#val apparently having confided in her prior??

[lostandbackagain]

has valkyrie come out to china by this point or is china's gaydar just really good

[storm-angel989]

Don’t try to force yourself to make content, okay? Self care is way more important than putting stuff out, even if it makes others happy! Us fans will gladly wait until you’re mentally and emotionally ready!😉 Also drink water and eat real food, not just snacks!!!

Hi Friend,

Thank you so, so much for your kind words- I read your message as soon as it popped into my inbox and I did exactly as you said <3 I took the weekend, had some real food, rode a few horses and all of the sudden, a story I've been working on clicked (and I wrote a few more!)

As with all things, I expect it to ebb and flow but I appreciate everyones love, care a support more than words can express! Please enjoy below story and thank you again so so much for your love and patience!

<3 Mandy

Angel recognized the sound, and apparently Valentino did too. 

The noise in itself was a concern. But it was Valentino’s reaction to it that interested Angel the most. In the middle of what was supposed to be an important shoot, Angel watched Valentino rush off down the darkened hallway only to reappear moments later with a look on his face Angel couldn’t quite distinguish. Softness, maybe? Whatever it was, it disappeared the moment Valentino sat back down.

“Angel, what the fuck are you doing?” Valentino snarled as he raked his glowing eyes over the set. “Lay down and read the fucking lines.” 

As with all things, Angel obeyed. 

Now, as Angel stood in the entryway to his dressing room, that same noise from the week prior floated down from the hallway. Soft, childlike giggles in an empty studio. A sense of unease washed over Angel.  As abusive as Valentino was, he still had boundaries- and allowing kids in his studio was a hard one. Surely, Angel had to be hearing things. Maybe an actor or actress with a childlike voice. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. If there was, in fact, a kid running around in here it would be easy to get lost. Hell, sometimes he even found himself turned around and he had spent years here. 

Hesitantly, Angel walked down the familiar labyrinth of halls and rooms. 

“Hello?” he called out softly. 

Silence answered him.

“I have gotta stop drinkin before shoots,” he muttered to himself as he turned away.

“Papi?” A girlish voice came from behind him. “Papi!” 

Angel jumped and whirled around as tiny arms grabbed at his waist. Blonde hair, blue eyes, human like- Angel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth to ask her who she was, but she began before he could get a word in.

“You’re not Daddy. You’re a stranger,” the child shouted as she jerked away from him. “I want Daddy.” 

Angel bit back his surprise. “Does..does your Daddy have a name?”

“Daddy.” 

Of course. Typical kid answer. Angel wracked his brain as memories flooded through. Images of his own baby sister, from his human life, floated through. Painful reminders of a distant past he tried to keep pushed down. With a deep breath, he knelt down to her level. 

“Okay kid, what does your daddy look like?”

“Daddy is tall. And he wears heart shaped glasses. And a big cozy red coat. But only when he goes to work. And I think this is Daddy’s work.” She answered confidently.

Angel felt his stomach drop. Val had a kid? Fuck, Val had a daughter? Shit. What should he do now? If he brought her back to Valentino, would he get punished? Forced to work extra hours for daring to find out his secret? But as he looked at the little girl, the sinking feeling grew sharper. He couldn’t leave her here. It wasn’t safe. And if he tried to send her back to where she came from, she’d probably end up lost- or worse. Seeing no other option, Angel took a deep breath.

“Come with me then, kid I’ll take you to yer dad. You got a name?” He offered her his hand. 

To his surprise, the little girl took it and walked next to him. “Reader. What’s yours?”

“Angel,” he replied as he focused on the hallway ahead. The feeling of her small hand in his, the familiarity of a tiny voice, a little human by his side. Flashes of his own past, his human life. Painful fragments that shattered through his mind like glass shards. He tried to swallow them back with each step they took towards Valentino’s office. 

“Daddy!” 

The little girl’s yell jerked Angel back to attention. He let go of her hand as she raced across the empty studio and to his shock, she jumped into Valentino’s arms. Angel watched as the overlord of lust and depravity wrapped the little girl up and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Bebita princessa, where were you? You have your Uncle Vox all worried!” Valentino scolded in a voice Angel had never heard him use before. 

“You promised Daddy! You promised a piggy back ride and you left!” She shrieked in response as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You promised!” 

Angel thought for sure Valentino would hit her. Or at the very least, scold her the same way he did his employees. Instead, he watched Valetnino’s expression soften. 

“I know mi amore, I’m sorry,” he told her, “but you have to go up to Uncle Vox now, Papi has to work. Later tonight, I promise.” 

Suddenly, as if he instantly became aware Angel was watching, he jerked his head up. Their eyes met and Angel couldn’t read the expression on Valentino’s face. Anger? Appreciation? 

“So, uh, you have a kid?” Angel asked as he crossed his arms. “I, uh, found her in the back. Down the hallway. She was lookin for ya.” 

Valentino’s expression changed to one Angel knew inherently well. Cold, merciless impassion. 

“If you tell anyone, I will fucking kill you,” he stated. “Don’t think I won’t.” 

That, Angel didn’t doubt. He opened his mouth to promise he wouldn’t, but before he could get a word in, Reader’s voice floated through the empty room. 

“Daddy? What’s fucking mean?” 

Angel watched as Valentino’s expression went from cold to…unsure? Uneasy? Angel couldn’t tell. 

“I, uh, don��t worry about it baby, it’s,” Valentino stammered.

“An adult word. Only adults can use it,” Angel answered quickly. 

To Angel’s surprise, Valentino looked relieved at his explanation. The ping of the elevator and Valentino turned away. 

“Angel. Don’t be here when I get back.” Valentino said sharply. “I’ll call you when I need you again.”

“Does that mean I get the night off?” Angel called to the retreating figure. 

No answer. Angel shrugged and back in his dressing room, he pulled on his jacket. Might as well spend the rest of the night at the hotel. After all, Fat Nuggets could use a little extra attention.

[ospreyeamon]

the mastery duel

In the Sith Empire there are several legally designated varieties of formal duel. Killing your opponent in a formal duel is not murder, provided the duel was instigated in an appropriate way. To control the level of churn caused by junior Sith attempting to duel their superiors for their positions, a senior Sith must accept the junior Sith’s challenge for the duel to be valid. However, refusing a challenge may be taken as a sign of weakness.

One of the most famous duels is the Kaggath, which was soft-banned for centuries because its nature of being power-base vs power-base rather than individual vs individual means Kaggath tend to be extremely destructive and cause significant collateral damage.

Another is the Asinyattal* – the mastery duel. Asinyattals are fought between Master and Apprentice. Specifically, they are fought between an apprentice and their Linage-Master – the highest living member of their apprenticeship family tree.

Challenges are publicly issued prior to the commencement of the duel. While a Master will offer a challenge on the grounds of it being necessary to prove the Apprentice is ready to lead the Teaching-Lineage, Apprentices must lodge an argument that the Master is leading the Teaching-Lineage is the wrong direction and that they will take it on a better course. If there are other Apprentice Sith in the Teaching-Linage – which there usually are as having Apprentices is a symbol of strength and prestige – then they can publicly refute the challenger’s argument, siding with the current Master. Should the majority of the other Apprentices refute the challenge, the Apprentice making it may decide to withdraw and offer a formal apology to their Master for doubting their leadership, which the Master may or may not accept. Conversely, the Master can accept the validity of their Apprentice’s arguments and step aside without fighting.

Non-fatal resolutions to challenges were more common in the days before the reign of Emperor Vitiate. Consensually forfeiting the position as head of the Teaching-Linage is usually seen as an admittance of weakness in the Reconstituted Empire rather than a pragmatic restructure or opportunity to retire. Settling Asinyattals by debate was more common in the Old Empire.

Darth Zash’s plot to steal the body and life of her senior Apprentice hinged heavily on the culture of the mastery duel. If the fallout of the body-theft resulted in her being condemned for her own murder Zash’s scheme would amount to nothing. To avoid this Zash legally designated Lord Kallig her heir, privately confided in some select parties she was dying and considering how best to secure her legacy beyond her death, talked a lot about the great achievements she foresaw in Kallig’s future, left a timed message proclaiming the Asinyattal to be released when she lured them into her trap – and then had Khem Val ruin everything.

This aspect of Zash’s plot ended up playing out very much to her Apprentice’s advantage. Lord Kallig was protected from criticism for “killing” Zash because the publicly available evidence was that Zash had wanted to die lightsaber in hand. Zash’s other Apprentices, Corrin and Kaal, transferred their loyalty to Kallig as their new Master because Zash’s apparent final wish had been for them to respect the result of the duel and help Lord Kallig lead the Sith into a new age. Instead of stealing her Apprentice’s life, Zash accidentally signed over a significant portion of her own.

Arguably one of the most pivotal Asinyattals was fought between Kreia and the Jedi Exile on Malachor V. While neither of the combatants were Sith, the battle had the hallmarks of a classic Asinyattal; fought between a master and apprentice who were part of an extended teaching-linage with the other students weighing in with their support in the lead up to the duel proper, the result of philosophical differences and visions of direction the extended group should take rather being a simple power play, the defeated master acknowledged the validity of her apprentice’s victory over her. While attributed little to no importance by most histories in the Republic and the Empire, the consequences should Kreia have prevailed would have reshaped the galaxy. In addition to dealing what might have been a fatal blow to the Jedi, the all-consuming deafening scream would have been transmitted from lost Sith worlds like Korriban and Malachor V itself into the Sith Empire. In such a timeline the Great Galactic War would have happened very differently, if it happened at all.

*from the root asinyât (Old Kyattam); verb. ascend, usurp.

[aswe-fanfiction]

4 - Blockade

Neera felt her heart pounding as she looked out the bridge window. They’d just pulled out of hyperspace and were slowly trying to make their way towards Ione’s surface. Before her were two massive Star Destroyers. They flew slowly towards each other, like the jaws of a Krayt Dragon, swallowing whatever came too close. The crackle of an incoming transmission brought her back.

“Simiyar Class Light Freighter, Identify yourself.” The harsh voice of an Imperial Officer sent a chill down Neera’s spine. Before she could reply, Darak stepped in.

“This is the Freighter Solar Fire, requesting access to Ione for repairs and resupply.”

“System of Origin.”

“Burnin Konn.”

“Purpose for departure.”

“We’re are returning from a delivery.”

“Standby for scan.” Neera shuddered. She knew it was all in her mind, but she felt as though the Imperial scanners could see right through her. The delay before any more transmissions came felt like hours, the seconds crept by and Neera felt her heart speeding up. Then the ship lurched. A voice came back over the comms.

“Craft Solar Fire, you are being brought aboard the Admonitor for further questioning. Do not resist.” Desperately, Neera looked at Darak. His face was ghostly white and his confidence gone. Neera felt her rapid heart sink as she watched in horror as the nearest Star Destroyer grew larger. She felt a hand on hers and looked to see Bok holding it.

“Be calm Neera, we’ll get through this. We always do.” He said grinning. As the Solar Fire was brought through the hangar doors, all that was running through Neera’s mind was what Darak had told them would be their story. Pirates had attacked them, crippled their ship and they needed parts to repair the ship. She hadn’t been told who hired them or who they delivered to as she was just a mechanic and backup pilot. It wasn’t a hard story, just the essentials. Easy.

The freighter shuddered as it landed in the Star Destroyer’s hangar bay. Neera looked at her team again. They all wore heavy sullen expressions now, betraying their own fears, but Neera saw how they all stood. Heads held high and waiting solemnly. She took a breath and looked towards the gangplank. The ship opened and she watched as Imperial Navy troopers came in with raised blasters.

“Move!” One said as he grabbed Darak by the arm and jerked him forward. The troopers grabbed each one of the rebels individually and began to offload them. Another team split off to check the crew quarters. As her arms were grabbed, Neera looked around desperately for her friends, but she’d already lost them amongst the greys and blacks of engineers, Tie fighter wings and Navy troopers. She closed her eyes. As she was dragged away, she silently prayed; May the force be with us.

~

Senior Agent Val Salem stepped out of her office into the polished hallway of the Admonitor’s administration deck. The Imperial career woman had just received word that a suspected Rebel craft had been quarantined after pulling out of hyperspace not 10 minutes prior. Salem was scrolling the profiles recorded of the crew and making notes to herself. 2 Humans, a Mirialan and a Mon Calamar. It was an odd crew, but not anything she hadn’t seen before from fringers. As she scrolled through them, she felt her commlink begin to buzz on her hip. The agent rolled her eyes as she pulled out the comm.

        “Yes?” She asked of the comm.

        “Pardon me, Ma’am.” The voice apologised. “But I believe that we may have a confirmed ID code for the ship.” Salem raised her eyebrows. She had always known that there are times when the Imperial Navy brought gifted individuals into positions of authority, but rarely were they more efficient than ISB computer technicians.

        “I see. Can you transmit that data to me, Captain?” Salem asked. She already knew that Niriz would do what she wanted, but he had been most helpful so far, and no sense antagonizing someone useful.

        “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” Niriz said. A moment later, Salem arrived at a terminal and patched her data pad into the ship's computer. The new data file arrived and Salem noted the ID tag. It seemed familiar to her. Quickly she pulled up her reports from other logged transport ships that had been recorded from the Rebel computers on Hoth. In the wake of the attack, General Veers had been gracious enough to salvage whatever data he could from the computers. Including several ships that had been labelled as out of commission. She cross referenced the ID and found a match. She smirked at the sight of the flashing ID. Now, all that remained was to determine who was the leader. 5 minutes later, she was striding down the detention center hall towards holding cell E44. The holding cell of one of the suspected rebels. Considered a threat to security. As she arrived at the cell door she sighed. Straightened her off-white cap and looked down the hall.

“Come along boy, we have to get this done.” She called back. As she did she heard the heavy foot falls of someone who realised they had fallen behind.

“Sorry, ma’am, Was reading the report notes.” The junior officer apologized frantically. “I won’t fall behind again.”

“See that you don’t.” Salem said curtly. “You will be taking lead on this interrogation. You must stay ahead of the suspect.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Of course.” The boy straightened into a salute. She dismissed it and looked back at the cell door.

“You have 20 minutes to get a confession.” She said, leaning towards the door panel. “Do not fail.” The Junior officer nodded and looked down at his datapad. As he did, Salem opened the door.

~

As the durasteel door slid open, Neera looked up. She felt as though her stomach would explode, letting loose an army of mynocks. Standing at the entrance were two imperial officers, one middle aged woman and a much younger man, who was about Neera’s age, perhaps a little older. This wasn’t good. She’d been separated from the others for the past… she’d lost track, an hour, maybe? As her thoughts raced, the older woman turned away and the younger officer stepped down into the holding cell.

As he entered, Neera saw the older officer utter something the younger one. She couldn’t quite make out all the words, but she thought she saw… confession?

~

Salem turned and hit the door panel as she stepped back. The heavy cell door closed and she walked over to a small view screen next to the cell. A waste of her time, she thought, but necessary. Junior officers had to gain experience somehow. At least these interviews were always simple and straightforward in their conclusion. The Rebels were arrested, any leaders were executed, the rest sent to labour camps on outer rim planets. All he had to do was not make a mess of this, she thought. Then she chuckled.

“Yes Junior Officer Cordé, Let’s see what you can do.”

~

Junior officer Ran Cordé looked at the young Mirialan in front of him. He’d been told that he’d be interviewing a non-human to make sure he knew how to conduct the empire’s work regardless of the subject. What he hadn’t been prepared for was her age. She couldn’t have been any older than him, he guessed. Then again, he thought, apparently this was the Modus Opparande of the Rebel Alliance. Apparently it was a teenager who had destroyed the Death Star. He composed himself then, looked down at the report on his datapad and then back up at the girl.

“I am Agent Cordé, please state your name for the record.” He looked at her expectantly.

“My name is Neera.” The girl replied. Ran waited, but she said nothing else.

“Full name please.” He insisted.

“That is my name.” She replied. Ran looked at her with an expression he hoped conveyed he wasn’t impressed.

“Very well, you are hereby suspected of being Rebel sympathizer. What were you doing in this sector?”

“We were on a return journey from Burnin Konn.”

“What was your business there?”

“We were making a delivery.”

“What were you delivering?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t check the cargo.”

“Who were you delivering to?”

“I don’t know, I’m just support crew for the ship.”

“Who else knew your flight plan?”

“What?” Ran looked up at her. He’d been entering her responses on his data pad as she’d said them, but the question made him look up. She looked confused and little more nervous.

“Your flight plan, did you register it with anyone? Or tell anyone where you were going?”

“Umm… no, we didn’t.” The girl stuttered. An opening.

“Why not? What if something had happened to you? Pirates or something worse.” He asked. “That seems like a foolish lack of foresight wouldn’t you say?”

“I wasn’t the one who made the plan!” The girl retorted. Ran could see she was getting agitated. He checked the data pad. Only 3 minutes in. He was getting better.

“Then perhaps you can tell me which of your crew did.” He said bluntly. “I need to know who can tell me answers girl. Who is the ship’s commander?”

“We don’t have one, we’re a collective.”

“That’s nonsense. A ship has a commander. Someone who knows what’s going on. Someone who knew the cargo, the client and the route.” He listed. “Who was it?” At this last question the girl paused. Ran stepped forward now. He towered over her in the cell and he could see her shrink at his approach.

“Who is the ship’s commander?”

“I am.” The girl breathed back. Ran froze. He looked down at his data pad. No, this couldn’t be. The other crew members had all confirmed differently. He looked back and cleared his throat.

“Don’t make me laugh.” He said, sneering. “You can’t possibly be. Now stop lying and tell me who the ship’s commander is at once.”

“I did.” The girl responded. “It’s me! I’m the commander of Solar Fire.” Ran stepped back slightly. The Mirialan was standing now. She was actually closer to him in height than he’d realized and she looked stronger. He tried to recompose himself.

“Well then, ‘Commander,’” He let the word drawl out, dripping with disbelief. “Perhaps you can enlighten me as to the nature of your crew’s visit to Burnin Konn and the reason the ship, for which you are responsible, is in such disrepair.”

“We were making a-”

“Yes yes, a delivery. I want specifics.” Ran was beginning to feel annoyed by this child. “What were you delivering? Where’s your ship manifest?”

“It was stolen when we were attacked.” The girl was now inching closer to Ran. She was almost chest to chest. “We were attacked by pirates as we were plotting our route to Denon. Our backup hyperdrive let us limp here.”

“Seems odd that you’d have made your jump despite a lack of primary hyperdrive wouldn’t you say?” Ran saw her take a step back. “The way I see it, you either came here in a very fortunate escape, or you’re Rebels using whatever pathetic excuses for a transport you had available from your hidey hole on Hoth.” Ran watched carefully to her response. He noted her shoulders slump slightly, the additional step back and the fall of her confidence in her eyes. “Tell me the truth.” Ran demanded. “Are you rebels?”

“No!” She screamed at him.

“You are! Don’t lie!”

“We’re not Rebels!”

“No, you are worse. You are Rebels and you are ashamed of it!” Ran felt his own confidence building. He had beaten her, and he could tell, she knew it too. But as he readied himself for the final blow, he heard the cell door slide open and Agent Salem step inside.

“That’s enough Cordé, time’s up.” She said as she stood by the open door. “The Rebel cell commander confessed. She’s to be sent to a labour camp.” Ran felt his mouth drop open.

“But Ma’am-” He started to protest.

“Dismissed, Cordé.” Salem gave him the darkest of looks as he realized what he was doing. Ran closed his mouth and straightened up.

“Yes Ma’am.” He saluted and stepped out into the hall. Shortly after, Agent Salem followed him.

“With all due respect, Ma’am.” Ran began. “Why did you interrupt? I had her ready to confess.”

“Your time was up, Cordé.” She said plainly. “I said 20 minutes. Your exchange ran over time and you didn’t get her to confess.”

“But how could that be?” He said protesting still. “I had…” he then checked his datapad. He noted the time. He had exceeded the time limit his superior had set. He swallowed.

“Is there a problem, Junior Officer Cordé?” Salem said looking at him. Ran felt his face flush and he turned away quickly to compose himself.

“No, Ma’am.”

“Have your report on my desk in 5 hours.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Ran didn’t look back until he heard his superior’s boots round the corner. He then dashed after her and mentally prepared his report. He hadn’t much time.