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meguwumibear · 2 years

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Give Us Each Day

pairing: wolfwood x reader word count: 1,300

This is just a short little drabble I wrote because I literally cannot stop thinking about Nicholas D. Wolfwood and wanted to explore his character a bit. Ignore the pacing and any errors/typos lol I don’t think there are any spoilers about anything in this, but i do briefly touch on Wolfwood’s past and his connection to the Eye of Michael.

The thing about people is they aren’t capable of change.

Wolfwood has seen enough of No Man’s Land and its citizens to understand this. It’s a dog eat dog, big fish eat little fish world out there. Humans are lost causes. Especially adults. They sin and they sin and they sin.

Maybe children are exempt from this. Maybe not. He tries not to think too hard about his own childhood, about what he did and did not have.

He did not have parents. Or, rather, he had no relationship with them. He understands that for him to have been born, one of the planet’s many deadbeat duds must have knocked someone up. Jesus himself was half flesh and blood on Mary’s side. No one can escape a mother’s womb. So, yeah, okay, someone conceived and gave birth to him, but that’s about all his parents are to him. A sperm donor and an incubator. Nothing more.

What he did have was siblings. Lots of them. Brothers and sisters from December and neighboring towns. He was the eldest of all the children at the orphanage. He did what he could to look out for the others, sleeping in their beds with them when they had nightmares, teaching them how to whistle, kissing their fucking booboos. For a while, Wolfwood thinks that he was born to be a brother. And maybe he was. Maybe on a different planet, in a different universe, the ships don’t crash and a brother is all he ever has to be.

On this planet though, he becomes something else entirely. An orphan. A priest. A punisher.

Wolfwood is only human after all, despite everything, including all the fucking drugs the doctor pumped him full of. He forgets sometimes just how young he really is. So many of his formative years passed him in an instance. He just grew and grew and grew into the monster man he is today.

A man made monster. A monster made man. Or are those two things one and the same?

He gets confused sometimes. Can’t understand the difference. Perhaps a monster is a type of man or a man a type of monster. They’re related somehow. They must be. He knows this because he is both. Or at least both of those two creatures live symbiotically inside him.

That’s why the Eye of Michael sends him on these types of missions; that’s why they sent him on this mission: he is a monstrosity and a mortal. The best person for this particular job. To guide and protect Knives’ precious baby brother until Vash is ripe for the taking. Knives says they call his brother Vash the Humanoid Typhoon, but to Wolfwood he’s just an ignorant lamb inching closer to slaughter.

The Eye may call him the Punisher, but this job makes him feel more like a shepherd.

He hasn’t found the Typhoon yet. There are too many leads to follow. Towns are filled with unfounded rumors and listless gossip. No one seems to know what Vash even looks like. Some people think he’s twelve feet tall. Other people think he has a mohawk.

Wolfwood knows this all to be false because he knows exactly what Vash looks like. He’s seen him—or rather he’s seen his monozygotic twin. Vash will look exactly like Knives in another man’s clothes. He’s been preparing himself for the sight.

With no end to this wild goose chase in sight, Wolfwood stops at a saloon. The townsfolk here seem to think that Vash passed through two nights ago, but the place is in too good of shape for that to be true. Good shape in No Man’s Land is relative of course, but there’s no way a typhoon hit this city. All the buildings are still standing, crooked and cracked from the dry desert air.

He’s a heavy weight. He thinks it has something to do with the drug they shoot him up with. It helps his cells heal or regenerate or some shit. It takes more liquor than it should to get him drunk which means blacking out is a luxury he can’t afford. He’s five beers deep before he finally starts to feel a little buzzed.

Days he’s more man than monster, he plays a little game with himself. He finds someone who looks like they could be his mother or father and makes up a story about their lives after they abandoned him. He imagines they get rich selling water. He imagines they lost everything in a drought. He wonders if it was worth it. He supposes life’s always easier with one less mouth to feed.

Tonight he feels a bit more monster than man. The hunt is starting to get to him. He’s down to his last cigarette and if he doesn’t find Vash soon Knives will inevitably send him on a job he’ll hate more than this one. The waiting makes him feel itchy. Or maybe that’s just the nicotine withdraw.

“Need a light?”

He hasn’t lit the cigarette yet. Just has it tucked between his lips. He’s been chewing on the tip of it a bit—a bad habit he developed once he started smoking, but hey it kept him away from his fingernails.

“Please,” he says. He’s got his own lighter tucked away in his jacket pocket. It’s unclear to him which part of him makes him lie. Could be the man, could be the monster. In his experience, they both get quite lonely.

You strike up a match and hold it out for him. He leans in, cups a hand around the flame and inhales. The acrid taste of something burned and bitter fills his lungs. This has always felt right to him. The burning. Fire is just as cleansing as water.

“You a drifter?”

“What gave me away?” he asks.

You smile as you grab his empty bottles. “You’re a priest, right? Town priest skipped out ages ago. Said the land was forsaken and that nothing holy could grow here. Interesting last words considering he was the one doing the all forsaking. There’s holiness here. In the sand and sky and people.”

Wolfwood slides the cigarette out from between his lips and exhales a bit of smoke.

“What gave me away,” he asks again, flicking soot onto the table.

You shoot him a look, eyebrows raised. “Who else would carry around a cross like that?”

He hums. “Didn’t see a church on my way in.”

You’re smiling again. “You’re sitting in it. After the father skipped out it was converted to this saloon. People can take communion any time now. Not just during Sunday prayer.”

Someone at the back of the bar calls your name, yells something to you about doing your job, so you finish clearing away his table with a roll of your eyes.

A few minutes later, you bring him a beer that he didn’t ask for and certainly isn’t going to pay for.

“You devout? You looking for me to say some kind of prayer?”

You shake your head and laugh. “Oh no, I’m not a believer. Just doing my job. Gotta keep my patrons happy. Drink up.”

He wraps his hand around the bottle. It’s warm. Condensation has gathered on it’s slick surface. He swipes at it with a thumb. “I think I’ve had my fair share of alcohol. Was thinking of graduating to something headier.”

“Oh,” you say, resting your elbows against the table. “And just what were you thinking of graduating to?”

Wolfwood feels the smirk form on his face, wide and toothy and dangerous. You’re a distraction from his mission, but he can’t ignore the yearnings of the man and monster inside of him. Right now their desires align. Right now they’re hungry. Right now they want.

“You.”

#wolfwood x reader #nicholas wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun fic #trigun stampede fic

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darkonekrisrewrite · 1 year

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Ochako is Different

(Current Chapter Spoilers) It’s a little early to make this but I had to.

‘If Toga still wants to talk to her, she’s willing to give her her own blood for the rest of her life.’

“I want to talk about love with you, himiko-chan!”

‘She won’t support everything she does from now on’

‘The world isn’t ideal (comfortable?) for people like her’

It’s almost exactly what I wanted, but it’s still totally perfect.

This Chapter is great for Toga and Ochako, and perfect for Ochako’s development.

In fact I’d say that this puts Ochako over the top of what’s been shown to be heroic in bnha.

Because while Ochako doesn’t really side with Toga fully, which is understandable from her point of view but she does pretty much say that Toga won’t be killed or locked up to rot because of the promise she makes to her.

This implies a long term plan/commitment and freedom, the first part obviously stated that neither Ochako or Toga herself want her death and the second part because there’s no way Toga would ever accept such a thing from inside a cage.

“Living Free” being an essential part of Toga’s character that wouldn’t just be ignored and doesn’t seem to be on Ochako’s viewpoint, with her saying: ‘She won’t support everything she does from now on’

“From now on” implying Toga will have the freedom to choose.

This answer from a hero to a villain might really change things, or at least have the intent to change beginning here.

Ochako’s answer feels big enough for that, not only in her direct relationship with Toga but also on a much wider scale in her clearly stating that: The World isn’t ideal/comfortable for people like Toga.

This along with everything else she said makes her the best Hero in this series.

Even out of the Core Three Heroes.

Shoto Todoroki, a good, focused Hero, succeeding in everything he set out to do in bnha’s story, and also succeeded in becoming exactly the type of hero he wanted to be.

Be a Hero that puts others at ease? Nailed it.

Be like his friends who get mad and shed tears for others? Got it.

Protect his family and others? Even Dabi in a way? Total Victory.

A Perfect Score for Shoto, also his family, and all the innocent people that he saved.

But that’s it.

Shoto still hasn’t taken any kind of wider view on Dabi/Endeavor/his family or hero society, even though he’s had more than enough time to think about it.

He never came to the larger realization that: “Hmm, actually the fact that Endeavor was able to buy Mom like a broodmare, consult with doctors plainly about his intentions regarding his children, have one of them literally die, another be clearly scarred and his wife sent to a mental institution and yet despite all that…no one (Hero/Government/Civilian) says or does shit…that might be a problem too?”

Shoto is definitely a Hero; he’s just not quite seeing the big picture when he really needs to.

Deku on the other hand isn’t even close.

Because while he does inspire others, he has yet to actually help them himself.

Gentle criminal, Lady Nagant and Overhaul are all ‘Villains’ that Deku has interacted with and changed but, when talking about direct actions, he never helped any of them or even acknowledged their negative points about hero society other than giving a single platitude.

Gentle Criminal had heroic aspirations from the start, despite being hurt multiple times by hero society; he still chose to do the right thing.

Whether or not that really works out for him in the end is yet to be seen but he still did it, and on his own.

Deku never tried to help Gentle or even find out what happened to him or La Brava after their fight, despite emphasizing with him and their struggles.

Nagant was in some way, like Gentle, inspired by Deku, just in her case it was taken to a somewhat unbelievable degree.

“Extend a helping Hand” is not an answer to the fact that hero society was assassinating innocent people who threatened the status quo.

But Nagant is fighting on the hero side now so I guess it was answer enough for her.

But from a wider story perspective Deku didn’t address anything.

Overhaul is one of the darkest villains in the series, with what he did to Eri.

But Deku still made him a promise, to bring Overhaul to his ‘Father’ (figure) if he was willing to regret what he did.

He didn’t.

I mean, if we had jumped right into the next war in only a few moments after this point then I would understand Deku not having enough time to make good on his word but there was a lot of down time in-between.

Was Deku actually serious about the no-armed cripple Overhaul having to regret his actions before he was taken to see his comatose Father?

That’s kind of messed up when you really think about it.

Was Deku planning on doing it anyway, just at some undetermined point in the Future?

We don’t know, it was never brought up again.

It makes anything that Deku’s going to say to Shigaraki seem a bit Hollow because there’s no past foundation to hold up his word to, on a personal or societal level.

Vague promises on top of other promises that haven’t been fulfilled is not a good look for a Hero.

While it is true that this may change later, it may lack impact and believable commitment, coming in a bit late on Shoto’s part and with Deku’s loyalty to hero society at odds with everything Shigaraki is.

But Ochako isn’t like that.

Ochako

She recognized that there was a problem (though eventually) after seeing clear signs of it and looked at everything involved.

Toga’s Quirk and her tears, how she felt about love and the world around her.

Also with her experience in dealing with the “innocent” people at UA high and how they treated Deku.

Have to believe that too had an effect on her decision and reasoning to try to understand Toga, in how she was made a villain currently.

She may not really understand Toga in everything, but Ochako is still saying all the right things, addressing what she knows about Toga and how society has treated her.

No other hero has done that yet and followed through.

Because Ochako didn’t just say: “You have a point, but you know morality.” Then try to punch Toga in the face or overpower her into submission.

She said: “You have a point, but you know morality, so I will personally help you in the way you need.”

Immediately trying to do just that and saying she’ll continue to in the future.

‘If Toga still wants to talk to her, she’s willing to give her her (Ochako’s) own blood for the rest of her life.’

That’s a Hero. And what a real Hero would do.

It really was just that simple of someone offering her Blood, that specific someone showing that they cared and telling Toga that she wasn’t a monster or a deviant.

And Toga accepting Ochako’s feelings would make sense as this is everything she ever wanted-

BUT-

The only hang up is how Ochako would then deal with Hero Society after this, because they are definitely not going to be on board with her choice, even though it’s part of the only option/path forward that could save their world.

And with the inherent flaws/corruption in the hero system and the Quirk Singularity, Ochako’s choice is undeniably the start of the only path that could save bnha’s world.

So yeah Ochako is actually doing Amazing so far.

#bnha spoilers #bnha meta #Ochako Uraraka #toga himiko #himiko toga #mha spoilers #mha meta #uraraka ochako

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moonchats · 2 years

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MY SPENCER HEADCANONS

(which are canon cos i said so(also a lot dont align to what we know as canon, like i talk a lot about stuff that includes technology but shhh let me have my fun))

fav ice cream flavour is vanilla, but not any of the posh vanilla with the dots in, has to be the cheap shit because the flavour doesn’t get boring after a couple spoons

he never actually ties his top shirt button up he just tightens his tie enough so it looks tied because it hurts his throat

loves cultural food, like any religion or country he’s took an interest in that week he makes sure to try a dish from there

fucking loves spiderman

loves jodie whitticker as the thirteenth doctor because he loved the storyline and got upset when he realised everyone hated her

didn’t realise he was bisexual because he didn’t realise that it wasn’t ‘normal’ to like boys too

LOVES CHILDRENS FANTASY LIKE ANY WORLD BUILDING FANTASY OR DYSTOPIAN HE FUCKING LOVES

sorry i was really passionate about that. also his fav colour is lavender but he makes everything he owns green (like phone cases, notebooks etc) cos he chose that as his dedicated colour when he was younger

he didn’t like jumpers or cardigans for ages because didn’t like the feeling of the toughness of the wool and then he realised clothes have different materials and he realised he hated microfibre because fuck microfibre everyone should hate microfibre

i know we know he likes classical music but i think he loves romantic music of any kind, like as long as it’s romantic he loves it, like romantic goth,classical,pop anything cos my like bbygirl is such a romance girly at heart

is an avid converse wearer/collector

journals like hell, like every thought he thinks he writes it down

tells hotch he’s in therapy but actually he just talks to himself in the mirror and says that’s enough

likes matpat and game theory (because he’s autistic?? i have yet to meet a fellow neurodivergent that hasn’t had a game theory phase)

once had a stim which was just jacksepticeyes intro and derek thoight he was speaking another language because his irish accent was so bad

writes in-depth character analysis’ on his favourite characters and posts them and once one of them was so well detailed it was literally used more as a guide than canon (like atyd has with the marauders)

fucking adored rent because he’s a theatre kid at heart because i said so

#moonsreid #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid angst #spencer reid drabble #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #spencer reid headcanon

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apphiarothowrites · 10 months

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I’m back for no reason other than I want to share this sort of idea and I am too swamped to even begin writing

Marco doesn’t know how he ended up on the thousand sunny.

That’s a lie, logically he knows. Luffy had come up to him after the battle and asked him. Then perhaps, ask is a strong word… Luffy had catapulted into the region of his arms and twisted around him like a jungle python. Marco is not sure if he actually heard the words ‘join my crew’ as he was rapidly losing consciousness due to asphyxiation.

Then he woke up on the sunny.

God they are so fucking young. Children really, maybe that’s why he hasn’t taken off yet. Put his zoan wings to use.

Luffy scampers around the deck, laughing madly as the cook attempts to punt him in the ocean.

Everyone is so bright in this ship and it crushes his sternum while filling his lungs with air.

“Strange isn’t it.”

The clattering or bones usually indicates brooks approach but, the skeleton can be annoyingly sneaky when he wants to be.

Delicate phalanges press a cup of tea in Marco’s empty hands.

“You remember being that young?”

The blonde man stares into the amber liquid completely lost. He didn’t remember, not really. Flashes of his mother’s sash, ink stained books that seemed so large to his small hands, a foggy memory of a rocky shore.

“I think most of it was lost to time.” He shares with a wry grin.

Brook clicks his tongue? Does he still have that? “Time, time, time, time. If there ever was a god he was the one who hung the clock.” The skeleton hums. “Are you staying for Ace?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you love him.”

Marco pauses, letting the memories wash over him. The smell of smoke, the raucous laughter. “I didn’t, not yet anyway.”

The sea breeze picks up, heavy with salt.

“I used to play the violin for my husband every day.”

The skeleton is looking at some point beyond the horizon.

“Did he like the violin?”

“Not at all.”

—

The most important thing Marco has learned while travelling with the straw hats is that none of them (with exception to Jinbe and possibly Brook) have ever had any kind of sane adult to care for them.

Don’t get him wrong, bellemere seems like she was a good lady and lord knows he has visited the floating restaurant a couple times. But for the love of god if finds zoro trying to work out one more time he will have a chat with mihawk.

Honestly he’ll have a good long talk with crocodile too while he’s there, Robin seems to hold herself together with spiderwebs. Not surprising given ohara, but the whole warlords tool thing obviously made it worse.

In two weeks of sailing with the strawhats marco has a goddamn list of people. Including Zeff (marco is very very tired of the nosebleeds.)

Weirdly enough the most stable person is literally a cyborg, then again Tom was a fucking angel on earth and Marco wished he had stuck around longer to write a book on parenting.

Luffy calls him the reserve doctor.

Marco doesn’t call him captain.

“Well obviously.” Luffy had pointed out when Marco had haltingly tried to approach the conversation. “I’m not your dad.”

“But I am sailing under you aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” Brown eyes blinked at him slowly. “But I’m not your dad.”

Marco bites his tongue and wonders how long it would take to explain his very weird existence. Too long he decides and just gives a brief nod. “No, you’re not.”

—

A long time ago two children played on a rocky shore, laughing as the waves lapped at their ankles.

—

It’s slow, marco sails, flys. Leaves for weeks on end only to return in the heat of battle. He tracks down Whitey and spends a good week crying into his sisters pillow. Sanji challenges him to a duel for robins hand and he kicks the cook into the ocean. He should really talk to Zeff…. His brothers are here and there, sometimes he looks sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he joins Jinbei for meditation. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that he drinks coffee while the fish man finds inner peace.

He does end up meeting the cross guild (it’s shanks fault.) getting dragged to an “important” meeting by a yonko begging you to pretend to be his husband is.. not as ego boosting as you would think. Shanks flirts and preens and marco doesn’t even know who he’s trying to impress. (He doesn’t want to know.)

Even so.. the small movements, the way mihakw floats beside crocodiles hook. The low murmur as buggy leans into hear what the scarred man said. It makes marco believe that maybe love isn’t a one time thing (except if your shanks)

Oh god this is so long cliff notes time

Marco is kinda immortal he has a rebirth cycle and can semi remember what he has lived through

Sanji gets many seminars on respecti ‘n women

Zoro gets many seminars on “stop fighting when injured”

Luffy is luffy

The phoenix and nika are kind of drawn to eachother (not romantically but they have similar domains or something)

Tom is best dad

Brook is the straight out of jail uncle

Nami and marco are distant (she doesn’t want a dad thank you)

Dr chopper dr law and dr marco hang out

Idk bout romance in here it’s mainly found family (Cora is alive though so ya know..)

The central plot that was not conveyed at all is basically marco wanted this to be his last cycle (with his dad and stuff) but because of everything he missed his chance (idk mystic bullshit yadda yadda) so he has to learn to live again or something

Might have kizaru join the straw hats)

Idk my semi vision was

Marco - the worst mental state

The strawhats - pretty decent mental states

Marco - omfg these children need so much therapy

#GiveMarcoABreak2024

I love this, there's so much potential in everything!!! no notes, perfection

luffy takes one look at marco after the final battle and goes "is nobody gunna found-family heal that?" but doesn't wait for an answer before just straight up taking him

marco relearning what wanting to love is from these idiots while Brook slowly learns exactly how old he is is Great tho

#ar answers #raccooon once again on that good shit

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bisexualboysbroadcast · 1 year

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okay, are you ready? here’s my be mine superstar melt:

1. I am unbearably obsessed with the personality “swop” that happened between these two actors. going from fiat our little sunshine brat in dsn to Ashi our regal serious actor in bms and Leo our serious big boy protector in dsn to actual puppy sunshine baby punn in bsm -> getting a swop like that shows me their range as actors but also just different sides to their acting personalities and how well they know each other which is pure magic in romance

2. I’m OBSESSED with the way they met. like yes punn is madly in love with ashi as a fan boy (the little poster kiss really ruined my life), but to have an accidental bump in meet-cute and then (as far as it looks like the plot is heading) to end up working together is a delightful start to their story (cause it alludes to plot directions like “oh fuck I’m in love with you what am I supposed to do with these feelings??” , and “secret relationship eras (my beloved)” and “how can you date him you’re just a student intern and he’s a superstar” and “but I love him. I love him.”. can you tell I’m ready for this?)

3. the sets for this show seem to be out of this world. not just in relation to the period drama ashi (and co) are acting in but also the cafe where punn met his friends, the bar where doctor and superstar met (HAH!), punn’s mom’s cafe, dad’s art studio. all of it is so good. and from what I can see they really seem to be using the lighting and set structure to show personalities which is incredible in and of itself. (e.g. if you notice the lighting and set is pretty light/airy/flowing when punn is the central focus (that shower scene speaks for itself); but quite dark/wood/sort of solid when ashi is the focus)

4. the costumes, oh good god, the costumes! firstly just how beautiful the period drama stuff is ! ashi’s white cloak? and title’s full princely (guard?) suit? IMMACULATE. but also their casual clothes. ashi being so neat, tidy, and elegant always. versus punn who is soft and comfy (that lil grey cardigan did so much for my heart). as far as I can see (and probably because there’s been so many costume changes as a result of ashi’s job), there hasn’t been any colour coding between him and punn (yet?). so not much to say on the blue boy/red boy (/other colour variations) connotations. they may just play this out in style more than colour which is always less obvious but satisfying all the same, but I guess that’s just a waiting game.

5. so so happy with all the touching we’ve had. and I don’t just mean punn and his delusional body pillow cuddling (although that’s so relatable). but also between doctor and superstar (I really need to get to their names lmao) -> their entire scene was iron melting! the thumb swipe across the bottom lip, the finger brushing against the hand, the dancing (holy fuck), and then naturally the sex. SO GOOD. but also yes punn and his little prayer to his ashi poster, punn and his brother pai fighting (ah sibling love), even the touching between the three superstar friends. I like that the intimacy of touching is already being shown in a full range of ways. parents to children, sibling to sibling, friend to friend, love interests, lust. EATING SO GOOD!

anyway, now that I’ve talked y’all’s ears off, I am so happy to have a Monday night (more like Tuesday morning) watch for the next few weeks and I’m beyond excited for wherever this one will take us !!

#ciara watches bms #be mine superstar #no I can never shut up😫

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countessofravenclaw · 7 months

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So, I am unhinged enough apparently to write material for part 7 of S2AU, when I haven't even started part 6 yet.

So, this just some material which has been floating in my head and keeping me from focusing on things I am supposed to be focusing on. So here's a snippet

“What is that?” Isla walked behind Marco in their office and ran her hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t look like shared price fluctuations.”

“It is not,” He flipped a window open on the tablet, “I was looking into an eye doctor appointment.”

“Eye doctor?” Isla looked at him, “Have you had difficulty seeing?”

“I am not sure,” Marco shook his head, “So I thought, I'd better check it out.”

“Yes, do it” Isla nodded before sitting down on the desk. “Better now. Glasses would suit you.”

“I will look like a joke, but it is better to look before you fall. Especially since aging sight is usually genetic, but I can’t know, since my parents never lived to suffer from it. Good to know, for Gastón as well.” Marco put the tablet down, “I didn’t tell you that I talked with Tomas yesterday, right?”

“No,” Isla looked up, “Did he have something to note?”

“Actually, we talked about the gravestone. Now that it has been 20 years soon, I think it’s time to properly get it taken care of. Maybe I actually should go visit the grave.”

“After the schools are done?” Isla questioned.

“Could be. Gastón’s hasn’t been there in ages and don’t you want to strong arm Mía and Elise about something. You always talk about it. Easier in person.”

“Well, we could go visit Cordoba during the summer,” Isla nodded, “We can’t avoid that place forever. I need to call my mother anyway, we haven’t talked in a while because I don’t know how I am supposed to explain everything that has been happening to her.”

“You haven’t told them?”

“Not yet. Mom would worry and Mía and Elise would make thousands of jokes about how we can't stop collecting children. Did you tell Tomas?”

“I did mention it.” Marco nodded, “He didn’t have much of a reaction. He never does. But Isla, you need to tell them about Luna. We can be honest with each other. This is not going to get solved by summer, so if we go, she’ll be coming along.”

“I know. I’ll call Mom tomorrow, so I can relay the news.” Isla got up and went to grab a file from the bookcase, “…Actually…”

“What?” Marco looked up at her, “Isla, your mother will be extremely offended if you don’t tell her. Are you planning on just showing up with an extra teenager, that they know that there is no way we could have had? The assumptions will range from them thinking that she’s Gastón’s girlfriend, which will make things awkward, to all sorts of other things.”

“No, it has nothing to do with my mother. I’ll talk to her.” Isla flipped a folder over in her hands, “Just came to mind when we were talking about Luna. So, I am not fully sure what I heard—”

“That is never a good sign.”

“Stay with me. Apparently, she and Matteo have some sort of history.”

“Matteo, seriously? Did not see that coming.”

“But when you think about it, isn’t she exactly the sort of a girl Matteo would need? She’s so sunny and brightens up every room she walks in. With everything he’s been through with Alexander, although Sofia did tell me that they might be on the road to mend.”

“Maybe,” Marco sighed, “but don’t get too excited. They clearly aren’t together anymore. Plus you don’t actually know, and Gastón won’t tell you a thing if you ask.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Isla shrugged laughing, “Just thought, maybe good to keep an eye on the situation—”

Isla’s phone started ringing.

“Oh, it’s Calvin.” She looked at the screen, “I thought he’d be on shift.”

“Maybe they’re bored at the station,“ Marco suggested, “tell him that we insist on that dinner.”

“Of course,” Isla nodded and raised the phone to her ear. “Calvin, what do I owe the pleasure? Before you say anything, Maroc and I insist on strong-arming to that dinner, we never get to see any of you and since you’re here… Okay, I’m listening.”

Isla quieted for a moment as something was said to her from the other end of the phone.

Marco was scrolling through a few of his latest unanswered emails, while Isla was taking the phone call.

He looked up when he suddenly heard distraught gasp and saw his wife collapse on the couch, a discombobulated and glassy look in her eyes.

“Isla! What’s wrong?” She was trying to say something, but no words came out of her mouth. She was gripping her phone in a way that her knuckles were turning white.

Marco looked at her face. Something that her brother-in-law had said had gotten her into this state.

“Calvin, it’s Marco. What is going on?” He grabbed the phone out of Isla’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, but there is no other way. I wanted you to hear this from me.”

“Hear what?”

“Uhm, we responded today to a call at Blake South College.”

Marco looked at Isla again. the panic she was under, was getting to him now too. There was only one reason why Calvin and his company would have been called to Blake.

“Please tell me I am wrong about what you are going to say.”

Uuu, so Gastón's parenst are Lutteo shippers. I'm sorry, they would be. Matteo's their second son.

#soy luna #soy luna fanfiction #Tell me predictions on what you think is happening here

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perverse-idyll · 2 years

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10 Lines Tagging Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!

Thanks to everyone who’s shaken me out of my stupor by tagging me: @yletylyf, @danpuff-ao3, @likelightinglass, and @ripeteeth! I'm going with first paragraphs, and a little more where pertinent. I had to scroll all the way back to 2014 to manage the full ten, partly because I skipped all the fic snippets.

I haven’t had time to comment on others’ posts, but I’ll get to that soon. Please, anyone who hasn’t shared, post your lines! I’ve read every excerpt I’ve seen so far, and they’re all wonderful, even the snippets from canons I don’t know. I won’t tag because I’m at work and rushing this out, but others should try! It’s fun to get reacquainted with your own first lines.

Candles Lit Against the Dark - (HP, Minerva/Wilhelmina and a big helping of Snape, 13.6K),

At around four in the afternoon, with three chapters to go in the espionage novel she was reading – since popular thrillers provided not only diversion but an eye-opening refresher course on Muggle slang and cultural attitudes – Minerva glanced up from the page to find Wil leaning in the doorway, watching her.

The Afterlight - (HP, Snape/Harry, WIP, 6 chapters, 45.6K so far)

It was possible none of this would have happened if not for Hermione. Or if not for Ron being an insecure prat who had to give himself a confidence boost in the worst possible way. Kingsley Shacklebolt also deserved some of the blame for putting Harry in an impossible position.

But mostly, Harry was aware, the fault lay with Snape. With Snape and his penchant for nearly dying in Harry's arms.

Year of the Thestral - (HP, Minerva/Severus, WIP, 3 chapters, 16.8K so far. Warning: the opening paragraph is ‘romantic,’ the rest of the fic is not)

The headmaster of Hogwarts, as yet unaware that he had entered upon his last day on earth, raised his thin hand to stroke the unsmiling face of the woman who had afforded him so much unlooked-for happiness. How ironic that, while children suffered and Voldemort prepared to strike, with his loyalties so deeply buried that only a discerning heart and penetrating mind could perceive their true shape, Severus Snape should lay to rest the ghost of his old love and touch the flesh-and-blood promise of the new.

The Threefold Death, or: the Lost World (long version) - (HP, Snape/Harry, Snape/Albus Severus, WIP, 3 chapters, 22.4K so far)

If Harry hadn't lost the ability to fly.

If his son had been sorted into any house but Slytherin.

If Harry hadn't waited until nearly forty to get lost in the Forest.

If Al hadn't been a ruthless romantic –

Or if Snape hadn't died. If Severus Snape hadn't died.

Jeeves and the Secret Society - (HP and the Jeeves stories (P. G. Wodehouse), Jeeves/Wooster, suggestion of Snape/Dumbledore, 12K, modeled on Wodehouse’s style and thus the fic most unlike my usual style)

Into the lives of all upstanding citizens an occasion must fall where we fumble the biscuit and end up owing an undeniable debt to mankind. Or in this instance, a kind man or two rather than the whole shebang.

No doubt it strikes you, on the head as it were, that I could say this of Jeeves on the regular. But the truth of the matter is, if I referred the matter to a court of law, that court would be forced to conclude that Jeeves is not like other men and therefore not a representative specimen.

The Sorrows of Your Changing Face - (Doctor Who, Twelve/Clara, 1.5K, not a fandom most of my friends read but this is probably my only chance to write a love letter to this ship, and it preserves the small hot coal of my feelings for them)

"We've really got to stop saying goodbye like this. How many times has it been now?"

She aims for a tone of flippant affection, the nostalgic companionship of Coal Hill and three-week-old coffee runs, heartsore mornings on an alien beach watching Gallifreyan symbols being scratched in the sand, a blanket over her bare shoulders and the transcendently erotic flapper affair that glittered as she curled around his confession, being counselled to choose and so choosing to change her mind. You can't be heartless and do what he does.

Soft Touch - (HP, Snape/Harry, 15.2K, character study with porn)

After the attendant led him down the hall and left him alone in the cosy wood-panelled room, warm enough that he could lie around in his smalls and not suffer goosepimples, Harry performed several quick spells to blind spying eyes, disable extendable ears, cover holes in the walls, and silence illegal recording charms. Not that he was paranoid, mind, but he wasn't an idiot, either.

Warm - (HP, Snape/Harry, 11.3K, porn with character study)

"Well, that was more fun than a barrel of Boggarts."

Harry bumped the front door shut with the snow-caked heel of his dress shoe and peeled off his gloves, watching Severus prop his cane in a corner and continue stiffly down the hall. He'd rather hoped that once they got home Severus would grab his arse and hump him up against a wall. But he could tell from how he walked that the winter freeze between the Ministry ball and their own doorstep had triggered muscle spasms, the ghost of Nagini's venom still flaring and fading in Severus' body even several years later.

The Blood of Stars - (HP, Snape/Harry, WIP on hiatus, 3 chapters, 44.2K, the WIP of my heart, and once I complete the current trio of fics, I want to drag this one back into the light)

At first, it's dark and he's flying.

More graceful in the air without a broom, he shivers at the unexpected freedom. The pulse of escape makes it worth the pain.

For there is pain. Too soon, the downward spiral begins. He drops lower, darker, through an agony of sky. Freefall. The very air hurts.

Impossible Without It - (HP, Snape/Harry, WIP on hiatus, 3 chapters, 16.5K, I’m also fond of this one, and I suspect readers will like it more than Blood of Stars. So I’ll probably work on both at once. Someday.)

Alone in the headmistress' office, Harry sat balancing a tea cup in his lap and toying with his wand, wondering how much longer he could stand to wait before Minerva returned.

#10 lines tagging game #my fics #half of them are wips damn it

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choco-cherry-chunk · 2 years

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Oh okay cool because I was wondering if you could do one where Beniot goes I to labour, but his water doesn't break until after he solves the case (for both films?)

I can totally dig into that!

Okay, I’m going to follow the anon that brought up both Philip and Benoit carrying their children this time, as I love every scenario of them having a lot of kids. Let’s say that, by the first film, he and Phillip have had their first kid, a daughter, and their twin boys. I’m going by the logic that “Knives Out” takes place at the end of 2018, in which Benoit is pregnant with their son. I would imagine that, when he gets the envelope from Ransom, he is quite far along, like overdue far along, but the case intrigues him so deeply that he takes it despite Philip’s concerns. He brushes them off (“Darlin’, this boy’s takin’ his sweet damn time. If he hasn’t come out yet, I imagine he’ll wait a while longer.”). This is definitely kind of awkward for everyone involved, given how massive he is and how the kid’s definitely dropped by this point, but he doesn’t seem to pay it any mind. Only when they’re chasing down Marta and Ransom does he begin to feel some pains. He does his best to ignore them and even his singing while listening to music is his attempt at calming the kid and easing the discomfort. Hell, he completely brushes off the doctors that ask after his health when they’re in the hospital for Fran. Only after Ransom is arrested and he has spoken to Marta on how she may handle the Thromby family does he pull Elliot aside and ask him is he’d kindly drive him to the hospital, as his water broke some time during Ransom’s stabbing attempt.

When Helen arrives at their apartment, Philip has to resist the urge to slam the door in her face and pretend there’s a mistake. He has nothing against her and is quite sympathetic to her plight. But the last time Benoit went on a case while pregnant, he missed the birth of their youngest son because he was in fucking Massachusetts. And I like to imagine that Benoit carries long, so he is significantly farther in his pregnancy than most would make it with twins. But come on, Philip, she needs his help. And surely, there’s no way such a birth situation would happen again (famous last words). Even Helen is worried about asking him to come, but Benoit won’t be stopped. He gets a doctor’s note, flies to Greece, and arrives at Miles’ island. This group is also a bit shaken by how far along this guy is, but it doesn’t play much of a role in things compared to everything else going on. Hell, things only come to a head when he leaves Helen to destroy the Glass Onion and he’s sitting outside with Derol, taking in the chaos. The man beside him offers him his joint and he declines, only for Derol to gesture to his chair (“Hey, man. I think you spilled something.”) and Benoit curses and hurries off to meet the police that turn up, thankful to see a medical crew amongst them. He’s in too much pain to think about how much Philip will tell him “I told you, Blanc!”.

#knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #benoit/philip #implied #mpreg #asks #anonymous

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presidentcircles-assistant · 1 year

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some OCs i don’t mention quite as much:

Vincent- A Circle, the son of Dean and Carmen, who are both very vain and stuck up. Vincent has their snobbish nature, but is a lot more reserved, mostly as a result of the fact that when he was born, his Sides regressed from his parent’s; his father had 45, while he had 28. Such a giant step backwards doesn’t give him the brightest reputation. Most Circles are content with choosing any wife, no matter the family she comes from, but Dean hadn’t been. He refused to marry anybody unless she proved her heritage to be 100% perfectly regular. As a result, he was alone for a very long time until a rich Line named Carmen heard about him and proved that her ancestry was completely regular, and they married. When Vincent was born, they were both in disbelief, unable to accept that they had spent all their lives abstaining from anyone who wasn’t perfectly regular just to get repaid like this, and they both blamed the other, saying they had been deceived. Still, though, neither of them would be caught dead with a child that went against everything they stood for, and they hid his side count from the world, maintaining a good enough façade of a happy marriage. At least, until he turned 12, when a doctor that couldn’t be bribed into silence ending up revealing their secret. It completely wrecked Vincent and his family’s status, and any political job he might have taken to follow in his father’s sidesteps rejected him, not wanting his kind to represent them. Vincent now works as an archivist, an easy enough job that he’s passionate in. He’s content, and his family’s riches keep him afloat (if anything, just because they feel bad for what they created). He hasn’t married yet, giving the reasoning that nobody in their right mind would want to marry someone who would send a family’s sides backwards. Though he keeps to himself, he isn’t at a complete loss for acquaintances; he can always be seen hanging around Fraser, an old Pentagon that served as a medic in a war, who knew Vincent when he was just a young Circle. He can also always be seen visiting a merchant called Equilateris, who owns an old, family run clothing shop.

Equilateris: An Equilateral, coming from a long line of similar Shapes who have been desperately trying to break into the Square class. His two older brothers were born Squares, much to the delight of his father, Ed, and he was born as an Equilateral, much to the disappointment of his father. After having 2 other, better children, Ed couldn’t be bothered to give him any sort of meaningful name. And besides, ‘Equilateris’ reminds him to always think about how much of a dead weight he was to the family tree, motivation to make something of his life. Equilateris doesn’t care much for the family business, but carries it on, if only because his brothers are all lawyers and he has no other relatives who would swap places with him. Although, he has always taken an interest in radios, and makes side money with a radio repair business. He tries his angle at other electronics as well, and is well versed in them, but they don’t interest him quite as much. His eldest brother often drops off his kids at Equilateris’ shop while he’s off at his own job; Jamie, Sam, two Squares, and Virgil, an adopted Equilateral from an Isosceles family; and they’re a constant presence, usually causing trouble. Well, mostly the Squares; Virgil is always silently watching, never uttering a word more than required of him. The most notable customer there is Vincent, though he doesn’t seem to actually have any real reason to be there so often.

#flatland oc #gay shapes #i based this off of kismet’s. i like writing as if this is a description u would hear from an outsider who only knew of them

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lovetohate001 · 2 years

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hear me out 001 x reader your brenners daughter and at first 001 wants to manipulate you then kill you to get back at papa but ends up falling for you

All is Fair in Love and War

Peter Ballard x Brenner’s Daughter! ORIGINAL CHARACTER

CW: Spoilers for Season 4 ahead | R-rated for violence (shock treatment) & language

Word count: 1.8k

When you were young, you had no idea what your father did for a living. While other kids got to brag about their parents being doctors and teachers, you were always told to say that what he did was “a secret”. And you could never figure it out, no matter how many times you asked your mother or pestered your father. But you definitely found out later. And it fell onto your doorstep, quite literally.

“Papa!”

You couldn’t have heard that right. From upstairs, in your room, you looked up from your homework. Was that a child?

Another rumble of thunder rattled your windows. This weather was dreadful. Especially with summer break right around the corner.

“Papa!” the shout was louder this time.

“I’m in here, Eleven. You know Papa won’t go anywhere,” you heard your father say.

What the fuck?

You made your way downstairs and went to the kitchen, following the hushed voices of your parents.

“Martin, you can’t bring this child in here without telling me first. Christine is-“

“Mom…Dad…?” you peeked your head in and immediately decided to step into view. “Who is this?”

“Oh…Christine. I didn’t realize you were home from school yet. It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”

“Hockey practice got cancelled today, with the bad weather and all,” you shrugged, kicking your shoe against the back of your other. “So…who’s the kid?”

“Christine,” your father went up to the small girl and put a hand on her shoulder, “I’d like you to meet Eleven.”

That had been ten years ago. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, you were a full-time helper at Hawkin’s Laboratory. Like you really had any other choice after meeting Eleven.

“You’re a bit out of it today,” Peter pointed out, looking up at you from his place on the floor.

The two of you were on Rainbow Room duty today, and Peter was busy with 003, trying to help him influence his emotions. It didn’t seem to be working. Peter was his same serene self as he always was. 003 had been trying to force him to feel anger for a while now, with little success.

“Just a bit tired, is all,” you brushed him off and sat down alongside him. “It’s been a long week. Especially since 011 hasn’t made much improvement over the last few days.”

“Hmm…” Peter nodded and focused back on 003. “You’ve done well for today. Go get some rest with the other children, won’t you?”

003 nodded silently and got up, wiping his nose. The children here got nosebleeds often. You still couldn’t really find a remedy. The only thing you could give them was rest and reassurance.

“Do you want to go get some air for a while?” Peter offered you a hand as he stood up.

“Sure,” you took his hand gratefully and allowed him to pull you up. “Maybe the breakroom out back?”

The breakroom wasn’t as impressive as your father’s private office at the other end of the Lab, but being out in the sun did you good.

“Sometimes I wish I could get away from here,” you sighed, looking up at the sky.

Peter smiled and shook his head. “There really is no use in wishing away the time, when there isn’t much else out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” he shifted and sat up against the wall, resting the back of his head on the cool brick, “If you look at it from another perspective, we’re exactly where we need to be. You’re working for your father, helping children harness gifts that others can only dream about. I think that’s more than enough.”

“And what about you? You’ve been here since I started. Don’t you miss the life you had before all of this?” you waved your hand in front of you, gesturing to the courtyard.

“No. Not at all,” he said shortly, voice a little more resigned. “I didn’t have the best life before coming here. Your father saved me in a way. Gave me a second chance.”

“In that case,” you reached your hand over and squeezed his hand, “I am glad you’re here now.”

His eyes widened a little at the gesture. He hadn’t expected you to do that at all. Especially since you two had done nothing but work together. Albeit as a team, almost inseparable most of the time, but still…this feeling was something new.

The hours crept along slower than usual for the rest of the day. You had been sent to the afternoon training room to oversee 002, 004 and 006’s progress, while Peter was sent for by your father.

“You’ve been doing well, 001,” was the greeting Peter received as he stepped into Doctor Brenner’s office.

Compared to the rest of the facility, this office was in stark contrast, with the mahogany desk and portrait on the wall behind him, of the ocean, tumultuous with a storm and a near capsizing ship. Doctor Brenner set his glasses on the table and leaned back in his chair.

“Thank you,” was all he replied with, his eyes steadily meeting Brenner’s. “That’s the most I can do here, since you were so keen to take away my own abilities. I can only hope to help children here to better themselves in the meantime.”

‘In the meantime?” Doctor Brenner chuckled. “My boy, as long as that little chip is in your neck, you won’t be harnessing your own gifts anytime soon. And you certainly won’t be making any advances on my daughter either.”

“Christine?” Peter frowned. “What have I done to give you any inclination that I have an interest in your daughter?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Peter. I’ve known you since you were a child,” Brenner snapped. “And I know you haven’t been spending more time with her here by coincidence. You’ve been following her around like a damned shadow. And I called you in to warn you.”

“If you,” Brenner pointed at him, “decide to use my daughter to get out of here with those sick mind games of yours, then I will have you killed.”

“You have no proof,” Peter said quietly.

What was this feeling? Squeezing against his chest. His heart hurt. He couldn’t breathe. But why? Why now? When he had tried so hard to get close to you to be free. To free the both of you.

“You being here is proof enough 001.” Brenner’s words cut through him like ice. “You are a monster. And nothing and no one will ever change that. You belong to me.”

Peter swallowed thickly and looked up, forcing himself to fix his gaze steadily on Brenner.

“I can assure you, sir, that I have no such intentions. Without my power, you know I am nothing. And I never will be anything as long as I am in this facility. And I know very well that you will kill me if you deem it fit to do so. So, answer me this question: why would I rebel against the man who will pull the trigger?”

“I’m glad we have an understanding. You are dismissed.”

Peter was escorted out by two of the other helpers. They all changed shifts and stayed so shortly on shift that he didn’t recognize their faces. They took him by the arms and forcefully steered him down the hall, into the room around the corner. Shock treatment was the only thing Brenner could prescribe to make sure 001 knew his place.

The currents washed over him in such strong and painful waves that he bit down hard enough on his lips to cause blood to trickle down his chin. And no matter how much higher the voltage went, he refused to scream, and willed that part of him you had brought to life again to die and bury itself away where it had once laid dormant.

Peter allowed the darkness to swallow him whole.

When you came in the next day, Peter hadn’t shown up the entire morning. Angela, one of the night nurses, had passed you on her way out and told you that he was in the infirmary.

You’d rushed down the halls and practically burst into his room. And there he was, asleep in a bed on the far end of the hall. Two children, 004 and 009, looked up as you came in, curious.

“Peter?” you slowly went up to him, eyes widening as you noticed the red marks covering his face. Were those burns? No…

“Peter.” You fell to your knees by his bed and clasped his hand tightly. His fingers were ice cold.

Your father had done this. And you knew it. He’d seen the way you had grown closer to him. After all these years, he had noticed that spark that lingered between the two of you. And he’d wanted it put out in the only way possible: by threatening him.

For the first time in your life, you held his hand as tightly as you would allow yourself to. You pressed his hand to your heart and sobbed. You didn’t care who was looking, or noticing.

“Christine…?”

You sniffed and tried to give Peter a watery smile. “It’s alright. I’m right here.”

Blue shadows bloomed under his eyes and he sat up slowly, trying to shake off the headache pounding through his skull.

“Peter…” you started.

“No. Don’t ask me anything.” He looked down at his hand, which you still held onto tightly.

“I’ll stay here then,” you replied stubbornly, squeezing his hand tighter in yours.

“Why me?” he asked, blue eyes meeting yours. “Why did you choose to love me?”

“Because you are kind.”

His heart stuttered.

“I am not kind.”

“Maybe not. But to me, you are.”

“You’re special,” Peter tried.

He had no idea how to explain himself. He was trapped. And he wanted to kill you and your father to get out. To be free. But that was a long time ago. When the two of you had been children. Now he wanted to get out of here. With you by his side. If he had to kill everyone else here except you, then so be it. But he couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t be-

“Peter?”

“Sorry. I can’t seem to focus on much right now.”

“I’m not letting him hurt you again,” you said gently. “Even if it means disagreeing with my father.”

He knew it would be more than a disagreement. To end all of this. But he would do this another day. Kill everyone another day. For now, he would rest. And keep you close to his side. Until he could find a way to get this chip out. Until he could finally be free. With you by his side. You would do this together.

And for once in his miserable life, Peter felt human. He felt love. And he knew it was all because of you. and he would never let that small bit of humanity you gave him slip away so easily. Not again. All was fair in love and war. Even if it meant he needed a few more deaths to get there.

A/N: I enjoyed writing this more than i should have! I hope you loved it too. I have a soft spot for soft Peter who actually has a heart. even if he is a mass killer with psychotic tendencies.

If you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, comment and reblog! you can also send a 001/vecna/peter ballard ask down below! check out more of my works too if you feel in the mood for some light reading!

MASTERLIST

SEND A FIC REQUEST/ASK HERE!

#stranger things #001 x reader #stranger things 001 #peter ballard fanfic #peter ballard stranger things #stranger things season 4 #001 stranger things #stranger things imagine #peter ballard smut #peter ballard #001 imagine #001 x oc #vecna's curse #vecna stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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ukrfeminism · 2 years

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A scandal worse than thalidomide

Doctors knew in 1973 that the epilepsy drug sodium valproate posed a risk to unborn children — and ordered that warnings be removed from packets. Almost 50 years and 20,000 disabled babies later, it is still being prescribed to pregnant women

The moment her newborn son Sebastian was handed to her, Catherine McNamara knew something was terribly wrong.

His tiny hands were deformed, unnaturally twisted and facing in the wrong direction. One was missing a thumb.

At first, she and her partner tried not to worry as their baby was taken off for x-rays and examinations. “We thought it was something they could fix,” she said.

But a few days later, the couple were devastated as doctors told them Sebastian’s deformities were permanent — and had been caused by the drug McNamara had been taking to control her epilepsy.

She burst into tears. “I just felt so guilty. All I could think was, what have I done to him?”

Like thousands of women, McNamara had been told her epilepsy medicine, sodium valproate, was safe to take during pregnancy. “They told me everything would be fine,” she said.

In fact, by the time her son was born in 2012, there had been multiple warnings over decades that the drug was unsafe for pregnant women.

Sodium valproate, which was given to women with epilepsy for decades without proper warnings, has caused autism, learning difficulties and physical deformities in up to 20,000 babies in Britain.

Yet despite a 2020 report that criticised the failure over four decades to inform women about the dangers, doctors are still not properly warning women of the risks. According to the latest data, published in March, sodium valproate was prescribed to 247 pregnant women between April 2018 and September 2021.

As a result, about six babies every month are being born in the UK having been exposed to the drug.

An investigation by The Sunday Times has found that the drug is still being handed out to women in plain packets with the information leaflets missing, or with stickers over the warnings.

The government is refusing to offer any compensation to those affected by sodium valproate, despite an independent review by Baroness Cumberlege concluding in 2020 that families should be given financial redress.

The former health secretary Jeremy Hunt says doctors should now be banned from prescribing the drug to pregnant women — and that the families affected by it must be properly compensated.

He has compared the case to the scandal of the anti-morning-sickness drug thalidomide, which caused deformities in thousands of babies after it was licensed in the UK in the 1950s.

Hunt said that while it was “never comfortable” for governments to acknowledge such injustices, the state had a moral duty to the families. “It’s time the British state faced up to its responsibilities,” he said. “Just as we eventually did to victims of the thalidomide scandal.

He added: “It beggars belief that after so many warnings this still hasn’t been sorted: this is a major risk to patient safety and ministers must order an immediate fix to prevent any more avoidable harm.”

Avoiding ‘fruitless anxiety’

When sodium valproate was introduced as a new epilepsy drug in the 1970s, the British medical community was still reeling from that very scandal — in which hundreds of babies were born severely deformed after pregnant women were given thalidomide.

The UK’s newly formed Committee on Safety of Medicines had been designated as the key decision-making body on new medicines.

This committee — whose membership comprised some of the UK’s leading medics and was chaired by Sir Eric Scowen, professor of medicine at St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London — met to discuss sodium valproate on multiple occasions in 1972 and 1973.

They noted that the drug had shown enormous promise in controlling the terrible seizures suffered by patients, even for those whose epilepsy had proven resistant to other treatments.

Sodium valproate is still a safe and effective drug for sufferers of epilepsy, who should not stop taking it without first discussing this with their doctor.

However, the notes of the meeting show that the manufacturers, Sanofi, had raised to the committee that there were signs in animal tests that valproate could potentially be teratogenic — harmful to foetuses.

The committee concluded that the use of anti-seizure drugs such as sodium valproate was indeed “liable to produce” abnormalities. But they stated that “the risk appears to be low, and not sufficient to justify stopping the use” of the drug.

In a decision that would have disastrous consequences for thousands of families, the committee chose not to alert the public to the concerns that the drug could harm babies — concluding that since the evidence was not clear, doing so would risk causing “fruitless anxiety” to patients.

They specified that warnings should be provided to doctors, “but not on package inserts, so that there would be no danger of patients themselves seeing it”.

The committee’s decision not to warn women of the risks was probably “influenced by the paternalistic nature of society at the time”, believes Dr Rebecca Bromley, a paediatric neuropsychologist at the University of Manchester.

She believes the committee did not appear to consider the need for “women to have an informed say in their treatment”. Instead, the effect of the decision was to “leave patients fully in the dark about the risk that their medicine might carry”.

The committee licensed the drug for use in the UK and failed to order any surveillance or detailed studies on the outcomes for pregnant women taking it.

“What was lacking was the urgency to understand the risks more comprehensively,” Bromley said. “Complementary studies could have been established. They would have detected the risks sooner.”

Reports of abnormalities

In the early 1980s, reports started to appear of babies being born with abnormalities. One, published in August 1980 in the Journal of Paediatrics, told of a girl born with severe physical deformities who lived for just 19 days. Her mother had taken sodium valproate during pregnancy.

The following year, the case of a baby boy born with abnormalities to his feet, spine and brain was reported in the same journal. Again, the case was linked to sodium valproate.

The journal appealed for information about any other incidents linked to the drug. In response, a number of similar cases were reported by doctors.

“One report or even a few do not make conclusive evidence,” said Bromley. “But the sheer number and similarity of the symptoms reported was screaming that there was cause for concern.”

The medical authorities in the UK were slow to respond.

At that time, medical regulators relied on doctors reporting adverse effects of drugs in their patients. But in the case of drugs that harm babies, the effect was not seen in the patient but their child — so the doctor who initially prescribed the drug was often unaware, especially as there was often a time lag of years before the issue emerged. “The system was not set up to detect these risks quickly,” Bromley said.

In 1983, an article in the British Medical Journal examined four cases of babies born with deformities in which sodium valproate had been the only drug taken by the mother. The article said the findings “may call into question the wisdom” of prescribing sodium valproate as the preferred anti-seizure drug.

This time, the concerns reached the floor of the House of Commons. But when the issue was raised by Labour MP Alan Williams in February 1983, his concerns were dismissed by then health minister Geoffrey Finsberg.

Finsberg assured MPs that the Committee on Safety of Medicines (CSM) had “concluded that there was no clear evidence” that sodium valproate was “more dangerous in this respect than other similar drugs”.

By the late 1980s, though, manufacturer Sanofi was receiving a growing number of reports of babies born with abnormalities.

A systematic review of evidence published by The Lancet also found an increased risk of spina bifida in children exposed to sodium valproate — although the authors bemoaned the lack of “high-quality evidence”.

The CSM finally acted on the concerns, asking Sanofi to write to all GPs and hospital doctors with a new warning sheet, setting out that sodium valproate could lead to birth defects.

However, the committee still stopped short of requiring doctors to tell women about the risks, with the danger of spina bifida not being included on patient safety leaflets until 1994. And still no detailed research into the effects of the drug was commissioned.

As a result, many doctors continued to prescribe the drug to pregnant women.

Janet Williams was one of them. At the time when she took sodium valproate while pregnant with her sons in 1989 and 1991, there were no warnings in the packets and no patient information leaflets. “Nobody said anything about risks,” she recalled. “In those days, you trusted your doctor.”

Both boys were born with disabilities.

Foetal valproate syndrome

It wasn’t until the mid-1990s that doctors started to recognise the problems affecting Williams’s two sons as “foetal valproate syndrome”.

The full spectrum of abnormalities seen as part of the syndrome was set out for the first time in a 1995 report in the Journal of Medical Genetics.

But while geneticists and paediatricians were becoming increasingly convinced of the problem, their concerns were not reaching the ears of the neurologists who were actually prescribing the drug, said Bromley.

Few of these doctors “would have been reading genetics journals”, she noted. As a result, the drugs continued to be handed out to pregnant women.

Patricia Alexander, from Canvey Island, Essex, was advised to continue taking a high dose of 2000mg a day throughout her pregnancy with her son Joseph in 2000 — and again in 2009, when she was expecting her daughter, Amélie.

During her medical appointments, she repeatedly asked if the drug was safe. Her concerns were brushed off by doctors and specialist nurses.

“I had no idea about valproate syndrome,” she said. “No one had ever mentioned it to me.”

Both Joseph and Amélie were born with physical disabilities, and both would go on to be diagnosed as autistic. Alexander only learnt about foetal valproate syndrome years after the children were born.

“The first I knew was when I saw a survey on Facebook,” she said. “It was heart-wrenching to read. Every single difficulty my children have was in that questionnaire and attributed to sodium valproate.”

To this day, her children are completely dependent on her and her husband. Amélie walks on crutches due to a twisted leg that may require surgery. Joseph is unable to stand or walk normally.

“Unless you live our lives, you don’t know how much effort goes into just getting through a day,” Alexander said. “It’s exhausting.”

A living nightmare

Evidence was mounting that sodium valproate was causing not just physical abnormalities but also neurological problems.

A major UK and US study confirmed in 2009 that the use of the drug in pregnancy could damage children’s IQ. The higher the dose, the more severe the damage.

Bromley, who was involved in this study, said it was a key moment. “People stopped asking us to prove that the risks were there and started asking about the level of risk.”

Patient information sheets were finally amended in 2010 to refer to the risks to cognitive development including autism.

By this time, families were starting to ask questions. More than 100 attempted to bring a lawsuit against Sanofi over the damage their children had suffered — but it collapsed just three weeks before the trial was due to start as legal aid was withdrawn.

Janet Williams, who was supporting the families bringing the case, was devastated. She and her husband were struggling with their two severely disabled sons, Lee and Philip.

“It was a living nightmare,” she said. The couple desperately needed financial help to cope with their sons. “We’ve never really known why the case collapsed.”

As part of the legal settlement to avoid having to pay costs, parents were made to sign an agreement to say they would not bring litigation again.

Even now, pregnant women continued to be given sodium valproate — among them Catherine McNamara.

She already had two children with severe learning disabilities. Before getting pregnant again in 2011, she had explicitly asked both her GP and consultant whether the drugs could have affected her other children, and whether she should stop taking them before trying for a third baby.

“I went to the GP and said, ‘I’ve got two children with quite severe learning difficulties and autism, is there any chance it could be to do with my tablets?’

“The GP said no. He told me to just keep taking the tablets, everything will be fine. My consultant said the same thing.”

Her son Sebastian was born with deformities to his arms in 2012.

‘We never got a choice’

Following the collapse of the legal case, Williams was determined to keep speaking out about how sodium valproate had affected her sons.

By now, her boys Lee and Philip, both with severe learning difficulties, were under the care of paediatricians and geneticists, who had told Williams for the first time that they believed the problems had been caused by her epilepsy drug.

“That was the first time we had ever heard that valproate could harm babies,” she said. It later emerged that doctors had secretly diagnosed Lee with foetal valproate syndrome as a baby — but had never told her about it.

If she had known, Williams might have been able to prevent her second son from suffering the same fate. “I was angry,” she said. “Why had no one ever warned us?”

After she was filmed for local television news in 2008, Williams was contacted by mother of five Emma Murphy, from Radcliffe, near Manchester, who had seen the report.

During a long late-night telephone call, the pair talked through what had happened to them. Like Williams, Murphy had taken sodium valproate during all five of her pregnancies — between 2009 and 2019 — after being told it was safe.

“At every appointment, me and my husband asked if valproate was safe,” Murphy remembered. “The response was always: it’s the best medication.”

All five of her children suffered disabilities. Her daughter Lauren, now 17, cannot walk without leg braces; her son Luke, 16, is so sensitive to noise that they cannot boil a kettle at home.

Together, the two mothers fought to uncover the truth about what had happened to their babies.

They travelled down to London on the train, went to the National Archives and demanded the minutes of the original CSM meetings at which sodium valproate had been approved in the 1970s.

When they found the key documents, Murphy recalled: “I just took a sudden breath and screamed. I couldn’t believe it. I was in utter shock.”

The documents revealed that “right from day one, the regulators were aware there was a possibility babies could be harmed”, Williams remembered.

“And this was just after thalidomide. Women were never given an informed choice, right from day one.”

Campaigning mothers

The pair fought to raise awareness of valproate and the harm it was doing. But it was not until 2017 that they were invited by the then health secretary Jeremy Hunt to prepare a case for financial redress for families, helped by the barrister Michael Mansfield QC.

In his summary, Mansfield concluded: “The scandalous reality of the original decision of the CSM is that since 1973 thousands of women have taken sodium valproate during pregnancy and unwittingly exposed their children to foetal valproate syndrome in circumstances where they could have chosen not to.”

He noted that there were “many similarities between the sodium valproate scandal and the thalidomide scandal” and that there was “no good reason” why the government should not adopt the same response as it did to thalidomide in 2012, providing millions of pounds for ongoing financial support.

The government, though, refused his call for compensation.

Instead, Baroness Cumberlege, a former health minister, was asked to carry out an inquiry into sodium valproate. The inquiry also examined the use of vaginal mesh and the hormone pregnancy test Primodos.

Announcing the review in 2018, Hunt said the inquiry was necessary into all three issues because in each case the healthcare system had failed to respond to patients’ concerns fast enough.

“We must acknowledge that the response to these issues from those in positions of authority has not always been good enough,” he said. “Sometimes the reaction has felt overly focused on defending the status quo rather than addressing the needs of patients.”

The resulting report, which was finally published in July 2020, concluded that the government had an “ethical responsibility” to provide financial help to families to cover the costs of care, and detailed how a “disjointed, siloed, unresponsive and defensive” healthcare system had for two decades failed to fully appreciate or act on the harmful effects of sodium valproate, and had dismissed women’s experiences and complaints.

Still, the government refused to compensate the families.

In July 2020, Nadine Dorries, then patient safety minister, offered “an unreserved apology” to families and said she was left “shocked but incredibly angry” at reading the “harrowing” report. But she stopped short of offering any financial redress.

“A decent society has a duty to help people who are suffering so much,” said Cumberlege. “Such a scheme need not be a blank cheque; a comparatively modest sum would provide the support that these families so desperately need. I hope the government will do the right thing and act now.”

The French government has already established a dedicated compensation fund for victims. Sanofi is facing a class-action lawsuit in France, where more than 30,000 children are thought to have been damaged since sodium valproate was licensed there in 1967.

In January, a court ruled the company “was at fault because it failed to meet the obligation for vigilance and the obligation to inform”.

Sanofi says it has met all its obligations in the UK, where between 9,000 and 20,000 children may have been harmed by sodium valproate, scores more than were left disabled by thalidomide in the 1960s. A spokeswoman expressed “sympathy for any person harmed as a result of exposure to valproate during pregnancy and for members of their families” but added: “Sanofi has complied fully with its regulatory obligations in relation to valproate, including the provision of product information to healthcare professionals and to patients . . . we do not believe that there is any basis for the payment of compensation.”

Still no warnings

Patricia Alexander holds in her hands a plain packet. Inside are two blister packs containing sodium valproate.

This pack was given to her in January of this year. It has no patient safety information leaflet inside.

“Sometimes you just get a white box,” she said. “They are supposed to put the patient information leaflet inside and a card that warns you of the risks, but they don’t.

“The fact I am getting the boxes like this, because they have split the dose, means someone else is as well.”

Perhaps the most damning finding of Cumberlege’s report was her warning that hundreds of women were still taking sodium valproate with no knowledge of the risks to their unborn babies.

Evidence suggests that this still continues to this day — with the drug being handed to pregnant women without proper warnings.

The pack given to Alexander in January states on the front that if you are pregnant or plan to become pregnant, you must speak to your doctor about taking the medication and read the leaflet for more details.

“But there is no leaflet,” she said. “There is nothing in the box but 22 tablets. It makes me so angry.”

After she was given them, Alexander took photographs of the boxes and shared them online.

Other women did the same. Some had received the drugs in plain boxes. Others showed boxes with pharmacy labels stuck over the pregnancy warnings.

The matter of the drugs still being handed out in plain packaging, without the appropriate warnings, has been acknowledged by the Department of Health and Social Care.

It has admitted that “evidence continues to emerge suggesting many women remain unaware of the significant risks posed to their unborn baby should they fall pregnant while taking sodium valproate”.

It launched a consultation in November on proposals to ensure sodium valproate was always dispensed in the original manufacturer’s packaging “to support increased patient safety” — but the government has yet to respond.

An NHS England spokesman said it had established an expert group to help reduce by 50 per cent next year the use of sodium valproate by women who can get pregnant, and had written to all women and girls aged 12 to 55 in England who take the medication to remind them of risks.

But the medicines regulator has admitted warnings are still not getting through.

Dr Alison Cave, chief safety officer for the Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) said work was ongoing on safer use of sodium valproate and to minimise prescribing.

She said the MHRA was now working to ensure the drug was dispensed in the original packaging with the safety information inside.

“If there are examples where this information has not been provided, we would investigate this,” she said.

She added that the drug “should not be taken by any individual of child-bearing potential unless they have a pregnancy prevention programme in place, which includes use of effective contraception”.

She also said that women on sodium valproate were now required to sign annual risk-acknowledgement forms together with their healthcare professional “as their circumstances regarding the risk of pregnancy may change”. Patients who spoke to The Sunday Times disputed whether these measures were in place across the board.

Fears for the future

Since sodium valproate was first licensed for use in 1973, as many as 20,000 children may have been affected by it.

Many of those children will never live independently and will need full-time care for the rest of their lives.

Williams, now 57, lives with her husband Steve and her two boys Lee, 32, and Philip, 31. Both have disabilities caused by the drug, but Philip is the worst affected.

“He could never live independently,” said Williams. “And I am terrified we’re not going to be here for ever to do things for them.”

Murphy’s daughter Lauren, 16, cannot walk without splints. She has had to wait weeks to get replacements on the NHS.

“If parents had financial support we could buy them sooner,” she said. “And that’s just one case. We have thousands of children like that with valproate syndrome.”

For McNamara, 45, from Hull, life with three children harmed by sodium valproate is a daily struggle.

Alexander, 20, Sophia, 16, and Sebastian, 10, all have physical problems, autism and learning difficulties. Sophia had major surgery in 2019 to correct the curvature of her spine but couldn’t get a wheelchair from the NHS. Her mother had to buy one secondhand.

McNamara said the financial impact has been crippling. “I’m not able to invest in myself, a career. I can’t buy a house. Just to meet everyday expenses is difficult because I can’t go out and get a job.

“I take everything a day at a time. If you think too far down the line it really gets to you.”

After Sebastian’s birth, McNamara went on to have a healthy child after changing onto a different epilepsy drug, Keppra.

Although for some patients only sodium valproate will fully control their seizures, there are alternative anticonvulsant drugs available, and some women find they are able to change their treatment.

“If I’d known now that alternatives were out there, I’d have changed over without a second thought,” she said.

Alternative anticonvulsant drugs had never been offered to her until her children were diagnosed with foetal valproate syndrome, she says. “Nobody thought to mention it.”

174 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Text

Defender, Protector, Keeper

Part 7

A/N: Fun fact, in the late 1800s during a custody battle, children often went to their fathers. This is important for this chapter and any future pieces :)

Warnings: nothing outside of canon

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: You struggle to figure out what you need to do for you and your son.

“Benjamin, you have to eat something.”

Your five-year-old stubbornly shook his head then looked away from you.

“The boy will eat when he’s hungry, Y/N.” Susan spoke from across the table.

“He hasn’t eaten much of anything in four days, Mrs. Grimshaw.”

“Let the boy starve.” Bill grunted from another table somewhere behind you. “He’ll learn to eat when food’s offered to him.”

You said nothing to him. You rubbed Ben’s shoulder, trying to think of some sort of way that you could get him to eat.

“Do you think he could be sick, Y/N?” Tilly asked.

“He doesn’t have a fever, and I asked if his stomach hurt but he said no.”

“So the boy can suddenly talk now?”

“Leave him alone, Micah.” Karen snapped at him.

"It was just a simple question! I think Miss Y/N babies the boy."

You stopped yourself from saying anything to the man. He just wanted a reaction out of you. He enjoyed making you upset.

“I asked him if his stomach was hurting.” You looked at Tilly and then to Mrs. Grimshaw. “He shook his head no.”

“Poor fella.” Tilly sat down on the other side of him.

“He hasn’t been runnin’ around with Jack at all the last few days.” Abigail said. Your eyes found her. “Maybe he caught somethin’ and it just doesn’t give him a fever.”

The thought of Ben being sick had you worried. You couldn’t afford a bill from a doctor visit right now. You could probably barely afford any medication for whatever illness he had.

You brought your attention back to your son. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

He let out a sigh and folded his arms up on the table before putting his head down.

***

The subject of Ben’s health was dropped until after breakfast.

“Y/N, do you have a second?” Hosea asked you.

You were just about to go check on Ben when he stopped you.

“Of course, Mr. Matthews.”

“How’s Ben doing?”

“Still won’t eat. He’s laying down right now.”

Hosea nodded his head, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

“What do you think about getting him some kind of medicine to make him feel better?”

“Oh, I-I don’t know. I don’t have that kind of money, Mr. Matthews.” You shook your head.

“I’m not asking for your money, dear. I just wanted to know if you were okay with the idea of it. I’ve spoken with Dutch and he’s agreed that it’s best to see to it that Ben gets better soon. I am going into Saint Denis to see a doctor there about the medicine. Abigail is going with me. She’s somewhat familiar with medication. Jack fell ill a few winters back and had to take a couple different things for the sickness.”

You wanted to decline, to tell him that he couldn’t do this for you. You didn’t want to be a charity case and you definitely didn’t want him to spend a terrible amount of money for you. But now wasn’t the time for your pride to get in the way.

“I-I’d like to come with you.” You looked towards the tent you shared with Karen and Sadie. “But Ben…. He isn’t safe here.”

Hosea knew what you meant. He had seen the few interactions with Micah had with Ben. Almost immediately, a plan came to mind.

“Why don’t you give me a few minutes and let me see what I can do?”

“Okay.” You nodded your head. “Thank you so much, Hosea.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, dear.”

***

“Hi, Y/N.”

You lifted your head to see Mary-Beth enter the tent.

“Hosea asked that I sit with little Ben while you’re gone with him and Abigail.”

You nodded, giving her a smile before looking down at your son.

“I have to go out for a little bit, love.” You combed his hair back and kissed his head. “Listen to Mary-Beth, okay?”

He nodded his head.

As you passed Mary-Beth, you put your hand on her arm.

“Thank you.”

She put her hand on your arm, squeezing your fingers momentarily.

Just outside the tent sat Sadie. She met your gaze and gave you a small nod.

Had she been placed there as a sort of guard?

The idea brought you relief. She was as tough as they came, and Micah didn’t scare her one bit.

***

After stopping to get the medicine, Hosea had to make a quick stop at the train station to have something mailed out for Dutch. You stayed on your horse waiting outside of the station with Abigail, who had borrowed John’s horse for the day.

“You think…. Y/N, do you think there’s any chance Ben’s actin’ funny because Arthur’s been gone?” Abigail asked you.

You messed with the reins, thumbing at an odd stitch in the leather.

“I have thought about it.” You admitted. “But I can’t linger on it. I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what’s best for Ben.” You smiled a little, though it was sad and forced.

“Do you believe that, Y/N? I mean, if it’s true and Ben isn’t eatin’ or playin’ because Arthur is gone, then just imagine what he thinks of the man.”

“I can’t think of that, Abigail.”

You looked away from her, your eyes flickering around the busy street.

You almost missed the feeling of the bustling crowd and the rush of carts passing.

A familiar face caught your eye among the crowd, making your stomach twist into knots.

“Abigail.”

“Yeah?”

You weren’t able to move yourself away from her in time. James Brady had already caught sight of you. You wanted to tell Abigail to run, that Brady didn’t need to know her face. But your voice wouldn’t work quick enough.

“Funny how I don’t see you for nearly half a year, and then suddenly I see you twice in one week.” Brady spoke, stopping just a few feet away from you.

You looked towards the train station, pretending to not see him.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Y/N.”

You continued to ignore him. Abigail stared the man down, glaring sharply at him. She remembered him to be the man from the parlor.

Brady didn’t like to be ignored, and he was growing irritated with the situation quickly.

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and play your stupid games, Y/N.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I have plenty to say to you! I want–.”

“What more could you want from me?” Your eyes flickered down to meet his “You’ve upturned my entire life. You nearly ruined it. What more could you possibly want?”

“I want my son to know who his father is.”

“He knows who his father is.” You spoke through your teeth.

Just then, Hosea emerged from the train station.

“His real father, Y/N.” Brady was frustrated. “The boy deserves as much.”

“He deserves to grow up in his home, James! With the man who was there for him since he was born!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. “But you took that away from him! You did that, James!”

“Theo was living in a dream, Y/N.” Brady shook his head.

“He was living your dream, you mean? And you couldn’t stand that, so you had to rip it away from him.”

“If I wanted to do that, I would have killed you and my son, and left that bastard alive.”

“Do not call him your son. He was never yours to claim.”

“What seems to be the problem here?” Hosea asked, making his presence known to the both of you. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” You murmured.

“Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” Hosea turned to Brady.

“No.” He glared at the old man, then looked up at you. “Y/N, I want to see my son.”

“Over my dead body.”

“I’m serious, Y/N! I want to see him, or I will get the law involved.”

You took in a sharp breath, your chest suddenly feeling tight. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing Ben, especially not to Brady. And if the law were involved, Benjamin would surely go to James Brady.

“Y/N, who was that nasty man?” Hosea mounted his horse and moved closer to you.

You looked over to him. His form turned blurry as tears pooled in your eyes.

The doors were wide open now. Anything could escape. What was the point in trying to hide now by trying to close them again?

“That was Benjamin’s father.”

***

You crossed your arms as you emerged from the tent.

Ben was listening to Tilly tell him a story, so you didn’t want to stay and bother them.

You spotted Hosea standing at Dutch’s tent talking to him. Abigail was just outside of her tent sewing a patch onto one of Jack’s shirts.

You chose to go to Hosea first, but you waited for him to finish talking before you approached him.

“Can I have a moment with you, Mr. Matthews?”

“Of course, of course.” He gestured to the table behind you.

You sat down, clasping your hands together in your lap.

“It’s in regards to earlier today at the train station.” You started. “That man…. He is technically Ben’s father, but he wasn’t the man grew up with calling his father. He wasn’t Ben’s real father. His real father was my husband.”

“Will he become an issue for you? The man from today?”

“It’s possible. I-I don’t know why he wants to see Ben all of a sudden, but I won’t let it happen.” You shook your head. “I just wanted to…. to clear things up with you. I didn’t want you to think that I had been lying about my husband.”

“No need for that, dear.” Hosea held his hand up. “If things needed to be cleared up, I would have asked. All that I do ask is that you take someone with you if you leave camp.”

“Of course. I can do that.”

“Good, good.” Hosea smiled as he stood up. “Don’t want anything to happen to you. Oh, and would you mind if I mention that nasty fella from the station to Dutch just so that he’s aware there could be some trouble for you later on? He likes to know if one of us gets into any trouble.”

You hesitated.

“I can handle James Brady myself, Hosea. There’s no need to bring more people into this.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone anymore, dear. You’re one of us.”

You smiled softly. The idea of being protected by the gang was endearing and heartwarming.

“I don’t mind if you tell him.”

“Thank you. See you around, Y/N.”

***

You messed with your fingers as you approached Abigail. She was clearly upset about something. Her nose was wrinkled a bit and there was a furrow between her brows as she rather aggressively sewed a patch into what looked like jeans for John.

“Do you have a minute, Abigail?”

“Suppose so.” She didn’t look up at you.

You sat down at the table just in front of her.

“You’ve been upset since we got back from Saint Denis.”

“Mhm.” She continued to stitch for a few more moments, pushing the needle through the thick material. When she felt that she had done enough, Abigail put the jeans aside roughly and looked at you. “You told me Ben’s father died! I was the one who brought you here, Y/N! And I barely knew you then. I trusted you and all you did was lie to me by making up some sort of sad story.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Abigail. But I…. I did keep things from you.” You looked down at your hands. “The man from today was Ben’s father, but he didn’t raise Ben with me. My husband, Theo, did that. He raised Ben like his own. James wanted nothing to do with Ben.”

“James is the fella from earlier?”

You nodded.

Abigail thought about what you had just told her.

“How did it happen? I mean, you said before that you met Theo through workin’. Was that how it was with that James fella?”

“Yeah. Both were professors at a university. I worked nearby, made myself known to the bachelors there.” You grinned just a little, recalling how you were always so good at working over the men at the university. “James and Theo became clients.”

“You said James didn’t want Ben?”

“When I told him I was pregnant and that the baby was his, he wanted nothing to do with me.”

“And now all of a sudden, the bastard wants to see Ben?” Abigail furrowed her brows.

“He said he was going to get the law involved, Abigail. If I lost him, I don’t know what–,”

“You aren’t going to lose him, Y/N.” Abigail moved to sit next to you. “As long as you’re with us, you two are safe.”

“I can’t bring that here. What if lawmen turned up here? Dutch would go mad.”

“Well, we’ll worry about that when we get to it.”

***

It was late in the night when Arthur and Charles returned from their trip. Only a few people were still up, including you, Karen, Sean, Javier, Micah, Bill, and Sadie.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to return!” Sean threw his hands into the air.

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur grunted as he heaved a deer carcass on to his shoulder. “Get your ass over here and help us.”

You looked down at the fire while Sean, Bill, and Javier went to lend a hand to Arthur and Charles.

“Not gonna go greet your cowpoke, Y/N?”

You looked over to Micah.

“Thought you two were a thing.”

“Do you enjoy putting your nose in everyone else’s business, Mr. Bell?” You asked him.

“I just like to know what goes around here at camp, and who might go around if you know what I mean.”

“That’s a nasty thing to say, Micah.” Karen shook her head at him.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s heard worse.”

You didn’t want to let on that he was getting under your skin, but it was getting difficult to hide it.

“I need to check on my son.” You looked over at Karen.

You stood up and began to slip away, your eyes set on the tent you shared with her and Sadie.

“Are you headin’ off to bed?”

You turned to see Arthur approach you. He took his hat off and smoothed his dirty blond hair down. You opened your mouth to answer him but your voice was caught in your throat as you gazed up at him. You found yourself staring dumbly up at him for a few moments.

When you realized you were just staring at him, you blinked and looked back towards your tent.

“Mr. Morgan, um, yes. I- It’s pretty late. I should try to get some rest.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’ll see you in the mornin’, right?”

You gave him a little nod before turning to go to the tent.

Arthur stayed there for an unknown amount of time cursing at himself and wishing he would’ve gone about the interaction differently.

“Should’ve said goodnight, dumbass.” He muttered to himself.

***

The Next Morning

You yawned, stretching one arm above your head. As you began to drift into consciousness, you reached out for Ben. He needed to wake up too. He had a few chores that he had missed out on and needed to get started.

But as you reached for your son, your hand was met with an empty pillow.

You opened your eyes and lifted your head.

“Ben, love? It’s time to wake up.” You pushed the blankets back as you sat up.

With the exception of you, the cot was empty. Your son wasn’t lying next to you like he should have been.

You looked around the tent, checking Sadie’s and Karen’s beds to make sure that for whatever reason he hadn’t slipped into their beds. But they were empty and made up perfectly.

You were alone in the tent.

You hurriedly pulled on a button down that had once belonged to your late husband overtop of your nightgown. Without even worrying about shoes, you made your way out to the camp.

Your eyes flickered around in search of your son.

“My god, Miss Y/L/N. You look as though you’ve had a terrible night.” Trelawny spoke as he passed you. “Have you come down with something?”

“Good morning, Mr. Trelawny. I-I’m not sick. Have you seen my son?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t, my dear.”

You moved on to the next person you came across.

“My goodness, Y/N.” Susan was surprised to see you in your nightgown and so disheveled. You were always put together before you left your tent. “What in the–,”

“Mrs. Grimshaw, have you seen Ben?”

“Not this morning, no. Is he missing?”

The very question made your knees weak.

“I-I don’t know, Mrs. Grimshaw.”

Within just a few minutes, you had frantically asked everyone you came across in camp if they had seen the young boy. Each one that you asked had given the same reply.

“Have you seen Benjamin, Javier?”

“I haven’t.”

“Abigail! John! Do either of you know where Ben is? I-I can’t find him.”

“I’ve been watchin’ Jack all mornin’. Ben hasn’t been over here to see him.”

“No I haven't. Sorry, Y/N.”

“Tilly! Tilly, have you seen Ben? Have you seen my Ben?”

“No. Y/N. I thought he was still in bed.”

The fear of something having happened to your son had grown with every answer you received. What if he had wandered out of camp and into the woods? There were animals in those woods that could seriously hurt or even kill a boy as little as Benjamin. What if he came across someone in those woods? When had he left? How far had he gotten? Could someone had found him and taken him far away? What if he was taken so far away that you had no chance of ever finding him again?

Those questions tormented you, but then you remembered your last interaction with James Brady. He wanted to see his son. What if he was willing to take Ben by force, to take him from you without getting the law involved?

That thought alone was enough to nearly have you on your knees. You couldn’t lose your Benjamin that way. You couldn’t lose him to that man.

Tears stung your eyes as you approached Lenny and Mary-Beth.

“Oh, Y/N.” Mary-Beth noticed your frantic state almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you-Have you seen my son?” Your voice was a whisper and it cracked with every word you said.

“I saw him.” Lenny nodded, standing to his feet. “I was changing guard shifts with Sean when I saw him walking with Arthur around the edge of camp.”

You could’ve hugged Lenny then and there, but you needed to find your son first. You weren’t yet able to breathe. You needed to see him.

***

Once you heard that they had been walking around the edge of camp, they weren’t hard to find. You recalled the spot where you had found them a little over a week prior when Arthur had been showing Ben a caterpillar.

Arthur sat on a decaying log while Ben was showing him something in his hand. Your son had his back to you.

When Arthur caught sight of movement, he lifted his head to see you approaching them quickly.

“Ben!” You cried his name, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. He was safe. He was alive. James Brady hadn’t taken him from you.

Ben turned his head to look at you.

Arthur stood up as you moved to clutch your son, hugging him impossibly tight. Arthur realized from your body language and from the tears on your face that you were upset. Something was wrong.

“I-I was so worried.” You brushed your hand over Ben’s hair and then his cheek, smiling when he wrinkled his nose at you. He reached out to wipe one of the tears from your cheek. “You had me scared.”

You stood up and took a little breath, the weight on your chest finally lifting. You could breathe.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t–,”

“Never take my son without asking me.” You cut Arthur off, meeting his gaze very briefly before ushering Ben towards camp. “Come on, Benjamin.”

He resisted, pushing against your hand that was on his shoulder and shaking his head.

Your patience was already thin, so instead of trying to reason with him like you normally would have, you picked him up and carried him all the way to your tent.

You placed him on the cot and then brushed your messy hair back. You looked at him for a few moments, the reality of what had just happened and what could have happened setting in. Your knees became weak. You sat down on the edge of the cot and rubbed your forehead with the heel of your palm.

Sensing that something was wrong, Ben moved closer to you. He leaned his head against your arm. You looked over at him.

“You had me really scared, love.” You whispered to him, leaning over to kiss his head.

He put his arm around your back and kept his head against your arm. You put one hand on his back to comfort him. You were sure that you scared him too when you showed up the way you did and took him away from what you were sure was time he was enjoying with Arthur.

***

After a few minutes, you allowed him to go out and play, but told him that he could only stay near Jack.

You wished you would have had a little more sense about you in the moment. You knew that Ben was safe with Arthur. You didn’t have to remove him from whatever it was he and Arthur were doing. But in that moment, you were so full of fear and anger that you just wanted your son with you, but you did not want to be around Arthur.

You wished you wouldn’t have been such a panicked mess when asking everyone where Ben was. You probably made yourself look like a fool.

You let out a sigh and rubbed your eyes.

***

As Arthur made his way back towards camp, he ignored the looks he got from many of those lingering around camp. He fixed his hat as he made his way for his horse.

“Arthur!” Hosea called from behind Arthur.

“What, Hosea?” Arthur began to untether Ruby from her post.

“What in the hell happened?” Hosea furrowed his brow. “All I hear going around is that Y/N’s boy is missing, and then five minutes later she’s coming out of the woods with him and you’re not far behind.”

“It was all a misunderstandin’, Hosea.”

“You took her son, Arthur!”

“I didn’t–!” Arthur stopped himself from yelling. He looked down at his hand for a few moments. He took a deep breath in through his nose and shook his head. “I didn’t take him, Hosea. I was just keepin’ an eye on him until she woke up. You can ask Sadie when she gets back with Charles. We were talkin’ around the fire earlier this mornin’ when Ben came out of the tent and straight over to me.”

Arthur paused as he recalled how Ben had left the tent to join him and Sadie at the fire. There had been a wide smile on his face as he looked up at Arthur. When Athur knelt down to his height to greet him, Ben hugged him tightly.

“Anyways, he ran off into the woods and I followed him. Didn’t want nothin’ to happen to him.” The man muttered.

“You didn’t think of making him come back to camp?”

“He’s not mine to boss around, Hosea.”

“There’s a difference in bossing around a child and telling them to do something for their own good, Arthur.”

He shook his head softly.

“I don’t want…. I don’t want to do something and make Y/N upset with me. But I think I already managed to do that. Hosea, I ain’t ever seen her so angry like that.” Arthur looked over to the older man, shaking his head softly. “I-I mean, the look in her eyes when she looked at me…. I’ve never seen her that way.”

“She thought something had happened to her boy, Arthur. In that moment, you weren’t her friend. You were the fool getting between a mother and her child.”

Arthur looked over to Ruby. He sure did feel like a fool.

“Arthur, do you know anything about a James Brady fella?” Hosea leaned against one of the hitching posts.

“What about him?”

“Well, while you were gone with Charles, Ben fell ill. I took Y/N into the city to get medicine for him when we ran into Mr. Brady.”

Arthur’s jaw locked. He turned his head to look towards your tent. He was a bit upset that he hadn’t been there to help make Ben feel better, or that he couldn’t have been there to cause harm to James Brady.

“Brady wants to see Ben.”

“Why?” Arthur’s eyes flickered back to Hosea. “He didn’t want nothin’ to do with him five years ago. Why now?”

“I’m not sure of that, but he threatened to bring in the law if Y/N didn’t let him see the boy.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face.

“I know she’s been worried about that a lot, Arthur. Maybe if you could talk to her about it–,”

“Hosea, I ain’t too sure she’ll want to talk to me ever again after what happened this mornin’.”

“She will.” Hosea nodded his head. “Trust me, son. She thinks more of you than anyone else here. Aside from her son. Just let her calm down and give her some time.”

Arthur watched Hosea walk away, then he looked in the direction of your tent once more.

***

You made your way across camp, your eyes set on the tin of coffee hanging over the fire. You, however, didn’t get a chance to make it to the coffee.

“Y/N!” Arthur called for you. “Y/N, hold on a second!”

You didn’t want to be rude, and you knew you couldn’t avoid the matter forever, so you took a breath and turned to face him.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier, Mr. Morgan. If you’ll please excuse me–,

You tried to turn to leave but he clasped your arm and stopped you.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N. You don’t gotta apologize for nothin’. I’m the one who needs to apologize. This mornin’ when he left your tent, he went to the woods. I followed him ‘cause I didn’t want nothin’ to happen to him. I should’ve made him come back to camp, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

You nodded and tried once more to leave, but yet again he stopped you.

“Hey, hey.” Arthur spoke gently. “Hosea told me about what happened with Brady. He’s threatenin’ to take Benny away from you?”

You looked down for a moment, taking a steady breath in through your nose.

"I don’t want to talk about it, Arthur.”

He nodded his head understandingly.

“Then can we talk about the mornin’ I left?”

You turned your head to look towards Dutch’s tent. There was a small group gathered there.

“It looks like they’re having an important meeting over there. Shouldn’t you be involved with that–,”

“The only thing I should be involved with right now is you.” He cut you off firmly. “Was it what I said that upset you?”

“Not here, Arthur.” You shook your head. “Not in front of everyone. I’m tired of being the camp’s gossip.”

Arthur ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes flickering around the camp as he tried to think of something.

“I got somewhere. Come on.” He took your hand and began to lead you toward his horse but you resisted.

“Arthur, I don’t want to leave Ben.”

“It’s just outside of camp, Y/N. Just down the shore of the lake. We’ll talk and then come right back.”

You looked up at him, gazing at his blue eyes for a few heartbeats before giving in.

“Let me tell Abigail.”

***

Arthur held his hand out to help you down from Ruby. You placed your hand in his much larger one.

The place he had taken you to was a little valley of daisies that rested between two small hills. It was on the edge of the lakeshore and provided a beautiful view to the lake.

You moved towards the edge of the field where the grass met the dirt and sand from the shore. Your eyes stayed on the lake, admiring its beauty.

“You never tell me that you’re leaving camp, Arthur. And you asked if I would be okay without you, if Ben and I would be okay. For you to say those things right after I told you about Theo…. It just….” You didn’t know how to word what you wanted to say. “I don’t want someone to replace him, Arthur.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do, Y/N.” He shook his head, his voice quiet and weak.

“But it felt like it, Arthur. You-You never did those things until after I told you.”

Arthur ran his hand over his hand over his face. That was the last thing he wanted. In fact, it was the one thing that he had been doing his damnedest to avoid.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m- I’m really sorry.”

You turned around to face him. There was so much space between the two of you.

“I just felt like…. I don’t know. I felt that I needed to tell you. Think I wanted you to know so that you’d be more careful with some of those people around camp.” Arthur murmured. He was just thinking out loud now in an attempt to make his thoughts make sense.

“But you don’t have to do things like that, Arthur.” You told him. “I’m not yours to look after.”

Blue eyes found yours. His broad shoulders seemed to sink just slightly as a look of heartache crossed his features.

“I-I just- I’m sorry–,”

“Don’t apologize.” You stopped him, your voice quiet. “You’re a sweet man, Arthur, and I admire many things about you. But I-I can’t…. I just lost my husband and Ben– I don’t want him hurt.”

Arthur furrowed his brows together.

“Do you think I’d hurt him?”

“Not intentionally.”

“I’d never hurt that boy, Y/N.” He shook his head firmly. “I’d sooner kill myself than hurt him or ever even think about it.”

“But if something were to happen to you or-or if we were together and we didn’t….” You gestured between you and Arthur. “I can’t put Ben through that pain, Arthur.”

He nodded slowly.

Silence filled the air between you both.

“But what if we were together for a long time?” Arthur tilted his head to the side just a bit as he looked at you. “What if…. What if it turned out good instead of bad like you’re thinkin? I mean, bein’ with me can’t be all good times, I’m sure. But I don’t think it would be all that terrible.”

You brought one hand up to your mouth, rubbing your jaw as you thought.

“I do…. I care about you. I just– I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Y/N?”

You crossed your arms. An itch began to creep up your throat and your eyes began to prickle with tears.

“Many things, Arthur.” You whispered.

“Oh, pumpkin.” His chest tightened at the sound of your broken voice. “We all got things we’re afraid of.”

“I-I’m afraid to lose you, but I am afraid to forget about him. About Theo. And-And I don’t know what to do, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded softly.

“That’s somethin’ you’re going to have to figure out for yourself, pumpkin. I can’t answer for you about him. But as for me, you won’t lose me unless you don’t want me around no more. That’s regardless of whether we’re together or not.”

You smiled a little, bringing your hand up to wipe your cheeks.

“You do not make things easy, Arthur Morgan.”

A little smile of his own broke out across his lips. He put his hands on his belt and shyly looked down for a moment.

“So I’ve been told.”

You turned back to the lake, taking in a deep breath. Arthur moved to stand next to you.

“You know, when you were gone, Ben stopped eating and playing.”

“Hosea said he came down with somethin’. He seems to be doin’ a lot better.”

“He wasn’t sick.” You turned your head to look at him. Arthur kept his eyes on the water a little longer, giving you the chance to admire his profile. “He just missed you.”

He looked at you, brows drawn together.

“What? So he stopped eatin’?”

“When you miss someone so much, you stop doing things like that.” You nodded. “I’ve seen it before. But Ben…. He looks up to you, Arthur. He-He thinks so much of you.”

Arthur looked back to the lake. You reached over to take his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“You have to promise me that no matter what we choose to do…. No matter what happens with us…. You have to promise me that you will always think of him first.”

Arthur squeezed your hand.

“I promise.”

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

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Hiiii can you do a jealous hotch fic where Sean comes in and hits on Emily and then Garcia and jj are telling em to go for it but are confused and baffled as to why she won’t go for Sean causes he’s hot as well. Something along the lines of the team tricking hotchniss into admitting they are together through Sean

oh yes I love this idea. I got immediate inspiration on this one, so here you go.

---

Busted

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: A bit of cursing, mentions of blood

Read over on Ao3 in my collection of prompts and mini fics, or below the cut.

Let me know what you think <3

Sean was pissing him off.

Jealousy at how his brother was looking at Emily, how he was flirting with her, was licking at Aaron’s insides. Burning him from the inside out. He grits his teeth as he watches Sean lean into her again, saying something he sees Emily laugh politely at, her eyes flicking to Aaron’s for only a second.

If Aaron was paying attention to anything else he would have noticed how the others were looking at them. How Dave and Derek were barely suppressing their grins, that JJ was whispering something to Spencer, her eyes rolling lovingly at the clueless doctor. How Penelope looked so elated she was all but vibrating with it.

He didn’t notice any of it. All he could see was his brother’s hand inching closer to Emily’s.

Aaron didn't even know his brother was going to be in town until that morning. Sean just showed up in the office, a smile on his face as if it hadn’t been years since Aaron had last seen him. Like his life hadn’t changed astronomically since then. Sean’s attention had honed in on Emily almost immediately and it had set him on edge.

No one knew about Aaron and Emily. They had only been together for three months. It started out as him checking in on her after Paris, her admittance that she was having a bad day spurring him into action. Coffee turned into lunch. Which turned into dinner. Then he kissed her one evening, not even really sure what had driven him to do it beyond the way she laughed at one of his terrible jokes.

He still remembers the nerves he felt as he pulled away, only to see her smiling up at him, her hands in his hair and she kissed him again. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

Aaron has never wanted everyone to know about them more than he did in this moment. He wanted to wrap his arm around her waist. Kiss her. Tell anyone who would listen that he loved her, even though he hasn’t even told her yet. Always waiting until he was sure she was still asleep until he whispered the words against her forehead.

It was easy when it was just the two of them. Easy to convince themselves that it would always be like that, just them wrapped together in their own world. Hands trailing over the physical scars they both bore. Soft words and touches when they were woken in the night by the mental ones.

But he wanted more with her. He wanted everything. Marriage. Children. Growing old with her.

And, if he was honest, he really just wanted to hold her hand in front of their friends.

“Come on, Em,” Sean says, leaning towards her with a grin on his face that Aaron wanted to wipe off of it, “just one dinner.”

Sean’s hand lands on Emily’s waist and Aaron holds his glass of wine tighter, wishing he’d followed Dave’s example and gone for scotch.

He feels it happen before he hears it. The glass giving way in his hand, the stem snapping off the base of and going into his hand. His shock makes him drop it, the broken glass cutting through his skin.

Then he feels the pain.

“Shit, Aaron,” Emily is by his side in a second, her hand on his arm and his given name slipping out before she can think about it, “you’re bleeding.”

She turns and hands her own glass to JJ who was standing next to her and she purposely ignores the shit-eating grin on her friend's face.

“Let’s go get this looked at.”

Emily leads him away from the group and to the bar, strong-arming them out of their poor excuse for a first aid kit and walking him down the hallway to the bathrooms. She walks into the accessible one and locks the door behind them, walking over to the sink.

“Em, I’m-”

“Don’t even think about telling me you’re ok when you’re actively bleeding all over your shirt.” She looks at him. “Take off your jacket.”

He frowns, ignoring the ache in his hand. “I don’t think now's the time.”

“Not that you idiot.” she rolls her eyes at him and looks at him expectantly so he sighs and removes it, handing it to her. Emily turns and hangs it off the hook on the door. She uncuffs his sleeve and rolls it up to his elbow. She then turns on the faucet and holds his hand in both of hers, taking a closer look at the cut. “This is going to sting.”

He doesn’t flinch when she puts his hand under the running water, but it does hurt. He watches the water running off of his skin turning pink, Emily’s thumbs gentle as she rubs blood away from his palm, careful to stay away from the cut.

After a minute she pulls his hand away and looks at it again, inspecting it closely in the dim light.

“It doesn’t need stitches. But I’ll need to bandage it.” She looks around before directing him over to the toilet, making him sit on the closed lid. She kneels on the floor and opens the first aid kit, digging out an antiseptic wipe and unwrapping it. “Sorry if this hurts.”

He does wince and his time and she smiles up at him apologetically before she continues, working in silence as she gets a bandage out next, unrolling it so she can use it.

He loved to watch her, her beauty always enrapturing him. She was beautiful in every sense of the word, and she was his.

“It’s hot, you know.” She says, not looking up as she carefully wraps the bandage around his hand, her touch impossibly soft.

“What is?”

She looks up, a look on her face that sets fire to him, heat spreading through his veins. “That you can break a glass just by holding it.”

“Emily.”

“What?” She smirks, securing the end of the bandage before moving forward to rest on her knees properly, her hands coming to cup the back of his neck. “You know I love how strong you are.”

He’s achingly aware that they are in the accessible toilet of a bar, and whilst that would have worked if they’d been together 20 years ago he was just a bit too old to consider it, especially with one hand effectively out of use.

“When can we get out of here?” He asks, his good hand at her back as he kisses her, pulling her closer.

“Well,” She replies, smiling as she kisses him again, “I’m guessing they know about us now. So we should go face the music.” She moves away from him enough to stand, and offers him a hand as he stands from where he had been sitting on the closed toilet seat. “Then we can go to mine.”

He kisses her, his good hand tangling in her hair. “Lead the way.”

They walk back to the team hand in hand, his jacket slung over his arm, snaking through the crowds of people he doesn’t remember seeing on their way to the bathroom. As they spot the team Emily stops in her tracks.

“Those dicks.”

He sees it the same moment she does. They are all laughing, JJ animatedly talking to Dave. Sean is shaking his head as he slips what looks like $20 into Derek’s hand.

“They knew.” Emily says, sounding outraged. “They knew.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” He says, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple, not missing how Penelope hit Spencer a little too hard in the arm as she sees it happen. “Let’s get it over with.”

They walk all the way over and stop in front of the team, all of them looking right at Aaron and Emily, none of them covering their smirks.

“So,” Derek starts, “Do you two have something you need to share with the group?”

“How long have you all known?” Aaron asks as he sighs, removing his hand from Emily’s to put it around her waist, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

“Since day one.” Dave answers, taking a sip of his scotch and looking far too smug for Emily’s liking.

“Bullshit.” She says, her eyes narrowing.

“If you didn’t want to get caught you probably shouldn’t leave it too late in the morning to sneak out of each other's rooms.” JJ says, her eyebrow raised at them. “Also Spence saw you making out in the parking lot.”

“I never said making out.” Spencer says immediately, shaking his head as Aaron stares at him. “I just said I saw you kissing.” He swallows looking nervously between the two of them. “And then Garcia accessed the CCTV footage and showed everyone.”

“Hey,” Penelope says, throwing her hands up in defense of herself, her smile still wide, “that was for research purposes.”

“Oh for fuck sake.” Emily says, looking up at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Derek challenges, his arms crossed over his chest.

“We just…we wanted to get used to it first. That’s all.” Aaron says, his hand squeezing Emily’s hip slightly when she tenses at Derek’s tone. “It wasn’t going to be forever.” He looks to his brother. “How are you involved in all of this?”

“When I got here this morning Derek pulled me aside.” He explains as he shrugs. “He asked me if I knew anything about the two of you and I said there was no way you would pull someone as hot as…” He drifts off at the fierce look on his brother's face before clearing his throat, “I said I didn’t believe him. And we hatched a plan to get the truth out of you.”

“So the flirting was…”

“A ploy.” Sean confirms, looking at Emily. “Sorry.”

She laughs, leaning further into Aaron’s side. “It’s fine, you aren’t my type anyway.”

______

Emily blows out a breath as they enter her apartment, throwing her purse down as Aaron locks the door behind them.

“That was exhausting.” She complains as she takes off her shoes. “Our friends are very intrusive.”

“They weren’t that bad.” He placates, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her into a hug.

“Easy for you to say.” She says, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You weren’t the one Penelope was asking 100 questions about our sex life.”

He pulls away from the next kiss. “She did what?”

Emily laughs. “Relax honey. I didn’t sell you short but I also didn’t give her any details. Well…not many anyway.” She winks at him before removing herself from his grasp, walking further into her apartment.

“Emily.” He exclaims, following after her. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #Emily Prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #idiots in love #fluff #jealous aaron #The whole team is there #Chaotic family vibes #everyone say thank you lina for the name inspiration #thank you lina

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