#me: sensitive hates confrontation difficulty standing up for herself

[septembersghost]

what you need to know about me is i am a lover to the core and thus a haters hater. my dysautonomic condition requires sodium for me to make it through the day so i delight in taking their salt and turning it into nutrients. like a hater vampire

delicious

[zuzuslastbraincell]

For the salty ask game: 6, 10 and 16? <3

6: Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

I never used to like kataang or maiko much, but I’m good with the former and really like the latter now.

while I’m still not a big fan of the kataang (without wanting to write an essay: ember island players ruins it for me), I’ve softened on it a lot largely just from seeing the content for it on here. they’re just honestly very sweet? I don’t know if it’ll last for practical reasons, but the idea of aang & katara offering each other hope from the beginning and until the end is just lovely. 

as for maiko, I absolutely love the strength of mai & zuko’s dynamic (platonic or romantic) just from their boiling rock interactions alone. I feel like a lot of early s3 maiko very much demonstrates that they have some communication difficulties to work through together (thinking about the beach in particular here, but also the ‘are you cold?’ scene, as well as the break-up via letter interaction, that’s the big one) and in a sense mai represents part of zuko’s ‘ideal’ life as a perfect prince that he realises that he has to break from in the first half of s3, but I’ve come around to the idea that if they spent some time working through their communication issues they could really have something lovely? I do also think mai deserves a short break from the stifling culture of nobility/time to explore herself first, but after that? totally could work. like, i’m personally really attached to the gay zuko headcanon and always have been but a lot recent mutuals are maiko shippers and i’ve become very attached to maiko as well because of them (in parallel universes of course).

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

so many things....

1. less racist, more sensitive worldbuilding. crucially better south asian rep, clear south asian rep. this also means including removing the caricature of guru pathik and changing the design of combustion man (and p’li) not to include a reference to shiva. the show’s philosophies and vocabulary owes so much to south asian culture and the lack of representation in that aspect alone is shocking.

2. references to the fact that there are some air nomad survivors / descendents in hiding in various and that being a late s2 / s3 subplot. (maybe aang is still the last airbender tho? but certainly his culture won’t die with him). the culture isn’t perfectly preserved / has changed with time and enduring hardships, some things have been lost, but there are still survivors clinging on, proud. maybe it’s this community that helps with him the avatar state, not a random guru? or they could help him with his s3e1 dilemma about ‘blending in’, as many of them have discarded certain aspects of appearance in order to hide? i feel like this could add so much to aang’s arc in the latter half of the show.

3. better writing of the white lotus, with the white lotus as a international resistance org that operates in all nations, that uses old man’s pai sho club as a front. they’re introduced as opposing the dai li in ba sing se, as trying to organise resistance in secret, have ties to some local revolutionary/radical factions as they have a long standing rivalry with the dai li (& part of the reason the dai li side with azula is to crush the white lotus and resistance to their reign). iroh is not grand lotus but merely gets recruited in s2, as part of a redemption arc.

4. a subtle iroh redemption arc where iroh realises he cannot simply be passive and perhaps let the treasonous thought ”hm, maybe it would have been better if the avatar fought sozin” cross his mind - he needs to take a more active role in opposing the fire nation, and he joins the white lotus. i think he also needs to reckon quite specifically with the cost of the siege of ba sing se, he needs to make amends to those hurt from it on both sides - be confronted by fire nation defectors who left after the siege because why were their deaths less important that his son’s? as well as encounter how the siege left scars on the lower ring, in a less visible way (untrained lower ring residents formed resistance militia and generally died in huge numbers; plague and starvation greatly affected the lower ring, etc.). no iroh as a moral authority here - he’s morally grey trying to become good. also he doesn’t stick around in ba sing se, he realises the jasmine dragon, as lovely as it is, isn’t true redemption either, and at the end of the series he stays in the fire nation.

5. leading into point 3 (and 4): in s3 the gaang encounters and works with grassroots underground resistance in the fire nation. i think this is a better message than ‘oh the fire nation is a soceity ridden by class division that exploits its poorer / less privileged people and its own environment as long as it doesn’t affect the elite, and turns even its most privileged children into traumatised child soldiers and is indirectly hurt by its own colonialism and imperialistic culture, and that’s deeply sad’ - i think a better message is ‘the fire nation is a society with all those problems and you can do something about it. you can stand up. even though that’s scary.’ this resistance group is around for day of black sun (in fact they’re vital to it) and then you see a key member in boiling rock too.

6. no combustion man. honestly? weak writing. would much prefer zuko attempting to ‘stealthily’ track the gaang on the false premise of a ‘welcome home tour’ where he slips out under night to try and chase them down - this would mostly be alluded to in a few scenes. i also think this would get zuko to realise how much the fire nation itself has been hurt from war. i think the main early s3 plot points e.g. the beach episode still happens, as does the war meeting. i feel like zuko would need extra firepower to be a decent s3 threat - maybe he takes mai and ty lee with him? zuko ultimate lesbian ally takes bored lesbians from the palace for a knife throwing chi blocking field trip kjfshdj i’m joking. but seriously we could also have a combustion bender on board as well as a potential new character (i’m imagining someone like a younger p’li if i’m honest, same age range as zuko), as long as they have a character beyond being a scary assassin. maybe they defect early to the resistance group before the day of black sun, tell zuko they should too (but zuko doesn’t listen)? that’d be rad.

7. the existence of grassroots resistance would basically allow for the series to end with zuko being offerred the crown, but deciding to give it up / end the royal line. rather than a power vacuum, or iroh, the existance of resistance means there are clearly people (i.e. adults) who can fill that space. maybe this is a bit optimistic of me but i would just love to set up a scenario where zuko doesn’t become a boy-king of an imperialist nation and where absolute monarchy doesn’t continue, where there’s a clear shift in system. i understand the narrative power of zuko acknowledges he has inherited wealth and power that has been gained through exploitation and imperialism, and dedicating his whole life to undoing the damage his family has done, but i think he can do this without being the fire lord? in fact not being the fire lord is a good first step. zuko finds another way of doing exactly this.

8. talked about this a lot recently but better toph s3 representation & greater ties to the earth kingdom. also, i’d just appreciate a lot more flavour from the earth kingdom as a whole, and more prominent characters from there?

9. okay i’m not sure there is quite honestly space in the narrative for an azula redemption clearly on screen in as much depth as zuko’s but 1. i’d like iroh not to treat her horribly, thanks, and maybe even try to reach out to her at appropriate moments, maybe we see him (comically) say a lovely warm hello during her s2 appearances, maybe we see her play pai sho with him in s3 while he’s in prison in return for some secret info he’s not actually giving her while he’s not-so-subtly suggesting she should defy her father (but it’s too little too late, he already *chose* zuko in her eyes, and perhaps he did and is only just beginning to realise that) 2. i would like some hope and optimism at the end for azula. her breakdown is truly tragic but it feels like pain for pain’s sake in a sense - i would have loved for the finale scene with zuko & ozai replaced with a scene where someone visits azula and tells them they’ll be there for her and/or they love her. perhaps iroh, perhaps zuko (though i think that one would be more complicated obviously). i would love a post-finale scene where iroh sets up a tea shop somewhere in the fire nation where we see azula out the back, finishing up wiping down/mopping the patio, and before aang goes inside to say hi to his friends, we see them bump into each other - azula bows deeply, a clear apology, and aang accepts it. then we see azula runs off to go hang out with some friends before we follow aang inside as he encounters his own friends.

basically i’d rewrite a lot of s3. i’m dearly, dearly attached to s3, especially the second half, which has some of my favourite episodes of the entire season, but i think it’s flawed.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Vol. 2 Chp. 26″

Summary: N’Jobu and Califia try to reconcile. their famly as Erik suffers in silence...

"I do it cause he real with me I do cause he still with me I do cause I should I do cause your good for me, good for me I do it cause I trust (ya) I do it cause I must And I'm doin it for us I do it cause I'm grateful... willing and able I do it for you cause you do it for me…"

Algebra Blessett—"U Do It For Me"

N'Jobu peeked down from his window to watch Erik play ball on the court near his apartment. A handful of boys and girls his age ran around the court shouting and laughing. Erik made a mad dash and took it to the hoop, his lay-up smooth.

Two weeks.

For two weeks his son had been living with him on that side of town away from his mother. Erik spoke to Califia every night before bed on face chat, and N'Jobu took him to school like normal and picked him up afterward. He spent the last two Sundays with his grandfather and great-grandmother and N'Jobu turned a blind eye when Califia joined them to have dinner before he picked his boy back up after she had left.

"Could I have another cup?"

"Huh?"

N'Jobu turned away from the window.

His neighbor Sheila held out her coffee mug to him.

"Another espresso?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

Sheila's smile was warm and it made N'Jobu feel very hospitable. Her son had been a good friend for Erik while he stayed at the apartment, and Sheila herself had helped N'Jobu out a few times by watching Erik when he needed to make runs at night to meet with the twins or James.

N'Jobu fired up his new Keurig and made himself a cappuccino first. He found himself making it the way Califia liked it and he shook his head as Sheila's fresh espresso poured into her mug.

"Here you go," he said sitting adjacent to her on his side chair.

"The boys are fine?"

"Yeah, they'll play ball all night if we let them," he said sipping his drink.

Sheila glanced at her cell phone and her whole demeanor changed.

"What?" N'Jobu asked changing the channel on his new wall screen.

"My son's father. He's not going to be able to see him this weekend…typical…"

"I thought you two were close to reconciling normal visits."

"Not even. There are too many things he won't change about himself, and I can't force him to stop being so rigid with Dion. How are you and Erik's Mom? He's staying here a lot now."

Sheila was under the impression that N'Jobu was in a long-term separation. A lot of the apartment dwellers N'Jobu knew for a few years on his floor moved out once the rents were raised, so he was able to re-invent himself as a divorcee.

"Califia and I are…making due I guess. It's better than it was."

There was some truth to that. Some.

N'Jobu was still lowkey angry with her. He didn't know how much until he was on the plane with Erik heading back to Oakland. He tried pumping Erik for details about what went on between Califia and Cedric, but his son could only tell him about how he felt being around the man. N'Jobu had begun to suspect over the years that Erik might be a true empath…an enhanced human. Perhaps his genes mixed with Califia's had created a child that would need more protection the older he became. The boy just picked up facts about people just by watching and being near them with such frightening accuracy that he was surprised they hadn't made the connection much sooner. It was beyond being a sensitive person.

His son knew true human intention by just being near people.

N'Jobu didn't know if Erik himself was aware of what he could do, but he didn't want to pursue the matter unless his son began to have issues with it. Thus far, it only came up when he was stressed about them.

Sheila stood and went to his window pushing back the hanging blinders.

N'Jobu finished his drink and went to the kitchen to put his cup away. Sheila walked in after him and placed her cup in his sink.

"Think the boys could go for pizza tonight?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? Pizza sauce pumps through their veins instead of blood."

Sheila touched his arm.

"I'll order in and keep Erik with me for a few hours. You look like you could use a break and some rest. Wrestling is on tonight so the kids will be excited."

"Erik's at your house all the time—"

"Not a problem. We enjoy his company."

Sheila's eyes lingered on his.

"Are you okay, Joseph?"

"Yeah."

"Send Erik over when they come up, pizza should be here within the hour."

He walked her to the door and watched her saunter to her unit. The scent of her perfume lingered in his apartment. Such a feminine odor. He missed that. He missed the sweet aromas back at the townhouse when Califia stepped out of a shower after washing her hair or taking a long relaxing soak in the tub. She liked to mix aromatic oils and burn them throughout their home. Those smells opened him up. Made him feel warm and loved. He missed the touch of her hand on him. He had difficulty getting past the anger though. The hurt feelings. It was all ego. The thought that she had the audacity to keep his son away from him. His blood. His baby boy. The third heir to the throne of Wakanda. He could barely speak to her when she arrived back in the city begging him to come home with Erik. Even Erik had a hard time articulating the discomfort he felt with her, the sense of anxiety he had for telling on her. He was worried sick that she would hate him for snitching on her. Too many complex emotions went through him and N'Jobu thought it best that his son should stay with him until the boy was ready to be with her again. N'Jobu still needed to get past his own shit before he could confront Califia again. He wanted to put Erik's well-being first.

He stopped getting the desperate calls and texts from Califia once she knew for sure Erik was safely back in Oakland. The weekend visits helped, and Nana Jean along with Dante kept the connections tight.

His woman had hurt him to his core and his pride made him punish her by taking Erik away from Oak Bluffs without her.

In a week, he would see her and her family for Neveah's birthday at the roller rink they went to for years with family and friends. Skating was something the Stevens Clan did for fun and family celebrations. Erik was looking forward to being with his cousins, Aunts, and Uncles. N'Jobu was looking forward to letting go of the discomfort in his heart. Despite his residual anger, he wanted to see Califia, and it was best to see her in the open with family around. He had no idea how he would act around her, but he was ready to try working his way back to her. And telling her all of his plans. Plans that had been in motion since he returned back to her all those years ago.

###

Califia cartwheeled around her father as he eased into a relaxed swaying motion with his arms and legs. Working out with him every evening helped keep her clear and focused on healing her mind and spirit.

It had been a horrible time for her being back home. The arguments over the phone with N'Jobu. The misgivings Erik seemed to have about her by keeping him away from his father. The distrust she felt she had created in him toward her. She knew she had not been mentally well during that time. Dr. Davis suggested she see a new therapist that specialized in EMDR techniques and also massage touch therapy. It helped her out a lot and she also began to use meds for her anxiety, something she avoided for years.

Running away from the shock of N'Jobu's country, running away from the still lingering PTSD of Lia's death…Califia needed more help than she realized. She was scared. Taking meds and having to seek out different treatments made her concerned that N'Jobu and Erik would view her as unfit to be with them any time soon. She didn't want to be seen by anyone in her family as an incompetent parent or wife.

Physically, her body felt strong and powerful, and she maneuvered around her father easily, working up a heavy sweat once she went all out flipping around the studio and pushing her limbs to work harder and faster. Staying out of the empty townhouse all day allowed her not to dwell on who wasn't there with her. She felt lost and unable to find her way back to her family. She felt ashamed.

The bell over the studio door jangled and Califia was surprised to see Erik walk in alone.

He stood by the entranceway wearing his favorite pair of jeans and a yellow sweatshirt with his school backpack slung around his shoulders. It was one in the afternoon. His hands fidgeted with the straps on his pack, and he chewed on his bottom lip.

Califia was cautious.

"Hey, baby…why aren't you in school?"

She stayed standing by her father, her eyes holding Erik's cautious gaze.

"Don't be mad. I ditched."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you."

Califia's stomach unclenched. She took a step forward. Ditched school. That meant N'Jobu didn't know he was there.

She felt nervous. Something she had never felt like before with her son. Her confidence was shot, but she held out her hands, and Erik dropped his backpack and ran to her. When his arms wrapped around her waist, she welcomed a sense of relief.

"Is everything okay? Is your father okay?"

"Baba's fine. I just miss you, Mom."

Califia pressed her chin on top of his head and rocked him in her arms.

"I missed you too."

Erik clung to her and held his head back to look up at her.

"Don't tell Baba I ditched. I won't do it again. I promise."

"You could've called me. I don't want you skipping classes. You have tests coming up, right?"

Califia glanced over at her father and he stood close to them, concern so clear in his eyes.

"I want us to come home," he said.

"Did something happen?"

He pressed his face back into her chest and shook his head vigorously, but she knew when he evaded eye contact, he was hiding something. She didn't push him. She was just so happy to see him.

Rubbing his back, she walked him over to the office alcove in the back of the studio. Dante followed them carrying a couple of drums to lock up in a storage closet.

"You eat lunch?" she asked.

He nodded and she sat at the desk chair staring at his face.

"You look good, baby. How is your Dad?"

"He's good."

Those eyes evading hers again. Califia tamped down the need to grab her cell and call N'Jobu right that second. Erik was coming to her out of a need that he wasn't ready to reveal to her yet. No sense pushing him until he was ready to talk.

"Want to work out a little bit?" Dante said playfully rubbing Erik's braids. They were freshly cornrowed, but not by her hand. Who did his hair?

Erik grinned at his grandfather and it made Califia feel good when he kicked off his sneakers and socks. Pulling off his sweatshirt, he followed Dante out into the middle of the studio. Her father reached to turn on the sound system letting the soothing sound of a lone berimbau fill the room.

Califia reached into her purse and pulled out her meds. Unscrewing the cap on her half-empty water bottle, she tapped her pills into her hand. Erik's eyes noticed her taking her meds and slipping the bottles back into her purse. He looked away and focused on Dante who dropped low to the ground to engage his grandson.

She watched them play, Erik's capoeira moves smooth against his Grandpop. Her cell vibrated.

N'Jobu.

She took her phone into the studio restroom.

"Yeah," she answered.

"Erik is with you?"

She didn't bother to ask how he knew.

"Yeah, he just walked in. He's playing with my father. He said he wanted to see me."

Silence.

Califia took a deep breath.

"He asked me not to tell you he was here. I can drop him off at your place when I take my father home later. I have two classes today—"

"He can stay with you."

"Is something wrong, N'Jobu? He seems distant and I feel like he wants to tell me something but he's scared to."

"I don't know what it could be. He hasn't said anything to me and things have been fine here."

"Are you sure? He just seemed unlike himself—"

"I will talk to him when you bring him back."

"He wouldn't ditch unless something was going on—"

"I'll talk to him, Califia."

N'Jobu's voice sounded calm. The slight tinge of concern when he asked about Erik, in the beginning, was gone.

"I'll feed him dinner before I bring him back, so it'll be about nine before we—"

"Don't worry about the time. Just call or text me when you are on your way, okay?"

"Okay. If he wants to leave earlier, I'll bring him sooner—"

"Califia…it's fine. I want him to see you. He wants to go back to you and I want him to. I just think he doesn't know how to tell me because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings."

Califia smiled.

"We should talk to him together," she suggested.

"I have a lot to talk to you about."

"This weekend then?"

"Okay. After Nevaeh's skate party?"

"Sure…yeah. That'll work."

She heard a noise in his background. A voice. Maybe his tv.

"Let me know when you are on your way."

He hung up.

Califia stood in the bathroom wondering so many things.

N'Jobu sounded pleasant. Open.

Erik sounded nervous. Closed off.

What was going on over there?

She walked back out into the studio as the space filled up with students for a class session.

Erik's eyes found hers and she caught a smile on his face as his grandfather tapped his forehead with his hands playfully.

She had her son with her. That's all that mattered for now.

###

Rolita and Califia's cousin Michelle linked arms as they rolled around on beat to the DJ mixing up the skating music. An old bop laid over a current track had everyone moving around the rink head bobbin'.

Califia let go of her family and shook her hips, curving her designer wheels with fancy footwork. Her father rocked ahead of her in his shades, a white handkerchief gripped in his fingers. He jumped out from a group of slow walkers on the floor doing a skate line dance just to join her around the rink.

"Do it babygirl!" Dante called out, smooth with his own stylish foot moves.

Aunties, old head uncles, and cousins rolled around and the birthday girl herself, Califia's Goddaughter Nevaeh grooved in front of her wearing a princess crown on her head.

"Get it Nevaeh!" Califia shouted, and Nevaeh flipped around to skate backward, her little narrow hips wiggling before she dropped down low on the ground to show off.

"Aye!" Junie said sweeping the girl up with his hands and twirling her around.

The Stevens family and extended family knew how to work a rink.

Califia pushed her cell phone deeper into the back pocket of her booty shorts. She reached down as she skated and adjusted the knee brace on her right leg. She had overexerted that leg during a class and needed support to be on the safe side.

Her Uncle Bernard snapped pictures as she flew past a divider, and she skated back around to pose. She pulled the black power pick from her 'fro and fuffed out her hair with one leg in the air. Her father grabbed her hips and snuck in some photo bomb shots with her. Another slow walk jam came on and Califia joined her father in the middle of the floor to line step.

"There he is!" Dante yelled.

Erik and Walter rolled over to them with a boy Califia didn't know well. Dion.

The wheels on Erik's custom skates were glowing green and red and his braids were gone replaced with a fluffy 'fro that rivaled her own. Her son jumped in front of her and showed off for all the girls and women already in step.

"Hey, get it! Get it! Get it!" Califia called out and her child flexed to put all the other skaters to shame. The boy was bad for real. Walter was just as good keeping up with Erik as the other boy tried to learn the steps with him.

Califia glanced over to the divider looking for N'Jobu. He had texted her to let her know they were caught in a little traffic picking up Walter.

She saw him watching them and she felt butterflies in her stomach seeing him again. His eyes were on her too and then he turned his head to talk to a woman who was next to him. He whispered something in her ear and she waved at the boy Dion. Rolita skated over to N'Jobu with Navaeh behind the divider giving him a hug. N'Jobu picked up Navaeh and kissed her cheek, introducing the woman with him to Rolita.

The slow walking broke up when the DJ dropped a banger and Erik grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the flow of skaters circling the rink. Rolita joined them along with Junie and soon it was a cadre of family and friends doing practiced steps all together. Erik kept popping his black jersey with pride, the words "Sk8t Town Ballers" on it. Their whole family wore the same jerseys.

Califia ignored N'Jobu and focused on having fun with her son as he lead the pack.

"Go. Mom!" he called out, and Califia showed out a bit. She turned backward twisting her legs with fancy footwork as Erik grabbed her back pocket to join her. He kept up with her and she reached back to hold his hands as he supported her weight. Walter zoomed around and Califia reached out and grabbed his long swinging ponytail.

"Do the rock steady, y'all," Califia yelled.

The boys maneuvered beside her and they all sidestepped together inline skating, linking arms as they spun around backward keeping the beat to the music. Dion rolled in front of them and Califia released them to their fun. Walter and Erik held on to Dion as they guided him around and Califia skated near them, enjoying her son having fun with his friends. His cousins joined in and all Califia heard were laughs, jokes, and giggles among the children. Her father joined her and Califia skated with Dante for a long time until he set his sights on Junie and some other relatives.

Erik rejoined her and they held arms and rolled around for two more songs until they broke off together and rolled over to N'Jobu.

"Hey," she said.

She felt shy in front of him. His eyes took in her hair and her face and there was a warmth there and she felt her heart swelling…until he introduced the woman next to him breaking the spell of her taking in his handsome face.

"This is Sheila, Dion's Mom. She rode over with us."

"Hi! It's been years since I've been to a roller rink. It's so much different now. Intense!"

Sheila was a little too perky for Califia's tastes.

"Grab some wheels," Califia suggested.

"No. I'll stay over here safe with Joseph."

Califia glanced at N'Jobu's face.

Erik stood there looking uncomfortable. Not even making eye contact with Sheila. He seemed anxious to get away from her.

"Do you take Dion skating often?"

"Not enough. I share custody with his father, so we don't get to have regular sessions like Erik."

Walter and Dion skated over tugging on Erik's jersey. Navaeh rolled around and bumped her hip into Erik's to get his attention. The music was banging and Califia rolled back to partake, but Erik nudged her back toward the divider. She looked at his face, but his eyes were on his father.

"Restroom?" Sheila asked.

Califia pointed to her left.

"In the back," she told the woman.

Sheila slunk away through the throngs of skaters watching others on the floor.

"You look good out there," N'Jobu said. His eyes took in her knee brace.

"What happened?"

"Nothing serious. Just sore. Getting older and can't take those hits as easily as I used to."

"Be careful."

"I am."

"You want a soda, JaJa?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Califia?"

"I'm good, get him one."

Erik stepped up off of the floor and followed his Dad. Califia watched N'Jobu throw his arm around his son's shoulder.

"How's it going?"

Rolita bumped her shoulder into Califia's breaking her from the spell of her family.

"Okay. Just said hello."

"What's up with Sheila?"

Califia stared at Rolita.

"You know what I'm asking-"

"I don't know. My first time seeing this woman. She's just Dion's Mom."

"How's he acting?"

"N'Jobu? We just said a few words, now he's getting Erik a soda—"

"Erik doesn't like her."

"I can tell. I think this is what he's worried about."

Califia exhaled with a loud gust of air.

"Why the fuck did he bring this woman?"

"Look alive…"

Rolita skated away from her as Sheila returned. Her eyes darted around for N'Jobu but only found Califia waiting in the same exact spot. Califia glared at her.

"My son really likes hanging out with Erik," Sheila said.

Califia nodded and let her hands rest on the divider wall.

The DJ stopped the music to make a birthday announcement for Nevaeh and the entire rink sang Happy Birthday to her as she skated in front of the DJ booth. When the crowd clapped, Califia turned back and Sheila was gone.

###

N'Jobu retrieved a carton of corndogs and sodas at the pick-up line of the concession stand. Erik grabbed paper napkins and some straws.

Sheila walked up to him and pressed her hand against his back.

"Let me help," she said trying to fix the lids on the sodas.

N'Jobu turned and saw Erik glaring at him, his eyes narrow, his lips tight. The boy then looked at Sheila and backed away from them on his skates.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

His son rolled away from them and N'Jobu walked over to the table that was reserved for Nevaeh's party. He placed the food and drinks on an open space near the big birthday cake on display.

"I'll get Walter and Dion," Sheila said.

"Okay. I'll find Erik."

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

N'Jobu moved through people and his eyes sought out his boy. He caught sight of him with Califia near another entrance to the floor.

"What's up?" N'Jobu asked when he caught the agitated body language from both of them. Califia's eyes looked hot.

"Go on, go skate," Califia said.

"Son—"

N'Jobu tried to touch Erik's shoulder but the boy shook his hand away.

"Why are you upset? Talk to me…Erik!"

N'Jobu pulled his son to him with a firm hand.

"She touched you."

Erik's words spit out like venom.

Califia stared at N'Jobu.

"I saw her touch you…it isn't the first time either."

"Hold on now. She touched me? How? When?"

"Just now, she had her hand on your back. She's trying to take Mom's place and you're letting her. I don't want her around!"

"That's Dion's Mom. He's your friend—"

"I don't want to be his friend anymore if she's around."

"You are full of confusion right now—"

"She doesn't want you to get back with Mom. I heard her say that today. She was talking to her friend and I heard her—"

"JaJa, let me talk to your Dad alone. Go skate with Navaeh."

She nudged him to go and he was reluctant.

"Let us talk. Grown folks time, now."

Erik nodded and skated away from them.

"Let's go outside," Califia said.

He followed her out of the rink and into the parking lot. She took off her skates and leaned against her car.

"Are you seeing, Sheila?"

"We hang out sometimes because of the boys and she watches him sometimes when I do errands."

"Fixing his hair too?"

"Once. I'm not seeing her."

"But you know Erik…how he is. And he wouldn't lie about something he overheard. This woman is making plans, and Erik knows it. You shouldn't have brought her. People are already assuming—"

"She just wanted to hang out with her son doing something fun. His Dad doesn't take an interest, and he's Erik's friend, and it's not a big deal to me—"

"But Erik knows differently. And I'm sure you picked up on this chick's intentions."

"I didn't come to argue or start trouble, Califia. I was just being a good neighbor and trying to help out. I came to see you and our son together. We carpooled over here. There was no sense taking two cars going to the same place-"

"You still shouldn't have brought her. Erik's really upset. He said she touched you at the concession stand."

"She put her hand on my back and then she helped fix some lids on the sodas. There wasn't anything inappropriate. Can we just go in and fix this?"

"He said she touches you all the time."

"She touches everyone like that."

"N'Jobu. The woman said she doesn't want you back with me. Are you hearing that? Our child said that."

"What do you want me to do? Take her home right now?"

"She can Uber her way out…I swear this is just like being in school again—"

"You're blaming me for this?"

"Did you know Erik doesn't like her?"

"No."

"Are the boys getting along?"

"Yeah. Dion likes me, and we all get along great. We do fun stuff together."

Califia shook her head.

"We better go back in there and have a united front or else my family will go off."

She picked up her skates and headed toward the entrance around the front. N'Jobu grabbed her hand.

"Califia. I promise you. I didn't intend to bring friction. I was trying to be nice."

She stared at his fingers clasped with her own. Things were so tenuous. He pulled her in close, his body craving hers next to his. It had been so long. She closed her eyes and he felt her give a small sigh when he nuzzled her cheek.

"I'm here for you and Erik."

"Then clear it up with her and make her leave."

"Can't we just enjoy the party and ignore her?"

"You need to make yourself clear with our son and cut this woman off."

"Did you do that with Cedric?"

Stupid. There was no reason to bring that man up. But Erik was able to pick up on that man's intent too. It's why he reached out to N'Jobu to find them. It's why he went to Califia inside the rink.

"If you are saying this is the same situation, it probably is. And yes, I spoke to Erik about that. No more contact. Done."

N'Jobu pressed his lips onto her mouth. She was hesitant with him, her body coiled up tight against his chest. He took both of his hands and cradled her face. She dropped her skates and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Bay-bee…"

"I'm here…"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"We can do better. Together."

"I know."

He felt himself melt in her arms.

###

He walked back into the roller rink holding Califia's hand, feeling a security he hadn't felt for a long time. He tried to think of a tactful way to handle Sheila when they both saw a scuffle near the birthday party table and people jumping back from the ruckus with their skates.

Dante rolled into the middle of the melee and they both saw him lift up Erik off of Dion, arms swinging.

"Erik!" N'Jobu shouted, dropping Califia's hand and running up to snatch his son up.

Wrenching his boy from his grandfather's arms, N'Jobu carried Erik far away from the group. Sheila ran up to Dion and coddled him while Califia picked up the knocked over corn dogs and soda. Thankfully the birthday cake was left unharmed.

"Calm down! Calm down!"

N'Jobu set the boy down.

"What happened?"

Erik's chest was still puffing out, his eyes darting back and forth. Fists still clenched and ready to rock Dion again, N'Jobu placed his hand on his son's chest.

"Breath. Talk to me, Son."

"I hate him!"

"Why?"

Walter skated over to them, his face still full of shock from the violence.

Erik wouldn't speak.

"Walter, what happened?"

"He just went off on him—"

"But why? Tell me exactly what happened."

"We were eating the corndogs and Dion just said they could do this a lot more if they became brothers and Erik just went off."

Erik's lips were still poked out.

Sheila walked near them holding a wad of napkins up to Dion's nose. The boy was crying.

"Why did you do this?" Sheila lamented.

"I already got a mom, hoe—"

"N'Jadaka!"

Erik's eyes grew wide and his lips untwisted when he heard his Wakandan name.

"Apologize."

Erik's eyes watered and he refused.

"Sheila—"

"I'm going to take Dion, home."

She stomped out dragging her son with his bloody nose behind her.

"You could've handled this another way, JaJa."

"You don't even care," Erik said.

"I do care. Listen to me. Dion is your friend. His mother has some misplaced and misguided feelings, and it might be my fault for being too nice, and maybe allowing her too much time with us. That was no disrespect to your Mom. I love your Mom and we are working to get back together—"

"For real, Baba?"

His eyes were hopeful.

"Yes, Son. But you were wrong for attacking Dion. He meant you no harm. He was probably excited to have you in his life more—"

"But his Mom was wrong for saying that stuff. How can she be nice all in my face, but she wants to take you away from my mother? I don't want her in my life. I don't want her in your life. She's aggy and I hate her."

"You don't hate her."

Erik wiped a tear from his eye.

"I do hate her. She wants to hurt, Mom. I won't let her. I'll beat Dion up again if she comes back."

"No, you won't."

"I will…"

Erik's eyes challenged N'Jobu.

"Are you willfully disobeying me?"

Erik's lips grew tight again and he evaded eye contact once more.

"Erik, man. Chill," Walter whispered.

Califia walked up to them. N'Jobu glanced over at her.

"This has become a shitshow," N'Jobu whispered noticing people still watching them.

"Did Sheila leave?"

"Yeah."

"Rolita is about to cut the cake. Let's just get back to the party and let things calm down—"

"He needs to apologize to them—"

"Later, N'Jobu. Right now, let's focus on our son. Eat some cake, celebrate Navaeh's day, calm down…work with me here."

Walter patted Erik's shoulder and persuaded his friend to follow him back over to the rest of the family.

"I can drop Walter off later, and we can go home and talk this all out. Let him calm down."

"We have to get this right. He needs us."

"I know."

Califia stroked his arm

Home.

Together.

At last.

Chapter 27 Here

###

Tag List:

@fd-writes​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone

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@tyees @eye-raq @writerbee-ffs @chocolatedream30 @childishgambinaa @mygirlrenee @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​

[iwhumpyou]

Gift (Part 4)

Masterlist.  Raider.

Taglist: @smileevenwhenyoudontfeellikeit

Part 3.

~#~#~#~#~#~

Riya managed to push herself upright with great effort.  It was very generous of Lee to offer her own bed – and Riya was half-surprised she hadn’t been kicked out, given how furious the witch had been – but Riya had already spent half a week here and she was going to lose her mind if she continued staring at the flowers.

Lee was furious and Riya wasn’t sure she wanted to get into a shouting match right now and Ekaterina hated her and Tanner most probably wanted her dead – she didn’t remember much after she’d given Laila’s magic back, but what she could remember was a vice grip crushing her throat and furious red eyes and the abrupt awareness of what the scene must’ve looked like from the outside – and so it was slow going.

It wasn’t that her arms and legs hurt, it was just that they were too weak to properly cooperate.  And even when she managed a small victory, like sitting up, she was abruptly tired enough to go back to sleep.

Riya scowled and focused on shifting her legs out of bed.  It was easier, much less fighting against gravity, and the need to nap did not intensify.  Now for the difficult part.

Riya grabbed the headboard and slid off the bed, trying to stand upright and grasping onto the headboard when her legs threatened to fail.

She breathed in and out, slowly, deeply, and resolutely ignored how inviting and soft and comfortable that bed looked.

One step, and then another, and she felt like a newborn colt learning how to stand.  Another and she had run out of bed to hold onto.  It was only five steps to the door, but right now it felt like a chasm.

She kept breathing slowly and calmly and held her hands out for balance as she slowly shifted forward on trembling legs.  Three steps went great, but on the fourth her legs faltered and she panicked and stumbled and attempted to push forward but her muscles quit entirely and she grabbed the doorframe and slowly collapsed into an undignified heap in the doorway.

She sighed.  At least she was out of the bed.  She rested her head against the doorframe and wondered if she could take a nap for a little while – regain a little strength to maybe attempt the six-eight-ten? steps to the living room couch.

“What are you doing?” Or maybe not.

Riya looked up – way up – into Ekaterina’s bemused face.

“Attempting to get out of bed.”  Riya was too tired to make up a believable lie.

“You seemed to have managed that,” Ekaterina said dryly.

“Yes,” Riya agreed. She had thought it would’ve felt more successful, but it was difficult to feel anything other than failure when she was sprawled on the ground at Ekaterina’s feet.

Ekaterina looked at her, the bed, and the living room couch.  “Do you need some help?”

Riya wondered if hallucinations were brought on by severe exhaustion.  “I’m sorry?”

“Do you need some help?” Ekaterina repeated patiently and Riya frowned.  Ekaterina had never seemed patient to her.  She had never seemed helpful either. 

Riya was not up to entangling emotions and the floor was pretty hard, so she shrugged, “Sure.”

Ekaterina extended a hand and Riya grasped it with what little energy she had left as the witch pulled her onto shaking legs.  There was no way they’d hold her up and the second Ekaterina let go, probably with a sneer or a laugh, Riya would crumple against the floor.

But Ekaterina didn’t let go, and supported Riya for the entire eleven stumbling steps to the couch. Riya narrowed her eyes at her as she was carefully lowered to the couch – definitely a hallucination, but how could a hallucination support her weight when she was incapable of doing it on her own?

Ekaterina didn’t seem concerned at all with her thoughts and merely puttered around the room, returning with a blanket that she placed on the other end of the couch.  Riya frowned at her, and then at the window outside, which had darkened appreciably.  She hadn’t even known it could get so dark and not be night.  The thunderclouds were a gray so dark it was almost black.

Ekaterina followed her gaze and chuckled, “The weather’s always been overly sensitive to Laila’s moods.”

Riya opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, but Ekaterina had wandered into the kitchen and that blanket looked soft and inviting.

It was soft.  The couch was warm.  And the sound of rain pattering against the window lulled her to sleep.  

~#~

Ekaterina knew the exact second that Laila discovered that her guest had migrated to the couch because her steady grumble cut off, there were several seconds of silence, and Laila stomped into the kitchen with a look so furious that she was surprised there wasn’t a thundercloud hovering above her head but not, Ekaterina noted, a sound.

“So first my magic isn’t good enough for her, and now my bed isn’t good enough for her?”  Laila managed to make the whisper sound menacing.

Ekaterina ignored her with the ease of twelve hours of straight practice and centuries of experience. “To be fair, she’s spent half a week in that bed,” Ekaterina shrugged, and continued slathering peanut butter on a perfectly toasted slice of bread, “I’m getting stir crazy and I’ve left the apartment.”

Laila’s furious scowl shifted to the other end of the spectrum, “I am not kicking her out!  She has nowhere to go!”

Ekaterina had scoffed at the argument last time – Riya seemed no stranger to manipulation in Ekaterina’s experiences with the raider – but now she was inclined to feel more magnanimous.  “I didn’t say you should.  I merely explained why she might be on the couch.”

“I should tie her to the bed,” Laila hissed.  Ekaterina had seen this rage before but only a few times, and always directed at enemies. The problem was, Riya wasn’t the enemy and Laila was having difficulty with that and bottling up her anger was only leading to it seething out.

“Really, Lee?” Ekaterina paused and made a disgusted face, “Not while I’m eating, please.”

Laila turned red, scowled, and flushed again.  “That wasn’t what I meant!” she almost yelled, strangling the sound at the last minute.

Ekaterina ignored her and began putting jam on the other slice of bread.  Laila watched her, and then watched her, eyes growing narrower.  Outside, lightning cracked.

“So, you’re fine with the raider now?” she said in a deceptively gentle tone of voice, “No seven hundred requests for me to kick her out?  No speeches about how she’s lying to me and manipulating me?  No angry scowls, no harsh words?  All it took to get you to shut up was for her to almost die?”

No.  All it took was Riya to back up words with actions.

“I have never had an issue with your friends, Lee,” Ekaterina responded, because it was true.

Laila laughed, short and mirthless, “You didn’t think of her as a friend when she called me.  You didn’t care about her when I wanted to save her.  You would’ve happily let her die of her wounds if I hadn’t begged you to heal her. What changed?”

“She proved that she truly was your friend,” Ekaterina placed the toast down and looked Laila in the eyes, “That’s all it’s ever taken.”

“So you’re just going to let it go?” Laila sneered, “You no longer believe that she’s manipulating me?”

“Well, if she’s willing to go this far to manipulate you, Lee, I would let her have it,” Ekaterina shrugged and finished making the sandwich. 

“Who’s manipulating who?” Tanner said from the doorway – too loud, and Laila automatically turned and hissed for him to be quiet.  Ekaterina hid her smirk behind her perfectly crafted sandwich. 

“And what about you?” Laila growled, “I suppose you’re completely fine with the head raider on my couch as well?” Tanner snuck a glance into the living room, smiled – Ekaterina had to agree, she did look quite adorable tucked up in Laila’s blanket – and hastily wiped the expression off his face when confronted with Laila’s fearsome scowl.

“Are you planning to kick her out?” Tanner asked mildly.

Laila turned red with the force of her suppressed shouts.  “No!” she whispered with a vengeance.

“I don’t have a problem with her,” Tanner tilted his head to one side, “And I thought you said she wasn’t head raider anymore.”

“You nearly crushed her windpipe!” Laila gestured angrily.

“Yes, because she was on top of you and you were screaming no,” Tanner said, his voice going perfectly level, “I didn’t know it was some weird ritual to give you back your magic. Are you still mad about that?”

To be honest, Ekaterina was not sure how Laila’s head managed to keep from exploding – she swelled up in fury, abruptly remembered her dozing guest, and bottled all that rage. “She sacrificed her life for me,” Laila hissed, “And I tried to tell her that it was unacceptable, but clearly neither of you think so!”

“Why is it unacceptable, Lee?” Ekaterina asked quietly.

“Because she gave up the chance at a life for me!  She’s no longer a raider, she has irreparable damage from an incurable poison, and I can’t use my magic on her anymore!”  Laila is almost crying now, her words intense for all that they’re quiet.  “All for what?” she said bitterly, “To restore the magic of a Chief Witch?”

“To help a friend,” Tanner said, his voice soft but implacable.

“She shouldn’t have,” Laila whispered, the only argument she had left.

“You shouldn’t have sacrificed your magic to seal away Hadrian,” Ekaterina said, and it had no less the bite than the first time she said it.

“That’s different!” Laila whirled on her, “That’s –”

“Why?” Ekaterina asked, “Because you’re the only one who gets to be the martyr?”

Laila stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open.  Ekaterina was sorry that the words hurt, but she wasn’t sorry for saying them.  Laila had sacrificed parts of herself so many times – Riya was just returning the favor.

“Because I love her,” Laila said quietly, her voice cracking as she turned away.

Ekaterina faltered, but Tanner walked up and put a hand on her shoulder.  “That doesn’t make you different either,” he said, his voice gentle and serious.

~#~

Fin.

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #118

Nemoto’s friends have always been in the periphery, and many fans, myself included, have always entertained the idea of a chapter that focused on them. But I honestly never thought Nico Tanigawa would go through with it. I guess that means that nothing’s off the table as far as this manga is concerned. Fine by me. Surprises in this manga generally turn out pretty favorable.

So this chapter formally introduced Okada, a.k.a. “Pineapple-chan”. With so many likable females in this manga, she’s got some stiff competition. Let’s see how she fairs.

Chapter 118: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Get Full of Myself

Cute. So far, so good.

Already, I can see the potential in Okada’s inner monologue. She’s quite a bit more apathetic than she is when she’s in front of her friends. Not that I expected anything else from this manga. None of the girls in Watamote are impeccably pure; even the cheerful types like Nemoto have darker sides. With Okada, she presents herself as a more grounded Ucchi. A member of the “in-crowd”, who puts up a minor front in the face of others, but is secretly a bit ruder, and without Ucchi’s air of desperation. 

At first, I thought Tomoko and Okada made eye contact. But looking at it again, it was just the perspective throwing me off.

I think it’s apparent that action scenes aren’t the mangaka’s forte. The anatomy tends to be clunky with not much sense of movement. But I can see Nico Tanigawa compensating for this weakness with some good panelling and sequencing. By chopping it up into three separate motions while keeping the camera focus the same, the ridiculousness of the scene is heightened because it’s shown directly from Okada’s POV. 

Also, I love how unfazed Yuri has become to Yoshida’s beatdowns. Back then, she would show a twinge of surprise on her face when Yoshida would get violent. But now, as indicative by her keeping her hands lazily in her pockets, this shit just slides off.

I like this shot of Okada dumping her drink in the garbage. It’s like the drink represents a part of herself, and by disposing it, she’s about to do something she may regret by getting involved with trash (that being, whatever screwed up relationship Tomoko, Yoshida, and Yuri have at the moment). 

Fittingly enough, the action scenes that I had just criticized actually turn out quite good when it involves Tomoko in moments of despair. The speed lines and jiggly dialogue box certainly help to “hype” up the scene, but the mangaka’s specialty in hysterical facial expressions and blunt language is what really sells these moments. 

Notice here that when Okada tries to intervene, her first instinct isn’t to address Tomoko, the “victim”, but to make a statement regarding bullying. It’s quite obvious that Okada is actively keeping this interaction as impersonal as possible. It may be because she’s wants to avoid being targeted herself, or maybe she doesn’t want to present herself as being on the same “level” as Tomoko. Either way, there’s definitely some self-righteousness in Okada from what I can tell.

I like how it’s not until Yoshida brushes off Okada that Yuri actually makes a half-hearted attempt to speak out against her. Yuri has gotten so accustomed to Yoshida’s violence with Tomoko, that she knows that it’s not necessary to try and stop her, probably because she knows Yoshida wouldn’t leave any permanent damage, and because as we learn later, Tomoko kind of deserved it. But Yoshida shutting down Okada is where Yuri finds the delinquent’s actions unjustified, and yes, I just wrote a whole paragraph analyzing a single “H-hey...”.

Gotta give props for Okada for standing her ground, though. Pulling the ol’ “I’m gonna tell the teacher” is actually very effective in these types of situations.

It didn’t hit me until I the read this the second time that Yuri was actually defending Yoshida in this case. Normally in moments like this, Yuri would make some sort of attempt to defend Tomoko’s stupidity, thereby indirectly calling Yoshida out on her violence. But for once, she actually believes Yoshida is in the right for beating on Tomoko. And judging on Yoshida’s words, it must’ve been really embarrassing. 

It’s setting-up moments like this that really leaves the audience wondering, and the resulting punchline that much more effective as a result. 

Stuttering Tomoko makes her return. It’s pretty clear that this difficulty of Tomoko is only present when she’s in an unfamiliar situation, like being defended by a girl who she’s never talked to before. 

A part of me wonders why Okada distanced herself like this. It wouldn’t be remiss to just accept Tomoko’s gratitude, given that Okada didn’t really do anything wrong, yet she insists on making an excuse for her behavior. Despite saying she doesn’t care about Tomoko, her choice of words suggest that Okada views Tomoko in a negative light. I wonder if Nemoto’s the reason for this...

Facepalm.

Too be honest, this type of harassment doesn’t surprise me anymore when it comes from Tomoko. It’s just as perverse and creepy as I’ve come to expect.

What does surprise me is that in recalling what happened, Tomoko sees absolutely nothing wrong with what she did. Usually when she rags on Yoshida, she has enough awareness to know that she said something at least mildly wrong after the fact. But this a recollection, and there’s nothing to suggest that she had realized that she’d spoken out of turn.

The implications of this explanation really speaks volumes on how much Tomoko has changed in how she interacts with Yoshida. Usually when Yoshida threatens her when she says something stupid, Tomoko tries to save face by saying something even stupider. But in those mishaps, Tomoko has always shown some level of fear towards Yoshida, mostly the fear of getting beaten up.

But now, according to her, Tomoko showed no fear. When Yoshida got pissed, Tomoko didn’t cower in sweat, or inadvertently insult her with an attempted compliment. She retaliated. She actually confronted Yoshida for being too sensitive. What was once fear, is now arrogance. Misplaced arrogance, but arrogance.  

I love Okada’s expression here. It just screams “inner conflict”. She knows that she’s doing something inherently wrong by throwing Tomoko to the wolves, but at the same time, she knows Tomoko kind of deserves it. Whether to support the instigator or the retaliator is never an easy choice, Okada, and I don’t blame you for the choice you made. 

That “sorry” however, is so open-ended that I feel like it could be taken in a variety of ways. Is she sorry at Yoshida because she interrupted her fairly-justified beatdown? Or is she sorry at Tomoko for allowing her to receive said beatdown? 

Or maybe she’s just sorry for being in this situation at all.

You know that old saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’? Well, I think that can be loosely applied here. Okada’s interest in Tomoko can attributed to the human’s general desire to understand things that they don’t understand, even if said thing is negative. It’s why people become so invested in serial killers and sociopaths, even though they’d obviously never like to meet one. Things that are taboo ironically have some appeal because they are taboo. And Tomoko is the living personification of that. 

And because you asked Pineapple-chan, perhaps I can enlighten you on how Tomoko is, at least how she is now.

As of late, Tomoko has become much more self-assured and brazen, and while this has given her a much needed confidence boost, this could also end up being a double-edged sword, if this chapter is any indication.

In the past, her loner personality kept her in a proverbial safe zone: no one could like or hate her. But her more transparent personality has made Tomoko much more appealing to those who find her frankness likable, as was hinted with Yuri in the previous chapter. Yet at the same time, this bluntness could make her less appealing to people Yoshida, who don’t react well to being challenged. This leads me to believe that in Tomoko’s third year, her social circle will expand in both positive and negatives ways, with people like Yuri and Ucchi on the plus side, and Nemoto and Yoshida on the minus side. 

She may not be popular, but she’ll likely be infamous.  

[swtorramblings]

Commander Thexan: Outlander

Art by @fleeting-sanity . Not what I originally wanted that shot for, but it’s Vaylin scolding Arcann and him being amused by something she says, so it fits. Just imagine metal walls in the background. It’s going to get used twice.

Story begins here: One More Night Previous:  Thexan, Commander Next: Love Unsought Allies entry: Vector Hyllus

The Tirall siblings and their growing Alliance are contacted by Lana Beniko to help save the Outlander. Longer than usual for this story at 1341 words.

Thexan’s Journals: One of the difficulties with being commander is rarely being able to go on missions. Between wanting the best people assigned to a task and needing to coordinate efforts, I usually end up staying on the base. This also means that I often send my siblings into danger and cannot stand with them. That was the case during the mission to free the Outlander. If I had known how the mission would end, I would have been there.

It started out when we met with a Sith, Lana Beniko. She had heard of our growing team of rebels against the Eternal Emperor, and wanted our help in staging an escape for a former Republic privateer by the name of Z’lia, who had been captured during the attack on the Spire five years before. Arcann and Vaylin sat in on the meeting.

“She has always been fascinating to the Emperor, or at least since Ziost. I am not sure why, exactly, but she does have some form of power, well-concealed but there. I could sometimes sense him seeking her out, but he was still weakened, and I was able to push him away when we were together.”

Arcann interrupted, saying, “Why would she be of interest to our father? It sounds like she has some untapped Force sensitivity, but Zakuul is filled with such people.”

“As I said, I do not know, exactly. I think she is something unique, or at least rare. There is some quality that draws him to her, and whatever it is, I am hoping it can be used against him.”

I asked, “But that isn’t all, is it?”

She looked ashamed. Ashamed to admit that she had feelings, to even for a moment to admit that this mission was, in part, personal. Our father put her in that position. It broke my heart.

“No. It nearly destroyed me when I thought I felt her die. Now that I know the truth, I have to try to free her. But what I said is still true. She has some kind of power, something he needs or fears. I’m sure she can help you.”

It made little difference. We had already decided to try for Lana’s sake alone.

It took a month of planning and training for the mission, but we felt we were well prepared. Scourge, though he disapproved, taught Arcann, Vaylin, and Lana to cloak their powers so that Father would not easily sense them. Lana and Arcann also worked together closely, exchanging combat and Force techniques.

Vaylin? Well, she tried to be calm. That took up most of her free time. This would be the first time any of us had returned to our former home, and it would be to invade it.

With support from the entire Alliance, the ground team had been able to infiltrate the Spire with little interference. Kira had successfully blocked transmissions from the surveillance systems, while Dorne and Quinn had successfully staged distractions in key locations. They were close, when it had all fallen apart. A group of civilians had spotted them, recognized Arcann, and reported their location.

And the response was extreme. The Emperor, himself, was coming. They could all feel his attention, seeking them, and now he had found Arcann. There was no point in trying to hide.

“Go, Sister, rescue the Outlander. Lana and I will hold him here.”

“No, we have a chance together! We can finish him!”

Lana replied, having seen what the young woman was capable of but also how little control she sometimes had, “At what cost? How much of the city are you willing to destroy?”

Arcann continued, “And at what cost to you? Even if we won, what would unleashing that kind of power do to you?”

“Fine. But if you die, Brother, I will haunt you.”

“I… do not believe it works that way.”

“Try me. You live, too, Sith, I don’t want to have to tell your smuggler that you died saving her.”

“Thank you, I will do my best.”

A blast of air rocked them back as Vaylin sped away.

The both felt it, then. Arcann’s father had arrived.

Vaylin also felt his presence, the thing that would have destroyed her family. Would have destroyed her, making her a monster and ultimately killing her. She was terrified, but also felt great hatred for the creature that she once called her father.

Something, though, was different. She could not identify what it was, and while she was trying to, she ran afoul of a group of Knights and Skytroopers.

Confronting them, her mood shifted. The Knights were her father’s servants. The man that had killed her mother. Perhaps one of these had done it. They fought for him, killed for him, died for him.

Many were going to die for him, now.

Arcann felt his sister’s anger. There was nothing he could do about it, though, he would have to trust that she would be well. They needed to prevent his father reaching her. Arcann had hoped the Emperor would not notice that she was there, too. Unfortunately, the burst of power that he felt meant that was now impossible. Lana activated her lightsaber, and he followed suit.

“So, Son, you’ve finally returned.”

“You have no son.”

“You think you are not my son? Or Thexan? Perhaps you are right. Neither of you are what I would have wanted. But I sense that you brought the one who still could be. Stand aside so that I can keep her from doing what is so natural to her.”

A half a dozen Knights hovered in the air, choking over the remains of a score of Skytroopers. Their armor was slowly crumpling in on them. Vaylin screamed at them in rage, “You! All of you! You took my mother from me! You will pay!”

She walked forward and looked the Knight Captain in the eyes, wanting to see for herself the monster that had killed her mother, but all she could see was fear. The same fear she felt towards her father, this man felt for her. She felt sick.

She turned away, and they fell to the ground, gulping air. She gestured, almost as an afterthought, and their lightaber pikes crumpled. She gathered to herself the golden crystals and dropped them in a pouch. She could hear their song, and would not leave them on Zakuul. She walked to the lowest ranking Knight, a woman, younger than she was. She waved her hand and said, “You will guide me to the carbonite prisons.”

The Knight replied, “I will guide you to the carbonite prisons.”

The Knight Captain finally stood and actually said, rather foolishly as it turned out, “Weak minded recruit. That won’t work on us, and I think you are tiring. Knights!”

Vaylin gestured at them. “You are all very tired and need to sleep.” They collapsed, two of them snoring quietly.

He had been right about one thing, she was tiring, between wasting her energy on this outburst and hiding herself from her father for so long, which now seemed pointless. She needed to find the Outlander and get her to safety, before she ran out of energy or, worse, control.

Red and gold lightsabers battered the Emperor’s defenses, but he appeared unconcerned. He looked to Lana and said, “So, Sith, my son hates me, or perhaps wants my throne, but why are you here?”

“You know why. We are going to free Z’lia. And it is too late for you to stop us.”

“Oh, Lana, love, that is truer than you know.”

Lana frowned at that, and then, suddenly, her eyes widened in shock. Arcann could feel her horror and despair. “No.”

The Emperor smiled broadly, indulgently. He touched a button on his belt. His face and form faded. Before them stood Z’lia, the Outlander, privateer of the Republic. Lana’s hope, her love.

She had Valkorion’s eyes.

 Vaylin looked down at the woman encased in carbonite. She lifted a shaking hand and touched her face, tears running down her own. “Mother?”