#there will probably be a loyalty mission somewhere

[aamusedly]

Some thoughts for Cooper's New Vegas AU:

Companion for the Courier, recruitable in the bar at Boulder City. He says he's enjoying a drink at a historical city, but he clearly has some ulterior motives.

Recruiting him takes a down payment, or a very high persuasion check.

Anti-Legion. EXTREMELY Anti-House. Will tolerate NCR, but will push for an independent New Vegas.

Will leave the Courier if they side House, but it is possible to pay him off if you have his loyalty.

Will take care of Rex when neither are with the Courier.

Provides a lot of information about House and the old world, if the Courier has his loyalty. Without his loyalty, most of his answers are either long-winded metaphors or total bullshit.

Companion perk: Old School Cowboy. When entering VATS, there is a 10% chance Cooper will instantly execute your target in a bloody mess.

FACTIONS PRO: powder gangers, Followers of the Apocalypse, Jacobstown, Utobitha, Kings. FACTIONS ANTI: White Glove Society, Omertas, Chairmen, Boomers, Enclave Remnants, Caesar's Legion, House. FACTIONS NEUTRAL: NCR, Great Khans, Crimson Caravan, Gun Runners, Van Graffs.

[charg3rs0ck3t]

Faux promises and secret solaces.

Killian jones x reader

Warnings: it’s once upon a time, that’s the only warning you’ll need.

This is not proofread. There will probably be mistakes and I will fix them!

———————————————————————

You met him in the enchanted forest.

You fell for him in Neverland.

You lost him in Storybrooke.

You found him in your heart.

———————————————————————

The first time you met Hook, you could tell he was trouble.

He did him self no favours in trying to not be suspicious, but the others needed him so you held your tongue. Although, this was despite how much you truly wanted to rip out his tongue and shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.

The way he’d take glances at you and smirk if you were walking close by, would make backhanded compliments, flirt to get his way, pick winning sides, he was a pirate. He was a pirate and you hated him. You hated his kind.

He was exactly the sort of man Regina would have used in her pursuit of ‘revenge’, the exact sort of man that killed your father.

But he wasn’t, no matter how many times he would breathily chuckle at some comment or some face you had made, you had to hold yourself back. You had to stop yourself from killing the man who smoothly laughed even in the face of his own demise. You had to stop from wanting to punch him in the throat and strip him of that feathery and deep chortle that took away all of your fears, that freed you of your panic, and provided you a euphoria that you had personally forbidden.

He was bad for you, bad for this team, bad for this mission.

He was a bad guy.

He was a villain,

and villains don’t get happy endings.

Leaving him behind was something you and Emma had talked about, you knew she also held distrust of him. Luckily, she had already planned on abandoning him.

The bean stalk was a stroke of luck, Anton was a stroke of luck.

Sure, you felt a slight sense of remorse as you had distracted him. But, as soon as Emma has attached that shackle, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know was there. Something felt good about going back to your life of solace, your newfound life of grief. He was too wild, too unpredictable, it scared you more than anyone would ever know.

You had fully expected not to see him again.

But fate seemed to have a sense of humour.

Such a fickle thing.

———————————————————————

Going back to Storybrooke, nothing was the same.

Your life had changed.

You didn’t know if it was for the better.

But your life had changed, your old life was gone. You had to adapt. No more was it straight lines and schedules, none of the life that Regina had provided was there, instead it was constant fights and unpredictability.

You had to become as unpredictable as the dangers you faced. You turned to the memories of the man in the enchanted forest, his power hidden behind his nonchalance and his loyalty a question left unanswered.

However much you hated the man, you needed to channel some part of him to adapt, to evolve and to overcome. The curse was broken, but danger seemed ever present. The towns memories were returned, but so were their worries, their fears, their anger. Instability was the first sign of anarchy and chaos, one weakness could enact a revolution among the people. So you did as you would, a child of a royal knight, ever loyal to Snow and Prince Charming, one of whom had raised you as a child throughout the curse.

All you had was your friends and your loyalty, but you’d soon learn that wasn’t enough.

———————————————————————

Yet the man returned, Hook. Still as untrustworthy as ever and yet, he seemed less irritating when in Storybrooke, except maybe for his dangerous tendencies and antisocial behaviour.

Henry being taken by pan was devastating, but this was the unpredictability you had planned for. So you knew what to do.

———————————————————————

The ride to Neverland on the Jolly Rodger was less than pleasant. It was full of cryptic warnings and misdirected anger. Even Emma was struggling.

The mermaid that was soon brought above deck definitely didn’t help your nerves, nor did the storm that soon followed and berated the ship.

You could catch no one’s attention, you had figured that the warnings may have held some truth. This land was built on belief. There were definitely some strong negative beliefs between them all. The blame fest began, fighting ensued and you couldn’t take it. So as you searched through the rain, you caught sight of land and jumped overboard. Your thoughts were that if no one would listen, you’d at least catch someone’s attendance or make your own way to land without them.

What you didn’t account for was a bit of broken barrel being launched after you and slamming into the back of your head once you had reached the ice cold water.

Losing your breath and all reasonable thinking, you gaped your mouth like a fish, breathing in and spluttering out water to no avail.

You could feel it filling your lungs and your eyes began to close, focused on the blurry light of the moon above you, till it was covered by the shadow of someone diving in for you. But by then you were already too tired.

———————————————————————

Opening your eyes and coughing out liquid from your burning lungs seemed to have never felt so good. That was until you saw it was a particular irritating man that hovered over your jolting form, hand on your shoulder as he helped you sit up.

The storm has calmed now, and you smiled. Everyone’s focus was on you, eyes wide at the madness that had ensued.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that! See! I got the storm to stop.” You proclaimed in a broken voice, interrupted slightly by a coughing fit and a small ‘thank you’ as you were passed a blanket.

The way that David and Snow stared at you was obvious you’d get some form of scolding later, but you hadn’t cared too much for it. When the curse was first broken, they had to double check you weren’t in some way related to Jefferson with how you often acted on impulse, in supposed madness. So rest assured you were used to scolding.

Getting to the island was your priority, keeping the team together and getting Henry was your number one goal.

But you could help but notice the glances the pirate would send you when he thought you weren’t looking.

———————————————————————

Neverland was a place of pure belief. A place of magic and miracles.

———————————————————————

It seemed like as if by some miracle, you started to believe in the sincerity and goodness of a certain pirate.

Hook was caring, he was careful and serious. He was always suited to the situation, always ready. But he could also lighten the mood.

It seemed all the time that wasn’t spent avidly searching for Henry, fighting Pan or planning, he always wanted to make you laugh.

The first time you had laughed at one of his jokes, it would have been some stupid joke about his hand.

“Can you give me a hand?” David had yelled over.

“Cmon really? Last time I lent one out I didn’t even get it back!” He had hollered back in response, turning to smirk at David’s glare.

Only.. only he spun right back around when he heard a small chuckle.

Seeing you, with your back turned to him and hand coving your mouth, was all he needed to decide that you were right for him. He walked over to David with a huge smile on his face and kept stealing glances at you the entire time.

———————————————————————

Getting Henry, finding Neal alive, dealing with Rumpelstilsken. Everything felt insane.

It was all too much, you had lost Henry again to Pan, he was too powerful and you all seemed powerless.

You pulled your legs to your chest and buried your head in your knees. Making yourself small was all you could do when the world felt so big around you that it felt like it would swallow you up and you’d be nothing but a snack to a bigger cause.

Feeling a soft hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality, the reality that you had been sat sobbing into your arms after you had ran off from the main camp.

At first you were afraid, was this hand malicious, was it Pan?

But after hearing a feathery throat clearing, you raised your head to meet eyes with Killian.

“Killian? What’s up? I thought you’d be with David or Emma.” You muttered out in response to his presence.

“Y’know, I’m not sure Miss swan or her doting ‘same-age parents are too fond of me. Plus we both know that I can’t exactly tell one hand jokes to Regina lest I want to lose that and another appendage id much like to keep..” he takes a breath whilst you smile at his sarcasm. “Plus, You’re the only one who calls me my name, I’m getting sick of ‘Hey you’ ‘Oi’ ‘pirate’ or if they’re really creative, I get to hear ‘asshole’, would that be pleasant for you m’lady?” You laugh and shake your head in response.

“No, I suppose not kind sir~.” You tease him, just wanting to stay in the moment, it felt light and airy, for the first time in days you felt free. “Although I’m honoured you’d grace me with your presence, I sure hope it’s not because I’m the only one who doesn’t currently want to stab you?”

He turns to look at you, “Of course not, for a royal knight though, surely you should be the one to want to stab me most of all. Maybe it’d be better that way.” He moves in, close to your face, as you are enamoured with gazing into his eyes.

“I’m sure they can handle themselves, Four powerful people after you if you do anything wrong, I think I should be okay to try and resign from stabbing at the moment. Plus, if anything were to happen I’m sure I could accept the consequences.” He grabs your chin and smiles.

“You? Face the consequences? Perhaps you just are afraid to accept you might actually have fallen for me~” He pulls you into a short and passionate kiss. Grinning against your lips as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Not a chance pirate!” You tease as you stand up and begin to walk away, sporting a mischievous grin of your own.

But before you could walk further he grabbed your wrist and was suddenly stood right in front of you.

“Mark my words sweetheart, I’ll have your heart, we’ll take it as slow as you need but I will have it, as you’ve enslaved mine.” And as you turned your head away to think on what he had said, he had already walked off deeper into the forest.

Okay, maybe you did like him.

———————————————————————

Your return to Storybrooke was perfect, you could live the life you had whispered plans of every night since that moment in Neverland.

It was meant to be your fairytale ending.

Meant to be.

———————————————————————

Falling asleep every night, Hook would sit there hands running through your hair as you laid your head in his lap.

Every night he would repeat one sentence

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Except one night, when he wasn’t.

You woke up one night. Checking the clock next to you it was some time around 1 in the morning.

You weren’t sure what had woken you up until you heard sounds of struggling and choking. It was Killian! He sounded in pain.

You rushed down to see Pans shadow ripping Killian’s as he struggled against the figure.

Catching a glimpse of you, the shadow tore the other from your lovers frame and stole them both. Dragging them from the home as you chased and screamed for help, for Killian, for anyone.

You pinched yourself, you screamed until your throat went raw and your mouth ran dry, you yelled and sobbed until you had half of the town surrounding you, trying to figure out what had happened.

In your worn voice you could get out two sentences.

“Pans back.” “Killian’s gone.”

That was all you could force out before you fell to the floor, soon encased in a warm pair of arms trying to lift you back into the house. The house that you had just lost everything in. The house that was meant to have been your home.

———————————————————————

It had been months since the incident, months of failed attempts and grieving.

But you had had enough of being sad.

Nothing was going to save you, no one was going to save you, so you were going to save yourself.

One day you got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth and hair, and went into work.

Life had to continue as normal, you had to ignore the concerned glances and you had to hope the eye bags would go away on their own.

So life went on, it went on without him. Although it hurt, it needed to, the world couldn’t stop for another 28 years, everyone couldn’t just forget again.

However much you wished they could.

———————————————————————

Emma and David had been trying to interrogate the shadow for months now. They had decided to keep Regina’s torture methods away and just had to hope that a non physical being had some form of conscience.

In those months they had nothing.

Nothing until the shadow gave off a mirage, a realm of bodies and their shadows caring for them.

And in the middle of it all was him.

The man you cared about most.

Killian.

———————————————————————

Waking up to a breathy humming and the feeling of hands in your hair wasn’t unusual.

In your grief, you had accidentally began to see Killian. You’d see him every morning, you’d see him at dinner, you’d even make him an extra plate.

You knew he wasn’t real.

But you needed to cope somehow.

There was a hole in your heart and you couldn’t just fill it with a child like Regina could.

This morning felt real though, it felt too real. But it also felt too good to be true.

You opened your eyes to see him where he usually sat, next to you, hands in your hair playing with the strands.

“Why must you torture me every morning.” You muttered. “He’s gone and he’s never coming back.. I’m never gonna wake up to him ever again so just! Just go away!”

You yelled.

You’ve been yelling at your hallucination of him a lot lately.

Usually he’d disappear, actually, every single time he’d disappear. But you turned around from where you were now sat up and he was still there.

He stared at you, tears in his eyes, reaching out for your cheek. He needed to touch you again.

“Killian..?” You whimpered out.

“I told you I’d be here when you woke up” he said, tears streaming down his face as he tackled you and held you in his arms.

You both sobbed. You cried like you hadn’t seen each-other in years. You held each-other like the other would slip out of grasp and disappear again.

You were here.

He was here.

You had him back, you had your home and he had your heart.

And in his heart he knew he’d never let you go ever again.

[spiderrmax]

my hand was the one you reached for

synopsis: after proving your loyalty to the drow elvess, they ask you to return to the humans in order to spy for them. you agree, and the new distance has you yearning for the king; he's yearning for you too. word count: 18.0k warnings: no army of darkness au. reader is a mage. their powers have negative effects on their body! descriptions of wounds from burns (fire & electricity) & cuts. violence & battles. kidnapping. cartman is an evil villain. reader is still the new kid, but occasionally talks. overused descriptions of the moon. author's note: it's been weeks but it's finally here! sorry for any continuity or grammar errors. please read the warnings, my descriptions aren't too graphic but they are there so be safe!

To gain a person’s trust tends to be a difficult task; gaining the trust of a kingdom was harder. Three days after being recruited to Kupa Keep, you found yourself taken to the Elves while on a mission for their enemy. Their King, Kyle, expressed fear for you, that you had united yourself with the wrong side, and gave you an offer. You were meant to bring the outliers to the elves, instead of Kupa Keep. With the use of nicer words and a lack of violence in your taking, you accepted the offer.

Stan, a knight the King thought highly off, was sent with you. He was there as your guide, a mentor as you completed the offer, and to distract any Kupa Keep members who might see you.

He was there to watch you tell the outliers of the Elves Kingdom and became an alibi to your character, and loyalty to the elves. Stan’s testaments of your person made you an honorary elf, even if you lacked the pointed ears.

It took you even longer to gain any sort of trust from the King. His green eyes pierced into you as if trying to find a lie inside somewhere. He dissected you, watching you train with the rest of the elves; in a few weeks, this distrust turned into curiosity; you were strong, and he’d be dense to ignore your skill set. If there was one thing the Grand Wizard did right was train you well.

“You’re strong,” He says, having watched you burn a practice dummy for a while. You jump at his voice, not realizing he had been watching.

All you could do was shrug and sheepishly smile. Staring at him, waiting to see if he’ll say anything else. “You’ll be a great addition to my kingdom.” He leaves after that.

You continue to notice him watching, but now it isn’t as intimidating; he’s more amused by your magic, and the way you constantly practice. There’s also how the wind blows in your hair, allowing him to see the focused look on your face. It gets distracting, but he can’t help but admire it when he sits on his throne with nothing but paperwork to do. Whenever you look back, his face burns pink. It makes you laugh, and he finds it to be a beautiful sound.

Your laughter, timid looks, and drive for magic are what cause Kyle to give you his trust, wholeheartedly.  

This trust is why you found yourself sitting at the Elf Council, a meeting called a while after you found yourself a true member of the Elf Kingdom. Kupa Keep still had the stick, so a plan was needed; a plan would soon come.

The plan comes from Stan: for you to return Kupa Keep to have the upper hand when they take back the stick.

“I’m just saying, they would be bound to tell them. They just have to act as if we kidnapped them, and that would solidify the Grand Wizard’s trust in them. Plus [your name] is super strong, they’re one of the best mages I’ve seen. Maybe they even make them the protector.”

The council abrupts into murmurs at the idea, occasionally eyeing you, clad in purple robes.

“It’s a g-good idea. The grand wiz-wizard met them first, they probably think we have them tied up.” The bard, Jimmy, pipes in.

Timmy shouts out his name, in a positive tone to show his agreement.

You allow your eyes to trail up to King Kyle, who has been quiet since the idea was proposed. His crown casts a shadow over his face, but you can still find the wrinkles from thought on his forehead and the worry in his eyes.

“Your ma-majesty, your thoughts?” Jimmy inquires, the rest of the elves noticing his silence as well. 

“I don’t know, I mean, sending them back seems wrong,” Kyle mutters, and the words scrap against his gritted teeth. 

“King, with all due respect, we cannot let Kupa Keep have the stick any longer. This plan would guarantee we can find it.” Stan explains.

It’s not something Kyle needed to be written out, your presence at Kupa Keep and your loyalty to the kingdom, to him, would give his Kingdom a higher step. His inner turmoil is present on his face, in the minuscule details that his friends must not pick up on; you’ve memorized his face, his tiny moles, tiny scars from fighting, allowing you to notice it all.

He thinks for what feels like forever, as the weight of the task dawns on you; with this task, they’ve placed their entire kingdom in your hands. You feel honored, and when you can finally catch Kyle’s eye, you nod and smile at him. A simple action, but all he needs for reassurance.

Kyle clears his throat, gaining the attention of the council who dispersed into small conversations as he thought. “We will send [Your Name] tomorrow. We’ll make sure they have everything they need, and a way out of Kupa Keep if the situation calls for it. Elves, with [Your Name]’s help, we’ll get the stick back.”

He looks at you as he speaks, confidence in his voice, but the same concern in his eyes. With a flip of his hand, the meeting is adjourned. The members clap at his agreement to the proposal, standing up with glee at the first step to becoming ruler of the world again. 

Your feet move you to go speak to the King, to maybe question his worrying looks, or discuss the details more, you aren’t sure; your heart yearns to speak to him. Unfortunately, you only make it halfway there, as on your fourth step Stan grabs your arm.

“Come on, you have to start packing.” He explains, and doesn’t let you argue; you're led out of the council room swiftly, only able to turn back once to see Kyle watching as you leave.

Luck, recently, has not been kind; it’s led you to become a pawn in a war. Maybe she was kind enough to guide you to the elves, but that’s all she has down to hold your hand. She prevents you from speaking to Kyle until it’s late at night. All the elves would be in bed, under the velvet sky splattered with stars. The only one to observe your conversation would be the moon.

You’ve left the door to your room ajar, an invite for him and only him; it does what it means to, lures him in to speak with you, away from the rest of the elves.

He appears without his crown, red curls free on his head. He’s forsaken any of the items that allow him to stand out, and in your presence forgoes the King title. Although he’s arrived, he doesn’t speak, not for a bit at least

“I don’t like this idea.” Kyle finally tells you, watching as you pack potions and items into your bag. Your moves are swift, grabbing exactly what you need.

He waits to see if you’ll grace him with a response, but when you don’t all he can do is sigh. “I just hate the idea of you not being within the Elf Kingdom walls. You’re safe here; something can happen out there.” He crosses his arm over his chest, leaning against the closest wall.

You don’t say anything, but you look up to meet his eyes; your lips curl into a reassuring smile, a silent way to tell him you’ll be okay.

“I get it, you can protect yourself. I just like knowing you’re here. I can keep you safe.” The confession makes Kyle’s face burn, ears, and cheeks painted red. He has to tuck his head down because he doesn’t want to risk looking at you.

The reassuring smile on your face pulls up, turning into a toothy grin; it’s the first thing he notices when he looks at you; it causes his lips to curl slightly when he glances up at you.

“I’ll be fine,” You speak, voice low, a whisper meant for him and the moon. 

Kyle hasn’t heard you speak much; you’re quiet and what is required. Hearing you speak now, makes him wish you’d talk more, to be able to hear your gentle tone; a beautiful contrast to the war he’s been in since he’s been, king.

Your words have a desirable effect, unwinding Kyle’s shoulders, having been strung up with everything he’s carried. He grins at your voice, walking away from where he’s been leaning against your wall; he reaches for your hand, grabbing at it, tenderly. It’s silly, how delicate he treats you as if these hands hadn’t wounded humans and elves alike. All he can see is your humanity, your trust, and your care for him.

Rubbing his thumb over your scarred knuckles, he catches your eye. They crinkled, having risen when he began grinning at you.

“I know you will be. You come back to me, with the stick, okay?” His voice is low as if scared of his own benevolence. 

And if Kyle kisses you after that, his free hand going to cradle your cheek while the other stays in your hand, squeezing it in hopes it’ll assure your safety; only the moon is there to witness it.

As the elves had planned, you leave the next morning. You were the cloak you arrived in, making sure it is tattered and grimy, to ensure they think you’ve only harbored negative feelings for the elves. There are cuts on your face from sparring with the elves, but with a few lies they instead come from your tormentors, the elves who enjoyed hurting you as you were kidnapped. Stan takes a rope to rub at your wrists and ankles, in hopes of making it seem as if you had been tied for an entirety; it burns as all ropes do, but by the end of it, you do look like an escaped prisoner. 

Your cloak hides your face, a facade made to make it look like you’re on the run, as you walk toward where Kupa Keep is. The weather is chilling, the leaves warm colored and falling slowly at your feet, crunching occasionally. The clock you have on does little to keep the heat in, but your shivering helps with the escape prisoner facade you have to keep up. Your eyes never leave the ground, watching your feet take every single step, sore from your rug burns.

“[Your name]? Oh- oh hamburgers! The Grand Wizard is going to be so happy you escaped! Come on, let’s get you back.” Butters' voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you look up to see worried blue eyes boring into you. He was one of the only ones who cared to learn your name, and it’s still a shock when you’re called it. The fact that it’s him who finds you makes you want to snort at the irony; instead, you muster up a watery smile.

He grabs your wrist to guide you, but when you wince he lets go. “Oh, those godforsaken elves! You’re in bad shape.” 

Guilt slowly gnaws at your stomach, for abusing his naivety like this; your dislike for the Grand Wizard doesn’t trickle down to some of the Kupa Keep members.

His hands hover above your wrist, and when you nod, loosely lace around it.

Butters fills the entire walk back with how it’s been since you were kidnapped: the attempts the group made to get you back, how many elves they fought, and how he’s controlling his electricity powers. He makes the walk go faster, and soon you two are at Kupa Keep’s walls. A head pokes over the wall, hearing your arrival. You recognize him as Clyde, a merchant often responsible for looking out.  

“Butters? Who is that with you?” He calls over, eyeing you. Realizing your cloak is still covering most of your face, you pull it down, freeing your hair and allowing you to be seen.

“I found [Your Name]! They must’ve gotten free somehow!” Butters explain as Clyde opens the gates to allow you in.

“Holy shit. You did. I’ll go get the Grand Wizard.” Clyde runs off, leaving you with Butters as the gates close behind you.

Back in the walls of Kupa Keep, the plan can start. You grin slightly to yourself, ready to get the stick back and hand the universe over to the elves.

The Grand Wizard doesn’t come to speak to you until later in the afternoon, busy in his meeting, presumably talking about arrival. You’re taken into a tent, made of blue fabric, and forced to sit until he can come and speak with you. Butters keep you entertained, somehow filled with even more stories and random topics to talk about.

“My god. I thought Clyde was being an asshole and lying to me. You are here.” The Grand Wizard speaks, and you shift to look at him. You smile, without teeth, and he seems to glare at you.

“So. The elves let you out?” He asks, eyes squinting suspiciously; you bite your tongue, to keep the guilt away from your features.

“No! [Your Name] got free. Look at their wrists. Those stupid elves had them tied up good!” Butters explains, pulling up your sleeves so the wizard can get a good look at how the elves treated you.

“I need the whole story. Butters get them some paper. You get ten minutes, okay?” The wizard points at you, as Butters scampers to get paper, a quill, and some ink. He turns to leave as soon as you nod.

“Okay, uh, I’m gonna leave you alone, write a good story!” Butters runs out, trailing behind the wizard.

Picking up the quill, you dip it into the container filled with black ink. After Kyle had left your room last night, you were unable to sleep; as you stared at the sky, watching it sparkle, you came up with a fake story to tell. After you had been kidnapped, the elves kept you tied up, deep in their kingdom which might be why they couldn’t get to you. They’d untie you to allow you to eat and sleep, but you’d be put in a chamber during those moments. The longer you were there, and a lack of reactivity from the humans made them careless with their knots; you were able to escape at night when the guard who kept watch fell asleep.

You finished writing with a minute to spare, and as you waited for the wizard’s return, stretched the muscles in your wrist, making the bone pop. 

“Okay, [Your Name], wow me with your story.” The wizard pushes the curtain of the room you're in back, walking in with Butters at his side. 

You hand him the paper, and he snatches it quickly, smudging some ink under his thumb. His eyes scan the paper, squinting before widening as he laughs.

“Elves are so stupid, oh my god. I’m so glad you’re back.” The Grand Wizard, Cartman, holds his hand out for you to take. As you do it, you only can think about how he is inviting his enemy in.

Luck still isn’t your friend, in fact, you think she’s your enemy now. You were hoping the stick was in its original place, at the front of the castle to be shown off. The Grand Wizard had it moved after you were taken, in fear you’d tell the elves where it was. A mission that could’ve taken a week now has to take months. (You miss the warmth that comes from being with the elves. The humans are cold, focused on the war, and tend to make you sleep outside. Kyle was your sun, a burning blaze that felt homely.)

It’s no surprise that the Grand Wizard is hesitant with you, cautious with his words, and treating you as a threat. You overheard him one day expressing to Butters a fear that the elves had gotten deep into your head, rewiring your alliances and ruining you. (He’s right, of course, but all you can do is play the role of the victim, hurt by this.)

All the missions he sends you on are accompanied by Buttes, like the old days, and require you to fight the elves, your allies; they become your enemy on the field. Most drow elves know about the plan and don’t act hurt by your attacks. A few bruises are a nice price to pay to have the universe back in their kingdom. It still hurts, to throw spells at those you call your friends; you can only hope the empathy isn’t noticeable.

In order to rebuild the trust that was shredded in the months of your kidnapping, you perform small acts. You shine the swords, dust any shelves, make snacks for the humans who had draining missions, anything and everything that the others find tedious. It works, breaking down the Grand Wizard every day.

After a month of your arrival, he no longer is sending you out just to beat up elves. He trains you again, saying you were a decent mage who needed training from someone with his expertise.

“Those elves don’t understand magic. Took you and didn’t even try to use their potential. That king is so stupid.” Cartman says the first day of your training. (You aren’t allowed to call him by his name; he enjoys his title too much.)  

The sun burns into you, causing you to discard the new cape they gave you, a blue robe with stars embroidered into it. You’re left in a loose blouse, pushed just below your elbows. Magic is easier without gloves, so you remove the pair you typically wear due to how cold it gets at night.

Cartman makes you stand in front of a dummy, far enough that you have to be precise with your aim.

“Last time you were here, I had you practicing a fire spell. You’re pretty okay with it now, thanks to me, so I’m going to have you try and master an electricity spell. Butters may be able to help, but he’s no Grand Wizard.” Cartman gloats as he guides you. He paces while he walks, hands folded behind his back as if training you is a laborious task.

“I’ve mastered everything — I’m the Grand Wizard for a reason — so copy my form,” Cartman orders, standing straight, feet lined up with his shoulders, hands straight out as well; you replicate it.

“Lighting can take a lot out of you, so you have to keep your muscles tight. Expect a large impact or else you’ll fall and become vulnerable,” His advice is good, and you nod along, “You may experience some burns from channeling it, but there’s probably something you can use to conduct it. I don’t need it, but a novice like you might.” You wonder if he can teach without bragging.

“It’s kinda crazy, lighting, that is. It’ll take you a bit to get a hold of it. Watch me, then try.” Cartman’s eyes close, and you watch as sparks flutter out from the soft palms of his hand. In a quick moment, those sparks become bolts, shooting out at the dummy, and singeing it in an instant.

He doesn’t say anything, but looks at you, motioning for you to try. Your eyes flutter shut, as you tense up, trying to find the electricity that flows in you. It takes you longer than he did, to locate it and conjure it up to your fingertips. A wince escapes your lips as the bolts start to burn you, but you stand tall, and find the strength to shoot the dummy. When you open your eyes, you see that your bolts missed the target, but still hit the dummy. You grin at your victory and look at Cartman for his thoughts.

“Pretty good for a novice, keep at it. I’ll check on your progress before the sun sets.” With that, he leaves.

You sigh once he leaves; the sun is still high in the sky. Summoning lighting becomes easier each time you do it, finding the excess energy swiftly. Your fingers burn and bleed, unable to heal due to your brutal training.

Cartman comes back far after the sun has set, presumably forgetting about you. Your lighting lights up the training area and strikes the dummy right in the middle of the target. Cartman nods in approval, then dismisses you for bed. Your fingers bleed and burn, and the moon can only watch.

Dear Kyle,

I hope life in the Elf Kingdom is treating you kinder than how the humans have treated me. Returning here has reminded me of why I chose your kingdom, and you, rather than return to the Grand Wizard. I’ve been getting stronger with my powers, he has me training constantly now that I’ve earned my place back in his world. My hands hurt, but I’ll be able to fight by your side soon.

He hasn’t informed me of the stick’s location, but I hope that I can get it out from his Paladin. I do know it’s in the castle because he constantly has someone in there on guard. I sleep outside, so I haven’t been able to explore the halls. His trust has limits. 

I miss you, and all the other elves. It’s weird how cold it feels here, especially at night. The sun keeps me hot, but that warmth is superficial. Not the same warmth I’d get with you.

Every time I can’t sleep, I stare at the sky, studying the stars and trying to remember the constellations you told me about. I like to think the moon is watching over us, a guardian while we are separated. That’s dumb, of course. But I can’t help but see you in the moonlight. I hope you think of me as well. Kissing me as a goodbye was quite cruel, but you’ll just have to kiss me again the next time you see me. I hope it’s soon.

Sending this letter is risky, and I hope my raven isn’t intercepted. I needed you to know I’m fine, and I’m closer to getting the stick. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long, I’ll be home any day now.

[Your name].

In a futile attempt, you try not to get your hopes up about getting a response from Kyle. It was risky for you to send the letter, no doubt that the Grand Wizard would read it if he had the chance, but you sent it late when only the moon could see. Maybe as an apology, Luck allows your raven to fly, into the walls of the Elf Kingdom and the hands of your king.

You start going through the mail in hopes of seeing something from Kyle; nothing ever comes. It shouldn’t, it might put everything at risk. Your heart still yearns for something, his script handwriting and parchment. 

Cartman has you training more with the lighting, with the aid of  Butters who can summon it without being a mage. He seems to pull it from the sky, an unlimited source. You’ve gotten good with aiming and firing, speeding up the process so you aren’t left standing for a moment, leaving your enemy open to striking.  The last few days, your training involved you trying to aim at the dummy while Butters would swing at you in a way an enemy would. It left your sides bruised, a dark purple, but soon you could conure the lighting while moving.

Like any other day, you’re standing with the dummies. In a freshly-washed loose-fitting blouse and a pair of pants that sit above your boots, you continue to practice the new skill. Your fingers are wrapped in bandages, and Butters occasionally has healed your wounds for you. A part of you wishes for a new spell to learn, but there’d be no point proposing it to the grand wizard; he’d say no.

Butters come running a few hours into your training. “[Your name]! The Grand Wizard has a mission for us, we gotta go!” He’s waving a map and a piece of paper, detailing your job.

As you put on your cloak, and a pair of gloves to cover your wounded hands, he reads the paper, “‘Some elves are positioning themselves too close to the walls of our kingdom. You are responsible for the removal of those elves, and keeping Kupa Keep’s walls safe from their attacks.’”

You run a hand through your hair, before walking over next to Butters. “Ready to go and beat up some elves?” You nod; you’ve mastered the art of a fake smile.

Butters leads you out of the walls of Kupa Keep, and you head left, the same path you always take. There are some bordering villages outside both of the kingdoms, where you can buy potions and other weapons; it’s often where the squabbles between the humans and the elves occur. Both of the kingdoms tend to fight in their streets, due to the dark alleyways and hiding spots littered on the streets. None of the villagers have complained too heavily, due to a lack of damage to their townhouses and the stands where they sell their items.

However, the town you are in is closer to Kupa Keep, and it seems the elves are just there to pick a battle. It was another plan that came into work during your time as an elf: to have elves positioned in those towns to make shopping for potions, armor, and weapons harder. On some occasions, the elves would make them have to leave and get help if they failed to prepare. It made humans forced to waste items, but now as a human, you wish it was never suggested.

A whistle comes from Butter’s lips, an untuned song meant to fill the empty streets. A part of you feels bad that these people have to flee when you arrive; the other says they don’t understand the value of the stick.

“Hey, while we are here, I need some strength potions, do ya mind if we get some?” He asks, voice slightly echoing; you shrug.

He starts walking towards the stands, where people are most prominent. There’s an unsaid agreement between the kingdoms to not fight on specific streets, due to civilian prominence. Butters reaches to grab the brown bag attached to his hip, filled with coins he’ll need for his purchase. He walks up to a stand that is commonly visited by everyone, and doesn’t need to say anything; he just points at the strength potion on display and lays down some coins. (Butters always tips, something you’ve noticed after coming to town with him for a while.)

“I got it! Oh, when we run into those elves I’ll be so ready!” He bounces on his feet, a contrast to the metal armor he wears. 

As you two continue to walk, you look down every alleyway, and keep your ears open for any noise of scuttling.  You don’t want to get caught off guard, unallowed to throw the first hit. Butters doesn’t talk, presumably doing what you are doing, but occasionally whistles.

The streets below your feet are made of gravel, rough and loud; every step you take can be heard by your enemy. (It’s weird to call them that, even with how long it’s been. You just want to be home.) Large shadows are cast by the tall buildings, making them seem darker than it is. A few banners are strung up around town, evidence of some parade that must’ve occurred. Some people have wet clothes hanging to dry, but in this part of town, that must take hours.

Being distracted is the worst thing a soldier can be, so you stop focusing on the minuscule details, and stare straight ahead, looking for the elves you’ve come to defeat.

The two of you have to walk a bit more before you’ve located them. They’re found in an alleyway near the center point of the town. They aren’t even hiding, really, just standing there talking about the two jesters who’ve come to perform.

“Ah-ha! We got you now, you silly elves!” Butters arms himself with his hammer, and you follow suit, getting into position and having your melee weapon at your disposal. 

The brown-haired elven swordsman looks at his bowman, before making a head gesture at the two of you. They turn their backs to share something – a strategy or a potion – before turning to fight you.

Having found them, you and Butters get to be on the offense. Before attacking, you use a strength potion. You stand in position to use the spell you’ve been learning, and conjure lighting out of your hands fast; your training proves its worth. Your spell hits both of the elves, and you can see the bleeding it causes almost immediately. Butters does the same; using lighting from the sky to shoot it at the elves. Their bleeding gets worse. (They’re your enemy. You have to repeat it like a mantra, a prayer you won’t break.)

Then, it’s their turn. The bowmen fire three arrows at Butters; he is only able to block two of them. The other hits, but luckily doesn’t pierce. The swordsman goes after you, not before drinking a potion as well. He attempts to hit you twice, but you successfully block it with your mace. 

Your strength potion hasn’t worn off, so you don’t take another drink. You wish you could use another lightning spell, but using it on an opponent is more draining than you’d thought it’d be. Taking a breath, you do a simple fire spell and shoot it at the swordsman. It’s enough to knock him down, so it’s up to Butters to get the bowman.

Butters uses his strength potion now, taking a sip to be able to ensure your victory in this battle. He swings his hammer, effectively knocking the bowman down. “I hope they’re just sleeping.” (You hope so too.)

With their bodies limp, but still breathing, you walk up to raid it, a common practice. The bowman has a few arrows you take and a health potion. When you reach for the swordsman, however, he reaches up and grabs you.

“Sh.” He whispers, pain clear in his tone. You look to see if Butters is watching, but he’s distracted by a bird that’s landed close by. You look back and see the elf holding a folded piece of paper.

You take it, shoving it into your cloak pocket before standing up to go near Butters, not wanting to dwindle and raise suspicion 

“Anything interesting?” Butters asks, the bird flying away due to the sound of your boots on gravel.

You shake your head no, knowing that the paper is burning a hole in your pocket, and you can barely wait to see what the Kingdom needs from you.

The folded paper is read under the moonlight again; you've read it at least ten times by now, giddy to have a reminder of your king.

[Your name],

Do not send another letter. Meet me at Stark's Pond tonight after the sun has set.

Your King,

Kyle

His handwriting is neat, script and filled with over exaggerated loops and giant tails. It's the first thing you've had of him in a while, and you cradle the paper delicately.

Until you have to shove it in your pockets as you leave. You don’t try to be quiet and stealth-like, knowing it would just raise suspicion, and instead walk like you know where you’re going. 

It’s only Clyde who stops you, set on duty at the gate.

“Where are you going?” He asks, tone worn down due to exhaustion.

You move your head in the way of the gates. Out.

“Is this for a mission? Or do you just want to take a walk?” He questions, but you can tell he doesn’t care; you hold up two fingers, for the second option.

“Sounds good to me. Be back soon.” With that, you’re free to leave.

Without a human sidekick with you, you don’t have to worry about elves ambushing you. Although with how late it is, you imagine that no one is out to fight anyway. 

To get to Stark’s Pond, you have to go through the same town you’d been in earlier. Without tall shadows, and the addition of moonlight, the town is less eerie than it is in the day. You can see light coming from certain windows and the shadows of people inside. A couple dances in one, and you can see dinner being served through another. The normalcy is comforting, something you find yourself yearning for. Maybe life could be different if you never saved Butters, but then you wouldn’t have met Kyle; that’s something you’d sacrifice normalcy for.

You make it through the town fast, due to the lack of surveillance you have to do. The gravel isn’t as loud, or maybe you’re more focused on the lives of the townspeople. Soon enough, you’re out of it and find yourself on a rough dirt path. Trees and shrubbery line the path, directing you to Stark’s pond; it’s not a place you’ve visited often, so you’re grateful for the natural made guide.

As you approach the pond, you can see Kyle; he stands tall, even outside of his kingdom. His crown is on his head, making his shadow more noticeable. Although that doesn't matter, you think you could find him anywhere, your heart is a guide only to him.

“Sending me that letter was super risky, you know that right? You could’ve put yourself at risk.” He turns to look at you, eyes glaring, and his jaw tense.

All you can do is shrug, a bashful grin on your face. Maybe he thinks you’ll respond, or explain, but you don’t.

“What would’ve happened if your raven was hurt? We had the plan to get you out, but if you got stuck inside there’d be nothing we could do without starting a war. It was a stupid move.” Anger is laced in his tone, and you’ve heard him speak like this before, but it’s weird to be on the receiving end.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, as his anger leaks into the air, making the atmosphere tense. You don’t want him mad at you, you don’t know the next time you’ll see him.

His eyes meet yours, piercing and hard, before softening slightly. “I’m just glad it worked out. It was nice to hear from you, even without the stick.”

Your bashful grin turns into a toothy smile. Having been separated for so long, you forgot how giddy he can make you feel; you hope it isn’t noticeable. He smiles back.

His hand, clad in green leather, reaches for yours, still bandaged. Some of the bandages are old, dried blood seen around the edges; some fingers have bled through the gauze, needing to be replaced.  The lighting spell, although strong, has not been kind to you. Your fingers haven’t stopped being sore and burning since you started practicing, and you aren’t given an opportunity to allow them to rest. Your body hasn’t become accustomed to bolts that come from you, you wonder if it ever will. (Your fire spell has left your palms burned before, but the burns are always minor and heal over time.)

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. Do they even heal you there?” Kyle says as he grabs one of your hands, bringing it up to be able to analyze it. He turns your hand, looking at your palm, and one of his fingers traces the lighting burns on your hand. The gesture would be romantic, had the skin not been tender. You wince, not meaning to, and it’s loud in the silence.

Kyle curses at your pained face, lightening his hold on your hand. He brings it up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on the skin where your wrist and palm meet. 

He doesn’t say anything else about it, letting your hand go after the affection. He motions for you to follow him, and leads you to a patch of grass near the pond’s shore. Smoothing out his cape, he sits down on the cold grass. When you stand awkwardly, he looks back up at you, a silent request for you to sit with him. You leave a bit of space between the two of you as you sit. Your knees are pulled up and tucked under your chin, providing some warmth against the frigid night.

“I know, you’re supposed to stay in there until you can get the stick’s location, but it feels weird not having you in my kingdom,” He starts, staring at the water, ears red from both the cold and embarrassment. “Having the stick would be great, but having you back seems like a better deal. You could come home, right now? No one would be upset with you.”

You smile unconsciously as he admits to missing you, but it dims when you realize what he’s asking of you. You have been in Kupa Keep for two months now, and even if it burns to admit, you aren’t any closer to finding the sticks. The best information you could provide was some of their battle strategies and routines, but that couldn’t guarantee to get the stick, the universe, back.

He looks at you, eyes pleading, as he waits for your answer.  Going home seems nice, to feel the warmth of their walls, and finally have your hands healed fully. However, you can’t go home. Not yet. Not after your promise.

You shake your head, telling him No.

He laughs, although it sounds slightly devastated, “You’re so stubborn. I won’t force you to come back, but can you promise me one more month? No matter if you have the stick or not, in one month you return to me.”

You grin up at him, placing bandaged hands on his cheeks and colliding your lips. You don’t need to say anything, because returning to him is something you’ll always do. He grins into it, lips slightly chapped and bitten down, but it’s perfect nonetheless. 

The moon watches, sparkling, as two hearts intertwine.

Having spent most of the night out, you wake up the next morning exhausted. The tiredness, although dreadful, is appreciated, allowing you to remember your limited time with Kyle. As you recall what he said, a month to get the stick. A month to prove yourself. 

Before falling asleep, you were able to come up with a plan; a plan involving your peer, Butters. On the way back home from your mission yesterday, Butters mentioned his job for tomorrow (today, now). He was excited, as the Grand Wizard rarely trusted him with anything less than a patrol job.

“He’s got me on stick duty, buddy! I’m gonna be in its presence, and be its protector.” He told you. Your mind hadn’t been paying attention to anything he said, until that detail. Butters was a nicer human, kind but also extremely naive; manipulating him could be easy.

You fell asleep in the clothes you wore last night, so before leaving your tent, you change. A pair of loose brown pants, a clean forest green blouse, and a white cloak on your shoulders make up your outfit. You double-knot the laces, and before you leave, you realize you need a way to communicate with Butters. Finding a piece of discarded paper, and making sure both sides are empty, scribble something down.

I don’t have any job today, can I join you?

You can’t remember if you have a job, as you are often teamed up with Butters or Princess Kenny to have someone keeping watch of you; considering Butters is on guard duty, and Princess Kenny didn’t talk to you at all yesterday, you think it’s safe to assume they’d only want you training today. (Maybe it’s good to give your hands a break.)

With it grasped in your hand, you think you can leave; you can only hope it’s enough. Luckily, you’re up early enough that he hasn’t been put on his duty; he’s standing outside the castle walls, bouncing on the heels of his feet. His armor is the same, but the undershirt is now a red color, whereas it’s typically blue.

He looks up to see you walking over, and waves. You bite back a yawn, as you go to stand to his left.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I get to be on stick duty! I’ve never done it before, and I’ve told you this before haven’t I?” His face burns slightly with embarrassment, but the smile on his face doesn’t falter.

You nod your head, grinning slightly at him. You hope this works.

He goes on to ramble about something, maybe his excitement again, but you cut him off by handing him the note. To play embarrassment, you fiddle with your thumbs.

“Aw! You wanna join me? Uhm, I don’t know if you can, this is an important job,” He trails off, before perking up, “Maybe we can ask Princess Kenny! The Grand Wizard sleeps late typically.”

Butters grabs your hand and walks you away from the castle so you can look up into the tower Princess Kenny inhabits.

“Princess Kenny!” Butters yells, “Princess Kenny!” He continues yelling his name, only getting louder each time he calls out.

Princess Kenny peers over the ledge, eyes squinting and crown thrown on haphazardly. 

“Can [your name] work with me today? Pretty please!” Butters begs, eyes pleading and wide.

“I don’t fucking care.” He says, before going back into his tower and falling asleep.

Butters cheers, and you can’t help but grin; the plan worked! Butters squeezes your hand, excitement radiating from him. He waves goodbye to Princess Kenny with his free hand and guides you back to the castle, where Craig is leaving his night job of stick guarding.

“Hiya! Craig. It’s my turn!” Butters voice is loud and jarring, and Craig jumps at it. Craig squints, then glares, before handing Butters the keys to the rooms in the castle.

“Okay cool, I’m going to bed.” He leaves afterward. Your conversations with him are always brief, with a clear lack of care in his tone. It’s respectable.

Butters guides you into the castle. It’s dimly lit, with torches evenly spaced giving little light. The only natural light comes from the window in the throne room, where the hallway leads, but you don’t make it that far.  The second door on the right, that’s the one Butter unlocks with a bronze key. Once the two of you are through, Butters makes sure to lock it. The door leads you into another hallway, built out of stone and lit similarly. You continue walking until the two of you reach the third door on the left. (Second door on the right, third door on the left.)

Using a silver key with a blue gem on its head, Butters opens the door. This doesn’t lead into a hallway, but a staircase, dark with no lighting. You look at Butters, silently questioning if the two of you can make it down safely.

“Hamburgers. I’ll grab a torch, hold the door,” He doesn’t give you a moment to respond, before leaving you to hold the heavyweight of the door. Training more with magic than with your muscles, it’s a strain to do so, causing your tender hands to ache under it.

“I got it! I got it, we’re good.” Buttes laugh, walking through the frame, and allowing you to shut it behind you. Before heading down, he locks the door; his respect for this job is clear, as he is thorough with what he does.

The staircase turns four times, and isn’t too draining of a walk; it’s to be expected, the sword to be hidden away from the world. The Grand Wizard enjoys holding it, you’ve seen how he cradles it like a lover, but even he knows how to protect it.

The door at the end of the staircase is unlocked, and the two of you can just push through. Butter grumbles under his breath about Craig not respecting the stick. You’d laugh, but you don’t want him to become upset with you either. 

You keep walking down the hallway, then turn left. There, you go into the first door on the right. You wonder if he designed the castle solely to keep the stick safe, and what could be found in the other rooms. Maybe they are all decoys, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made fake rooms. (Second door on the right, third door on the left, all the way down the hallway, turn left, first door on the right.)

However, when Butters opens the door, you notice the new hallway is long, but lacks the doors on the wall. A bright light shines at the end, and with how Butters is bouncing with each step, you know what is at the end. Exhilaration flows through your body at your victory; there is a slight hop in your step as you trail behind Butters.

There, the stick lays, a brown branch with small twigs, that control the universe. It lays on a platform that has a green cloth draped over it, with a pillow of the same color under the stick. The stick seems to glow with power, and you can feel its presence despite just entering the room. Bright light fills the room, which lights up with string lights to show the stick off.

“Are you ready?” Butters asks, smiling with his teeth showing. 

You nod, ready to defend the stick, and now ready to steal it; you miss the movement from the shadows. 

Dear Kyle,

Second door on the right, third door on the left, all the way down the hallway, turn left, first door on the right.

That’s where the stick is. Those directions. The doors are always locked, so bring explosives whenever you attack.

Okay, that’s all I needed to get down before I forgot. I got Butters to show me today as I promised. One month.

I know you said no more letters, but I needed you to get this information fast. I haven’t seen the Grand Wizard in a bit, and I don’t know if that means everything.

I’ll try to take patrol as often as possible. Write back to me as soon as you get this, okay? Be safe.

Love,

[your name].

You fold the letter twice, once vertically and once horizontally to ensure that it’ll fit nicely on the raven you’ll use. You don’t leave until the cover of night, in order to allow your raven enough air time to get to Kyle.

Like most nights in Kupa Keep, it’s brisk; there is no wind, and the cold doesn’t move around you. There is no cloak on your shoulders, due to the fact you wanted to be out for as little time as possible. It feels nice on your hands, free from bandages in order to breathe a bit.

The untied laces of your boot cause you to stumble, but you catch yourself. Fear of the loud noise causes you to slowly scan the area. The only person you can see is Tolkien, who got put on night watch duty tonight. He doesn’t turn to look at you though, and you let out a sigh you can see.

The raven post is in the far right corner of the kingdom, the opposite of where you sleep, and you carefully walk past the castle once you notice the breeze entering Princess Kenny’s room.  You rise onto your toes, hoping it will muffle the sound; you fall back onto your heels once you believe you are far away. The rest of the walk goes smoothly after that.

No one ever locks the door into the raven post, so breaking into it isn’t an issue. It’s getting a raven that is difficult, as their cages are always locked. Luckily, after months of living here, you’ve collected enough scrap pieces of metal to make a lock pick. The bird stirs awake as you mess with its cage, dark beady eyes staring. Using the fake lock pick finds itself to be quite difficult, and it takes you an embarrassing amount of time to open it; however, you haven’t damaged the lock, which allows you to feel safe from anyone catching it.

The raven is still sleepy, so you handle it carefully. Taking a piece of thin rope, you begin to tie the note securely to its chess. Before you can tie the final knot, a voice calls out to you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about who you’d need to send a letter to,” The voice rough with a slight lisp, “Because the humans should be your only friends.”

His voice, The Grand Wizard’s voice, makes you jump while your heart drops, knowing you’ve been caught. How could you be so careless? Maybe it was your carelessness, the deadline looming over your head combined with a need to prove yourself. Who knows, but even if you’re caught, maybe you can get the raven out. Hopefully.

“I mean, I was the one who took you in. You had no one, and I saw your strength when you fought the elf, for no reason other than to help Butters. Yet, here you are, sending letters to a friend.” Cartman paces when he walks, and your eyes can’t be torn away from him.

“This isn’t the first one, I know that. You’re lucky, I couldn’t get that one. By the time I realized a raven was missing it returned with no letter. That’s strange because a friend replies, don’t they? Who would you send a letter to that would fear it getting read?” Cartman asks, and you know it’s rhetorical, know he enjoys seeing you squirm as you both know what he knows.

“I’d have let it go, I assumed it was to your dead parents. But then you disappeared a couple of nights ago. I saw your tent was empty, and I care deeply for my soldiers.” He smirks as he says, “I asked around and got an answer from Clyde. He said you went on a walk, and that seemed fair. It can get stuffy, I go on walks. In the morning, I asked if he remembered when you returned. He couldn’t, because you were out for so long, he fell asleep.” Why didn’t you think of these details? How careless could you get?

“A long walk, I assume it was a meeting now, and a letter to someone who could not reply. And then there is yesterday,” His smirk grows tenfold, teeth showing as he looks at you, “You had training, you do know that? I mean, it’s not an official job, but I did have plans to teach you a new spell. You’re great with that lighting one, I’m a great teacher.”

At this point, he doesn’t pace anymore, and decides to stand a few feet in front of you, “But again, you were nowhere to be found. I asked Tweek, who was at the training ground, and he told me you never were there. I would’ve asked Craig, but he was out. Then,” He pauses, for the dramatics, “I asked Princess Kenny. She knew who you were.”

Your heart drops again, settling in your stomach, heavy as a rock. You turn back to the bird, sitting there, patiently waiting for an order; Cartman watches you before laughing. “That letter will be sent, don’t worry.” (What’s his plan?)

“Anyways, when I asked the Princess, she said you were with Butters. And that I couldn’t believe, because Butters was guarding the stick, a job I hadn’t given you. But, I went down to the stick, and there you were, standing in the light, in awe of the stick, and its location.” Cartman sighs, faking disappointment. “Using Butters was a low blow.”

You think about using a spell, knocking him out, sending out the bird, then running to the Elf Kingdom. Maybe you could, but it’d take everything out of you to get him in one blow; you couldn’t risk having to do it twice, as treason could loom over your head.

“Here’s the thing, I want to keep the stick. And I know your letters are a guide for the elves to get it. I’m going to use you, and your letter, to lure them in, and when they come for the stick, I’ll defeat them for good, guaranteeing my status as ruler of the universe.” He makes eye contact with you, then looks to the left, before nodding.

You don’t know who he nodded to, as the person standing behind you is swift with stunning you with the blunt end of their weapon; you presume it’s Craig, but you can’t see as your vision goes blurry. Cartman reaches over your body to grab the bird. 

The last thing you see is your letter being untied from its body; unwillingly, you close your eyes. The moon can only watch, gleaming through the window.

Kyle thinks the days drag on longer now that there is a date you’ll return home; the sun digging in its heels to prolong his sufferings. He tries to busy himself with paperwork, but most of it has been about replacing supplies and paying for war damages. When that’s done, he finds himself practicing with his bow and sword. He places the target farther every time he practices, but it doesn’t make it any more of a challenge. The splintering of the bows is only a temporary distraction because while he’s out, he subconsciously looks at the dummies, the one you used is noticeable due to the burns on it. There are a few mage elves there, but none of them are who Kyle is looking for. 

Now that he has your arrival on a calendar, he finds himself marking off the days that pass by. It’s only day twenty-eight, but the countdown reassures him of your arrival. It’s set in stone, written into the stars; in twenty-eight days you will be home and in his arms.

It’s hard not to think about you, especially with the meeting at Stark’s Pond. There was something about the burn scars on your arms, the implications of what that can mean that keeps him up at night. He has never liked the Grand Wizard, and that hatred burns deeper than just opposing factions. The man is cruel, and with his treatment of you, the abuse of the power of the stick, and the “He has me training constantly now that I’ve earned my place back in his world. My hands hurt.” To cope with his desperate loneliness and temper, he turns to the moon; the only one able to keep him company.

Kyle wishes the moon would talk back, say something comforting about you, or anything.

The day his world changes, and the stakes shift, Kyle is sitting on his throne. There isn’t any paperwork (none that he cares to do), and his callus hands can’t stand to hold onto a bow. The sun's rays beat at him, but he can’t find it in himself to remove his robe. One of his hands rests on his temple, rubbing away the start of a headache.

It doesn’t get the chance to go away, as Kyle witnesses his most trusted guard, Stan, running straight toward him. Kyle can just barely see something clutched in his hands.

“Your highness, word from [your name].”

Stan kneels, before presenting the paper. Kyle nods, a silent thank you, before taking it; Stan takes it as a dismissal, leaving. The letter is sealed with wax, and Kyle feels unease settle at the bottom of his stomach, a stone tossed into a pond. There’s no way you’d have sealed the letter like this, as the last one was only tied with a string to a bird, without an envelope to protect its contents.

He has to grab a small dagger to open it, sliding under the wax and prying the letter open. He can see signs of the paper being crumpled and messed with. The anxiety causes his hands to shake, but this isn’t a letter he can toss.

Taking a deep breath, he’s glad Stan left the room after he gave the letter. He has never felt as overwrought as he does right now. He quickly takes the letter out, unable to stop his anxieties from taking control. With a slower pace, scared of tearing the letter, he unfolds it.

He sees your handwriting, directions, and a warning, but there is more there.

Sending [Your Name] back for the stick was smart; too bad you’ve lost them too. 

The Grand Wizard

He’s scribbled out where you had signed your name, underling where you had signed off with “love.” He must have found it amusing.

Kyle reads the letter once, then twice, before realizing that the Grand Wizard, with his excess hubris, has left your directions to the stick untouched. A part of him realizes that this may be a tactic to lure the elves in; however, he won’t leave you in there, even if this is exactly what the Grand Wizard wants.

Clearing his throat, he calls out, “Stan, please come to the throne.”

Stan turns to look at him and walks over, and Kyle has no doubt he sees the fear in his eyes. “Yes, my lord?”

“Gather everyone for a meeting; tonight, we go to war.”

You awake to the feeling of cold on your skin, before being hit with a horrible headache. You go to sit up, hands reaching for your temple, but the movement makes you nauseous, and you have to slow down to relax. With the little strength you have, you find it in yourself to push your body until you are leaning against the wall furthest away from the cage bars. 

When you find it safe to do so, you rub your eyes, dragging your hands down your face in hopes it’ll bring back some of your strength. The hit that struck you has left your head pounding and your vision slightly blurry. Despite this, you know you’re in jail, hearing a constant drip of water from down the hall. 

Trying to come up with a plan proves to be futile; even if you could get out of jail, you have no clue where you are to be able to sneak out. The Wizard definitely would have all possible soldiers stationed at the end of the halls, and you’re in no state to fight.

If things couldn’t get worse, your mind supplies you with the memory of what you had been doing before you were caught and imprisoned. Kyle. What happened to your letter? Had the Grand Wizard kept it, planning to let you slowly starve in here? Or, has he sent it, as a false warning to the king? You don’t know which outcome is worst; unable to do anything more, you tuck your knees under your chin, curling up tightly to get some warmth. In the cold cell, not even the moon can keep you company.

Kyle is the first person in the meeting room; It takes Stan a few moments to tell all the elves about the meeting. He stands at the end of the table, as he always does, and runs a hand through the curls of his hair. His crown is discarded on the table, and the sleeves of his robes are pushed up, all a clear indicator of his panicked state. 

At most meetings, he would’ve taken the time to fix himself, splash water on his face, and paint up a facade. This isn’t most meetings, with the elves, the stick directions, and your safety all on the table. He doesn’t know if he could look presentable if he tried. Before the elves come in, he wipes some sweat off his brow.

The elves come in, marching along and sitting where they are assigned to. They look anxious as well, and he can see it swirl in their eyes with confusion.

“Stan, thank you for collecting everyone. Everyone else, I’m sorry for the late meeting. I’ve been given dreadful news.” Kyle starts the meeting, pulling the letter from his pocket.

“As you are aware, [your name] was set out to spy for us, and get the location of the stick. We have recently met, and I told them they were to return in a month, with or without the stick. Today, I heard from them again.” He sighs, unable to control it, “But not just [your name] wrote in this letter. The Grand Wizard got a hold of it.”

The mere mention of his name causes the council to go crazy and mutters about the Grand Wizard, the letter, and the meeting fuse together. He lets them talk, to collect his thoughts, readying himself for his declaration and plan.

“In this letter, the Grand Wizard says we’ve lost [your name]; he is most likely to keep them in one of his dungeons. The Grand Wizard is aware of the power he has now, controlling us by the imprisonment of our mage and having the stick. We are getting both back.” Kyle hopes his voice sounds calm, biting back both his anger and fear.

“With that said, the Grand Wizard knows we will plan to attack. He sent this letter knowing we had to respond. When we arrive, expect an ambush. Expect the humans to be hidden away, so they can try and get the jump on us. Don’t let them, you must be armed and ready. There is no way this goes down with a fight. Be prepared. Bring your sword, a bow, anything and everything you think is valuable.” As he talks, some of his confidence comes back; many of the elves are nodding and cheering along, ready to fight.

“A lot of the soldiers will be inside, as that is where [your name] and the stick is. We must bring all the explosives we have. In the part they wrote, [your name] discussed the sturdy walls. If we can get their keys, it’d be a huge advantage, but we can’t count on it. We will need to split up into groups, based on what needs to be accomplished. Many of you will be fighting humans, however, I will need a small group to venture into the castle to get [your name] and the stick.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. Talking is causing his throat to feel dry, but water is a trivial matter at the moment.

“If it comes to it, we leave the stick. I want it as much as you do, but [your name] is our top priority.” Kyle stops there, expecting some backlash, for leaving the most valuable item in Zaron behind. He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, he expects to see disappointment. 

He doesn’t. Instead, there are nods of heads and whispers of agreement.

“If you don’t mind, my lord,” Stan starts, waiting for approval; Kyle gives it. “I think most of us would agree we’d rather have [your name] back. Getting the stick back would be great, but the stick isn’t my friend. [Your name].”

Stan’s words cause an uproar of applause, loud screaming of agreement. Kyle smiles, glad everyone wants to welcome you back into the kingdom.

“Yeah, I too miss [your name]. They were the only p-person here that was funny.” Jimmy speaks, tripping over the word person, once it settles.

Kyle nods, and for the first time in a while, feels his heart slow a bit, grinning widely before setting out a plan. Every bowman and half the swordsmen will stay outside the castle to fight the humans up there. The other half of the swordsmen will fight the soldiers lingering in the castle. Kyle will lead the search party for you and grants Stan the power to find the sword. Each leader selects a few of the elves to accompany them, ones best suited for travel compared to fighting. Kyle finds his blasters, those responsible for all explosives in their country, and asks them to make him something that’d allow him to get into the castle.

When the meeting is over, Kyle finds solace in the cool breeze and looks for the moon, just barely visible as the sun sets. He hopes the man in there is watching over you.

You never fell asleep, unable to due to the cold and muggy floor. You had to fight whether to use your cape as a pillow or blanket but found warmth more valuable than comfort. It’s difficult to keep your eyelids open, even if you can’t fall asleep.

When you finally teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, just able to jump in, there’s a loud clang as someone drags a stick across the bars of your cage. Your head dully throbs, from a combination of sleep deprivation and dehydration.

Luckily, the man who woke you up brought water and porridge. Slowly, feeling your shoulders and legs crack and pop, you reach for it as it’s pushed under the flap made for this. Looking up at your savior, you see it’s the same man who put you in here. (You take back the savior part, he’s just keeping you alive for his means.)

The drink is brought to your lips first, and despite how nice the water feels, you keep yourself sipping slowly, to prevent getting sick. After your throat no longer feels like a desert, you reach for the spoon in the bowl. Your hands, luckily, aren’t shaking, but you feel as if a heavy weight sits atop you, slowing every move.

The Grand Wizard pulls up a chair, watching you. His eyes stare into you, and it makes you uneasy. You know there is something under his sleeve, and he’s just waiting to talk.

He allows you to take a few more bites before starting his monologue, “It must hurt, knowing how close you were to your goals just to have it stripped from you.” 

The power he feels radiates off him, strong enough that it’d knock you down if you could stand. “I mean, seriously, you were so close. Don’t worry, your letter got sent. Hope you don’t mind. I made some revisions. Also, ‘Love, [your name]’ are you serious? You and the elf king? Man, if this couldn’t get better.”

Your eyes widen, unable to take another bite; the porridge weighs heavy in your stomach, not settling right with your nerves. He must notice, as he starts to laugh, “You didn’t think I wouldn’t read it, did you? It was hard to resist. Anyways, you must want to know why you’re here.”

It’s been eating at you; why are you here and what this means for the war above you? You don’t give him the satisfaction of nodding though.

“So, I told the King about your predicament in the letter — the main reason I had to read it, truly. And, if I’m right, he most definitely has the letter by now. He wouldn’t be willing to leave you here and is going to be lured in by saving you and potentially getting the stick. This is the night the elves lose, for the last time.” His voice drops, growing sinister as he says his last sentence; his grin spreads to fill up most of his cheeks.

The plan is simple, yet your heart drops, and you have to bite back the rising bile in your throat. For the last time can only mean one thing. 

“When I defeat them, and have the King imprisoned as well, I plan to train you, hard. I hate to admit it, but your ability to conjure spells and energy is one I’m envious of. I’ll make you the second greatest mage in the universe, [your name].”

He stands up after that, leaving you alone with a half-full bowl of porridge and the remains of your water. You can just barely hear him talk to a few people a bit down the hall, presumably the soldiers meant to watch you. Once your nerves no longer cause you to feel nauseous, you begin slowly eating the porridge, stopping only for a sip of water. 

If you want to escape, you’ll need all the strength you can muster.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. It’s just going to be boring watching a cell, you know?” The same soldier who the Grand Wizard had been speaking to approaches your cell. He’s not only you remember, but he’s tall, sturdy, and armed with a sword. Still talking to his friend, he doesn’t turn to look at you. The chair the Grand Wizard had been sitting on is pushed to be at the far left side of the cage, and you assume it’s closest to the entry to the prison, due to the fact his eyes keep looking that way. (That’s the way you’ll need to run when you get out of here.)

“Remember, your shift starts at midnight. Don’t make me sit here longer than I have to.” And with that, the friend is gone, as you hear the heavy door shut behind him.

It must be late afternoon, and the porridge served dinner. You’re grateful that there is only one soldier set on you at a time; you aren’t sure what you would have done if you had to take both of them out, without them being able to alert other guards. 

The guard finally looks at you and laughs noticing your state. You don’t say anything, and simply take another bite of your porridge. He whistles as he sits down, arms crossed over his chest. The chair rocks a bit, as he uses his feet to push it up against the cage bars.

You finish the bowl as quickly as you can, knowing that if you’re right about it being the evening, the elves will be coming soon. They’d be smart enough to come under night cover, and you know Kyle would anticipate an ambush, but there's something about the way the Grand Wizard spoke that makes you nervous about the impending battle.

Downing the rest of the water, you start to stand up; your shoulders and legs crack, and the guard looks back at you, glaring slightly. Your shoulders shrug, and you pretend to act as if you’re stretching, leaning your body from left to right. He rolls his eyes and turns to face the hallway once again.

You can’t recall the last time you put an enemy to sleep, conjuring dust that leaves them unconscious. It wasn’t something you practiced much, as the Grand Wizard preferred more direct attacks. However, it came useful in big attacks, and when you wanted to be able to sneak by without a fight.

It feels as if you’re walking for the first time, legs shaking as your body forces all of its energy into putting the guard asleep. Luckily, your feet don’t land heavily on the ground as you approach the guard. He continues to whistle, unknowing. Stars spark in your hand, a bright blue that finally gets the guard's attention. Before he can pull his sword, you blow into your hand, circling his head as his eyes glaze over before closing; his body collapses, but most of it lands on the chair he had been next to. (He doesn’t fall too hard, but he’ll probably have a nasty bruise tomorrow. But, that wouldn’t be the biggest of his concerns, you figure.)

Putting a good bit of your energy into that spell should leave him out for a while, you hope. (Luck, if you can hear this prayer, please listen, be a guide to get me home.) You stick a hand through the bars, patting around his belt and any pockets you can reach.

He doesn’t have the keys, fuck. 

You want to sob, but you’re scared it’ll somehow summon the other guard meant to watch you faster. Tears build up, threatening to spill, as your brain racks for a solution. Your fire spell.

It’s a simple spell, conjuring fire the same as you do lightning, and the very first thing you were taught. The bars of the cage are metal, and you could potentially melt the lockdown so you can simply push open the door. That’ll require a lot of heat if the lock is made from steel, which you assume it is. You don’t have any options and try to prepare yourself for the burn.

Not used to summoning fire, it takes your body a bit to find the heat deep inside of you. It flows through your veins, a heat almost unbearable. As it reaches the thick skin of your palms, it starts to burn, and you hiss in pain as a flame appears. It’s a simple red, and although it’s scalding, it won’t be enough to melt steel. You need more intensity in your flame.

The brighter your flame burns, almost a yellow at this point, the more agonizing the pain becomes; the same tears from an earlier start to spill, but you power through, as you finally see the metal start to drip.

Above you, a war begins.

Kyle doesn’t recall the last time he was physically present during a war. Most of the time, he sits comfortably on his throne, making commanders and planning strategies for his soldiers to follow; however, this time, he had to be there, to ensure the safety of your return. (None of the elves suggested that he stay back, knowing how much he cared. It’d be impossible to keep him in those walls.)

His wood crown is replaced with the standard elf helmet, and the same is said with his cloak. The armor is heavy, and he feels it limits his movements just slightly — it’s been a long time since he was a mere soldier. It does allow him to blend in, hopefully allowing him to slip away, and into the castle, using the bomb he has attached to his belt.

When they’ve reached Kupa Keep, Kyle notices the gates are wide open, an invitation, taunting them. He can’t see anyone inside, or along the walls for guards, they’re all hidden. With the fast setting of the sun, he doesn’t see any shadows to indicate human presence either.

“Remember, they plan to ambush us; pull out your swords and be ready to draw your bow.” Kyle reminds, whispering.

At once, the swordsmen pull at their swords, ready to stab and swing the moment they catch the eye of a human; the bowmen have an arrow in their hand, prepared to nock their bows. Kyle’s sword had been in his hand since they left, its weight comforting, proof that Kyle was strong enough to save you.

 When the army of elves is just outside Kupa Keep, there is suddenly movement and noise coming from inside. Kyle doesn’t say anything but motions his army to charge in. Both parties are aware of the other, and this is his last chance at an upper hand.

The elves follow the command, running armed and equipped for battle. They linger in the center of the kingdom, waiting for the humans to appear. The time that passes as the humans wait goes on forever, and Kyle can feel his heartbeat in his throat. After another moment, an all too familiar voice shouts, “Attack!”

Just like the elves, the humans are armed as well. They fire arrows and charge at the groups of elves. Although Kyle just wants to bomb the entrance, running in after you, he knows that’s what the Grand Wizard hopes for. Instead, he stays back, waiting for the war to become loud enough he can disappear. (His blaster told him the bombs should be quieter, in exchange for a less extreme blast. The bomb was tried on brick and stone to guarantee it’d work. Although the explosion was weaker, it did enough to blast through the stone.)

Swinging the sword is easy, with all the practice Kyle took up to try and cure his boredom. He’s able to slash at humans, causing enough bleeding to put them down. His sword clinks with others, but he’s able to get his sword underneath and knock it from his opponent's hand. The added weight from his armor doesn’t allow him to be as swift as he’d like, but he’s still good against the human soldiers.

Along the wall, humans fire arrows down. With the combination of close combat, it’s hard to dodge them all. Kyle gets nicked in the arm, but luckily the arrow doesn’t pierce. His bowmen fire up at them, arrows penetrating through the cracks in their armor. 

Stan is busy fighting a paladin, the one Kyle believes you were with quite frequently; he recalls a description of a blond-haired paladin from the elf who gave you his note. The paladin shocks Stan, the metal armor a poor choice. When he’s able to stand again, Stan shoots his sword off like a boomerang, hitting once, then twice, before returning to his hand.

Kyle fights a few more humans, knocking them down, before realizing it’s safe to bomb the castle. (He’s also acutely aware that the Grand Wizard is nowhere to be seen, and wonders when he will appear.) He motions for an elf, one he picked to fight with him inside, to take over where he had been fighting, to prevent anyone from coming up behind.

Unlinking the bomb from his belt. He takes a step forward and throws the bomb so it lies in front of the massive locked doors. Just barely, he can hear the tick coming from it, an indicator that it’ll go off. Quickly, he presses his palms flat against his ears, hoping to muffle the sound and any damage.

There isn’t a long wait before the bomb goes off, exploding the doors and exposing the castle’s interior. Kyle has to give it to the blaster, the bomb itself is relatively quiet; the same cannot be said for the aftermath. Bricks falling and rubble blasting catches the attention of most of the humans.

More humans run out from the castle, some injured and some unharmed. Kyle can’t get close to the entrance due to the increase in swordsmen. He swings, a little shaky due to the explosion. His sword cuts, and makes the men bleed; he isn’t sure how many he’s killed, the violence a blur in his brain. He doesn’t care to know.

The elves that Kyle had picked to venture into the castle with him come up from behind, helping Kyle cut through the sea of humans. Stan is still in the back, fighting off the strongest of the humans; he was told to only go into the castle once he felt it was okay to leave the lower-level soldiers.

Green grass is painted red, and the iron smell pungent. Kyle pushes through, and with a few, more well-timed swings from his sword is able to get inside the castle.

More humans await, and despite his hands aching from the constant use, Kyle gets into position. His forehead is slick with sweat, panting slightly from exhaustion. Adrenaline keeps him going, able to wound and knock down any humans who get in his way. One of the humans is able to cut him, the same arm where the arrow had pierced. 

He runs down an empty hall, and it isn’t the one you direct him to go towards. Not that he’d go there first anyway, the universe means nothing without you. From the thin cotton of his shirt, he makes bandages. He sips a healing potion, to slow the bleeding. Rolling his shoulders, he peeks his head out; some of his elves have continued on, under the order to spread out and find you. 

With his wounds patched up, he returns to where the second door on the right would be. It’s wide open, and he assumes the elves had gone down. The castle’s basement is the only logical place for the dungeon to be, so Kyle starts to descend down the stairs. There seems to be more fighting at the bottom, the familiar clink of swords is heard frequently. Gripping his sword, Kyle prepares to fight. 

Slowly emerging, he notices that the fighting is mostly taking place to the left. He recalls your scribbled handwriting, second door to the right, third door to the left. The humans must be worried that the elves are getting closer to the stick’s location, especially if the Grand Wizard gave them a warning. When Kyle looks right, he notices how vacant that side of the hall is. He’d presume there’d be guards on both sides, but Cartman most likely has all his best soldiers with the stick. He pauses, before thinking that maybe you are this way, a decoy to stop Kyle from getting both you and a stick. However, he hesitates, wondering if this is a mistake. There’d be more soldiers as he got close to you, his mind reassures.

If you aren’t down this hallway, many other elves will be on the left side to get you. Taking the biggest gamble of his life, Kyle turns right.

Melting the lock takes a long time, with steel having a high melting point. Your hands are sore, and bleeding, and it’s affecting your ability to perform the spell. The paranoia of the soldier waking up has caused you to put the sleeping spell on him another two times, despite the excess energy it requires.

You blow on your hands, hoping it might soothe the pain just a bit; it doesn’t, and you bite back the groan of pain settled at the base of your tongue. You don’t know when midnight is, and you don’t want excessive noise to cause other soldiers to come and investigate. The fact you can’t express your pain makes it seem worse, bottled up and inside. As gently as you can, you dab your hands with your clock. It stings, but it should help prevent infection.

It takes you a minute to compose yourself before you can find the courage to create a flame again. Pain is impending, and before you can convince yourself not to, you summon a yellow flame in your hand. It knocks you over, the energy combined with the agony, but you stand tall, placing the flame close to the lock so the metal can continue to drip away.

You watch the liquid metal drip to the floor, and you have to move your foot to prevent it from dipping onto your shoe. Periodically, you nudge the door with your foot, to see if it’ll give. It is less resistant now than when you started, but it still isn’t enough.

Agony courses through your veins, and despite how every atom that makes up your body is screaming for you to give it up, you can’t. There’s a concerning amount of noise above you which can only mean that the elves have arrived. You have to get there, show them where the stick is, and fulfill your duty as a spy.

Tears well up in your eyes, and spill over with no issue. Just as the flame in your palms dies out, you kick your foot against the door and it gives. A wet laugh escapes your lips, unable to stop yourself.

Your hands are in agony, and if you were able to, you’d rip up your cape to make bandages; the roughness of the fabric is not something you think your hands would be able to take, so instead, you just clutch them close to your chest.  

You make your way left, the way the guard had been talking. A quick glance is given to the soldier who was supposed to guard you as you pass him; he shouldn’t wake up with the three sleep spells you cast on him, but your anxiety creeps in, lingering that he’s going to get up and catch you. If he got up, you don’t know if you could up a fight, so you quicken your pace, hoping to be out of jail quickly.

The door at the end of the hall is unlocked, luckily, but you almost scream with the pressure you have to use to open it. When you finally get through, you realize you have no idea where you are. The halls all look the same, and your directions for the room the stick of truth is in relation to if you are entering through the front door.

There are two ways you can go, straight forward, or left. Looking left, at the end of the hallway are stairs that descend downwards. (Everything you said poorly about Luck you take back.) With only one correct way to go, you walk straight.

Surprisingly, there is a lack of guards in the hallway. Although, for how long the battle has been going on, you aren’t surprised that there were only two on duty to guard you. If there were more, the Grand Wizard has probably called them up to the battle.

As you make your way down the hall, you look down other corridors that line the hallway; each has a few doors, but you hope they are only other rooms. No noise can be heard from any of them, so it’s safe to assume they don’t lead upstairs.

A hand reaches out to grab you, pulling you down an empty hallway you hadn’t gotten a chance to look down yet. Fight or flight kicks in, and you struggle against the captor, hoping for a chance to run once you’re out of their arms. They’re strong though, holding you against their chest; other than that, they don’t fight against you.

“Sh, [your name], it’s okay, I got you.” That’s Kyle’s voice. Instantly, you stop fighting, allowing yourself to relax into him. You don’t have the strength to keep fighting anyway.

He doesn’t say anything else, turning you around to get a good look at you. A whisper escapes his lips, fuck, as he sees your hands. He reaches to touch them, and despite treating you like glass, you still whimper in pain. His hands retreat away from yours, but one goes around your waist, to sturdy you as you start to sway.

“I’m getting you out of here, okay? I know the way out, we’re going home.”

Kyle has never been more relieved to see you, despite your state. Your hands are bleeding, and he can see that simply standing is a strenuous task. He keeps whispering reassurances into your hair, wanting to comfort you, but feeling awkward with touching you; your pain whimper might haunt him.

When he mentions returning home, he sees you start shaking your head, protesting it silently. You look up at him, confused.

“You’re too injured, I’m going to get you out of Kupa Keep then tell the elves to draw back.” He whispers, hoping to get you moving soon. You need medical attention, and he doesn’t think his half drank health potion is going to be enough. He wants to belittle himself, (how could he not think to bring more health potions?), but to keep a level head, he has to ignore those thoughts.

You shake your head, and his grip on your waist tightens slightly when you start swaying, vertigo caused by the motion. He wishes you’d talk to him, and voice your concerns; with how weak you are now, he wonders if that’s even an option. He racks his brain around for solutions, before finding something that may cause your worry.

“I got rid of the humans down here; there weren't too many anyway. No one should get us,” He cups your cheek, thumb grazing over the skin. There aren't many cuts here, but your glossy eyes cause his concern to deepen.

Again, you shake your head; although, a bit slower this time. He feels your face move but doesn’t pull his hand away. What else could you have been worried about?

“Stick,” You mutter, looking at him, mustering the strength to speak.

Oh, you’re still worried about the mission. He wants to laugh, wondering how you could even still think about the stick in the condition you’re in. You’ve always been selfless, always giving and giving. He’s seen how the human, and his elves, have treated you, sending you out to do their bidding. He’s ready to do the giving for you and take some of the heavy weight off your shoulders.

He smiles at you, one with only pure intentions, “I don’t care about the stick. I got you back, you mean more to me.”

He says it like a prayer, a silent confession meant only for you. He’s not nervous though, he’s known he’s loved you since the first night you two kissed; those words might have been the easiest thing he’s ever admitted. He watches as your eyes widen, and a smile makes its way to your face.

“There are plenty of elves who can go get the stick; they don’t need us. Let’s get home.”

As you two walk, he hovers. You pushed him off once you started to move, stubborn and knowing he might need to fight for the both of you. He understands, but he also misses the feeling of his hands on you. Anytime you stumble or sway too hard his hands are on you, moving on their own. There is never any complaint heard from you.

The two of you run into two more guards before Kyle can guide you to the stairs. He gently nudges you into another empty corridor, making sure you’re comfortably leaning against the wall before pulling his sword out.

It’s another smooth fight; Kyle’s cheek gets clipped with the tip of their sword, but he sheds the least amount of blood. He’s able to quickly get them to the ground, not wanting to prolong the fight, knowing you need to get home.

He has to wrap an arm around your waist to stabilize you, as you wobble when you go to walk again. Subconsciously, he tucks your head into his chest, steering your eyes away from bloodshed and gore. Deep down he knows that you’ve seen it plenty, familiar with its sight and smell; he knows you’ve also seen more of it than he has. (There’s a part of him that wishes you’d never seen it at all, and if he can protect you now, he will.)

No more soldiers appear between where you two started and the entrance of the stairs. Getting you up them seems an impossible task. Your blood loss is getting worse, and your movements are sluggish, weighed down by all of the energy you were forced to exert. Kyle can’t risk carrying you up, because a soldier could appear at any moment and catch him off guard, putting you back at risk. He has to guard you with every step, murmurs of easy does it, and just another step.

There’s an immense amount of fighting continuing; soldiers’ swords clashing deep into the night. He can just make out Knight Marsh and his bard Jimmy. The pointed hat of the wizard stands as tall as ever. Part of him wonders if he should call for a retreat now, leaving with only you. He knows his soldiers would disprove it, would fight for him and the stick always. 

Leaving the battle to go on also allows him to sneak out smoothly, the humans too busy protecting the stick to realize you’re gone. They still fight near the front of the entrance, and although they should hear the creak of the door, they don’t. Kyle makes eye contact with Stan, motioning towards you. Stan responds with a genuine, small smile that can be seen as a smirk from hubris. 

Kyle has to take you the back way, a door he’s seen a few times from meetings with the Grand Wizard. He wants to urge you on and force you to walk faster so the humans can’t catch up but knows the pace you amble is as quick as they can go. The other elves must see you two escape because the fighting seems to get angrier, and loud; he’ll remember to thank them when you’re home.

He only gets halfway to the kitchen before the Grand Wizard calls out. Kyle would rather not fight but knew he was optimistic to think he wouldn’t have one run-in with the wizard.

“You’re just not walking out of here with - wait, that’s not the sword.” He pauses, and at that time Kyle picks you up. It causes you to grumble in pain. He hates how he’s hurting you, but knows he’d hate it even more if the Grand Wizard was able to have even the slither of an opportunity to harm you.

“You went down, for them? Just them? I thought elves are dumb, yet here you are, passing up an opportunity to try and get the stick. You’d rather have some mage?” The Wizard asks. (Kyle thinks back to his taunting letters as if he truly thought the love you two had was some jester’s joke; maybe he hoped you’d be left, forgotten, and formed into the human’s perfect wizard. Maybe he didn’t understand how love could be so overwhelming, more powerful than any force. Kyle never asks, he’ll never know.)

The answer comes so easily to him, yes. He’d have you with or without the stick. He’d remove his crown, and the status of the king if he had to. If you asked, he’d repaint the stars and would lasso the moon for you. There’s no point in having the universe if he would be in it all alone.

“I have no plans to fight you, Cartman.” Kyle enjoys how the wizard seethes at the use of his real name, “My elves will do that for me. I will return to my kingdom. If my elves get the stick from you, it’s a joyous day for my kingdom. If they fail, it’ll be a joyous day for my people.”

The Grand Wizard gets ready for battle, posing as if he plans to summon energy from his hands. Kyle turns his back, ready to take the hit, but he doesn’t have to. He hears the gleam of a sword, then the air as it crashes down. The Wizard cries out in pain, and Kyle turns to see what’s happened. Stan had stabbed in the side, strategic to not be lethal, but enough to give Kyle a head start out of the castle.

When he stands for a moment too long, Stan calls out to him, “We’ll meet you at the kingdom!” He quickly returns to battle.

Kyle continues down, turning left before entering the kitchen. There aren’t any servants there, surprisingly. It’s possible they are in battle, clad in armor not meant to be worn by them, and forced to fight the wizard’s battle. There is a door located in the far left corner, and Kyle is able to open it with a nudge of his foot. He’s careful to make sure you don’t brush against the frame, treating you more delicately than ever.

One time when he was over, the Grand Wizard boasted about this hallway. It made it so that he’d never see his messley servants. He explained that their hallway went everywhere, to sleeping quarters, a bathroom, and even outside to the farms.

It’s a bit of a walk to get outside, but it goes much faster with you in his arms. (Maybe one day you’ll be there for other, better reasons.) Bursting through the door, he relishes the cool air. He’s felt on fire the entire fight, from a horrible combination of exertion, adrenaline, and fear. The gulps of air he takes are the finest things he’s ever had, good enough to almost make him forget about everything.

Until you whimper, curling in close to him, your hands still curled up on your chest.

“We’re going home, okay? I’m going to make you drink so many health potions.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a delicate kiss on your temple.

The moon watches as he leads you home, and the man in there smiles. That night, the moon shines brighter.

Waking up is a struggle, sleep heavy on your eyelids, sewing them shut. It seems so easy to just fall back into, as it seems to welcome you with open arms. There’s a voice that urges you forward as if something is waiting for you on the other side.

You can just peer through your eyelashes, the world a blur of browns and light; just that slither of the world is too much, but you don’t shut your eyes. Instead, you try something else. The same voice reminds you of a burning pain, one you can just faintly feel now. 

Carefully, as if it’ll break the peace you're surrounded by, you slowly move your ring and middle finger. The movement is sluggish, and the fingers move together; as you move them, you become aware of the cloth wrapped around them, rubbing slightly into your wounds. It hurts, but the pain is a reminder you survived, the gray cell long behind you.

The distance between unconsciousness and you greatens, and you brace the task of opening your eyes. Instead of slowly doing it, like before, you force yourself to separate the lids, allow the light to meet your pupils, and wash away all of the dreariness. You have to blink a few times due to the sudden increase of light after hours of sleep. (Hours, presumably. How long have you been asleep?)

Once you’ve adjusted to the natural glow of the room, you glance around. The wood confirms you’re back in the elf kingdom. You smile at that, subconsciously. The wood that these rooms are made from is more comforting than the stone of the human’s castle; its home. It’s peaceful.

The door creaks and you slowly move your head to look at it. You’re hoping it’s Kyle, your heart needing to see him. The night is a blur, a mix of painful cries and slow movements; you can just barely remember his words, and how he chose you over the stick, a silent promise. Heat rises to your cheeks just barely, but it isn’t noticeable. Even if it was, you’d brush it off from stress or injuries.

It’s Jimmy who enters the room. You smile at him when his eyes catch your open ones. You always knew you missed Kyle, but it seemed your heart yearned for more than just him. You’ve missed it all, stupid jokes, play fighting, snickering quietly behind the king’s back, the elves who made their kingdom a place you enjoyed staying. It’s almost too good to be true, to be home finally after months.

“Oh good you’re fina- you’re fina- you’re up!” Jimmy smiles. He has bandages in his hands, and for the first time you look at your hands; the bandages are a faint pink, your blood dried on them.

“I was going to change them, but I think you’d rather ha- have the king do it.” He winks at you, and the blush from earlier is tinted even darker.

Carefully, he sits on the edge of the bed, making sure not to touch any part of you. He’s dressed in his typical bard outfit, a yellow shirt, a green bandana, and a grey hat. He places a hand near yours. If he’s been the one changing all your bandages, he has seen the damage to them and knows to tread carefully. You hope the smile you flash is enough of a thank you, although you don’t think you could ever pay him back for all the care he’s provided.

“Everyone is glad you’re back. They all missed you.” He admits, flashing you his signature toothy grin; in return, your smile grows just as much.

He lingers for a moment longer, before standing. “I have to go get the king. He’ll be ha- happy you are up.” Before leaving the room he adds, “He’s been stressed all night, wa-waiting for you to get up.”

Jimmy’s words are confirmation you’ve only been in bed for a night, luckily. The door clicks shut as he leaves, and you’re left alone, only a burning face left to keep you company. Relief lingers, and you’re glad you had only been asleep for one night. The damage to your hands was abundant, and your mind tries to figure out how long it’ll take to hear. How long will it take for you to return to your magic? Although you can move them just slightly, and the pain seems to be minimal, you imagine that’s a result of the magic and potions used to keep you asleep throughout the night. Once those effects start to wear off, you’ll have to start a slow recovery. Burns take their time to heal, and even if magic can sew your wounds tight quickly, you’ll be left with scars; there is also no telling how long it’ll take for your energy to return. What started in plentiful amounts can now only drip, poured completely out to escape that cell. 

You aren’t sure how long you’re buried in your thoughts, overwhelmed with all the factors you cannot control. The same click can be heard, and you see a familiar face. 

Jimmy wasn’t lying about Kyle being concerned, it’s the only present emotion on his face. His eye bags are a deep purple, showing his worry prevented him from falling asleep. He’s no longer wearing the armor you remember being pressed into, but the loose blouse is typically covered by his red robe. His crown is nowhere to be found, allowing red curls to frame his face. You can see two separate wounds on the same arm, one scabbed over and the other wrapped in the same bandages. Your heart pangs in guilt, that he’d gotten those fighting for you.

He sits down on the bed, similar to how Jimmy did, avoiding touching you and hovering hesitantly. In order to have a proper conversation with him, you attempt to prop yourself on your elbows. Placing your body weight onto your palms causes you to wince, and Kyle’s hands shoot out to help you sit up. His grip is firm yet gentle, as he guides you to a sitting position. Once you’re situated, he grabs the gauze Jimmy left.

He takes your left hand, the closer one, and slowly peels the old gauze from it. It only hurts when he gets to the layer connected to your skin from blood and your blisters. Kyle apologizes the entire time, and you forgot how calm his voice can be, now that you can fully hear it.

You almost can’t bear to look at your hand. Your palm is filled with blisters, none popped luckily. The entirety of your hand is painted in a harsh red, splotchy due to the thick layers of skin on your palm. It’s almost disheartening, to know what used to be the strongest part of you is in such a horrendous state. You have no energy to cry, but maybe you know you’ll mourn them later.

Kyle brings out a cream, a herbal concoction that he brought in. His touch is as soft as it can, as he slowly rubs it in; you bite back any winces to not provide him any more guilt. The look in his eyes shows he is already feeling upset about your wounds, you won’t make him feel worse.

He only finally talks when he starts to rewrap your hand. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You smile, unable to stop yourself. He pauses once he’s halfway up your palm, giving you a moment to breathe. He grins back. “Seriously, I’ve never been so worried over someone. I’m never sending you out on a mission again. That anxiety isn’t good for me.”

You laugh, and it goes silent as he finishes your hand. Unlike last time, where your bandages left your fingers mostly immobile, Kyle leaves them free, carefully wrapping them below your thumb so you can use your hands if your palms allow it.

Once he has the bandages tied off and secured, he brings your hand up to his lips; the move is all too familiar, but your heartbeat quickens anyway. He looks up at you through long eyelashes, and you can’t maintain eye contact. He looks at you as if you had hung the stars, as if you are the reason for beauty in the world, as if you are the one who deserves worship.

In comparison to the wounds on your hands, the lingering kiss burns the brightest. He is careful when he places your hand back on the bed, before reaching carefully for your right one. 

Again, he unwraps the bandages, and this hand seems in worse condition. There are more blisters, and some of your skin seems to be peeling off. The state of it causes Kyle to tense up. Despite how furious he seems to be, he’s still gentle with you. Kyle takes another glob of the lotion, providing soothing comfort to it. 

“I should’ve killed the Grand Wizard when I had the chance. I shouldn’t have walked away like I did, after all, he did to you.” His voice is low, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak with such anger.

He takes the rest of the bandages and begins the process of wapping them again. “I could’ve had Knight Stan take you home. I should not have let him live when you’re in my infirmary in this state.”

With your left hand, you gently grab his wrist. His desire to protect you means the world, but you’re okay. Maybe not physically, and it'll take weeks for that. But you’re home, surrounded by his warmth and your friends, and even if your hands never heal correctly, it’ll still be okay.

His shoulders slouch and the anger leaves his body. He doesn’t say anything more and finishes wrapping your hand. He kisses it again and laughs at you when you respond the same: flustered and shy. 

The container of lotion is left on the table to your side. He sits up, no longer having to slouch to take care of your hands. You like seeing him like this, relaxed and content; it feels like it’s only you two in the world.

You’d like to stay in it, but you're reminded of the reason you’re in this bed in the first place. “The stick.”

Kyle looks at you, nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“The stick, did you get it?” You hope your rescue mission didn’t put everything at risk, and that your directions were enough.

He smiles, and he reaches a hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Even away from your wounds, his touch is tender. “Stan got it. He was able to get down there to grab it after I got you out. You did great.”

Your grins grow wide, pushing the skin of your cheeks up into your eyes, as your head leans against the bed frame. You did it. You did it! A laugh escapes you, cheerful and giddy that your work paid off.

Once the euphoria wears off, and your eyes can be opened fully again, you notice that Kyle is looking at you. His gaze is still the same, loving and believing you to be the only thing worth appreciating in this world.

“Have I told you you’re really pretty?” He murmurs. His hand is still on your cheek, having followed you as you laughed. 

You beam up at him, grabbing his shirt and ignoring the pain in your hands. Carelessly, you pull him into a kiss. Your noses bump and it is the clumsiest kiss you’ve ever experienced. Unable to help yourself, you giggle into it. He smiles too, and you can feel it. You're so happy, being reunited with him and knowing you won't have to leave his side combined with bringing home the stick.

Even after you pulled back, breathless and needing air, you can't stop smiling. Everything is okay, Kyle's own giddy smile promises that.

Despite not being visible, the moon sees it all. He’s seen a lot of things as he’s orbited the earth; the love shared between a king and a mage is his favorite.

[lunarianebula872]

(tried something a little different for my chibi design but I think it works well for Cloud Rhapsodos/Hewely here also yes Genesis made sure the inside of Cloud's jacket is lined to keep him warm/comfortable)

Genesis adopting Cloud [when Cloud is around 7] due to sensing a ton of mana in Cloud, Angeal though slightly hesitant warms up to Cloud as what's going on isn't his fault so he ends up becoming Cloud's 2nd dad.

Claudia in this universe is already dead but it didn't stop Cloud from his dreams but he is more reclusive then before however with Angeal and Genesis's help he gains some confidence like a young kid should

While waiting to be old enough to sign up and join Angeal comes back with his student Zack and they become really good friends [like they're brothers] and while waiting for trials and of coming of age for Cloud is when Genesis, Angeal, and Zack set up games to aid Cloud in the trails when it comes to joining SOLDIER

Sephiroth returns after a long mission and encounters Cloud with Genesis which Sephiroth questions Genesis of and Genesis explains it to Sephiroth which actually surprises him since he didn't take Genesis to be a parent at all though he's glad Angeal is there to help out and to make sure Genesis's temper doesn't go to the kid [which luckily never happens and he's a good dad along with Angeal]

Genesis will have to elaborate with Sephiroth that he wouldn't hurt the kid however he has snapped at people who tried to hurt Cloud [he can slay people even with his words lol] but has taught Cloud stubbornness and how to use magic, Angeal has always made sure Cloud is respected that's for sure and even teaches Cloud honor and loyalty on top of how to cook along with gardening, Zack teaches Cloud companionship, Sephiroth teaches Cloud to be observant and even how to read [the reading part can also be added to Genesis as well], all four of them teach Cloud how to use swords

Kunsel when he meets Cloud and even knows who Cloud is due to his snooping and everything so he ends up introducing himself and teaches Cloud how to read maps and how cameras work and their locations in the building [not sure if that's a mistake on his part or not]

While Cloud [when he's 13] is tending to Angeal's plants he gets a message from Kunsel that something is wrong and to stay in Angeal's apartment and to let the big three and Zack take care of it however when they return Genesis has a wound that isn't healing, Angeal is feeling unwell, Zack isn't as cheerful and seems to be seriously injured, and Sephiroth is even more distant then normal which worries Cloud so he decides to make food for them and hopes to cheer them up a bit and even tries to help Genesis heal but is starting to feel like he's not accomplishing anything and starting to get depressed and wishes that he can at least do something to help them and even figure out what is wrong but the four he greatly cares for won't tell him what's wrong

Cloud at this point does all he can via training his ass off and to find a cure for the injuries and ailment Angeal, Genesis, and Zack are going through which he hopes also cheers Sephiroth up as well

One day Cloud is doing some work with materia and suddenly gets teleported somewhere which is where he meets Calamity Zack which he doesn't know how to respond but he does end up breaking down and crying while believing Angeal, Genesis, and Zack are going to die on him and Sephiroth

This is probably where Calamity Zack will bring Cloud to Aerith for holy water to help Angeal, Genesis, and Zack recover however Cloud will have to figure out how to get back unaware that Calamity Zack can get him home however Calamity Zack probably wants to calm him down first.

@aimeelouart how is Calamity Zack going to react to Cloud Rhapsodos/Hewely? Maybe sees him as a scared kid who because of what's going on is growing up to quick even though he's still a kid but can even see how much Cloud cares [and probably is going to be happy for this Cloud when things become happier for his 14th birthday]

[compacflt]

Okay maybe I totally missed it in the story, but I’ve gotta ask: how did Jake find out about Ice and Mav?? I know there was a line about “figuring out who Bradley’s dads were” in Debriefing, and it seems like Jake definitely knows by the carrier for the mission, given how he reacts when Bradley says he’s gay and that they “hate him for not being able to hide it like them”, but when was the discussion about exactly what Ice and Mav are to each other? At what point did Bradley tell him, and how long did Jake spend staring at a wall and saying “huh” in a dazed sort of way???

i admit i made it confusing on purpose and i admit there isn’t much of jakes reaction but yes

it’s the third “he was my dad.” specifically about ice. whereas the other two are about goose & mav. because, you know, there are three of them. dads, that is. ice just happens to be the third

Jake canonically doesn’t know what’s up with the holy dad trinity because he doesn’t even react to seeing goose btwn ice (fucking cdr of the pacflt) and mav (his fucking CO) in that old top gun photo —only cares about goose. clueless-ass mf. and the homosexual little “what is with these two!” during the first practice dogfight.

but i bet there were clues. a lot of little things that eventually came together.

a.) scrolling through the navy times on his laptop in bed cause he’s bored one night, tilting it over so bradley can see the screen and read the headline, ‘RADM tom Kazansky named pacific fleet commander,’ just randomly asking “whaddaya make of this guy?” and next to him bradley freezes and almost refuses to speak and then snipishly says, “he’s gay.” / “what?” what a wild thing to say! / “i just know it. he’s gay. look at him. hiding it like that.” / “what a weird fucking thing to say about a guy you’ve never met, bradshaw!” / and bradley going all silent and sullen the way he does sometimes and saying “well i don’t think anything of him. whatever.” / and then both of them put it from their minds and never talk about it again.

B.) all the quiet little dad-related breakdowns over the years. Father’s Day is never happy when bradley’s around. jake made the mistake of asking him why, once. he said something to the effect of “well with three of them you’d think id be statistically likely to get a dad who wasn’t unbelievably fucked-up or dead but nope! it’s three times as bad as usual!” and refused to elaborate. bradley is often annoying this way.

c.) the fact that capt mitchell, maverick, who looks like a gracefully-aging movie star, is by all accounts nice and charming and mostly-ish respected, and yet apparently chronically single, a confirmed bachelor for as long as most officers can remember. hondo knows something, clearly, but he’s being very cagey about it, apparently out of loyalty to maverick. even on day ONE of the special training detachment at Top Gun, there are rumors. Some more mean-spirited than others (looking at you, harvard) which Jake tries to shut down, because he remembers being on the receiving end of mean-spirited rumors like that, and rumors about a guy like maverick probably aren’t true. ‘I’ve heard about him. Whispers. Watch him the next time we hit the Hard Deck. He’ll flirt with Penny the bartender, and she’ll flirt back, but he sure as hell won’t take her home. You know what I mean.’ Yeah right. dangerous to make comments about a man like maverick. jake keeps his mouth shut.

d.) but then there’s the way bradley acts around him. They’ve met before and they know each other and there is not only bad blood between them, it’s blood that’s been simmering for a while and just now boiling over. Three dads. the maverick-related rumors. hmm…

e.) that picture of goose and mav and ice. OKAY. Now we’re getting somewhere. Bradley’s dad… LTJG nick bradshaw… FLEW with maverick. Looks up the obituary online and reads the news reports he can find in the archives. Maverick was behind the stick when goose ate it. Okay. Two out of three dads found and accounted for. (Because they’re broken up, and because jakes still heartbroken, this fact will be used as ammunition. “Or that maverick was flying when his—“ “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” et cetera et cetera.)

f.) on the flight deck shaking hands with the commanding officer of every commanding officer jake has ever dad—admiral tom kazansky, come to wish the aviators good luck, and to sanction their attack. this is, like, a big deal. like a really big deal. like, makes you wanna stop and ask him for a selfie to post on your LinkedIn to advance your career kind of big deal. but out of the corner of his eye… jake’s noticing Bradley on the verge of a dad-related breakdown. bradley doesn’t seem to care how much of a big deal it is to have the privilege to shake the hand of the commander of the pacific fleet. isn’t even looking. something big and hateful between them. something like bad blood. oh oh oh. wait. It’s coming together.

g.) poking fun at him. psyching him out. what’s a little pre-suicide-mission hazing between exes? what is with you, bradshaw? you’re, like, freaking out over here..! —and Bradley, looking for someone—anyone!—to trust, tugging him into his cabin on the aircraft carrier and bursting into tears and crashing down onto the linoleum into jake’s arms and saying “he was my dad…!”

h.) bingo.

[raayllum]

Theory time: There's been a lot of mirroring between Viren and Callum. What if Viren's relationship with Harrow starts to mirror Callum and Ezran? Something happens, Ezran snaps at Callum in a similar way to what Harrow did with Viren. Ezran apologizes afterwards though and they make up, but it's still just another push towards Aaravos

I have a lot of thoughts about the generational parallels between Viren-Harrow and Callum-Ezran. If you want more thoughts on Ezran's side of things / where I think it may go in S6 check out this meta I wrote here <3 We also have confirmation after the fact in a recent interview with Aaron Ehasz that the brothers will indeed have conflict in future seasons:

Aaron: You know, we’re gonna see Ezran face some of the limits of his idealism, of his pacifist stance, and see what — where that takes him.  Interviewer: I’m actually really excited about that! My one like little wishlist thing is I kind of want, um, I’ve always wanted Ezran and Callum to have like a sincere argument about something, and for Ezran to pull rank on him, a little bit almost like a callback to his own father and Viren. Probably not to that extent, but in a way it’d be very similar, and there were a lot of callbacks I know in season five back to season two. Aaron: Right. Harrow says in I think the second episode, “a child is freer than a king,” so in some ways he [Ezran] has moved backwards, right? He’s taken on responsibility and constraints that have made his life harder. Yeah, to your point about conflict between Callum and Ezran, I think we actually talked about that briefly when in season five, when they’re deciding what to do next, and they end up voting — Rayla ends up voting, deciding kinda two versus one, what they’re going to do, so we didn’t have it be Ezran going “well I’m the king and I get to make—” but I will say that a version of what you’re wishing for and a one-on-one conflict between the two of them could happen, and how do they resolve it? They’re brothers, they’re equals, but also Ezran is the king, so what does that lead to?

The thing about Viren and Harrow is that at the same time, they both absolutely needed each other, and that simultaneously, there was no world where their choices around dark magic didn't ultimately rip both of them apart at the seams (which is arguably the main narrative purpose of dark magic, but anyway). Harrow is very principled and idealistic, and that's not a bad thing, but you have to also surround yourself with counterbalances; for him that was Viren and Sarai, allowing him to land somewhere the middle (willing to do the Magma Titan mission with ultimately very few moral reservations, but not willing to leave the wounded behind). And at the same time, Harrow's presence in Viren's life kept him tethered to something at both better ("I need to be the man he once believed I could be") and worse (an unrepentant dark mage) than what he became: a man who had forsworn both. There was no world, I think, in which Viren could've done dark magic and stayed at Harrow's side and been fine, mostly because of the growing resentment between them (Harrow towards Viren for living, in some ways, and Viren towards Harrow for not seeing/appreciating Viren's been slowly dying for him, over things neither ever actually asked or wanted the other person to ever do, lmao).

All of this to say that Callum and Ezran, likewise, do need each other. Callum is able to cut his losses (is the first to want to leave Rex's lair), make hard choices (smashing the primal stone), and see/understand angles no one else really does (various plans and scenes in particular). Callum's immense loyalty to Ezran means that he'll follow his brother's lead and be guided subsequently by Ezran's compassion/duty-bound attitude (following his lead in 1x03 over the egg in the first place). Without Ezran, Callum would've focused on a potential 'solution' (even when the wording of the poem can be read in a few different ways) gone chasing after the Nova Blade, which would've taken time and left the prison ultimately unguarded, leaving an ultimately violent end their only option. (Given enough time/reveal spells, Claudia likely would've been able to find said prison or just taken the pearl accidentally anyway, I think.)

The boys, likewise, don't have the same societal/economic baggage that Viren and Harrow do, either within their relationship ("You are a servant of Katolis") or within themselves ("I see you've overcome the limitations of your upbringing" / "What did I do except be born with everything?"). And in a lot of ways the personality clashes that tore Viren and Harrow apart are far more akin to the ones Callum and Rayla have had, respectively ("Ah, so that's what this is really about: pride" / "You're going to stay here and die out of pride?!").

However, the boys do have something that has both been something that helps resolves their conflicts and will likely exacerbate them: Rayla. The impending assassination is the first thing that splits the brothers apart, and Rayla keeps Callum more tempered in particular ("Callum, back off!") in a similar manner that Ezran helps keep him tempered, too ("If she'd been here the last two years" "Callum!"). Rayla also resolves their burgeoning conflict in 5x05 over whether to go get the Nova Blade by siding with Ezran.

However, with Rayla brings the coins, and Runaan. Callum has already personally dedicated himself to getting them out, not only in finding a possible solution for it (when even Rayla wanted to leave it for another day) but in freeing them by his own hand: "So to do it, I'll need these." And we know from Ezran's short story, "Deep Below," that he harbours strong resentment/anger towards the elf Callum has sworn himself to freeing. Which, if Ezran - who values his crown and place on the throne so much from a place of duty, and who has been growing continually more assertive - pulls rank, and Callum - who's always been very determined and can be obtuse in arguments - disregards it, it's a perfect storm of emotions.

I think the heart of the matter for me - and Idk how much the show will go with / develop this, particularly in the second notion I'm about to offer - but I think a lot about Callum having a Genuine form of Viren's claimed devotion of "I'll do anything to protect my family" (when he wouldn't reveal the egg in 1x03 and has been willing to sacrifice his children) towards Ezran and Ezran having a Genuine form of Viren's resentment toward Harrow ("I'm the one who has to make the hard choices you refuse / don't have to") because he's the one who's king, and Callum isn't. Of course, Viren took a lot on his own plate that Harrow absolutely did not ask him to, but Harrow also didn't stop him from doing it, and Callum would be there for Ezran in whatever ways Ezran would allow (and again, similarly even in ways Ezran wouldn't want him to).

I don't think Callum is capable of resenting his brother the way Viren was with Harrow (Callum has pride, sure, but that's not how it manifests, and he's interested in power as agency, not power as self importance); he'll also keep secrets to protect his brother, the same way Viren surely thought he was doing with Harrow. And Ezran definitely has shades of Harrow's anger, evidenced even in 2x08, in which Ezran is decidedly more verbally harsh with Rayla upon finding out the truth about their dad's death than Callum was in 2x03.

Given that every other sibling pair in the show (save for Sarai and Amaya, who we by far see the least of) has gone through a major upheaval and often ended up on opposite sides (Viren-Harrow, Karim-Janai, Claudia-Soren -- often with the more 'royal' aligned sibling being on the 'good' side, and the mage adjacent sibling being on the 'bad' side) I think it's clear that Callum and Ezran will have a conflict. I've actually been somewhat waiting for this since S3 and big time since S4, as seeing the boys overcome what broke Viren and Harrow apart is crucially important in 1) breaking the cycle by 2) proving that they aren't the same as their predecessors and won't fall prey to all the same mistakes. Just most of it, at first, it seems.

TLDR; basically, I've always wanted a major political/personal conflict between the brothers for both characterization and thematic reasons - and now it seems like we'll be getting an emotional at the very least. I always assumed it'd be a scene where Callum was more in the wrong (and perhaps somewhat infantilizing his brother) but am deeply intrigued/excited if it's a scene in which Ezran is (perhaps) more in the wrong. I think it will be ultimately nothing they can't find their way back from, but I will definitely be crying a lot over it anyway. Yipee

[oonajaeadira]

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 13: THE EXCHANGE

Rating: Mature for series, lighter for this chapter.

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin x force sensitive reader (fem, post-Order 66 Jedi). Soft, slow burn on both sides, internal struggles and feels. Alternating POV.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, culture shock/differences, Din pushing authority a bit, jealousy, and a whole lot of private feelings burning hot in a public place. A/N: If you’re still reading, thank you so much for your patience. I had to do a little soul searching and make the decision to let Din and Little Bird follow the path that the story calls for. It took me a while to let canon go, but this chapter hit me very unexpectedly. There are beats in this story that weren’t there when I first mapped it out and surprised the hell out of me when I realized where it was leading. The road ahead is a little twisty for Din and LB, but the story always goes where it needs to, when it needs to.

Senaar’ika = Little bird.

There’s more Mando’a spoken, but the translation is eventually given in the storytelling.

Summary: You and Din broker a very important exchange.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up at my MASTERLIST

←-Previous Chapter 12: The Camp

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PART 1: DIN DJARIN

Your helmet stands out among the others down below and Din tracks your path through the Tusken camp from his perch on an outcropping of a cliff face above. You’re not going to like this, but it’s the best solution he’s got.

“We’re on a mission here to acquire some resources and take someone into custody,” he explains to his comrade. “The negotiations aren’t something I can hurry along. How much time can you give us.”

Fennec sits with one knee popped up and stares into the distance out over the dunes, her eyes squinting more in calculation than from the bright suns on the sand. She’s a warrior he’s come to respect–a renegade turned team-player--even beyond her capabilities that could land her easily among the best of Mandalorian soldiers and make her a queen among bounty hunters, she’s evolved beyond her need for the Empire. Her ready repayment for a life saved, her loyalty to Boba Fett–and, by extension, himself–is noble in a way he can truly admire. “I can hail at first light tomorrow.”

“The whole day? That’s generous.”

With a half chuckle, the ex-assassin absently tosses away a stone she’s been rolling between her fingers, letting it clack over the clifftop. “What can I say? One of my many qualities.”

Even as his mind works, Din’s absent focus stays on you in the shadow of the rock face, sitting with the child he assumes is the force-sensitive. For some reason, he thought the child would be smaller, but he looks to be halfway to adulthood by his height. Definitely not gonna fit on the speeder with both of you. “The mechanic. Peli Motto. She’s unharmed?”

“Fine for now. They’re keeping her under lockdown but they’re not torturing her.”

“Good,” he huffs with a sardonic laugh. If Peli has guards set on her, then they’re the ones who are probably begging for release right about now. Tapping a few buttons on his vambrace and checking his nav for coordinates and distances, he calculates the time it will take to pack up, get to the drop off, and arrive at the Palace. Of course there will be a pit stop to refuel the speeder, get in a midday meal, exchange pleasantries, ask for favors….

“This would be a whole lot easier if she’d come out to us.”

“Wouldn’t it though. No dice, Mando. Boss hailed back–Bo won’t open herself up to attack. Insists on meeting at the Palace.” Her black eyes glitter behind the open slice of her helmet. “If you want to get in some target practice, we could stash your partner and the quarry somewhere in town and take down the garrison, grab the ship and go. Avoid her completely. Could be fun.”

“It’s only dragging this scenario out. She’s not going to let this go. She’ll just follow us somewhere else; somewhere I don’t have options.”

“I suppose the boss wouldn’t like me disobeying an order either. Ah well,” she sighs back onto her elbows, “buys your friend a little vacation, hm?”

Dank farrik. You’re not going to like this.

To be honest, he doesn’t either.

“You didn’t catch the name of her companion? And it’s not Koska?”

Laying back onto the sun-warmed rock and closing her eyes as her head lands in the cradle of her hands, Fennec hums in thought. “No, it sounds like Koska might be leading the garrison at the docking bay. The Mando that came with Bo Katan definitely isn’t her.”

“Hmm. First light then. I appreciate your help.”

Stretching out like a cat, content to take in the morning suns after a cold evening in the desert, Fennec has nowhere to go and nothing to do as long as Din isn’t following her back to the Palace. “Patience is a virtue. Bo Katan can use the lesson.”

________________

PART 2: YOU

“That’s good, Uli-ah. Now can you do both stones at once? Try to swap their positions.”

Taking refuge in the shadows by the cliff face and sitting in the sand across from the Tusken foundling, you watch as two pieces of desert shale lift from their positions by the boy’s knees, come together in the air and bump only a little awkwardly before passing at nose level. One of them drops and breaks while the other makes its way to its new spot.

It’s hard.

“Yes, it is, and you almost did it. That’s actually very very good. You must practice often.”

No. I’m not allowed. It frightens the mothers. I make things dance for the other kids sometimes if the mothers can’t see.

“You keep bringing up ‘the mothers.’ Is one of them yours?”

They all are.

“The children are raised by the clan.”

Drawing his knees up and under his chin, Uli-ah hugs himself in tight, burying his face, becoming a little desert-colored ball. It’s not that he goes silent as much as he shows you ideas, images, emotions, everything you need to understand that he is not assigned to one family like the other children are. Uli-ah does not answer to one set of parents or any one mother or father in particular. He is protected by everyone but advocated for by nobody. He learns as part of a group, but is never given wisdom as passed down from parent to child.

He is alone in a crowd.

It’s a wonder that the child hasn’t grown to be dispondend or wild, surprising that he’s quiet and respectful. But it isn’t that he’s neglected or uncared for. Din’s words from the night before begin to stir. The Tuskens aren’t like Mandalorians. He’ll never be paired and never asked to join the fire. He will never truly be one of them.

“How old are you, Uli-ah? How long have you lived among the clan?”

He doesn’t lift his head, his fingers only dig into the cloth of his leg coverings.

Five years I think. There have been five water cycles.

Only five? This tall, gangly, capable child? The answer slams into you and before you can control your surprise it rebounds on him, his hands balling up in fists as yet another adult finds him strange and unusual.

“Hey, hey, hey, friend,” reaching over to his shaking shoulder and laying a warm hand upon it, “it’s okay. That’s a good answer. You’ve learned so much in your young life, I’m only surprised you’re not a little older. You’re very smart and talented for your age.”

The touch, your tone, your praise causes him to bring his head slowly up, his helmet shielding his expression, but his sinking shoulders telling you all you need to know.

“I know some other younglings like you, with abilities like yours. They go to a school for people like us. I could take you to them if that’s what you’d like. But you’d have to leave your home behind. Everything will be new. It’s a long way from here.”

I don’t know what a school is.

“It’s a place where you learn. A training place where someone teaches you how to master your skills. Would you like that?”

Stillness. You can sense a little turmoil, all his thoughts tumbling around without a good tried-and-true way to organize them. This is why the Jedi used to take them as babies; it’s a lot to ask any child. Too young in their development and they’re bonded to their family. Old enough to make the decision and it may be too late to hone their abilities. Five though. Five is so young for such a big decision.

I...would like that. Except….

Uli-ah’s helmet spans slowly, taking in the camp, the sands, the wavering heat at the horizon…

Is it…hotter there? It’s so hot here. Sometimes I can’t breathe.

Is that what he’s worried about? “It’s warm there, but there’s water. Green things. Trees. I suppose you’ve never seen trees. They’re hard to explain–”

I remember trees.

Something about this violently shifts your heart. To be so young and still have fleeting memories of a different place, perhaps a home he once knew….and you find yourself putting your arms around the young force-sensitive, taking no offense to the fact that he does not have any experience of how to embrace you back. ________________

“Well? What did you find out, Captain?”

The midday Tusken meal is taken in the privacy of their tents and that means bringing two bowls of black melon gruel back to your campsite. Din’s made a makeshift lean-to out of your blankets and the speeder–a place to have a little shelter from the high suns and to remove your helmets for the meal–and you hand the bowls off under a flap so that you can crouch and crawl through to the snug space, taking a seat knee to knee with him in the cooler patch of shaded desert.

The surprise is that his helmet already rests in the sand by his hip. His jaw is set, his eye determined. He holds the bowls patiently, waiting as you remove your own bucket.

Something tells you you’re not going to like what he has to say.

“Bo Katan Kryze is here on Tatooine. She’s holed up in the local tradelord’s palace with some of her followers and she has others posted at our docking bay with the Crest in custody.”

“Peli–” you start, but he shakes his head, handing your bowl over.

“She’s okay. They’re just not letting her leave the terminal.”

Suddenly, you couldn’t be less hungry. “Why is Kryze here? For you?”

“Mmyeah,” he says, smacking his lips and squinting after a sip of the bitter broth. “Technically, she’s probably here for the Darksaber. Been tracking us for a while.”

“I thought you told her you weren’t going to fight her.”

“I’m not. But I have to go. She’s causing trouble until I get there. I’m not going to inconvenience my friends over this. I’ve got to go and deal with it.”

There a quick spike of bitterness in your gut from something other than the melon gruel. But you don’t need to feel anything from him to sense his irritation as a valley forms between his eyebrows and he downs more of the broth.

Joining him in your silent meal, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the bowl, you know him too well. There’s something he’s not telling you; it’s best to just keep sipping until he gains the courage. It takes longer than you expect and it’s not until he puts down the empty bowl that he meets your eyes. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What? You’re just going to leave me here? Din, the Darksaber–”

“No,” is what he says, but what he means is Quiet. Let me speak. “The kid you’re talking to. Tell me what’s happening there first.”

Damn. You can sense your Mandalorian is begging you with his whole being to cooperate, and the last thing you want is a fight. “You’re right. He’ll never be one of them. They’ve adopted him into their numbers but not into a family. He’s got an astounding amount of ability and talent for his age...and that’s another thing. He says he’s only five.”

“What?” Shock washes over him in a mirror of your own. “Huh. So. Not human then.”

“No. Being so tall, I thought maybe Kaminoan, but too many fingers. Maybe Weequay. Possibly Wookiee, but I can’t imagine living under all that covering and fur besides. Although he did say it was too hot here…” Stay on topic. “He’s open to going to Luke’s school.”

He sighs. His eyes close and squeeze. The news is expected, but not favored.

“That means we’re back on the clock,” he grumbles as he locks his gaze to yours again. “So it’s my job to make sure you’re both safe. I’m not leaving you here with the Tuskens and I’m not bringing the kid into a palace crawling with power hungry Mandalorians. We’re taking a detour to a mining settlement. I have a friend there. Maybe he can give you two a place to stay for a night or more.”

“Din, why–”

“Speeder won’t carry us all, so Fennec’s gonna help us out. We head out at first light. I’ve already spoken to the elders about that pearl–”

“Wait. You need me with you. That saber–”

“Senaar’ika.” Din doesn’t speak Mando’a often. His whisper stills your tongue. “I’ve spoken to the elders about the pearl. They have an imperfect one they’re prepared to trade if you’re willing to build a saber for them.” When you blink incredulously he explains, “I showed them the Darksaber and what it can do. They can use it for cutting. For defense. It makes glass from the sand and lights fires. It would be a valuable tool for them. I know…” he swallows, “I know it’s an insult to your order. To make a lightsaber for…base reasons…”

It’s risky, putting such a powerful weapon in the hands of those not trained to use it. They could badly harm someone. Or wield it to embolden an attack on innocents. But perhaps you could temper it, shorten the blade, make sure it can’t be used to cause too much harm….

“I’ll do it.” It’s a rough trade, but it will do. And you’re glad to see that he nods, relieved, quick to take up your offer. “Depending on the size of the pearl, a shard of it could power many lightsabers. And I’m happy to make something that’s useful to them.”

“Good. Then while you’re doing that, I’ll negotiate for the child.” He holds up a hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I know. But the women of this clan don’t have final say and you’re not allowed to talk with the men. Trust me. I know what they need to hear.”

If the burn in your cheeks didn’t signal frustration as he takes the lead away from you, then your frown most certainly does. But he’s right. He’s right about everything. Except…

“I don’t want you to leave me behind in the mining settlement. I know you can wield that saber, Din, but my being with you will boost your power with it. It feeds so highly on your emotions. Having someone you love nearby can only help…”

“I understand,” he says, softly. He’s already replacing his helmet, readying himself to go retrieve the pearl so you can get to work. “But you don’t have to be standing next to me to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about, Little Bird.”

And he slips out of the makeshift shelter, leaving you with cold broth and a pounding heart. ________________

The pearl is about the size of Din’s fist, definitely from a young krayt, and it takes you a little time to figure out how to fracture it without wasting any. Your own lightsaber is up to the task to hew a sliver of it away and you’re able to ascertain that even this small portion holds enough force energy to power a short blade. It will be more unstable than your own kyber, but less mercurial than the Darksaber; a fine beginner’s blade if not a tad loud.

The new utility saber is a good tool, sturdy, powerful. You’re adjusting the final resonance when Din rounds the speeder bike. He’s been gone a good part of the day and the suns sit on his shoulders, winking off his armor, causing you to squint up at him even through your visor to ask, “Well? How’d it go?”

Settling into one hip, his hands come up to rest on his belt and he juts the chin of his helmet at the weapon in your hand. “You got enough to make another one?”

“That’s their offer?”

“That’s their offer.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh as you lock in the final calibrations, your neck and shoulders aching from working half the afternoon on a blanket in the baking sands. “Yeah. More than enough parts. Time though, that’s another issue. I just,” one last twist of the mico-spanner, a click as the final panel fits into place, you toss the finished hilt to him, “I can’t believe that a little boy is worth the same amount to them as a dragon’s gut rock.”

Din catches the piece, ignites the blade, turns it, twists it through the air to hear its low feral howling, then hits the power switch, dimming its vibrating emerald light. “Well, not even as much. Pearl cost us one of these and the rest of our water.” When you make a face he adds, “We should be fine until we reach Mos Pelgo. We can get more there.”

“The water’s not the detail I’m unhappy about.”

Taking a quiet assessment of the mess in front of you–the scattered scrap metal and bits of pearl, the wires and tools and sand, always so much sand–the realization that you’ll have to start all over again and work into the evening is suddenly exhausting.

Even if he's not a force-user, you can see that Din picks up on this and you close your eyes as he moves around and takes a seat on the blanket behind you. After removing your pauldrons, his gloved fingers work into your shoulders and neck, deliciously limbering you, stretching out all the constriction, smoothing down all the coils. Even if it is more military restoration than it is gentle relaxation, it’s what he knows, his way of giving care.

A water bladder lands in your lap. “You haven’t been drinking.”

He’s right. And you take a long draw as his hands pull and prod your muscles, untangling the mess you’ve made of them, letting him heal you and do his bit to protect you from as much hurt as he can.

It isn’t the touch you truly long for–his gloves and your flight suit keep his fingertips from gliding over your skin, your helmets prevent his lips from kissing the back of your neck, beskar and leather cover the chest you so badly would like to sink back into. The way he has twisted your fingers in his own, or dragged his nose behind your ear, or leveraged your thigh with one of his own… It seems a sin that you are being given the gift of his touch and his care and yet, greedy and selfish, you would wish for more.

But perhaps you’re not the only selfish one here. His hands finally flatten out, firm kneading becomes gentle soothing, palms eventually sliding down to cradle your elbows as the ting of his helmet meets the back of your own, and you feel the broad frame behind you slowly fill with air and expel it in a fashion that, had it carried sound, may have been a soft whine.

How gracefully your hearts dance together. How far you’ve both traveled to meet here in this place.

“You should take a break; get up and move around.” Flaying himself from you, Din stands and holds out a gentle hand, beckoning. “Come on. I’d like to meet the kid.”

________________

Uli-ah works with a few of the other children, almost completely swallowed in bantha fur as they hold up one of the beast’s feet while a herder inspects it. Once that foot has been deemed healthy, the children race to the next foot, jostling and braying laughter as they vie for space to help pick up the next paw while the bantha merely shifts its weight and chews its cud.

Din sits by your side in the hot sand, waiting quietly while the children and the herder finish their task, and then Uli-ah runs your way, ending in a skid on his knees as he comes to a stop almost in your lap.

The elders say I’m going away with you.

“That’s right. We will be leaving at first light tomorrow. Are you ready for an adventure?”

The child bounces on his knees, braying his own kind of laughter, not quite Tusken, but certainly not human.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you laugh, then point to Din. “This is our Captain. He’ll be with us. He flies the ship and protects us.”

The bouncing stops then, and Uli-ah makes a half move, as if he’s going to hide from the Mandalorian behind you, except that Din’s hands cut through the air as he speaks.

“I’ll make sure. You’re safe.”

There’s a slow, renewed interest from Uli-ah as he realizes that he can communicate with this stranger and he raises his own hands into gesture.

You can speak with your hands.

Din chuckles, signs back. “Yes. I’ve talked with your people. For a long time.”

There’s a wave of relief that comes over the boy, some kind of calm knowledge that “his people” are changing, that you and Din will be his people soon.

Then his hands clap and flutter excitedly–

I’m going to go to school!!!!

–before he tosses himself backward onto the sand in a moment of youthful glee.

You don’t know what lifts your heart more, this display of joy, or the sound of Din’s quiet laughter–light and welcoming and calm–coming through the comm.

In the morning every mother in the clan will touch the child’s head as they pass by him in a line. All the men will gather in a group and shout a message of farewell before turning back to their herd. But on the back of the speeder, it is you that Uli-ah will hold tightly. And even before that, it is Din who will help him get situated on the seat, check him over to make sure he’s secure, pat him kindly on the back, and tell him there’s nothing to fear.

Your Mandalorian’s come to understand that there are some who can see through the beskar to the good man underneath. And you can see he’s starting to believe it himself.

Some beliefs, it seems, can take a long time to crack. But belief can also nourish a man in the desert and show a warrior that his milder moments can house another form of strength.

Ahsoka really did choose well for you. And the Darksaber chose well for itself.

________________

It’s taking all of your concentration to keep the speeder bike at a steady velocity as you whip through the canyon. What you wouldn’t do for a cup of caf.

The second saber build had gone smoother than the first since you had duplicates of many of the same pieces and were able to put something together more easily, but you’d still worked past twilight and then there was packing up the speeder and joining the group for evening meal….

After that, you’d lain awake, curled into Din, listening to his shallow breathing, trying to come up with a valid argument for going with him, each excuse a play more desperate than the one before it. You actually entertained the thought of removing the kyber from the Darksaber while he slept--your most clever plan yet. Except for the fact that the weapon was entirely sealed and getting into it would cause more damage than your honor would let you make.

He’s the Mand’alor. The High Leader. Whether he likes it or not, if he won’t fight or let anyone best him, then he must take up the mantle. If the Mandalorians are gathering, he can’t fail to steer their ship. There’s so much he has to learn about the weapon. Also so much he has to learn about asking for assistance. You think there has to be someone who can tell him this, make him understand how much his level head and moral compass and loyalty to his people are needed. Someone who can teach him to wield the instrument of his leadership….

But your hour of denial is over. Because there is someone.

It’s you.

But who are you to him? You are not his advisor. Not a member of his sect. Not even his…for lack of a better word…queen….

“Used the wrong word. Called you my queen instead of woman. I tried to correct myself and they asked me who you ruled over.”

“Ah. And you said, ‘just me.’”

“Yep.’”

“What did I say about burning out the repulsors, Little Bird?” Din’s voice cuts through your thoughts into your earpiece, bringing your focus back to the task at hand, and you ease off on the throttle so Fennec’s speeder can catch up to yours.

From the moment the suns broke the horizon, Uli-ah has been attached to you–literally refusing to loosen his clutch of your flight suit–the realization sinking in that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known and keeping close to the best constant he has. So it only made sense that he’d ride with you, and Din would pair with Fennec.

She’s an intimidating one, Fennec Shand. Din mentioned that she’d been an assassin for hire in the Imperial days, that he’s never known anyone who can beat her skill or match her tenacity. And you believe him; she has eyes like a lothcat and a body like a loaded pulse rifle, always watching, seemingly always ready to strike. But there’s a sparkle to her too, an allure that draws you in like bait for the snare.

He’s known her longer than you. The bond between them is strong. A bond between friends, between warriors. You can sense his high regard for her. He’s holding onto her waist so nonchalantly…

Well this is a new feeling. You shake it off and find a constructive distraction.

“How are you doing back there, padawan?”

This is fun! It goes so fast! What’s a padawan?

“It’s an old word. It means you are in training to be a master of the powers you have. The old word for those powers was ‘force,’ and they called the masters Jedi.”

You are Jedi?

“Well. Something like that.” Leaning the speeder around a curve in the canyon, you similarly bend the subject. “You’re going to join other kids like you. I can’t wait for you to meet Shiari and Grogu. They’re gonna be so happy to have a new friend.”

It would be easy to miss it over the whine of the speeder bike–a soft sigh. You keep forgetting that the comm is open. And any mention of Grogu is always bittersweet for Din.

He misses the little one so much. It’s evident that he’s happy that Grogu’s safe and learning, that he’s where things are best for him. But it still twists your heart. Din went from being alone to being a father at hyper warp–taking to it like a Gungan to water–and something about that makes you smile.

Grogu’s ability to charm the mighty warrior. Din’s sleeping heart opening for him, blooming like a hundred-year codaflower in Grogu’s warm spring. Except for the danger of his lifestyle, Din makes a good father. Any kid would be lucky to have him. Even beyond your feelings for him, his devotion makes it an honor to be serving the mission with him.

“Little Bird.”

Oops. “Sorry. Just wanna get there, I guess,” your excuse is accompanied  by the return to a manageable speed. Again.

“We’ll be hitting Mos Pelgo soon. Don’t tear up the town on your way in.”

“Telling me what not to do only tests my willful streak, Your Highness.”

“I’m aware.” There’s a low warning in his voice, but also a smirk. “I’m willing to make it an order if that’s the motivation you need.”

Slowly swiveling your visor in his direction, you watch as he does the same to you. A playful tease.

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

And without turning away, you punch the throttle, defiantly taking the lead, Uli-ah roaring in excitement behind you even as he holds on for dear life. ________________

Mos Pelgo is a quiet settlement, barely big enough to be called anything other than an outpost. Moisture farms flicker in and out of the distance through the waves of heat in a constellation surrounding a one-street center, a short line of earthen structures topped in domes and rods, connected by a boardwalk lifted off the dusty path. The few dust-coated people out and about stop and stare as you coast by, involuntarily shrinking back away from the path. Not that you can blame them. They seem peaceful and it’s not surprising that they might be startled by a band of armored strangers coming in, a Tusken in their mix. Din mentioned that the townsfolk might be wary of Tuskens, but assured that his friend Cobb would vouch for the kid.

What he didn’t tell you is that once they saw his armor, they would lift their hands in a friendly wave. It seems they know him here.

Pulling up outside a cantina, the four of you peel yourselves from your seats with varying degrees of stretching and sighing, your spine aching to be upright and your feet thankful for a chance to be on solid ground. Din and Fennec head up the stairs and you start to follow, but there’s a tug at your elbow.

Is this the school?

“Not yet. We have to travel a long long way, but the Captain has to do a job first and he can’t protect us for the next couple of days. We’re going to stay here with a friend where it’s safe.”

If a Tusken mask can look baleful, Uli-ah achieves it with a long, slow look up and down the settlement path.

“Hey. I promised you a school and you’re going to get one. We might not get there for a while, but you’ll be with me the whole way and guess what.”

You’ll teach me?

“You bet I will. I told you you were smart. You wanna go inside and see if our new friend is there?”

Yes.

Steps are a new concept and Uli-ah takes a cautious step up, and up again, bringing one foot up to meet the other before continuing onto the next. At the top, he considers the short flight of two whole stairs, then steps back down and down. Then he takes the steps one at a time, up and down. Once he runs up a third time you catch him around the shoulders before he can give it another go and give him a playful jostle, guiding him inside as he squeezes his fists in victorious joy.

After the glare of the desert, it’s comparatively dark in the cantina, so you instinctively pull off your helmet.

This is your first mistake.

And sets off a chain of events.

Uli-ah, not accustomed to your helmetless face, stops behind you in the entryway.

Mother, you’re–

He shrieks.

It’s unsafe, mother!

Before you can course correct–calm him or apologize for shifting culture so quickly or even take the time to correct his default of name for you–the Weequay behind the counter reacts fiercely to the the child, pointing and shouting–

“Out! We don’t want trouble here! We have a pact! Out!”

“No, wait–” Din turns sharply to the barkeep, but the damage has been done and the child bolts awkwardly from the cantina out into the light, smashing his shoulder against the port frame as he goes and wailing his way down the boardwalk.

You make a quick gesture to Din as you follow–it’s okay, I’ll get him–and leave your Mandalorian to locating his friend.

By the time you get eyes on him, Uli-ah’s a couple of buildings away–poor boy must be so confused right now–when a tall, old man steps out from one of them, seemingly summoned by the commotion, and the two collide, the boy falling off the boardwalk into the dust, then trying to scramble backward, all heels and palms and elbows.

The man’s good natured, going after the boy and trying to help him up, but it only scares him more. “Whoa there. Hey. Hey there, kid, it’s alright. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.” Once he gets the boy up and starts dusting him off, Uli-ah struggles to break free, but the man easily holds him, kneeling down to the kid’s level to keep from being a threat. “Hey hey hey. It’s okay. You lost son? Where’s your tribe?”

“I’m so sorry. He’s under my care.” As you converge with them and take Uli-ah’s hand, the child turns and slams into you, hiding his face in your side, holding on with shaking hands. “It’s okay, padawan. Nothing’s gonna happen to you if you stick with me, okay?”

Your second mistake was assuming the man is elderly on account of his grey hair and beard, but when you hold a hand out to help him up, you’re greeted by lively dark eyes and a particularly wry and charming grin. Oh yes, he takes your hand, but puts no weight on it as he stands, only holds it firmly, a handshake that is warm but…unending.

“Ma’am,” he says respectfully, but with a rather rakish sparkle to it, and you catch sight of the stripes on his belt. A Republic Ranger. A welcome sight out here for you, but might cause problems for Din. “You and your friend are new faces around here. I’m the marshal. How can I assist you?”

“I’m, ah, I’m,” stars, that’s some smile. ”I’m here with my partner and his associate. We’re looking for a friend of his. There was a misunderstanding at the cantina and my charge here got a little scared.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can sort this out. If I might escort you…” Instead of releasing your hand, he draws it smoothly under and around his forearm, and in your shock–a little bemused, a little offended–your final mistake is allowing it. And so in this manner, you arrive back at the Cantina, arm in arm with the marshal, pulling Uli-ah along by the hand.

“There he is,” the Weequay nods to your trio as two helmets turn.

“Heard there was a misunderstanding in here with this pretty lady and the young one, is that the way of things, Weequay?”

“Yes, Marshal, my misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

The marshal, nodding, turns his attention to Din and Fennec. “Welcome back, Mando. These two belong to you?”

Ah. So you’ve run into the man Din was looking for. All should be well, but something feels off. Din stands still, squared to the three of you, feet in a wide, stable stance. His answer is taking a long time to come. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was in confrontation mode, as if he was going to have to make a tactical move at any second. It’s easy to assume for a moment that perhaps these two aren’t as friendly as you were led to believe.

But the assumption and the tension break as the Mandalorian steps forward to the marshal, each clasping the others’ forearm in a brotherly handshake, “Vanth” and “Mando” exchanged with nods, and a bonus smile on Cobb’s part. Friends indeed then.

Stretching out with your feelings though, there’s an anomaly rolling around in Din, something faintly protective. Something that’s bitten off by his terse, “Yes. These two are mine.”

When the marshal drops your hand and swaggers loose and lanky over to a nearby table, it’s only then that Din’s muscles relax, that he shifts slowly to one hip, that his hand leaves off the habitual hover near his blaster and hooks itself into his belt.

It’s all you can do not to gape.

You’ve never seen Din jealous before.

But that seems to be melting swiftly as he takes a seat by his friend. Cobb Vanth orders a full round from the proprietor, and leans forward over the table, grinning a whole galaxy full of teeth in the mirror of Din’s visor and declares, “Sure would like to know what skugbunny you followed to find yourself all the way out here again.”

________________

Fennec stands in the light, her svelte figure like a knife stuck in the sand, finding less commotion outside where she can send a communique to her boss. You can hardly blame her; Cobb is a loud talker and Uli-ah has found distraction in a pair of sabacc dice which he throws over and over, clattering across the table as he plays a game he’s making up on the spot, cheating against himself every once in a while with a subtle force push of a die, although you’re the only one who notices.

After his economical explanation to Cobb, Din passes his glass to you, something he does often now in public places, allowing you to drink what he cannot. “What I’m looking for is shelter for my partner and her charge here. Refills on supplies. Fuel. I’m willing to pay.”

“So what’s the favor then?” The marshal squints, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“I want no harm to come to these two,” Din says, tilting his helmet in your direction. “I’m bound to protect them, but I need to go take care of something. Should be back within a day.”

“So you’re looking for a security detail,” he says, finishing the cup. “You got it. No problem. I’ll look after them personally.” A cheeky wink punctuates the offer.

That odd twinge rises in Din again, like smoke from a too hot fire, and you lay a hand on his knee under the table. “Uli-ah and I won’t cause you any trouble, marshal. This seems like a peaceful place you keep here. We should be able to manage alright.”

Cobb misinterprets your polite decline of babysitting as an act of humble courtesy. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. We don’t have any public lodgings here in Freetown, but I’ve got a room. It’s yours. Nowhere safer.”

There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t seem rude.

“That’s…very generous. The boy and I are grateful for a place to stay.”

“Right then,” Cobb slaps his hand on the table, using it to push him up off his chair. “I’ll go scare up some water reserves for your journey.”

There’s silence at the table when he leaves, broken only by the rattle of dice on its surface as Uli-ah tries over and over again to break his top score. Din stares off after the marshal, but hesitates to follow. Something’s on his mind.

You wager a guess.

“Din. We’ll be okay. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not…jealous.”

You squeeze his knee. “This could all be avoided if you let us come with you–”

“No.” He finally draws in a long breath, exhales, and turns the visor to you. “I want you safe. You’ll stay here. That’s an order.”

“An…order?”

“We’re on the job and I call the shots when it comes to your safety.”

“Yes, but–”

There’s movement outside at the speeders, a woody thud and scrape as a water camtono is deposited and then picked up from the boardwalk.

He doesn’t let you finish, standing and holding out a hand to help you up. “I’ve got to get the supplies packed in.”

Something’s turned off in him. The courtesy’s there, but he’s doing his best to control his emotions....

To hide them from you.

“Come on, Uli-ah. We’ll see the Captain off and then we’re going to stay with Marshal Vanth for a couple of days, okay?” By the time you tear the youngling away from his new toys, the corner of Din’s cape is disappearing out the door.

Kriff. This is bad. Something’s wrong and he can’t leave like this. He can’t take this uncertainty with him.

Taking a seat on a crate while they prep Fennec’s speeder, you just stay out of the way and observe. Cobb chatters cheerfully at the assassin, bringing out supplies from the storehouse, exchanging old tarps for new, handing over a fuel hose. But Din keeps out of the conversation, silently busies himself with a last minute tune up of the vehicle.

He’s removed his packs from Fennec’s bike–both to facilitate a more strategic repack and to access a panel behind one of the side compartments–and they sit propped up against the boardwalk nearby.

That’s it.

There’s something you need to do.

Sidling over to his packs and reaching out with your feelings, you search for the thrum of kyber. There it is. It’s easy to locate the Darksaber and extract it from the pack. You place it in your lap, covering it with the end of your tunic.

Uli-ah’s found some whomp rats living under the boardwalk and you watch as he plays with them, running to one side when they do, and trying to beat them to the other side when they change course.

After a short while, Din closes up the hatches and reattaches the spanner to its flank seating. Then he makes his way over to you, silently retrieves his packs, and returns to the speeder, taking a long time tying them down.

It’s only when everything’s ready to go and there’s nothing more to keep him away, he comes back and lays a hand on your cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Leaning into his hand and trapping it with one of your own, you hold up the Darksaber with the other. “You need to concentrate, Din.” His short, frustrated sigh only pushes your resolve further. “You’re not the only one with a duty of care, mister. This blade is tricky and you need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll be okay, Little Bird.”

“Not if you leave in the state you’re in. I know you’re not angry at me, but you’re uncomfortable leaving me here and you can’t leave like that. This weapon,” you whisper urgently, pressing the hilt into his palm, “won't listen to you unless your feelings are sharp. You’ll need its emotional boost to tap its whole potential and gain mastery over it. I can’t send you off like this. I won’t. I need you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

He’s silent for a moment, choosing his words. “I’m not worried. Not about you.”

He means it, you can hear it, but he’s still not content with leaving you. It’s not just another man finding you attractive, there’s something in him that’s warring. Not quite fear, something closer to insecurity, confusion…

...and you realize that he hasn’t grappled with feelings like this before.

Then it’s time. Set him up for success.

You’ll do anything to help him, to protect him.

To ensure he uses this weapon with love.

This won’t be difficult.

On the contrary, it’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

Placing one hand over his on the saber, and the other on his breastplate right above his heart, you look him calm in the eye and pour all your confidence and affection into the words–

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

________________

PART 3: DIN

The way you bravely face challenges. How you deftly handle your weapon. The way you inject a sense of playfulness into his orbit, your entry into his world a lively ignition to what feels like a whole new epoch in his life.

Life before your arrival, and life after. Not many have affected him like this. Changed his mind and heart like this. He can only think of one other.

But this connection is different from the bond he shares with Grogu. This one is unique, it comforts and calms him, makes him feel worthy as a man and a Mandalorian, meets him as an equal and captures his wonder in ways he wouldn’t have anticipated.

You never cease to amaze him. Even now.

He has witnessed Mandalorian courtships out of the periphery of his everyday life, seemingly never taking much notice, believing it was never meant for him.

But he did take note. Secretly. Resigned. He noticed those who grew up together and took their time. He noticed couples that seemed to range from rivals to friends to bonded in the matter of days. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, no guidelines on the right way to find your partner, or how long it might take to declare a joining.

With you… he doesn’t know what you might expect from him. Din doesn’t quite understand your old creed–the rejection of attachments–how tightly you hold it and how much of it you’ve already broken for him.

Because he loves you. In a way that’s perplexing. Your love came to him, and his to you, meeting in the middle of the battlefield. But there was no skirmish, no treaties, just a foregoing of pretense, and open arms.

Simple. Beautiful. Like everything you do.

Perhaps he felt like he was betraying that simplicity–that openness, that trust–when Vanth rounded the doorway wearing you and your new foundling on his arm. It wasn’t as simple as jealousy and a twist of the heart, but the hot flash of possession that flamed behind the beskar, growling from deep within him.

Attachment.

Mine.

While he was grateful and happy to claim you as his own as far as you gave yourself, to protect you and serve you, to meet your affection with his own, he had no right to chain you to him, to claim you so thoroughly that you could not be free in order to flourish. He would never ask you to form an attachment that would fracture your faith.

He didn’t and doesn’t think for a moment that you have any interest in Vanth. Or anyone but himself.

But the flash of emotion was dangerous. Selfish. Not the kind of love you deserve.

And yet, you still accept it. You perceive it because you know him. And you accept it.

And now you’re speaking words that are not only true…they’ve been true from the beginning of this whole damn venture.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat the words, only a little worry sneaking into your voice now because he hasn’t answered you, hasn’t spoken…dank farrik, how long has he been standing here in shock?

How long has he believed he would never receive those words?

All that’s necessary is a repetition.

It’s only words.

But it’s everything.

Which is what he’s always wanted to give you.

So he makes the exchange. Quietly. Simply. Sincerely.

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

And he can feel it. He can feel the love and concern you have for him. He can feel your trust. It pushes into him like a warm wave, flowing through all the way back to the beginning. The throughline of that first night he walked you home–I’ll be your armor–to the moment when he outfitted you with some of your own, to now as you use your whole self to send him off with armor more resilient than beskar and a reminder when he wields the saber just who gave him that gift.

Clutching your hand at his chest, he squeezes tightly as the wave washes back through him, gritting his teeth behind the visor, the emotions silently taking their toll.

To everyone else, the armor says he is a stoic warrior, his silence is his strength.

But standing here, now, in front of you, he might as well be unmasked, might as well be naked and screaming; he knows your heart can sense the riot in his, even if you can’t see his face.

There’s quiet on the street. Uli-ah’s stopped playing with the womp rats and stands staring from a distance. Fennec and Vanth are waiting for him at the speeder. And yet, he can’t seem to move, can’t seem to leave you.

So you lay hands on his helmet and pull him closer, gently tapping your forehead against the cold metal. “Go. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back to me.” ________________

They’ve lost a little time, but by the position of the suns, they should still make the palace by nightfall.

“So Fett’s taken over the crime syndicate?”

“Not quite,” Fennec shouts over the roar of her speeder and the rush of the wind. “Boba’s interested in striking a deal with Madame Garza in Mos Espa. Going to set up protections. Territories. Wants to undo some wrongs he’s made in the past.”

That’s noble. He’s an odd man, Fett. Unpredictable. But there’s no reason Din can see for saying it out loud, and so he reserves his words, focuses instead on the shifting sands.

“That was a tense parting with your partner back there,” Fennec pokes, taking advantage of the silence.

“Yeah. Riduurok.”

“Is that serious?”

“From what I’ve been told, it can be.”

Fennec deftly maneuvers the speeder around a small minefield of rocky outcroppings before turning her head over her shoulder and side-eyeing him curiously through the slit in her helmet, “From what you’ve been told–?”

“I don’t know,” Din says, his vocoder barely audible over the slur of the world going by, not caring much who hears it other than himself, “I’ve never heard anyone else actually speak those words. There aren’t usually witnesses at a Mandalorian wedding.” ________________

To be continued.

[williamvonlydonthe2nd-blog]

Like most people, I have an EPIC multi-story fanfic in my frontal lobe that'll probably never see the light of day considering the speed I can write a single chapter at. However I wanted to share a moment from it that I just had to write somewhere.

During the events of Mass Effect 3, Lt. Comdr Paul Luckner finds himself hastily assigned to the SSV Normandy on its mission to Rannoch. His misgivings come from his unease at the assignment. He's to be part of the delegation under Commander Shepard trying to convince the Quarians to call off their attack to retake Rannoch. Admiral Hacket himself ordered him to assist Shepard giving his knowledge of Quarian culture. Of course he and Shepard aren't on the best of terms after the events of ME2 and 'The Arrival'. They had served together prior to ME1 but her apparent siding with Cerberus had complicated things between them.

"Sir, I'm not an expert on Quarians. I wrote a few articles in the Alliance War Journal on the Migrant Fleet, but that's a drop in the bucket compared to most academics. Surely someone more qualified-"

Hacket holds up a hand, even through vid link, the gesture instantly paused the words on his tongue. From across light-years his grizzled voice carries through the speakers.

"The few experts we have are either dead or missing. We don't have the luxury of being picky Commander. You're the most knowledgeable officer we have besides Shepard herself on the Quarians, and it is imperative that we convince the Migrant Fleet to join us. Supply lines are thinning everyday and those ships would really tip the scales back into our favor. Shepard's mission cannot fail under any circumstances."

He clears his throat, trying his best to arrange his next words respectfully.

"Myself and Commander Shepard don't have the best history Admiral. I'm worried that it might be a detriment to the mission if we can't work together."

"You're an officer Lieutenant Commander Luckner. I expect you to make do. I've asked more of others in this war thus far. You can certainly manage to follow someone you may not get along with for the good of the mission." It's said in the finality of an senior officer. Up for no debate. Paul closes his eyes for a millisecond and nods.

"Yes sir. I understand" he lies.

Luckner and Shepard last met under poor circumstances, and he derided her warnings about the Reapers as a side effect of her resurrection by Cerberus. Serving with Alliance Corsairs he last saw her from behind the barrel of a M-3 Predator pistol, reading her the riot act as he attempted and failed to take her into Alliance custody for treason during her time with Cerberus in ME2

But he's a good Spacer and follows his orders. He carries his seabag aboard Normandy without fan fair and starts setting up a dossier on everything he has on the Quarians (mostly tactical analysis and some brief cultural study). He hand delivers this to Shepard's cabin stone faced well asking to speak with her.

With the Reaper War in full swing Shepard isn't holding grudges and explains that she's let it go. Holding back emotions bottled up since the first day of the war, he apologizes. For doubting her loyalty, her warnings. For turning his back on an old shipmate.

Three months into the war and the toll has been getting to him. His first command, a new frigate, SSV Chapultepec was destroyed in the opening month of the war. He lost a lot of good spacers under his command, he's worried about his sole living parent, his birth mother living on Beekstein after the Cerberus attack of the Citadel makes clear that nowhere is completely safe and despite all that the one thing he can't get out of his head? A stupid book he hadn't started, left in his cabin that was destroyed with his frigate's Home port on day one of the war.

"What book" Shepard asks, arms crossed over her chest. He slumps onto her couch, staring at his ship boots.

"'Eternal Patrol'. The author interviewed me for it last year. It's a history of Alliance Frigates lost in action. She wanted to know about my time on Salamis."

SSV Salamis was his first posting out of Archurus Academy. He had skinned his teeth aboard her and gained his first real experience in command as junior navigator. A pirate ambush in the 'Traverse' however killed several including the captain, and forced the survivors into a desperate battle. The pain never did leave him but he had learned to live alongside it.

Shepard nodded slightly, he knew it was how she conveyed listening, before turning on her heels and grabbing something off her end table by the bed and handing it the him

"You can borrow my copy Paul."

He had to close his mouth, wide with surprise, as he stared at the cover image, an assortment of each class of frigate in service with the System's Alliance since the First Contact War. He flipped to the table of contents, finding Salamis midway into the text, glossy pictures of her and her crew with testimonials from the survivors, including himself. At the end of the section a list of those lost, dedicated to the end.

He felt the sting of tears but clenched then away as he noticed something strange, a bit ahead was a bulge. A page folded over to mark a place. Flipping to it he was met with the Normandy, SR-1

He looked up at Shepard, smiling but with a small glint in her eyes.

"I lost a ship too Paul." It was all she needed to say. He stood, running a hand down his fatigues to straighten them out, and nodded. "Thank you Commander" and left before he could make a fool of himself in front of an old friend.

An old friend.

It was only on the elevator ride back down that he let the tears finally run down his cheeks.

"You can come out now" Shepard said. The bathroom door slide open as a Turians stepped out, running a hand over his neck.

"I still don't trust him, Shepard." Garrus said, a slightly whine in his sub vocals. Shepard turned to meet his gaze and closed the distance between them.

"He'll follow orders Garrus. For now that's enough for me."

"For you maybe." He narrowed his eyes in the Turians approximation of a human scowling. "He pointed a gun at you last time. I'm not so quick to forgive."

Shepard didn't speak. Instead she wrapped her hand in his, interlacing her fingers between his talons. His breathing hitched and his sub vocals twinged as she smiled up at him. The argument certainly wasn't over. But for the moment, this wonderful moment that HE had interrupted, it was on hold. That was enough for both parties.

For now.

Not really sure how to tag this but you guys might.

[owmyeyeballs]

Get to Know my Tav!

Doing @sporeservant 's ask game for another Tav, because hey, why not!

Cyrill | Gnome | He/Him

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: His quick wits! Little guy is used to quickly thinking his way out of uncomfortable situations, and it turns out that translates rather well to adventuring.

style of combat: Panicked improvisation. He stays back and supports the heavy hitters with inspiration and magic and healing, all while muttering "Oh Gods, Oh Gods, Oh Gods..." under his breath. He really doesn't like to fight!

most prized possession: His violin. He plays a lot of instruments, but his violin is special. It was left to him by his first music teacher after he died, and losing it would be like losing a friend.

deepest desire: A return to peace and quiet and order and cleanliness, and just leaving all this trekking about in the wilderness behind! Although, if he could see that all these rather intimidating new friends are safe and well... He'd like that very much too...

guilty pleasure: Romance novels. Cyrill tries to keep his reading to more serious topics, but every now and then, he likes to snuggle up somewhere cozy and read some sappy love story. He's pretty sure he's never going to find someone special himself (surely his increasingly massive crush on Gale won't be reciprocated...), but it's nice to imagine.

best-kept secret: He doesn't have many secrets, really, but the biggest one at the moment is the fact that he's rapidly falling head over heels in love with a certain wizard. He hangs on Gale's every word, and delights in chatting with him about magic, music, poetry... He's absolutely certain he can't possibly be loved back, and doesn't know why he keeps hurting himself by imagining... But it's a nice kind of hurt.

greatest strength: Loyalty. Few people get close enough to timid little Cyrill to know it, but once he cares for someone? He'd sooner die than let them down. He'll follow them to the Hells and back, even if he's on the verge of a panic attack the whole way.

fatal flaw: The man just cannot voice his boundaries or discomforts if he thinks it might offend or upset someone. He's the sort to die of thirst rather than trouble someone for a glass of water, and it always goes terribly. Too nervous to tell the vampire that, hey, that's probably enough blood he's had now? Welp, now he's stuck in camp while his anaemic ass recovers. Can't tell his sweet druid friend that he's allergic to her cat form? Oops, just burst out sneezing during a stealth mission and now we're rolling initiative. Can't turn that sweet old lady down when she insists he come to her teahouse even though his gut tells him something's off? Oops, we're fighting a hag now!

favorite smell: Old books. Little man could spend the rest of his days quite happily in a library.

favorite spell or cantrip: Goes against his generally sweet nature, but Vicious Mockery. Sometimes all that pent up stress comes out in battle, because how dare that goblin hurt his new friend, and... oh, goblin is dead now. Did he do that?

pet peeve: Mud. Blood. Germs. The general grossness of adventuring. Makes his skin crawl. When Gale tells him he likes his musk he practically runs to the nearest body of water to try to clean himself.

bad habit: Being a doormat. Little guy really, really needs to learn to say no! Pretty much everything in his life has happened because he has such trouble telling people, no, actually, he'd really rather not.

hidden talent: Improv. Party needs a distraction? He can come up with songs on the fly with remarkable skill. He's going to really upset Raphael by turning his big bad villain song back at him!

leisure activity: Reading, and playing his various instruments. Maybe even a leisurely stroll if he's feeling adventurous! He... likes the quiet life.

favorite drink: A nice soothing cup of tea. Maybe a glass of sweet wine now and then, although he has no head for alcohol

comfort food: Buttered crumpets.

favorite person: From prior to the game, his old friend Sylvie, a fellow student from the bardic college he attended. She's very respectful of his timid nature, and knows not to pressure him. And now Gale, who as far as Cyrill is concerned, is just... magical.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): He's not huge on physical displays of affection (especially with larger folks... He's just a little guy!). Instead shows of affection tend to come in the form of offering a cup of tea, or listening to people as they vent. He's a very good listener. Also, taking song requests.

fondest childhood memory: He had a terrible stutter when he was younger, and it's why he first took singing lessons, since he didn't stutter when he sang. Finally having a way to express himself without feeling ridiculous was life-changing for him, and he looks back fondly on those first lessons.

Is there anything else you'd like to share? (feel free to include art or a screenshot of your Tav if available!): Cyrill was initially a little bit of a joke character, because I wanted a soft little guy to balance out my badass traumatized ladies, but I very quickly became genuinely fond of him. He's a sweet, special little guy <3

[theworldibuilt4you]

[Dwelling within the shadows cast by the dark of night nearby Addie's home, three sets of yellow eyes stared unblinking at their mark.]

"Clever little shit, stowing away all the way out here... Nestled right into the rocks, too. Goddamn vermin..."

[A gruff voice snarled, one of the sets of eyes narrowed. The sound of an armored tail anxiously swishing stirred the air.]

"I-I don't know, Snag... H-how do we even know it's still here? This is so far out, I think that guy was pulling your leg-"

[A dull smack was heard, along with a crocodilian hiss.]

"That hurt..."

"Atlas, shut the fuck up. Grit, scout."

[One of the pairs of eyes - the one not currently wincing in pain - whisked away wordlessly and a large, dark form sprinted from bush to bush, closing the distance rapidly between where his group waited and the crudely crafted wooden window that was inset into the mountainside, the soft yellow light it cast lighting up a small area around the base of the mountain. He positioned himself just under the window, somehow managing to ensure no part of him cast a shadow.]

"Look at that. Why can't you be more like Grit, Atlas?"

[Snag scoffed, his eyes remaining focused on his more well-trained lackey. Atlas beside him wilted, tuning the world out briefly. He didn't even want to go on this stupid mission... on any of these missions. His heart always broke for each poor soul his clan so ruthlessly snuffed out. The amount of diversity they have been stifling...]

[Atlas was snapped from his thoughts when another hard thwack to his head, Snag's claws gouging small grooves into his cheek.]

"Hey dumbass, pay attention for fuck's sake! Look at Grit!!"

[Atlas whimpered, doing his best to refocus his vision as it spun and his eyes brimmed with tears. Grit was making a series of hand symbols - he was translating the target's activity using sign language. Snaggle looked at Atlas with an impatient glare.]

"U-um, It's... it's currently distracted with a device. It's alone, and-"

[Snag groaned.]

"You're slow as balls at interpreting. Bottom line is this thing is so scrawny it's not even worth anything."

[The large crocodilian sat in silence for a second.]

"I'm thinking we'll just skin some of the back for a small trophy, and split the rest as a snack. We still have one more lead tonight and I have a lot of shit to take care of back at the base."

[He rubbed his long snout tiredly.]

"So that's the plan. All you have to do now is follow my lead."

[Sonny had still been watching Addie's screen between glances at his terminal. He just couldn't help it... He had noticed them becoming quite distressed as they typed away at their own keys. He figured this conversation wasn't actually going very well... He should have known that feathery fellow wouldn't take anything either of them said very well. They knew were their loyalties lie, after all...]

[He rubbed at his temples with his thumbs, trying to focus on both his lover and the code he was working on.]

"It's all so... mangled... Like all the code got twisted together or... misplaced in it's own files..."

[He tapped against his thigh as he sunk bitterly into the couch. he really didn't know where to start with this... All the code for the RRA was out of place and mismatched. Sam was lucky to even still function. At this point if this stuff was still in development and not an existing character, his team probably would have scrapped this whole module and started from scratch.]

[He can't do this here, though. It wouldn't be right. Either he's doing this properly or not at all.]

"...I'm going to need to execute this code somewhere in the system where it won't harm anyone... Maybe a completely separate instance..? I... I need to be able to see how the code is reacting with itself... Study how it's making him behave like this..."

[...At least muttering to himself was helping him work things out.]

[seth-shitposts]

"Next time they make a move, we'll be waiting for them to snuff out that spark before it catches fire."

-Kallus [s1e1]

-

"I never asked questions."

"Well maybe you should start. Or are you afraid of the answers you'll get?"

-Kallus & Zeb [s2e17]

-

"You have the heart of a rebel."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

-Thrawn & Kallus [s3e21]

-

"You disgust me, traitor."

"The day I betrayed your empire, Governor, is the day I finally stopped betraying myself."

-Pryce & Kallus [s4e15]

---

Alex: I'm dumping a theory essay / speculative thoughts here, and I am solely pulling from my memory which isn't always 100% accurate, but here's some of my thoughts on aspects of Alexsandr Kallus’s core character. (This is just what I think, of course, don't take it as facts. I'm literally just dumping words. And parts of this is strongly headcanon, as we dont have much canonically for his backstory.)

I believe that Kallus has always had "the heart of a rebel".

I believe that he's always had a strong sense of justice and values. Or maybe one that he built from scrap himself and with the resources available to him. (And, of course, just because one has a strong sense of justice, does not make that person automatically correct.)

He himself has said and believed [back before he searched for answers and became disillusioned from the empire] that the empire brought about justice and order to the galaxy. That's what he believed he had been supporting, it's what he was placing his loyalty into.

I feel that Kallus may have always had a twinge here or there, a feeling that something was off or a seed of doubt. But it was always just small and it would have been easier to push it aside and let himself believe that somethings cannot be helped, that sometimes the ends justify the means. This is what he would have been taught in his IBS training, given the nature of his job.

If Kallus was indeed from the lower levels, then he would have been witness to not only disorder and wrong doings on a daily basis, but also higher levels of violence as well. So when the empire did recruitments with promises of what would have allured the citizens of the lower levels to join the academy, it would have been in character for Kallus to have joined at the chance to bring change for the better to the galaxy, to places similar to where he came from.

And the contrast between the lower levels and the academy would have been a huge culture shock, one that would have taken some getting used to. So he probably started right off the bat with observing, trying to figure it out. And then there would be minor things here and there that he may have felt somewhere was off. Maybe he even questioned it, but would immediately shut the train of thought down if it were even implied that he was being disloyal or didn't have faith in the system.

And even of it felt wrong to him to do some of these things, that it was causing internal conflict, he would snuff out the doubt, extinguish the questions, because there was a goal that needed to be met. Even if he found something distasteful, he would ignore it until eventually he didn't feel that recoil anymore. Because he believed that the empire was right, that if he tried hard enough, he would accomplish what he had set out to do. And over time, he snuffed out that spark. And the fact that he had lost those who were close to him, all in one fell swoop on what was supposed to be just a routine mission probably made it easier to dedicate himself to a system that made promises of justice and order. So he probably really should stop questioning things, it would've been in his best interest.

Over the years, it would have been a slow progression of the Empire's tactics becoming more and more extreme, just enough small changes building up so that it would have seemed that increasing the iron grip was the best course of action. It produced the best results, the Empire would have become more powerful, and therefore allowed the empire to expand its reach even further and cover more ground. Stopping rebellions at the roots, ending a small spark before it has the chance to burn down a house. And maybe in this twisted perception, Kallus would have thought that the way to make sure another massacre like what happened on Lasan didn't happen again would've been to do this. To snuff our sparks before they become so big that the Empire's only response is to end the whole situation through brute force and overpowering numbers. There was most probably a part of Kallus that knew something about what had happened to Lasan was wrong, but he chose to override that and continue on the mission.

Despite how hard he had been throwing himself into walls to capture the ghost crew and to "finish what he started" there was still that something there, as it would have brought him to feel the need to say something about it to Zeb on the moon. About how it wasn't supposed to be a massacre, but he realized the empire wanted to make an example. Part of him would have had to of known that it was wring on some level, but he still chose to snuff out the doubt. Because the doubt would only lead to the need to ask questions and asking questions would only lead to being accused of disloyalty and doubt in the entire empire itself.

But then came the point in Legends of the Lasat when Kallus had to face the realization that no matter what he did, he wasn't going to catch the rebels, he wasn't going to catch the ghost crew. He had been chasing this group for well over a year at this point and every time they still managed to evade capture, to escape, to survive, to live. They will only ever remain out of reach, even when he throws caution to the wind. In that moment, something deep in him knows that it's not going to happen. It doesn't stop him from trying again, but there's that little seed that remains.

And then Zeb tells Kallus that maybe he should ask questions. Or is he afraid that he'll find the answers and not like the harsh truth? To have to face the fact that for nearly two decades he had been devoting himself to a system that has only been oppressing the galaxy, that he had been betraying his own morals and values for false promises.

Zeb saying that to Kallus would have dragged back every bit of doubt, every question buried alive. It re-lit a spark. So Kallus took the borrowed courage, because stars knows that he had been too much of a coward to do it himself up to this point, and chased down some answers. And those answers we his worst fears confirmed, that he had betrayed the fibers of his own being and committed terrible acts for lies. And rather than run or slip into despair, Kallus immediately took to following what he thinks is right. The best way to help others is to do what he can to help the rebellion.

And he doesn't change allegiances for anyone but himself. Because it's what he believes to be the right thing to do, and it is. Finally having forced himself to swallow his pride he looked to the whole truth for what it was. And even though he may not have liked what he saw, he still had to face it and do the next right thing.

And even though there was the pain and guilt of the fact that he had done what he did, there may have also been this sense of relief. While it was still suffocating to have learned the truth, there was a part of him that was finally allowed to breathe again. A part of him that came back full force.

[peachymilkandcream]

Someone to Love|Part 7(Finale)|Reiner Braun x Jealous Reader

(A/N: This was a short little series but I really did enjoy it and I hope you guys did too! We'll see how long this gets, maybe shorter, maybe longer, I'm not sure. But regardless I hope you guys like it and don't feel too sad at the end of everything <3)

WARNINGS: implied nsfw, depression, attempted suicide, violence, general angst, slowburn, lowkey love triangle with a happy ending, not a warning but Reiner calls you nicknames instead of y/n (because I personally can't stand it)

==============================================

She ran, trying to escape the inferno that was threatening to destroy them all. How had Reiner's mission failed that horribly? Where was he now? Alive or dead, taken prisoner or rotting in a ditch somewhere, he was gone.

She wiped tears as the realization hit her, their goodbye would be their last and she'd never see him again. Maybe she should just end it all right here, stop so that the Titans could trample her underfoot and that would be the end of it. She could even join Reiner in the afterlife. They could be happy together.

No. He would want her to live, to make the most of the little time she has left since he would never get the same opportunity to grow old and die peacefully. Reiner had lost his will to live, she couldn't let him down by losing hers either. She had to keep fighting.

So she ran on.

==============================================

His homeland was in ruins, all those Reiner cared about most likely dead and gone. He would never see his mother again, his aunts, uncles, and dearest friend. The one who had stood by his side, and never betrayed him.

Reiner glanced back to Evelyn, tightening her ODM gear so that it fit properly.

Something about her had changed, after sheepishly siding with Levi she seemed to have more resolve, more of a backbone. As if she didn't care what anyone thought about where her loyalties lay. She had used him, and clearly without much remorse.

Reiner deserved it, he had started this mess by kicking down the wall. But still.

The thing was, Evelyn wasn't his problem. If she wasn't willing to help herself then his saviour complex would never get him anywhere but dead in the Ackerman basement. He had given her a way out time and time again, and yet she still ran back to Levi. That wasn't his fault, so why was he putting that on himself? If she wanted to be with him fine, he should move on.

Which was easier than he thought, in these last moments of the world he only thought of his friend. She was kinder to him than anyone, always following him around and hoping to get his attention. His mother had always said that she had a crush on him, but had that changed when he became a huge prick?

She was right, Evelyn did betray him in the end. And Reiner had only yelled at her. He was an asshole and yet he waited until she apologized before saying anything. He should have been the one apologizing, it was his fault. All his fault.

And now she could be dead.

Reiner shook his head, he couldn't let himself think like that. She had to be alive, he just knew it. Her fiery spirit wouldn't allow her to be killed so easily, he knew she'd live on. She was probably waiting for him in Marley right now.

Despite how positive his thoughts, Reiner's stomach still turned as he watched the fires burn.

==============================================

She had managed to find what little safety she could with the remaining Eldian survivors up on that cliff. They all knew with the remaining military cut down their chances would be slim to live. She and the others could only watch in horror as the footsteps came closer and closer.

And then an airship.

The bright flash of light filled her with hope, there was only one man she knew that would be brave enough to stand against the tide to save humanity.

A true warrior.

==============================================

Everything came to Reiner in a blur, the fighting, explosives, Eren's Titan head blown clean off, survivors. His mother, family.

She was there. She was alive.

Reiner stared at her through his Titan form, he couldn't give up. Not when that thing started moving toward those he cared about most. Not when Eren stood up to continue his fight.

This was all for her, he wanted her to be happy.

Damnit, she deserved a happy ending. And he cared about her, with everything that they had been through together he cared about her. She couldn't just die, he wouldn't let her. He had to keep fighting.

===============================================

It was over. Finally this horror was over, they were free. She looked to Reiner laying beside her, slowly waking to the feeling of his fate changed, a fate where he didn't have to die so young as a Titan. They could be free.

But he didn't want her, he had made it clear she was nothing more than a friend. That's all she would ever be to him.

She didn't want him to feel like he had to hang on, that he owed it to her. If he wanted to be happy with this woman then she should respect that and allow him to be with her in this free world. She had to let him go.

==============================================

Reiner was too busy making sure everyone was alive he didn't notice at first when she gave him distance. But when he did the void of her presence was immense and sat like a weight in his gut. He was frantic to find her, but thankfully she hadn't gone far so he was able to catch up to her quickly.

"Hey- kid- wait-"

"You're free now Reiner, you can live your life how you want with the girl that you love."

"What? No, no I don't want a life with Evelyn."

"Why not? You told me that you were in love with her."

"You're right, I did, but she's different, she not who I thought she was deep down. You were right about everything, all of it. She was a traitor, and she didn't have my best intentions in mind. You were right about everything and I should have listened. I'm sorry."

She was slightly stunned to hear him admit so openly that he was wrong, she didn't expect it. "I forgive you-"

"Listen, when I was up there, getting ready to die a warrior's death, I didn't think about Evelyn, or my mom, or anyone else. I thought about you."

Her cheeks heat with a blush. "Me?"

"Yeah, how no matter what happened, I just wanted to see you again. And I don't know if it's a sign but now that I'm free from this curse of a Titan, I want to live life to the fullest, without the hanging threat of death. I'm still so young, I want to really live every moment to it's full potential."

Her eyes well up a little with tears. "You don't know how happy that makes me-"

"And you know what, part of that life is to go out, meets girls, go out with them, and I don't know if it'll be anymore than a one time thing, but I want you to go out with me-"

"Reiner- right now-"

"Well, once the world's somewhat back into place- I'm a big idiot who knows nothing about anything with girls and women but my heart's telling me to go with it, and I want to go with it with you-"

She takes her hand in his.

"Then let's go with it."

The End

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 2 replay, Thane’s loyalty mission:

-Bailey says they don’t get many drell.

Logical enough. There aren’t many drell to start with, and presumably many stay close with hanar. Considering hanar are aquatic, how many enjoy traveling to terra based societies?

Those that visit the Citadel are likely on political business and would go to the presidium.

-“Duct rats” are a nice touch in world building. Of course the poor kids would play in the vents, and of course there are numerous ways for that to kill them. But who’s going to force them to stay out of the vents?

-Why do keepers maintain protein vats? Bailey just casually throws out their existence… Is that the raw material used to clone more keepers?

-I’m not fond of Bailey, but I respect his willingness to assist Thane because Thane is trying to save his kid.

-Thane: You didn’t tell him that kolyat plans to assassinate someone.

Renegade Shepard: I also didn’t tell him what you do for a living. Do you normally discuss assassinations with the police?

Good line.

-Mouse: I got some quarians that can strip the copy protection.

What’s the story here? Quarians on pilgrimage? Quarians on the fleet with a side hustle?

-Mouse turned around and saw a known assassin and the dead savior of the citadel. That would strike fear in anyone.

-The renegade interrupt is pretty brutal. You just go straight to beating the information out of him without even trying to talk him into it.

Given his history with Thane, that’s pretty shitty.

-There’s an extra layer of tragedy in that Mouse got Kolyat the assassination job as a favor to Thane, and that he refuses to tell you how he knows Thane because Thane hasn’t told you.

Mouse is far more loyal to Thane than Thane is to him.

-I’d argue that the upper right option to persuade Mouse is better than the blue paragon.

Blue paragon leans on his fondness for Thane to freely give the information.

Upper right, you pay him so he can get off the Citadel to somewhere safe.

-Mouse thinks Kelham will kill him for telling. He’s probably right.

If you go renegade, he asks Thane to kill Kelham if Thane has any fondness for Mouse.

And Thane… Never takes any additional steps to help Mouse. Considering the lengths Mouse goes to help him, you think he could repay him by pulling some strings to get him better work or the like.

-Bailey is so damn corrupt. Of course he takes bribes.

He acts tough and world weary and insists you need a strong hand to police a ward, but he doesn’t have the conviction to follow through.

-The interrogation room has a torture chair. What kind of “interrogations” does C-Sec normally perform?

-The whole interrogation is silly. Shepard should lead with that they’re a spectre. That should not require a high level of renegade.

I suppose it can be argued that the Council told Shepard to stick to the Terminus space, so they’re trying to avoid using their spectre status on the Citadel.

-How does Khalim not know what a spectre is and that they can operate outside the law?

That seems like criminal 101. He should be actively avoiding spectre attention.

-Renegade Shepard: I’ll cut your balls of and sell them to a krogan.

Another really good line.

-Khalim uses the insults frog and tadpole for drells.

-The reasons for anti-human sentiment that Bailey gives probably work better in a run where Shepard killed the Council.

Why did a human fleet guard the Citadel for months? Are you telling me the turians couldn’t divert one of their fleets to do so?

The increased number of humans in C-Sec is also a baffling. The presidium was attacked in the Battle for the Citadel; do you expect me to believe that’s where most C-Sec recruits come from?

Recruiting after the battle should have been normal for any post-crisis situation. The only reason I can come up with is that prior to the battle the number of humans on the force was restricted, and that was removed/relaxed after.

-I dislike paragon Shepard’s line about Talim being elected: If a majority votes for him, like it or not, that’s how the system works.

That is beyond naive. Plenty of elected officials have down awful things.

-I’m not fond of this part the catwalk part of the mission. I’d like to see all the outcomes to dealing with Kolyat, and that requires replaying the entire section.

-One of Talim’s campaign platforms is C-Sec corruption.

Since the Shin Akiba enclave opened, there’s been a 24% increase in racial crimes despite 116 more officers being assigned. Most of those are human, and human officers will turn a blind eye to human crime. Don’t expect a captain to behave any differently.

Khalim runs the Shin Akiba enclave, and he bribes Bailey to turn a blind eye to him.

Corruption does inspire more corruption. Even if Bailey treats everyone equally – and we have no proof that he does or does not – watching him take bribes sends a message to his people that ignoring regulations is okay.

-And of course, we immediately learn afterwards that Talim is also corrupt.

I wish he wasn’t. That dilutes the impact of his criticisms of Bailey. Which is probably the point.

-Why does Talim sprint at one point?

The section from the krogan intimidating the human shopkeeper to the bar where the barkeeper is shaken down is bizarre. There’s no reason for Talim to run through the ward. What message does that send to voters?

-Does Kolyat have any kind of plan? It looks like he positioned himself to shoot Talim in the back then make a run for it. That’s awful. The krogan bodyguard could just shoot him.

-No matter how you handle Kolyat, he’s obviously not an experienced criminal.

He’s very lucky Thane came to save him. The prison system or the underworld would eat him alive.

-You can feel the spite and anger when he speaks to Thane. Good voice actor.

Why did he even want to become an assassin? That’s never said. He’s furious at Thane; did he become an assassin to spite him? In hopes he might run into him if they’re both in the field?

I don’t think he wanted to be like Thane. At least not consciously.

-A running theme through this mission is that Thane is tired of violence. He’s not happy if you beat up Mouse, he’s not happy if you beat the target’s name out of Khalim, and he questions the morality of killing Talim to prevent Kolyat from doing so.

Thane’s comfortable with violence in his life, but he wants better for Kolyat. Part of that is keeping him as far away from it as possible.

-If you go renegade when speaking to Kolyat, he asks what right Thane had to kill all those people.

Thane: I was six when the hanar began to train me. I didn’t know any better.

Still insisting that you have no responsibility for those murders, Thane?

The cracks are starting to show.

-Thane admits to killing his wife’s killers in front of C-Sec.

Not the best choice, Thane. There’s going to be enough of an uphill battle getting Kolyat off the hook without adding you to the fire.

-I appreciate Bioware repeatedly stating that this does not fix the relationship between Thane and Kolyat. It’s a start, but they’ll both have to keep working to improve it.

-You can lean on Bailey to keep Kolyat out of jail.

Not the most moral choice, but nothing about this mission has been.

Normandy

-Aria gave Shepard’s email address to Diana, Nif’s mother

I am amused that she keeps giving all these random people Shepard’s email address. How does that go? Does she have them brought to afterlife? Does an email with the information arrives in their email box? Does she have a courier send them a datapad?

And they just go, Welp I guess I have to send an email to Shepard now. Don’t want to find out what will happen if I don’t…

-How did Irikah come to terms with Thane being an assassin?

He was still taking work when they were together, so he didn’t quit.

Was she okay with it as long as the targets were only bad people?

-Thane accepted death when he was 12.

That’s also the age where he first killed someone.

I’d love to hear the story of how those two are related.

-Shepard tells Thane that by his own rules he doesn’t need to feel bad about killing his wife’s killers since he was on autopilot.

Thane insists he is responsible since he made the choice to hunt them.

Apparently, the same does not apply to making the choice to accept a commission to kill someone.

Those are some thin lines you’re drawing, Thane.

-Hitting on Thane right after he explains to you how his wife died is rather creepy. I wish Bioware had handled that better. Maybe they could have left the option out of this conversation and given Thane an additional conversation where starting a romance was an option.

-Samara fought Nihlus because he killed an unarmed civilian.

Nihlus eventually got away be creating a situation where she had to choose between letting an innocent die or pursuing him.

Nihlus was definitely a renegade spectre.

-Samara also respects him for using her code against her so well.

There’s a running theme with Samara where she respects strength even if she disagrees with morals.

She regards Morinth the same way.

-As a mercenary Samara killed the rest of her band to prevent them from turning slaves over to collectors.

Samara has always been firm in her convictions and unwavering due to personal connection, even prior to becoming a justicar. It’s probably one of the reasons she made it through the training.

-She also lectures the slaves on strength and the ability to defend oneself, then gave them supplies and released them on the Citadel.

This makes me snort every time. These slaves were probably deeply traumatized, and then this asari who murdered all of her companions gives them weapons and armor, tells them to get stronger, and dumps them on an unprepared city. That must have been an experience for everyone. Did she even warn city officials?

I’m sure there are societies set up to help former slaves adjust to freedom. Samara probably could have found one with chapters in her system if she had run an extranet search.

[turtlesaus]

Twin Brother Donatello - TurtleDuck AU

(Most of the design choices were inspired form Pinterest, IDK who drew them cause literally noone cited their sources x-x) (Art updated!)

Back at it with Donatello!;

Donatello Hamato

Nicknames: Don,Dee, Tello Race/Species: Turtle Mutant/Yokai Age: XXX (Changes though time) Height: XXX (Same as age) Gender/Pronouns: He/Him/Them Job: Tech Guy/Coms Guy/Co Leader

---

Personality

Donnie grew up in a highly supportive family, with his twin andyounger siblings always there for him, and always understanding what he's going through. As a result, he's more open about how he's feeling, trusts his brothers much more commonly, and is confident in his place in the team.

Sometime he get overwhelmed with touch, sound, or sight, but his family always has his headphone and glasses at the ready, and know when to back off.

He was goven a lot more freedom to build with many things due to his twin getting him almost anything he wanted to use, even Uranium. His tech is a lot more high-power and complex, fully decking out his whole team.

He is a caffeine guy, be it coffee, tea, or energy drinks, but has a strict bedtime of 11:30 pm, set by his older brother.

---

Power(s)

As mentioned in my Leo post, Leo was the first to activate his Ninpo, however, Donnie was in fact the second. When Leo first learned of the powers, he and Donnie were the one's who learnt and tested the differnt reaches of the power.

His Ninpo is much the same as cannon, however because he has had much more time to tinker around with it and understand it, he has fully intagrated it in to his tech, and is able to create near anything outside of 'living' creatures.

He specializes in close-hand combat and long-range combat, but prefers somewhere in the middle. Proficient in the Bō staff and, of course, firearms, Donnie is known both as a badass Bō Specialist and a Supreme Gunman.

---

Backstory

After his twin stepped forwards into the leadership role, Donnnie stood next to him as his 'right hand man', becoming somewhat of a co-leader. Working late nights with his twin to finalize missions is not uncommon.

When the surface became an option, his tech quickly gained originality and specialization, becoming extremely modern, even futuristic. With Ninpo it only went furthur, and by now he probably has built almost everything technological in the lair.

With the new additions to the family Donnie quickly got their mesurements and build specialized tech, giving them armor and weapons as fast as humanly possible, as to protect them.

---

Family Dynamics

Donnie & Leo

Leo and Donnie are twins, and Donnie reluctanly accepts the fact. The two are the eldest, but are able to act like kids around each other. Donnie considers Leo is leader, and will accept no other, with undying loyalty in highly dangerous situations being his MO.

Donnie & Raph

With Raphael's anxiety, Don has learned to show his blueprint, albeit simplified, to him to help him clear his worries. When Raph gets overwhelmed Don will, without hesitation, lend him his headphones or sunglasses.

Donnie & Mikey

PB&J Duo, get together well. Mikey will bring Don ideas, Don builds them either with him or later when he has free time. Half of the cool tech ideas came from Mikey's notebook. Donnie loves to coddle and love on him.

Donnie & Casey

Brains and Brawn duo, but they both love bombs and chaos. Donnie builds him explosives, then Casey uses them. Besties for life.

Donnie & April

When April and Don first met, they instant linked and were almost never apart. The two of them are very loyal to the family, and both run both the family group chat and the older siblings group chat.

(Others to be added later)

[cosmicslcves]

(oscar isaac, cis man, he/him) here lies the story of ORION DE LA LUNA, the 45 year old CHILD OF THE MOON. if you’ve seen them around forks for the past SIX YEARS don’t be alarmed, they’re only here because FORKS IS HOME. they’ve gathered quite the reputation for being FRIENDLY and CLOSED OFF. that’s probably due to their loyalties lying with THE LUNA PACK.

basics:

full name: orion augustus de la luna

birthday: march 9th, 1979

age: 465

place of birth: forks, washington

sexuality: bisexual biromantic

zodiac: pisces

species: child of the moon

personality:

3 positive traits: friendly, generous, and intelligent

3 negative traits: closed off, calculating, and tempermental

moral alignment: true neutral

hobbies: tbd

love language: touch (will always be touching you if he likes you, he's like a dog just LOVE HIM)

additional information:

occupation: dilf unemployed

languages: english & spanish

family: augustus de la luna (father), artemis de la luna (mother), ____ de la luna (twin brother)

education: high school dipolma, some college

biography :

orion augustus is born at midnight, when the moon is highest. his twin brother shortly follows and orion makes it his mission to protect his brother from everything and anything. the brothers are close, growing up with only the other for the longest time.

his mother tells him stories of the moon and things that go bump in the night, but orion barely listens to them. folklore, bedtime stories his mother makes up to keep the brothers in line.

and then comes school, which proves easy for orion. the classes are easy and school work is a breeze, which leaves time for orion to observe the people around him.

there he meets a boy that will forever change orion's life. a best friend turned crush and then later orion's greatest heartbreak. but orion keeps those feelings to himself, knowing that being charlie's friend is better than anything else.

and then comes the first and worst heartbreak of orion's life. charlie gets married and orion decides to leave forks behind. there he travels the world, settling down for short periods of time before moving on. he makes friends, dates often, but leaves before it becomes something more.

orion eventually tries college, going for social work as a major, but doesn't fall in love with it so he drops out. it's another failure in orion's life.

but then the unimaginable happens, the folklore his mother warns him about catches up to him one full moon. he gets scratched by something, waking up the next full moon with a destroyed room and no memory of what happened. he spends the next decade of his life learning how to control his transformations, eventually finding a witch that gives him the ability to semi-control what is happening to him.

he then settles back somewhere in the midwest, helping others like him that have been turned and want to learn to control it. with the rumors of the supernatural creeping into forks, he packs up everything in hopes charlie has made it out.

moving back to forks proves to be the best thing to happen to orion, he marries charlie and develops a small pack of his own.

[antianakin]

Okay, feelings about Rex in the Darksider Ahsoka AU now, because wow is Rex having a lot of feelings about this.

If Rex meets up with Fulcrum Barriss and Reva at any point, he's going to find out about Anakin. If Obi-Wan opts to start doing more rebel work himself since Yoda's on Tatooine, Rex could end up running missions with Obi-Wan and figuring out what happened from Obi-Wan. Either way, he's not sitting on Seelos waxing poetic about Anakin to Ezra and Kanan the way he is in canon.

Because this Rex is someone who's been betrayed by BOTH of his assigned Jedi. This Rex has had both Jedi that he gave all of his loyalty to decide that he and his people weren't worth protecting. Both of Rex's Jedi that he put all of his trust in ultimately ended up using and discarding the clones for their own agenda. While he's going to have relationships with Barriss and Obi-Wan that are more positive, so he's not really anti-Jedi by any means, he's also going to be INCREDIBLY slow to trust himself in the care of another Jedi any time soon, he's not going to feel super comfortable "assigning" himself to a team where his life is in their hands if he doesn't have to.

And he probably still does retire himself off somewhere at some point, not wanting to fight and choosing to try to give Wolffe and Gregor the best life he can, until Barriss sends the Ghost team to try to bring him back in.

And oh man. Rex and Kanan's relationship in canon already gives me all the feels, it's such an astoundingly nuanced, subtle, and beautiful relationship as it grows over the seasons. Kanan has to EARN Rex's trust and loyalty, especially because Kanan doesn't trust Rex due to his own trauma with Order 66 and Rex knows it. A Rex who maybe doesn't entirely trust Kanan back makes things even more raw and difficult as they both have to learn to set aside their fears in order to work together.

But Rex probably isn't going to be entirely at ease with EZRA either the way he seems to be in canon. Ezra's young, sweet, eager to learn, and Rex is eager to teach and protect Ezra. But this Rex is going to remember another young, sweet, eager to learn Jedi Padawan who was caught up in a war and what that ultimately turned her into. He might keep more of a distance from Ezra for a while, not wanting to get too invested in a relationship that he isn't sure won't just end in more betrayal down the line. Kanan at least is an adult now, so he's been through war and being on the run for 15 years and come out the other side, which makes his personality and difficulties easier for Rex to acknowledge and handle. But Ezra could change, he's younger and more impressionable and still growing into who he is as a person, and that worries Rex a little.

And of course it won't help that round about the same time Rex joins up, Ahsoka starts making appearances and occasionally spending time with Kanan and Ezra. Rex is going to advocate for not trusting Ahsoka at all because she's proven herself untrustworthy before, she's proven herself cunning and tricky and entirely capable of lying to everyone around her even as she planned to betray them (she learned from the best, after all). Even as Ezra and Kanan and even Barriss try to vouch for how she doesn't really seem interested in violence even though she does seem sort-of selfish, Rex isn't going to make the same mistake twice.

So when Ahsoka shows up on Echo Base after Malachor, Rex isn't happy to see her. Especially since she shows up with all THREE of the Jedi who went on the mission injured and traumatized while she's mostly unscathed (she's definitely traumatized, she's just better at hiding it than Ezra currently is). Rex avoids her for a while when she chooses to stick around, doesn't trust the claims that she's turning a new leaf and on their side now. He's constantly wary of whatever plan to betray them she's setting up this time, even though logically he knows that that would be a really stupid plan given that everyone is going to expect it of her and be ready for it this time.

Ahsoka gives him his space, although she does try to approach him once to apologize for what she did, for the clones who died in the Temple bombing. Rex isn't ready to forgive her for it or discuss it, though, and tells her as much, which Ahsoka respects.

And then they end up on the mission where they get captured by the leftover Separatist droids and Rex isn't handling it very well. Ahsoka is the only one who is able to really reach him, the only one who fought with him back then and knows the tactics and plans he's going to come up with practically before he comes up with them himself, and her ability to keep up with him helps steady him a little until they make it through and to the tactical droid, where it's Ahsoka who has to help him calm down, who reminds them that they ALL have a shared enemy in the Empire and fighting each other does nothing but help the Empire that discarded them.

Rex approaches Ahsoka after that and tells her that while he isn't quite ready to forgive her still, he thinks he's ready to start trying to. She starts to promise that she'll never let him down again and he tells her not to make him any promises she can't keep, promises are just words after all and can easily turn to lies. All she can do is keep being better than she was.