu asked.

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Then why are you denying it?”

“Why are you all so interested?” Bakugo countered, not answering the question.

“Come on, Bakugo,” Mina whined, “You and Midoriya hardly talked up until recently and now you have a nickname for him and you bicker like you’ve always done it. Can’t we be curious what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Bakugo groused and everyone turned to Midoriya.

“Wha? Oh, uh, nothing happened,” he stumbled over his words to back Bakugo up, “We got over our differences. It would be weird for him to still call me Deku.”

No one reacted to that, though some shrugged in a ‘that’s fair’-manner.

When it seemed nobody was about to move, Iida clapped his hands: “That was enough excitement, we were making homework.”

People groaned, but everyone ambled back to the table, some stopping to get themselves a snack or tea or something. As everyone left, Midoriya hauled Bakugo onto his feet as he asked: “Going to annoy me again?”

“Nah, made enough of a spectacle out of myself today,” Bakugo grumbled.

“Ahw, areyou embarrassed?” Midoriya teased.

“Shut up, Zuku.”

“You are!”

“I said shut up.”

“Rude, Kacchan.”

“Leave me alone.”

“So you don’t want tea? I was going to make some for myself and ask if you wanted any, but since you want me to leave you alone...”

“… Make me tea.”

Midoriya giggled, but said nothing as he went to make them both tea. They studied silently afterwards, only breaking their silence to check something with the other.

They had come full circle from friends to strangers to friends once more. The fact that they had known the other so well - it couldn’t be erased even if they tried - had been the thing that rebuild their relationship.

Kacchan and Zuku grew up together, they knew each other and that was something constant.

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