#we knew exactly where it's from and what it's called. which certainly says something

[dualumina]

Dungeons & Bad Dragons ™

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

[flamingpudding]

Part 4 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

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How to catch a baby brother

Richard 'Dick' Greyson had a problem. It wasn't a nuclear level of problem but it also wasn't a paper cut level of problem either. Because apparently he had a baby brother no one in their family but Damien knew about. Granted Damien had confessed that said baby brother was dead and had supposedly died eight years ago.

The explanation that Talia had apparently pulled another Jason was not helpful at all. According to Damien, in response to Tims findings, there was no other way for the twin to be alive other than Talia having preserved his body and then decided after eight years to drop it into the pits. Well lets just say his opinion on that woman if it was already down in the depth it certainly was now.

Which, considering the glowing Lazarus green eyes, could mean that there was now an eight years old child running loose in the Bat Cave with Pit Madness. Not just a simple feral eight years old that looked like perfect B adoption material and so happened to be blood related.

"Guys we need a plan. We can't just let our little teethling run loose."

"Richard, do not refer to my brother as little teethling." Dick only grinned. "Well the little biter needs a nickname and until I find something else fitting its teethling. Or do you have a better suggestion?"

Sweet little Baby Bird was now glowering at him. Oh protective were we, his little brothers definitely were the cutest. He was definitely going to tease sweet little Dami about this later once the first phase of new little brother crisis was over. For now they had to find the little guy first. The Cave wasn't exactly childproof.

"Let's use Jason as bait." Tim suddenly suggested causing the second oldest to grimace. "The little guy apparently likes biting him. We could use that as an advantage."

"Absolutely fucking not." Little Wing disagreed and Dick chuckled in good humor.

"Aw come on Little Wing, this is your chance to make a bond with our new baby before any of us can."

"For once I agree with Todd. Absolutely not, who knows where he has been. I will not have my brother become sick from biting him." He would have cooed at this, if Jason's face change from surprise at the agreement to a purely offended scowl wasn't so funny.

"Okay no biting bait. But we gotta draw out the little guy and calm his Pit Rage." If that feralness the kid displayed had even anything to do with Pit Rage.Considering the glowing eyes though he would think so. Dick eyed Jasons for a moment, he didn't seem to be affected at all nor had he said anything about the Pit being upset or feeling anything strange. So maybe the little guy wasn't suffering to an extrem from it? But he had apparently been brought back by a Lazarus Pit, so the likelihood with their experiences so far was slim.

"Well we gotta find a way to secure the little guy before B comes back or Alfie finds out." Jason mentioned still scowling at Damien. "By the way, I want to be here when you guys tell B about this. I wanna see his face and make fucking sure the little biter won't be turned into another kid soldier."

"Jason." He scowled, this was definitely not the right time for that sort of discussion but he had a point, they needed to find little… what had Damien said his name was? Wait did Damien even tell them the little guy's name? They all had just been using nicknames so far.

"Dami, what's the little teethling's name again?"

"I haven't told you yet." Ah okay so he didn't have a hole in his memory. "It's Danyal, but when we were younger he didn't like the way grandfather and our teachers called his name and insisted on being called informally as Danny."

"Okay right, so we better find little Danny and get everyone together to introduce-"

"Might I ask who this 'little Danny' is, Master Dick?"

He did not scream. But his heart rate shot up with Alfred just appearing behind him like that. Really sometimes Alfred could be as bad as Cass in the ways of sneaking up on people without them knowing.

"Alfred, hey hi what are you doing down here?" He was not nervous, no he wasn't. The way the butler narrowed his eyes at him did definitely not scare him at all, nope.

"I was informed that all of you returned uninjured." Though his eyes narrowed at Jason's hand that got cut earlier and his brother instantly tried to hide it behind his back when he noticed Alfreds eyes on him. "But the four of you, despite having returned to the Cave, have not come up yet. So I was merely checking on you, to make sure nothing was wrong after all."

He gulped. Really there was no way of ever hiding anything from Alfred.

"Jason brought a child to the Cave that we found out is Damien's twin that had died eight years ago but was brought back to life and is now feral and hiding somewhere in the cave."

At least it was Timber that blurred out everything they knew so far.

"His name is Danyal." Baby Bird added and the four of them waited for Alfred's reaction.

"I see. I will go prepare one of the rooms then and inform Master Bruce to return sooner from his meeting with the Justice League then. As well as prepare for a family dinner as soon as possible, I assume. Will my help be needed in finding young Master Danyal?"

"No worries Alfie, I think I have an idea on how to draw out the little shiiii-biter. You made cookies, right?" Jason at the last minute corrected his words because of the look and Dick couldn't help but snicker.

"I indeed did. If my help is not required then I will be on my way."

Giving them all one last look over, the Butler smiled before he turned to leave. Dick, Tim and Jason let out a sigh in relief once Alfred had left again to which Damien only eyed them strangely.

A little while later Jason went to get the cookies and came back with the plate and staring at a green post-it note. "Since when does Alfie stick green post-it notes with cryptic shit on plates?"

"What?" His brother only shrugged offering the note to him. Tim was looking over his shoulder at it and the two stared at the strange writing.

"I think Cass or Steph might be pulling a prank on us? These look just like random squiggles."

"Let's leave this for later and look for the little teethling." He passed the note to Tim, noticing the curiosity in his eyes. Oh boy, he probably should make sure his little brother gets some sleep instead of trying to encrypt whatever was written on that little note all night.

"Now everyone lets take a cookie, resist eating it and go hunt down our little teethling."

Damien narrowed his eyes on him. "I told you to stop calling Danyal that." The little baby bird still took a cookie though and marched away into the bat cave. They had separated wandering through the Bat Cave trying to cover as much ground as possible and by this point Dick was ready to call for Cass to join them, maybe even wake up Duke just so they would finally find the little kid.

That was until a familiar yowl of pain resounded in the Cave. The direction made Dicks stomach sink once he remembered just what was in the Cave in this direction. "Jason!"

Once he arrived there he feared for the worst. Jason avoided the area, because B had placed their Lazarus Pit there and his brother had often said that it was one of the reasons he didn't like coming to the Cave that much anymore let alone into this area of the Cave. To hear his brothers shout of pain from that area couldn't mean anything good.

Well that was until he got to the scene. Dick didn't know how long he stood there frozen but at some point he knew he took out his phone to take some photos of what was happening. Tim was already laughing and Dick was pretty sure that Babs was most likely recording this with one of the many cameras B had in the Cave.

Jason lay with his back on the ground, with one hand his brother was still holding the cookie waving it desperately before Danny's face who was biting down on the other arm sitting on the downed vigilante's chest. Little hands gripping onto the arm in an attempt to make sure no one was taking his chewtoy away from him. Meanwhile Damien was trying to lift the little biter off Jason by holding him with his hands under the kids armpits.

"You little shit! FUCK! Come on, here is the cookie! Take the fucking cookie! OUCH FUCKING HELL! How is he resisting Alfies cookies!"

"Danyal, No! You do not know where Todd was or how dirty he is. Let go of his arm this instant. We do not want you to get sick!"

"Hey!"

This was gold, Dick decided, and would go straight to the black mail as well as family memories folder.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Gale x Tav

words: 811

rating: G

summary: basically there are too many things about Gale being 'the perfect husband' and having 'the perfect marriage with him', but even the best couples have bad days and fight.

----------------------------------🟣---------------------------------------

It���s been hours. And the two of you still hadn’t talked.

You pull the covers tighter around your body. Surely a pseudo comforting mechanism to make up for the phantom cold you were feeling. It was an emotional chill, not physical. This might be the first night in a long while that you might go to bed alone, and it’s certainly the first night in a while you aren’t going exactly willingly.

You and Gale had a huge fight. You can’t even remember what started it exactly. It was something small. Simple. Yet it seemed neither one of you were willing to get over your mole hill and now there was a chasm between your two mountains.

Playing the fight over in your mind, you were trying to figure out where you went wrong….

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous!” You snap back at Gale. “Ridiculous. Yes. I’m being ridiculous because I asked you to help out in your own house.”

“And I said I would get to it later!” Gale snapped back. He rubbed his temples with his hand across his eyes. “Gods above, would it kill you to have a little patience from time to time??”

“Perhaps. If we had it your way we’d still be on that beach by the nautiloid for how long your ‘laters’ take.”

Your husband glared at you. “Insulting my character. My, what a fine fall we’ve made for decorum in this house.”

“I’m not insulting your character, Gale. But what about you! You just called me ridiculous and that’s not insulting my character?!”

“It’s not insulting your character if it’s true! And you’re being ridiculous!”

It had all gone downhill from there. More insults. More backbiting. You both said things you didn’t mean, like you saying you should have stayed in the Gate if this was how things were going to be and Gale wishing he still had his orb because it seemed the only way to get out of this conversation.

He had taken off not long after that with an “I’m done” and stalked off to some remote, quite corner of the tower to cool off. You hadn’t seen him since.

Now that the fight was over, and night was closing in, you wished you could talk to apologize. But you didn't want to be the one to go to him. You didn't want to 'lose'. Which you knew was toxic and childish, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

So, that never happened and for the first night in a long while that you go to bed alone. Quiet tears on your pillow.

The next morning you wake up. Face puffy. Eyes red. No real sleep to call your own, so you went downstairs to get coffee.

You find Gale already there. His own cup in his hand. Looking equally disheveled and un-well rested. But, and most importantly, another cup across the counter in front of him. It’s steam wafting up from the mug so you knew it was fresh. Cautiously, you move to the counter and take it. “Are we still fighting?”

“Do you want to keep fighting?” Gale asked back. Not trying to instigate the fight again, but gauge your commitment to continue it.

“No. I don’t.” You sip your coffee carefully. Even though you’re fighting, it was still perfect. “Where did you sleep?”

“In my study.” There is an ornate couch in there. Leather. Expensive. More of an art piece than a comfortable piece of furniture. His lack of sleep may just be from trying to sleep on that rather than the tossing & turning you did last night. “I didn’t think you’d want me.”

“You could have come to bed.”

You probably wouldn’t have talked, and it would still be ‘cold’, but it was still his bed too. “I don’t like it when we fight.”

“It’s not my ideal way to spend an evening either, my love.” Though he said it his ‘my love’ doesn’t have the same warmth in it it normally does. “Look…I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“I’m sorry too.” You apologize back. “I didn’t mean to….”

“We both said things we didn’t mean.”

The two of you sip your respective coffees. Not really sure where to go from here. Yes, you apologized. The fight was over. But apologies weren’t like the incantations Gale threw around all the time. They weren’t actually magic words to make all the hurt you felt a moment ago go away.

“Do you want a hug?”

He didn't say anything, but Gale sat down his coffee and came around the counter to you. You both wrap your arms around each other, but it’s awkward. Stiff. There is love between you in the hug, but that chasm you built last night was making it harder to each one another. It would fill. You both would mend. But for now it was just going to be a little uncomfortable around the house.

The two of you separate and go back to your coffees. Sticking to safe topics like what you would like for breakfast. Hopefully you couldn’t disagree to harshly on that.

[spxllcxstxr]

Fair Winds and Following Seas • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: That Roman soulmate fic was sooo good 😭😭😭 argfhh biting my pillow rn. May I request a scene rewrite of your choice of them already in an established relationship? They’d have cute bickering and lots of casual physical contact all the time. Maybe theyre on a yacht together like that one episode and theyre just so intertwined all the time that its hard to tell where roman ends and reader starts 😣-- anon

Summary: Roman seems to like casual intimacy, even in front of his family

Warnings: fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), based on 2x10 “this is not for tears,” established relationship, alcohol, ken suicide joke (one line, nbd), roman jokingly calls something 'domestic abuse' it certainly is NOT that, normal Roman shenanigans

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: guys, I usually write fantasy so this dialogue may just suck ass im SORRY LMAO, lemme know what you think!!! Hope you guys enjoy! Roman is so bbg

•

The Mediterranean sun warms your exposed skin while the sea breeze keeps you from getting uncomfortably hot. The Roy's certainly knew how to take a vacation.

Roman lazily drapes his arm over your shoulders, the small act of casual intimacy in front of his siblings something you still can't really get used to just yet. The family, you learned pretty quickly, was not a clingy one, so Roman's constant need to be touching you in some way in front of them was unexpected.

You sigh happily at his side, ignoring the boring work talk the siblings had already immersed themselves in.

The weather was just too divine for you to focus on anything other than the free vacation and your boyfriend.

Shiv's piercing blue eyes peer curiously over her dark sunglasses. Her gaze causes you to straighten your back and shift ever so slightly away from Roman. You've noticed that her and Tom were never exactly touchy, but then again her and Tom were barely a loving couple.

The harsh scrutiny of her stare doesn't go unnoticed by Roman, who immediately pulls you back closer to him. Your cheeks flush at his blatant display of affection.

"Something the matter, Siobhan?" Roman asks, his voice slightly higher than usual with a British twang to it. His fingers absentmindedly trace odd shapes across your back. He sips at his cocktail, eyebrows raised waiting for her retort.

Shiv’s intense gaze slowly slides over to Kendall. Their older brother offers your group a half-assed shrug.

"Nothing at all, Roman." She offers you both a tight-lipped smile, swirling her white wine in front of her.

Awkwardly you lean back into him as he sarcastically grumbles something under his breath, unconvinced. Roman’s body in tense beside you, but stays firmly pressed next to your own.

Sounds of waves crashing against the yacht and distant conversations almost lure you to sleep though the three sibling’s chatter keeps you just conscious enough that you don’t completely drift off.

You hear Kendall get up from his seat, his joints popping.

"I'm gunna go check on dad," He says, voice low though he knows you're not actually asleep. "I'll catch you guys later."

"Just don't jump off the boat, Ken. We're not turning the ship around just for your old-ass." Roman jokes before yelping at Shiv's slap to the shoulder.

You hide your tiny grin with a fake yawn.

"Very funny, Rome," Ken mutters before leaving the three of you.

It's awkward, just the three of you alone; the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Shiv clears her throat and you can only imagine the patronizing look she has on her face. Roman shifts, and most likely flips her off, but otherwise he's silent.

Moments later you hear the thud of expensive yet tacky yachting shoes against the floorboards, which could only mean Tom.

"Shiv, uh," The man stutters, obviously distracted by something. Slowly you open an eye, peering over at the man. "Why don't we go and uh, discuss that thing from before, huh?"

Tom's eyes can barely settle on one thing, he looks between you and Roman before only briefly settling on his wife. His cheeks are a little red, but with a man that pasty, it's sure to be a light sunburn.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, almost seductively, blue eyes twinkling with some hidden secret.

Tom's lips tilt down into a frown, now no longer even looking in your direction. He's jealous, you figure, you've never seen him and Shiv cuddled up like this, at least not comfortably so. Someone is always tense and irritated.

After sparing her husband a glance, you see her eyes narrow and her lips drawing into a tight line.

You offer them a smile while Roman once again gives a rude gesture.

Swiftly, Shiv rises from her seat, empty wine glass in hand. She barely gestures a simple goodbye before walking away with Tom. You watch as she says something to him, which makes him recoil from her.

You could only imagine what that was about, but you figure it was you and Roman.

You press your cheek even harder against Roman's chest, almost like you're trying to burrow your way under his skin. The fresh white linen shirt he's wearing is soft underneath you. His uncalloused fingertips continue to dance across your exposed arm.

He's no longer tense, you notice; his muscles are more relaxed now that his siblings are nowhere to be seen. Logan wasn't around either, which eased the thick and looming tension that usually hung around the family.

Roman chuckles, tangling his feet around yours.

"What's got you all giggly today?" You ask, closing your eyes as you soak in more of the warmth.

"I'm not giggly, thank you very much. Giggling is for school girls and wine drunk single moms."

"Yeah, ok," You snort, smiling.

"You're just all over me like a fucking uh--"

"Koala?"

"Nah, more like one of those bigass fucking boa constrictors, y'know the ones I'm talking about?"

"A boa constrictor?" You gasp, jokingly offended at his words. Shifting from your position you eye your boyfriend. "You asshole!" Grabbing a small pillow from beside you, you hit him square in the chest repeatedly.

You're hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the couch below him.

"Hey, hey!" He laughs, attempting to grab your wrists. "This is domestic abuse! ABUSE! ABUSE! Greg call the cops, she's beating me!"

Somewhere in the distance you can only faintly hear Greg stutter something, but your laughter is too loud to actually make it out.

Roman finally grabs the decorative pillow out of your hands and flings it somewhere.

His brown hair is messy, strands dangle in front of his eyes, no longer slicked back and proper. The laughter dies down but his bright smile remains, melting your heart.

"You're an absolute prick, Roman Roy, y'know that?" You whisper, lips lingering right over his.

"Oh I know," He smirks, irritatingly handsome like usual, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. "And you fucking love it."

Surging up, his lips connect with yours, traces of coconut and pineapple left on his tongue. The sweetness of rum mingles with the fruity aftertaste.

Humming in satisfaction, you close your eyes and place your hands on either side of his face, leaning into the kiss. Roman's light scruff rubs against your palms.

Eventually you pull back in order to breathe in the salty Mediterranean air. Roman's lips chase after your own, hoping to continue and subsequently never stop again.

"Yeah, I do." You sigh, gazing at his eyes as they turn into a molten shimmering gold hue in the afternoon sun.

•

[theoceanandthestars]

I'd love to read a 2nd chapter of Bobby's Goddaughter!!!! It's so good!

Bobby's Goddaughter Part 2

Summary: An earthquake leads to y/n revealing a secret to Bobby.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I just wanted to say this comment and the other's under the original part made my day!! Thank you all so so much, it really means so much to me so thank you!!! I was a little conflicted as to what direction I should take this in as I had a few ideas, so hopefully you like it!! And apologies for any mistakes.

I also have an idea for a part 3 if anyone’s interested, so let me know :)

_____________________________________________________________

Shaking.

That’s what brought you out of the daydream you had been in. Well not exactly a daydream as such but you had been thinking back over the past few weeks of being at the 118 as you finished stocking the fire engine with Hen and Chim. After meeting Athena and the members of the 188 you had gone home worried. Worried that you had made a fool of yourself and that moving to LA to surprise your godfather, without telling him and then saying that you where joining his place of work, was maybe not the best ideas. Those thoughts kept you up that night and plagued you as you started to unpack your things into your new home. That was until you had heard a knock at the door and opened it to find your new team who had all given up their Saturday to come and help you move in. Even despite your assurance that they didn’t have to help you the entire team had stayed for hours until it was dark outside, and all your things had been unpacked.

That night when they had all gone home your anxiety had eased and you knew that this was your team now. A few weeks had passed since then and you had got to know everyone better, but you had spent the most time with Bobby and Athena. You relished seeing your godfather so happy with her. The three of you had gone out for lunch several times and Athena had told you all about her children who you hoped you could meet soon.  

You had also been informed by Buck that if you were part of the team then you had to have a nickname, which you remembered causing groans and chuckles throughout the team. Most of the team had settled on a shorter version of your name, but Buck had decided that he needed something more interesting to call you as he claimed that they couldn’t have another boring nickname like Eddie. The day he decided on your nickname was the day you decided that you both wanted to kill him, and that he was almost certainly going to be your new best friend.

‘Cheesecake’ he had stated as he walked over to the group of firefighters sitting at the table in the fire house.

‘Excuse me?’,  you had responded confused as to why Buck had just shouted the name of your favourite food in the firehouse, whipping your head in his direction in case he did indeed have one with him. Unfortunately, he did not.

‘That’s what we should call, y/n!’ he had exclaimed, looking at the 118 as if they were stupid for not realising this earlier, they on the other hand only rolled their eyes and continued eating. Buck however was determined that this would now be your new nickname, even if he was the only one to call you it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before, he had discovered your love for the dessert when going through your fridge the day they had helped move your things and found that even though you didn’t have any basic food you had a cheesecake sitting in the fridge.

‘I do love cheesecake’ you muttered absentmindedly to no one in particular as your mind began formulating a plan to stop on the way home and grab one from the grocery store.

‘Do you like the name?’ buck asked, to which you thought for a few seconds before responding.

‘If you call me that Buck, I will kill you’, causing laughter to erupt from a few of the firefighters. Buck wasn’t disheartened by this either, instead he grinned and accepted the challenge of calling you cheesecake as much as he possibly could.

And this is what you had been thinking about, the 118, Bobby and Athena, Buck, cheesecakes and what your life might look like over the next year when the shaking started.

The engine rattled as you looked at Chim and Hen beside you and began to move across the firehouse as equipment flew around the room and things fell from the ceiling. It was going to be a very long day.

­______________________________________________________________

Thankfully the team had all come out from the earthquake unscathed, and you were now inside a hotel that had begun to fall during the earthquake. You and Hen were calling out for the young girl who was missing when the aftershock hit. You heard Bobby calling your names, but it was too late as you and Hen slipped into a pocket of rubble below you. Both screaming as the shock continued and more debris fell casing you in.

You slowly felt yourself coming too when the distant sound of Hen shouting for help started to get louder. Suddenly a sharp pain pierced your shoulder and you groaned before letting out a cry as the pain suddenly intensified. As you began to open your eyes you shifted your gaze to your shoulder to see the corner of a large piece of rubble stacked on top of it. Any closer and it would have crushed your neck. It was only now that Hen’s shouts registered and the groans of another person next to you. You moved slightly to see who it was, recognising the firefighter as Russ, a man you had only met about 20 minutes ago.

‘Hen!’, you shouted, ‘We’re over here’. You began to shimmy your shoulder out from under the block of rubble, hissing in pain every time you moved.

‘y/n!’, Hen replied as you heard her moving closer, ‘you okay?’

‘I’ll be fine’, managed in an almost grunt, ‘Russ needs your help though’. You began to feel dizzy as your consciousness faded in and out for what felt like only a second. The next thing you knew you heard Hen shouting Russ’ name.

‘Hen?’, you asked slowly, titling your head so you could see her face, this wasn’t a question you wanted to have to ask, ‘is he gone?’ The look on her face told you everything, you sighed and let your head touch the ground again. After a moment you spoke again;

‘I think I’m going to need your help now Hen, I managed to shimmy my shoulder out but I think its broken.’

Within a moment Hen was at your side, gently pressing your shoulder, eliciting a series of hisses to spring from your mouth.

‘Looks like a proximal humerus fracture’ she stated as she began to rummage around in Russ’ kit, ‘I can give you some morphine for the pain until we get out of here’ she began as she brought the needle to your arm. Before she could administer it though you suddenly pulled your arm away causing more pain in your shoulder.

‘No, no, you can’t’ you pleaded.

‘y/n you’re in a lot of pain’, Hen began confused by your sudden reaction, she continued, ‘this will help’.

‘I can’t go back to day one again.’ You began closing your eyes, not wating to see Hen’s face, ‘the day I met you I told you that when I was on a call before I moved here a bag of opioids was thrown into the air, that the whole team was high for hours after. Well, the reason the fire chief was so quick to do me a favour and transfer me here was because I’m an addict. I had been clean for over a year when it happened, he thought it would look bad on the department if I ever went public. I’m clean now and I have been for months but I can’t go through that again.’ At some point during your speech you had opened your eyes to look at Hen, but her face wasn’t the pity of disgust you were used to receiving when people found out about your addiction, she just smiled slightly and looked sympathetic.

‘Does Bobby know?’, her voice was gentle and understanding and made you tear up.

‘No, I know he’s an alcoholic, so he’d be able to be there for me but a part of me never wanted to tell him because I started using just before he left. I felt like the world was coming down around me. My parents had just died but I wasn’t very close with them, Bobby has always been my real dad. He was planning to move at the time and I knew if he found out about my addiction he’d stay. And this was his chance at a new life, and I didn’t want to ruin that. Now if I tell him, I’m worried he’ll blame himself for not seeing it and not staying.’

‘He loves you like a daughter’, Hen began, ‘You know that right? He sees himself as your dad and maybe he would feel a little guilty, but he cares about is you and he knows firsthand that addiction is an inner battle, he’d understand you.’

______________________________________________________________

After your heart to heart with Hen, together you had attempted to dig through the rubble but were having a hard time and eventually the two of you had sat together having almost given up. That was when you had found a small dog named Paisley who had led you both to Kat, the girl you had been searching for when the aftershock hit. It wasn’t long after that the two of you heard the sounds of a car being dragged close to where you were.

‘Okay, we’re nearly there now Kat’, you stated as the three of you and Paisley moved towards the noise that you already knew had to be your team. Loud scraping noises continued until a small beam of light broke through the darkness and you moved your way painfully towards it, you couldn’t wait until your arm was wrapped up in a sling and the piercing pain would dull. For a moment there was silence then Paisley started barking and ran towards the light, then you heard Buck shouting for you and Hen. A breath you didn’t know you had been holding escaped your lips as you and Hen made it to the opening they had created.

‘Hey fellas’ laughed Hen as you made your way to the light, being met with the faces of the 118 and other firefighters that neither of you recognised, ‘you’re going to need to help y/n’ she continued, ‘her shoulders fractured and after all the moving its probably gotten worse’.

Quickly Buck and Bobby who were coming towards you anyway helped you to get up from the rubble, the second you were standing on your feet Bobby wrapped his arms around you as gently as he could, kissing you on the top of the head and resting his chin on your head.

‘I’m okay’ you whispered into him, looking up to see his worried expression that shifted to your shoulder, ‘oh this is nothing, remember when I broke my leg and the bone was sticking out’, you watched as his face scrunched in a grimace, satisfied you continued ‘yeah that was worse’. Bobby let you go as he clearly continued to picture the time you had fallen of a slide in the park and your leg had been badly broken. Buck took this opportunity to grasp you in a hug that was frankly way too tight and causing your shoulder to pulse with pain, but you didn’t say anything, instead hugging him back just as tight before you began to walk out of the building with his arm around you guiding you outside.

______________________________________________________________

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting under one of the medical tents after Chim had checked your shoulder and you had told him about your addiction. That was a new record, telling two people in one day and now as Bobby made his way over too you, you knew you were about to make it a third.

As he sat down on the bench next to you, your head rested on his shoulder while you let out a deep breath. Without saying a word he held his hand out in front of you both which you quickly grasped, and you knew he was trying not to cry when the grip on your hand tightened.

‘I thought that I’d lost you today’ he spoke so softly that you almost didn’t hear him.

‘But you didn’t, because you didn’t stop searching for me and I kept searching for you’, you smiled up at his face which he matched.

‘I love you sweetheart’ he stated as he placed another kiss to the top of your head. You felt so loved when you were with Bobby, your dad hadn’t been an evil man or cruel he had just been absent like your mother. Bobby had always been your godfather in name but in every way that it counted he was your dad. Every school concert or sports event he was there for, and now he had your back every day at work even when a building collapsed on you, he was there.

‘I love you too, so much.’ His arm wrapped around your back pulling you into him.

‘There’s something I should tell you’, you began, and a worried expression fell on his face, so you swiftly continued, ‘no its fine my shoulder’s fine, well not fine but it’s not awful. I…’ and so you told him everything, that you were scared to tell him because you didn’t want him to blame himself. You told him that when your parents died you felt like you weren’t mourning them but the loss of what could have been. You told him specifics you hadn’t told anyone, how you had felt, where you used to get high and you didn’t stop until there wasn’t a detail he didn’t know, and even though you felt sick with anxiety, this felt like the most normal thing in the world. You felt like a little girl again, sitting with Bobby telling him every detail of your day and him not judging a word you said. You felt safe. You were home with him.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED FOR VESTAL MAGAZINE.

REFLECTING ON YOUR JOURNEY IN THE ACTING INDUSTRY, DO YOU REMEMBER THE MOMENT YOU REALIZED YOU REALIZED YOU WANTED TO PURSUE ACTING?

"The moment I realized I wanted to pursue acting was probably when I was around 12 years old, in high school."

"I was performing in a production of Shakespeare's Macbeth at the Royal Exchange in Manchester."

"I saw older actors and wondered what their "proper" jobs were outside of the theater."

'When I asked one of them, they said': — "No, this is my proper job. This is what I do."

"I didn’t know people could do that."

"From that moment on, I knew that this is what I wanted to do as a career."

YOU'VE DONE MULTIPLE SHOWS AND MOVIES IN THE DRAMATIC GENRE. WOULD YOU EVER BE OPEN TO DOING OTHER GENRES?

"Absolutely, I'd love to explore new genres in the future."

"I'd love to give comedy a go."

"I think that would be a good challenge."

"It’s difficult because timing is crucial delivering a joke at the right time can feel almost mathematical."

"But I think that good comedy actors don't see it that way at all."

"It just comes naturally to them."

"I'd love to give it a shot."

"I'm also interested in doing biopics, bringing real-life stories to life."

"Chet Baker and Gene Kelly, in particular, would be fascinating characters to portray."

"But I'm open to any interesting projects that come my way."

HOW DO YOU CHOOSE THE ROLES YOU TAKE ON? ARE YOU DRAWN TO A PARTICULAR TYPE OF CHARACTER OR STORY?

"Honestly, I'm drawn to anything that makes me feel uncomfortable and pushes me out of my comfort zone."

"I seek out roles where the character feels distant and challenging."

"I like to test myself and see if I can bring such characters to life."

"If a role feels like something I might struggle with, that's exactly what I want to tackle."

"I often joke that these challenging roles might be my downfall someday." [laughs]

CAN YOU SHARE ANY INSIGHTS INTO HOW YOUR CHARACTER, AEGON II TARGARYEN, ENVOLVES IN THE UPCOMING SEASON?

"I found it fascinating to delve deeper into Aegon this season because there's so much more to uncover about him."

"In the first season, we saw quite a two-dimensional view of Aegon—not due to Ty Tennant's portrayal, which I thought was fantastic, bringing a lot of vulnerability and teenage angst to the character."

"When I took over, the time frame was too short to really explore Aegon's complexities."

"This time, I've had an extended period to sit with the character and dig into his deeper layers."

"Playing a character experiencing profound grief is always a challenge."

"I'm lucky enough that I've never gone through anything like that myself, so I had to imagine it as vividly as possible."

"This season, Aegon is shown as more of an empath than a psychopath."

"It becomes clear that he has the capacity to love, feel, and grieve."

"There are so many comparisons between Aegon and Richard II."

"People are saying Aegon is cold, calculated, and evil, and while he's certainly done horrible things—I'm not justifying any of those—it's important to note that, rather than being a straightforward villain, he's a crumbling tragedy."

HOW HAS YOUR APPROACH TO PORTRAYING AEGON II CHANGED FROM THE PREVIOUS SEASON TO THE NEW ONE?

"There’s definitely a continuation of the drama and theatricality from season one."

"It's huge, rousing, and intense."

"I've seen episodes one to four, and they are just unbelievable, especially the battle scenes — you can't get any bigger than that."

"This season, though, there’s also an element of humor."

"At some point, they called Aegon 'the Magnanimous,' and it was important to bring some levity to his character."

"Aegon has just stepped into the role of King and is trying to figure it all out."

"We're at a point where he’s found a spring in his step, enjoying this new responsibility and purpose."

"He’s also got a lot of power now."

"Power can go to people's heads and make them crazy."

"It was nice to explore his boyishness and playfulness, as it gives his character more depth and leaves room for growth."

WHAT WOULD YOU TELL PEOPLE TO GET THEM ON TEAM GREEN?

"I don’t think I need to persuade them—obviously, we’re the best."

"But if you really want to see why, this season is packed with surprises that will make it clear."

SINCE THE SHOW IS BASED ORIGINALLY ON BOOKS, IS THERE A SPECIFIC BOOK YOU'D LIKE TO SEE BROUGHT TO THE SCREEN AND FOR YOU TO BE A PART OF?

"I'd love to see a film adaptation of Douglas Stuart's book Shuggie Bain."

"Another great choice would be The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell."

"It’s a collection of beautiful and heart-wrenching short stories, and each one could make a compelling film."

"Looking at my bookshelf now, I see a lot of books on Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and Paul McCartney—mostly singer-songwriters."

"I also have a lot of poetry. I'd love to see a biopic of Patti Smith."

"That would be incredible."

YOUR CAREER HAS TAKEN YOU TO VARIOUS FILMING LOCATIONS AROUND THE WORLD. IS THERE A SPECIFIC LOCATION YOU HAVEN'T BEEN TO YET AND WOULD LOVE TO BE THE BACKDROP FOR A POTENTIAL FUTURE PROYECT?

"Oh, that's a good question."

"I think somewhere that’s a hybrid between beautiful rolling countryside and the coast."

"A place that offers both stunning landscapes and the sea."

"On your days off, you could go for a swim or hike through the mountains."

"I’d love to work in a scenic and peaceful location like that."

SOMETIMES, ACTORS WHO PLAY 'VILLAINS' CAN GET AN ADVERSE REACTION FROM SOME FANS OF A SHOW. WHAT HAVE YOUR INTERACTIONS BEEN LIKE?

"I've been very lucky."

"Many people have approached me with kind words about my portrayal of Aegon."

"It's a challenging task to humanize someone so seemingly poisonous."

"Fortunately, I haven't had negative encounters with fans who can't differentiate between the character and the actor."

"I think we're in a different phase in society now."

"When Jack Gleeson played Joffrey, there was less social media presence, making it harder for audiences to separate the actor from the character."

"Today I think we are a more technologically advanced community, with more behind-the-scenes and a better understanding of the distinction between actor and character."

"I think people have copped on. I hope that's the case, anyway."

YOU'VE COLLABORATED WITH RENOWNED DIRECTORS LIKE CHRISTOPHER NOLAN. WHAT HAVE YOU LEARNED FROM THESE EXPERIENCES?

"Doing Dunkirk was my first significant experience on a film set."

"I really didn't know where to start."

"The canvas was completely blank."

"And it was just such a gift, a pinch me moment that I was able to learn from some of, if not the best filmmaker in the world."

"It was overwhelming."

"And I had to remind myself to be present and soak in everything like a sponge."

"Chris's patience and the support from the rest of the cast were invaluable throughout."

"We were all in it together, especially us young lads who were new to such a big production."

"We learned and grew together during that incredible experience."

IN THE KING, YOU PORTRAYED A HISTORICAL FIGURE. HOW DID YOU APPROACH BRINGING THIS CHARACTER TO LIFE?

"When portraying a fictional character, there's often more freedom because there's no definitive blueprint to follow—even if they're written in a book, they're still fictional."

"You can infuse your own understanding and personality into the role."

"However, there’s added pressure when it comes to a historical figure because you're portraying someone real."

"I never let that pressure overwhelm or hinder the process."

"Instead, I took the character as presented and focused on doing my best with the role."

A NEW HUNGER GAMES MOVIE WAS JUST ANNOUNCED, SPECIFICALLY A PREQUEL FOCUSING ON HAYMITCH'S STORY, AND MANY FANS ARE EAGER TO SEE YOU IN THAT ROLE. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THAT?

"No way, that’s the first I’ve heard of it! But I'm incredibly flattered that people would like to see me on screen again."

"If all goes well, I'll fight for my life in the Hunger Games!" [laugh]

WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR FAVORITE SHOWS DURING YOUR DOWNTIME?

"One show I watch repeatedly, and it never gets old for me, is the UK version of The Office."

"The humor is very relatable and comforting to me."

"I even laugh just thinking about it. It's one of those TV shows when it finishes, you're like: — “Oh no! What do I do with my life? I miss the characters already.” [laugh]

"I also enjoy the US version of The Office."

"Besides that, I'm fascinated by farming documentaries."

"Shows like This Farming Life on BBC are incredibly calming for me."

"And I have to mention The Great Pottery Throwdown — I'm a bit of a pottery nerd, and that show is brilliant!

WHO ARE SOME CREATIVES YOU WOULD LOVE TO WORK WITH IN THE FUTURE?

"The list is long."

"Firstly, there are directors I'd love to collaborate with again, like Chris Nolan and Sam Mendes, with whom I've had some of my best experiences and whom I consider friends."

"I'm eager to work with them again."

"Then there are filmmakers like Andrea Arnold, Yorgos Lanthimos, Greta Gerwig, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Ruben Ostlund, all of whom I admire and would love to collaborate with."

"When it comes to actors, there are many I admire as well."

"I plan to work with individuals who challenge me, from whom I can learn, and who are dedicated to their craft."

"I appreciate those who find joy and humor in their work because life is short, and it’s important to enjoy what you do."

LASTLY, WHERE DO YOU HOPE YOUR CAREER WILL HEAD INTO THE FUTURE?

"It’s more of a feeling than a checklist of achievements that I aim for."

"I understand that feeling because I can almost sense it in advance."

"It’s difficult to articulate—it’s a mix of happiness, creative fulfillment, diversity in roles, consistent challenge, and pushing boundaries."

"I aspire to transform and lose myself in characters."

"Equally important to me is collaborating with inspiring individuals whom I can learn from and grow with."

"I also value the freedom to select projects that resonate with me personally."

[writeforfandoms]

Listening In 4

Find the series masterlist

Well, here we are. The end of this little series. This took me a lot longer to finish than I originally planned, and I apologize for that. I hope the tooth rotting fluff makes up for it.

Warnings: Fluff, cavity inducing sweetness, Feels, idiots in love, piv sex, dirty talk, and they lived happily ever after.

Word count: 4.6k

Soap and Ghost made it back to the 141 safely, and Price congratulated them on a job well done. 

Life moved on. There was always another op. 

But Soap kept thinking back to that op. To their little waitress. 

And she most certainly was theirs, now. Just thinking about the way she'd whimpered under him was enough to get Soap riled up. 

Soap texted her as often as he could, which was almost daily. Ghost, he knew, didn't text nearly as much. 

But when he did… well. When Ghost wanted to, he was a right bastard. 

Like the time he sent their waitress an audio recording of the two of them. That was well worth it. 

Of course, it wasn't just audio recordings and the occasional video call. 

Soap managed to detour to see their waitress for half a day on the way back from an op. Ghost, lucky bastard, had an entirely accidental two day layover, most of which was spent in her bed. And that wasn't all of it - the two found themselves stopping by to see her as often as possible. 

It wasn't until Soap and Ghost had leave together and arranged to go see her again for a whole week that either of them thought more of it. 

"Hey, Si?" 

Simon grunted, cracking open one eye above his plain medical mask. That was the more plane-friendly look. 

"Think we're a bit looney." 

Simon barked a laugh, closing his eyes again. "Just now figuring that out?" He drawled, amused. 

Johnny huffed with quiet laughter. "Maybe," he admitted. Simon's lack of distress helped put him at ease, though. 

Soon, they'd be off the plane. And then they could surprise their pretty little waitress. 

They had a lot of ideas they wanted to try out, after all. 

–

You'd had an awful day. An opening shift rife with assholes and a few too many pinches. You were tired, achey, aggravated. 

Honestly, you wanted to go home and cry and ignore the rest of the world for a while.

So when your phone rang, you almost ignored it without even checking it. Almost. 

“Johnny?” you scrambled to answer it as soon as you saw who was calling. “What’s up?” 

“Got a bit of a surprise for ye, gorgeous.” Johnny sounded far too pleased. 

“Yeah?” You dodged an idiot who wasn’t watching where he was going, huffing softly. “And what’s that?” 

“You at home?”

You didn’t quite startle at the question, but you did pause. “Not yet,” you said slowly. “Heading there, though. What did you do?” 

Johnny laughed. “So little faith! It’s a good thing, promise.”

You shook your head. “Alright, if you say so. Do I need to check my mailbox or something?”

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “Ye’ll see soon, promise.”

You sighed but gave up. “Alright, sure. I need to go, it’s crowded out here today.”

“Okay. Get home safe.” Johnny paused there for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. 

“Will do,” you agreed and hung up. A little abrupt, maybe, but you were tired. You didn’t have your normal energy for his silliness.

The walk home was too loud and too crowded, with people jostling into you. You were so tired and so done you wanted to cry by the time you finally got into the elevator. 

The elevator opened onto your floor and you got three trudging steps off before you halted. 

Johnny and Simon stood outside your door, facing you. Johnny was grinning, bright and a little mischievous. 

You didn't let them say anything. You just walked straight into Johnny, winding your arms around him and hiding your face against his chest. 

"Hey, gorgeous," Johnny cooed, one big hand rubbing your back soothingly. "Happy to see us?" 

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "Also fucking tired." 

"Long day?" His voice softened with sympathy. 

Your laugh was dry and a little too close to tears. "Could say that." 

Johnny hummed in wordless concern, holding you closer and pressing his cheek to the top of your head. "Poor gorgeous," he murmured. "C'mon, let's head inside, aye?" 

You breathed in deep and let go of him, grabbing your keys. Simon plucked them from you, and you blinked. But moments later you were all inside. 

Simon guided you to the couch and pushed you down to sit. You blinked at him, startled. He just motioned you to wait while he brought water. 

"What's goin' on?" Johnny dropped down next to you, pulling you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. 

You blew out a breath, shoulders dropping. "Just life stuff," you dismissed, or tried to. "Nothing like your shit." They'd told you some, a little, mostly that they were military and had unpredictable schedules. You didn't blame them, not at all, and it explained the odd absences. 

"Tell us anyway." Johnny gave you a gentle little shake, eyes warm and focused on you. 

Simon dropped down on your other side, setting water on the table in front of you, leaving you nowhere to run. Of course. These two were practiced, moving in an easy tandem in and out of the bedroom. Which they often used against you. Like right now. 

You huffed, half exasperated and half amused. "Just. Work sucked today. Few too many shitty people." 

"And?" Simon drawled, knowing that wasn't the end of it. You'd ranted to him about work and handsy guys before. 

"And my rent is going up," you finally admitted on a sigh. "It's just enough that I'm thinking of moving or downgrading." 

Johnny hummed soft sympathy, pulling you closer. "Job hunt hasn't turned up anything?" 

"Not yet." You made a face. "It's just frustrating, that's all. I'll get through it."

"We'll come back to that." Johnny pressed a kiss to the side of your head, easy and affectionate as ever. "What's yer schedule, gorgeous?" 

You blinked, thrown off a bit by the question. "Tomorrow I'm off, the next two days I have closing shifts, then two mid shifts, then two more days off," you said after a moment of thought. "Not sure beyond that. Why?"

"Well, we've got a week," Johnny said, grinning at you. "Was hopin' to spend a good bit of that with ye." 

"You… are far too sweet." You smiled, relaxing between the two of them. "Next you're gonna say you've got a better idea about my job and apartment situation."

Silence. Damning silence. You turned slowly to look at Johnny, who was busy looking anywhere but you. Simon scoffed softly. 

"You'd think he'd have learned to lie by now," Simon added conversationally, one big hand landing on your thigh. 

"Ah can lie!" Johnny immediately defended himself. "Just. Not to. Well. The two o' ye."

Your heart swelled at being so blatantly lumped in with Simon, your shock plain to see. Oh, sure, you knew these two liked you - they kept visiting you, after all. 

But this was something totally different. 

"Nope," you decided. "We are tabling that because I cannot be a rational person right now." 

Simon leaned closer to your back, his bulk bleeding warmth into the scant space between you. "Don't be rational, then," he murmured. "What're you thinking, dove?"

"Very non-feminist thoughts," you drawled, shivering briefly as Simon pressed even closer. 

"Tell us." Simon scooted forward, slowly but inexorably pressing you closer to Johnny, who looked more than willing. 

You groaned softly. Simon had a way of getting you to admit to things you wouldn't otherwise, something you both loved and hated. "Really?"

"Be a good girl for me." He was so close now you could feel his mask just brush the shell of your ear. 

"Not fair," you complained weakly, swallowing hard. But Simon squeezed your thigh and you folded. "I was thinking I'd let you both whisk me away anywhere you wanted." You ducked your head to hide in Johnny's chest, flustered. 

"There's our sweet girl," Johnny cooed, immediately pulling you closer, until you were sort of situated on his lap. 

"We'll discuss that tomorrow," Simon murmured, pressing in against your back again until you were sandwiched in warmth. "We have time." 

You huffed but didn't object, just relaxing between them. You were warm, you were tired, and they were very comforting. Honestly, you were tempted to just sleep between them. 

"Have you eaten yet?" Simon asked, thumb rubbing your thigh slowly. 

"No," you admitted, grumpy because you knew that meant he'd move. 

Simon huffed a little laugh. At your attitude, undoubtedly. "We'll take care of dinner," he assured you. "You want anything in particular?"

"Don't really care," you admitted, covering his hand with yours to link your fingers through his. 

"Don't fall asleep on us yet, gorgeous," Johnny huffed with amusement. 

"Shut up," you grumbled, nestling in closer and relaxing. "Comfortable." 

They both laughed quietly, but neither of them moved, letting you soak in the comfort you so needed. 

If they kept this up, you'd do anything for them. 

Finally, you released them both and squirmed away, because otherwise you really would fall asleep. And that would be bad. 

Simon took charge of dinner, as promised, and you didn't have to do a thing. Johnny "helped" you change into more comfortable clothes (here meaning he shamelessly ogled you and got a little hands-on but you didn't let him totally derail you). 

Simon even folded his mask up just over his nose to eat with you and Johnny, which was still new enough to be thrilling, even though it wasn't the first time. 

It was very comfortable, being so domestic with them. It really was strange - you hadn't known them long, not in the overall scheme of things, but you were so comfortable with them. 

Sometimes you wondered about impossible things. Dinners at dining tables and breakfasts in bed and exhausting yourself with the two of them. 

"Gorgeous?" Johnny touched your hand, frowning a little. 

You blinked rapidly and looked at him. "Hm?"

"Where'd ye go?" He gently closed his fingers over your hand, ducking his head a little to hold your gaze. 

You smiled and shook your head. "Just thinking. Sorry. Been a long day." 

The two exchanged a quick look, a world of communication in that one look. It almost made you ache to think about how long they'd been together, to have such wordless communication. 

"Do ye want us here tonight?" Johnny asked, squeezing your hand gently. "Or should we go back to our hotel?"

"Stay." Your heart lurched. You'd blurted that out too fast, too earnest. Revealed too much. 

But Johnny just grinned, like he'd been hoping for that. Even Simon quirked a half smile. 

"Good!" Johnny leaned close to smack an intentionally loud kiss to your cheek, just to make you laugh. "Wanna watch a movie?"

And back you settled into the simple domestic bliss, letting them squish you between them on your couch, laughing at their antics, comforted by their warmth. Neither one made a move for more, both accepting easy kisses from you. 

It didn't occur to you until you were settled in bed between them, Johnny already clinging to your front while Simon curled like a shield between your back and the rest of the world, that you'd do anything to keep this. 

Simon was already up when you woke, Johnny taking a well-deserved lie-in with you. Breakfast was easy, relaxed. 

But you remembered the promise to talk about your current situation today. Honestly, you'd rather get it over with sooner than later, or your anxiety would be out of control. 

"So," you started as you washed the dishes. Johnny was drying while Simon put everything away. (And the fact that he knew without having to ask inspired feelings that you tucked away to be examined later.) "Sounded like you two had a plan for dealing with my woes." 

Johnny snorted. "Something like that," he agreed. 

"Had an idea," Simon corrected without looking at either of you. 

"Alright, let's hear it." You glanced at them both, undeniably curious. 

Johnny breathed in slowly. "Well," he started slowly. "Was thinkin' we could help ye find a place. Closer to us. If ye wanted." 

"Closer to you?" You looked between the two, the dish in your hands all but forgotten. "Like, England?" 

"If you want." Simon spoke quietly, finally looking at you, gaze assessing. 

You nodded slowly, letting the idea sit as you scrubbed at a pan. That would be a big move for you. Very different. You didn't even know if you'd be able to find a job there, or how you'd find a job. How expensive would it be to move? 

Although, really, considering how you felt about these two… maybe it was time to have another talk, too. 

"I have questions first." 

"'Course," Johnny murmured, his foot nudging into yours as he looked at you earnestly. 

You licked your lips, debating how to proceed. Because, really, you were pretty sure you could figure out the rest of it, depending on one factor. 

"Why?" You handed off the pan to Johnny and grabbed an extra towel to dry your hands. "Is this just, like, a convenience thing for you two? Or is this something more?" 

Johnny blew out a breath. "Cut right to the heart of things," he muttered, a little wry. "It's not for convenience." 

You didn't move, still watching him, towel held tightly in your hands, all but forgotten. "Johnny, please." 

Johnny dropped his head for a moment before glancing at Simon. Simon shook his head a little, just once. Johnny swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and then nodded. 

"Truth is, gorgeous, we wanna see ye more. All the time, if we could. We like ye. More'n we should, prob'ly. And…"

You breathed in slowly, leaning closer to him. "Johnny."

He blinked at you, setting the pan down.

"You're absolutely daft if you think I'd have let you both keep coming back if I didn't care for you deeply already." You quirked a little smile, the words coming easier now that you'd seen him near fumbling his own words. 

Johnny blinked and slowly lit up, stepping right into your space. "Yeah?"

"Yes," you confirmed, amused. "Honestly. Simon knew, didn't you?" 

But when you looked at him, Simon simply looked away. 

You blinked, flabbergasted, jaw dropping. And then you started laughing, completely unable to stop yourself. At the near-twin disgruntled looks, you flapped a hand, trying to stifle your laughter long enough to explain. 

"I've been completely gone on you two for months," you managed. "And none of us was smart enough to know it." You promptly devolved again, hand over your mouth. 

They both froze completely, going quite still. Then Johnny grabbed you with a laugh, yanking your hands away from your face to kiss you thoroughly. No sooner had he released you than Simon grabbed you, mask pulled up so he could kiss the breath out of you. 

Panting, you finally pulled away from him too, looking at the both of them as the enormity of what you'd said and how they'd reacted hit you. 

Clearly you weren't the only one attached here. 

You curled a hand into Simon's shirt, your free hand taking Johnny's wrist as you towed them both to the couch. (Only because they let you but you'd take it.) 

"Tell me more about your idea." You pushed Simon down to sit on the couch and settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Johnny pressed up against your back, hands at your hips. 

"We'd help ye find a job," Johnny murmured into your ear, squeezing your hips. "Get ye all settled." 

"Doesn't have to be a flat," Simon rumbled, hands big and warm on your sides, thumbs rubbing the skin just under your breasts. 

"Could do a house," Johnny agreed immediately, nipping the shell of your ear. "Big enough for the three of us." 

You sucked in a breath, biting your lip. Oh now that was temptation. "Somewhere to stay during your time off?" You rolled your hips down into Simon's lap and grinned when his grip immediately tightened on you. 

"And someone to come home to." Johnny bit your neck gently, humming in satisfaction at your little noise. 

"Fuck." You rolled your hips again, biting your lip. "If you're not serious about this–"

"We are." Simon bumped his hips up into yours, letting you feel the growing hardness there. "Very serious." 

"Give us the word, and we'll do it." Johnny nipped down your neck to your shoulder, hands still on your hips moving you to a slow, steady rhythm against Simon. 

You shuddered, grinding down harder. "Let's do it," you agreed, a little breathless. "Please." 

Johnny groaned softly and pressed you down harder into Simon, biting down gently on the back of your shoulder. Simon rucked your sleep shirt up and quickly pulled it off, his hands settling against your skin. 

Any other time, you might tease them about how fast clothes vanished, but right now? You didn’t say a word. Partially because Johnny had tipped your head back to kiss you while Simon took over guiding your hips against his, the feeling more intense now without barriers between you two. 

“Johnny,” Simon grunted, fingers tightening. 

Johnny hummed into the kiss before he pulled back, eyes already gone dark with desire. “Mm?” 

“Duffel bag,” was all Simon said, but Johnny seemed to understand, because he disentangled himself and stepped away. 

“Really?” you half-whined, pouting at Simon. You’d been enjoying being between the two of them, dammit. 

Simon had the gall to chuckle at you, one hand cupping your cheek and bringing you closer. “Just getting some supplies,” he murmured, soft and soothing. “Won’t take him a minute, dove.” 

He was proven right by Johnny coming up behind you again, pressing his front to your back and dropping a condom into Simon’s hand. You warmed and ducked your head, a little embarrassed you’d forgotten about that. 

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Johnny cooed in your ear, arms wrapping tight around your waist and pulling you back into his warmth. And subsequently giving Simon the space he needed to put on the condom. “Gonna let me fuck ye after, gorgeous?”

“You want to?” You didn’t look away from Simon, though, watching his hands settle on your thighs. 

“Oh, aye,” Johnny agreed, low and rough. “Very much.” 

You hummed softly, running your fingers over his arm still around your waist. “After, then.” 

Johnny nipped the back of your shoulder and moved the two of you forward, guiding your hips up. Simon simply watched, one big hand on your thigh. 

“Ready for me, dove?” Simon watched you closely, fingers rubbing against your skin. 

“More than.” You started to sink down slowly, only for Johnny to tsk and guide you, controlling the pace. You swallowed hard, not entirely sure why that was so exciting… but it very much was. 

“Look at you, gorgeous,” Johnny murmured once you were settled fully against Simon’s lap, hands clenched on his shoulders. “So pretty for us.” 

You huffed softly at him, wiggling a little, getting used to the stretch of Simon in you. His hands smoothed up your sides to your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your nipples. 

When you moved, Johnny quickly took control again, hands moving you to a rhythm he liked. Simon seemed content to let Johnny move you, head tilted back against the couch as he watched you with dark eyes, still gently teasing you. Heat built between the three of you, and you tipped your head back onto Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Johnny…” You whined, just a little, trying to move faster. Johnny didn’t allow you.

“Hm? Somethin’ ye want, gorgeous?” he teased, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. 

“More? Please?” Your breath caught in your throat when he bit down gently, hands tightening on you.

“What d’ye think, Si?” Johnny asked, low and teasing. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, hips finally stuttering up into yours, “if you don’t, I will. And I’ll keep her.”

Johnny laughed quietly but moved you faster, until you were gasping and shivering between the two. Your hands roamed restlessly over Simon, trying to make him feel as good as you felt. Your thighs trembled, back arching. 

A second set of hands joined Johnny’s at your hips, their fingers intertwining, before Simon tightened his grip and held you still. You lifted your head, confused, only for him to lift his hips up into you instead. Your lips parted, jaw dropping, eyes going hazy with pleasure. 

“C’mon, gorgeous,” Johnny goaded softly in your ear. “Make a mess of him for me.” 

A few more hard thrusts from Simon and you did just that, whimpering through the rolling pleasure of your orgasm. 

Simon didn’t even slow down, fingers tight on your hips, chasing his own pleasure now. Your overstimulated whines only spurred him on until you leaned forward, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

And bit down. 

He swore as he came, hips stuttering, grip almost punishingly tight. He finally stilled against you, grip slowly relaxing. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Johnny murmured, carefully moving one hand to rub a hand up and down your back. “Both of ye.” 

You huffed against Simon’s neck, an action he mirrored. You grinned, amused, and relaxed between the two for the moment. 

“Still alright, gorgeous?” Johnny asked after a few moments, hand lingering at the nape of your neck.

“Haven’t forgotten you,” you assured him, sitting up again, despite the way your legs shook. “How do you…?” 

Simon hummed softly, moving slowly to give you time to move with him. He situated himself longways on the couch, your knees on either side of him, one of his legs on the floor to make more room. 

“I’ve got you, dove,” he murmured, taking hold of your hands and linking your fingers together. The couch dipped behind you as Johnny moved too, giving your back one more soothing stroke before there was a rip of foil. 

“Could get used to this,” Johnny murmured, only half-teasing, pressing against your back. “Quite a view from here.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get to see more like it,” you agreed. “After we figure out the move.” 

Johnny groaned softly at the reminder. “Fuckin’ temptress, you are,” he muttered, one hand on your hip holding you steady as he slid into you. He wasn’t quite the same stretch as Simon, but he still felt divine. 

He didn’t give you slow, though. He started moving hard, startling a little yelp out of you. 

“Easy, dove,” Simon murmured, sweet in contrast to Johnny. “Hold on to me, yeah?” 

You could do nothing but obey, holding tight to Simon’s hands even as Johnny slid one hand up to your back to the nape of your neck, gently pushing you down until your chest pressed to Simon’s. 

“Doin’ so well, dove,” Simon rumbled, squeezing your hands gently. “He feel good?” 

“Yes,” you managed on a gasp, as Johnny drove harder into you, hitting somehow deeper. “Fuck!” 

Johnny groaned, hand squeezing your nape. “Beautiful,” he muttered again, almost worshipful. “What d’ye need, gorgeous?” 

You nearly choked when Johnny did something that hit a spot that sent sparks all through you. And then he hit it again. And again. Until you needed Simon’s support, moving as best you could with Johnny, making too many noises. Johnny was little better behind you, swearing softly but vehemently. 

“Close, dove?” Simon asked, eyes bright as he watched you. “Need a little more, hm?” He released one hand, sliding it down between the two of you. Two gentle fingers circled your clit and you whined, shaking. “Good fucking girl.” 

You were gone. That was all it took. You shook apart between the two of them, briefly unaware of anything beyond the burning, rolling pleasure. 

You slumped fully against Simon, panting, shivering still. Johnny followed close behind you, muffling his whines against the back of your shoulder, hips pressed flush to yours. He didn’t back off when he was done, staying pressed against you so the three of you were a sweaty heap. 

“Up, Johnny,” Simon finally ordered, both hands now soothing up and down your sides. 

Johnny groaned theatrically but got up, pressing one last kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“Think you can get up?” Simon asked softly. “Or do you need a minute longer?” 

You puffed out your cheeks. “Let’s find out.” You stood carefully, letting him hold one of your hands to help keep you steady. Your knees wobbled but held, at least long enough to get you to the bathroom. 

Simon herded you back to bed, where water waited for all three of you, a laptop already set up with a movie. You smiled, both touched and amused at his thoughtfulness. 

“I vote we do nothing the rest of the day,” you muttered, crawling into bed. 

“Nothing?” Johnny asked, moving over you to box you between himself and Simon. “At all?” He pouted at you, over the top. 

“Well, maybe a little something,” you gave in with an easy grin, cuddling between the two of them. “After we’ve rehydrated a bit.”

“Smart woman.” Simon settled against you, relaxed. “We’ve still got days, dove.” 

The reminder made you smile, an entirely different kind of warmth bubbling away in your chest. “Yes, we do.” 

–

Johnny stood at the end of the terminal, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. Next to him, Simon was still as stone, gaze fixed on the steady flow of people coming out of the terminal. 

Johnny checked his phone again, unable to help himself. It had been two whole minutes since he'd last checked. Still no new update from you. 

Not that he was entirely surprised. You'd had a long flight, had to gather your things. 

Well. Some of your things. The rest were being shipped, something Simon had arranged and paid for over your half-hearted protests. 

Finally, finally, he spotted you walking towards them. You were clearly tired, dressed down, looking a little limp. 

And you were still one of the lost gorgeous things he'd ever seen. 

Johnny pounced as soon as you were past the last gate, picking you up in his arms and swinging you around in a hug. You yelped and laughed, clinging to him just as hard. 

"Hi," you said, a little breathless, grinning up at him. 

"Hi yerself." Johnny finally set you back on your feet, though he didn't release you yet. 

"Flight alright?" Simon asked, putting a gentle hand against your back. 

"Long and boring." You shrugged, poking Johnny until he released you so you could turn to hug Simon instead. Johnny's heart melted at the sight of you wrapped up in Simon's arms.

"You're home now," Simon murmured, almost too quiet for even Johnny to catch. 

Johnny did melt at that, throwing himself into the hug and making you laugh, a little watery. 

"Almost," you murmured, squeezing both of them. "Come on, I'm eager to get out of here. I didn't sleep a wink." 

That was all it took for Johnny to take your backpack, Simon taking charge of your luggage, both ignoring your spluttering protests with aplomb. They loaded up the car (Simon's) and Johnny let you have the front seat. 

The house they'd chosen was out of the way, at the end of a quiet neighborhood, with plenty of garden space. 

And a huge master bedroom. 

Simon parked, and you blinked awake again. Johnny had to resist the urge to cook at how cute you looked. He hopped out first and opened your door for you, eager to bring you inside. Simon brought your things in, letting Johnny unlock the door and usher you in. 

Johnny watched with an overfull heart as you turned a slow circle, eyes huge as you looked around. 

"Welcome home, sweetheart." Simon and Johnny squished you between them, trading off kissing you. 

They had all the time in the world now.

[conundrumoftime]

Fandom grandma tales: how I survived canon ruining two of the ships I liked.

(Written after a discussion with some of my TROP fan pals about how canon can break your heart re: shipping, and how fandom manages. There are spoilers here for the entire run of Babylon 5, and for one story JMS wrote after it. yes, that story. sorry.)

Babylon 5 was a sci-fi space opera show that ran from 1993 to 1998. It is sci-fi of the era of 22-episode seasons, of huge ensemble casts with characters who get their own B- and C-plots, with an effects and casting budget that doesn’t always match its ambition, and - something it was quite pioneering in, at the time - grand pre-planned story arcs. 

It’s the first fandom that I was involved with in internet spaces as it was running, or at least when its final season was (there’s Discourse and drama from earlier years that I missed). Its showrunner, J. Michael Straczynski - ‘JMS’ - was very active in (non-fanfic) fan community spaces, and you always knew exactly what he was thinking about things because he was part of the discussion around them. There was also fanfic, which he didn’t stop but didn’t go near on the grounds of legal liability for story ideas. 

Most of the fanfic in the early days as the show was airing was focused around two big ships, of which one was canon endgame (Delenn/Sheridan) and one was canon all-ends-in-despair (Marcus/Ivanova). I, as a teenager discovering a developing online fandom for the first time with all the overwhelm and excitement that causes (ask me anything about what reading fic was like before the days of tags/ratings/warnings!) got into Marcus/Ivanova and also into one of the minor ships, Delenn/Lennier.

Delenn/Lennier was never, ever going to happen in canon. This is obvious; it clashes with Delenn/Sheridan which was JMS’s baby darling OTP, the show’s big love story. Delenn is married for the later part of the show. Lennier is her diplomatic aide, is absolutely devoted to her, and they have a very intense mentor/student relationship, which it seems is kind of standard in their culture (when Delenn’s own mentor died she went briefly insane with grief and started a genocidal war over it) but is still Very Intense. He is canonically in love with her, but that’s as far as the explicit canon statements go.

However. HowEVER. Canon also gives us, for that relationship, some wonderful ship fuel. Lennier knows about every bad thing Delenn has done, including all the stuff she doesn’t/can’t tell her husband. He’s her link to her previous world and culture and stands by her even when they kick her out. She says at one point, “without him, I would stumble and fall and never get up again.” 

And then… we had Season 5, the final season.

Season 5, for various complicated production reasons, was operating a little outside of pre-planned story arcs and in this season the Delenn/Lennier stuff ramped up about three gears in one go. It was still very obviously never, ever going to be canon, and was almost certainly not intended by the creator (who wrote most of the episodes himself) to look like there was even anything there. At this point Delenn is married; any relationship with her aide would not only be going against the show’s OTP, but going against it in the sense where she’s cheating on her husband, and there is Just No Way JMS would have gone there. And yet! Season 5 gave us:

A scene where Lennier says he can’t stay, it’s too painful to be around her now she’s married, and she’s devastated and has the following conversation with her husband about it:

S: I got your message about Lennier. Is there anything I can do?

D [snapping]: Almost certainly not.

S: Is it because of me?

D: In part, I think so.

S: Yeah, I was afraid of that. Well, as we say back on Earth, three’s a crowd.

D: On Minbar, three is sacred.

S [slightly uncomfortable laugh]: Well, I don’t think I’m ready to handle that one, Delenn.

Delenn then calling Lennier back to the station to do some secret mission thing for her, which involves her sneaking out of her bed while her husband sleeps to meet Lennier in a darkened alley behind a bar, where she tenderly strokes his face and they have a whole conversation about whether her husband understands her or not.

A scene where Lennier comes back from his secret mission to meet both Delenn and Sheridan, Delenn goes to greet him with a hug, and Lennier does this very pointed step back and nod in the direction of her husband, and she pulls back and just sort of pats him on the arms instead. 

I MEAN.

But, the issue here is not what fans did about it but what canon did about it. Canon did the canon equivalent of dragging that ship outside and shooting it in the head. 

In the final few episodes of the entire series, Lennier tries to kill Sheridan, runs away in shame, and then someone finds his diary in which he’d been writing for ages about what a bad decision he thought Delenn had made and how her whole marriage was an awful idea. Even to this day, it’s fun/awful watching people go through a first-time watch when they get to season 5 and hit that. ‘Character assassination in the form of a diary’ was a whole thing for a while. It’s been 20+ years and the actor who played Lennier is stilll mad about it (not because of shippy stuff, but because he - correctly! - thinks Lennier absolutely would not have done that). 

What *fandom* did, on the other hand, was Fixed The Problem.

Delenn/Lennier was not at all a big ship when the series was airing, and for a few years after. Then the fandom dynamics started to change. With less pressure on what canon was going to do, it felt like fandom had more space to play around with things it didn’t do. Fanfic got less interested in trying to fit within the overall story being told and started spinning off in all its own directions. And *this* ship started getting bigger and bigger. People did really interesting things with it, canon divergence went in all directions, everyone wrote a fix-it story of some variety, some authors did a great series of connected stories based on an idea that Minbari have three genders, the quality of the writing has been brilliant. And I think without that absolute whiplash feeling of what happened in canon, there would never have been this feeling of “well I’m not having THAT” which led to all this.

We did not need canon! Canon had done its thing. And canon had broken our hearts enough ways with many of the other stories it told (entirely on purpose) and we weren’t just going to sit back and let it ruin us forever.

By comparison, the other ship I was into was Marcus/Ivanova. This is entirely doomed. Susan Ivanova’s love life is just perpetually doomed. The first partner of hers we meet is an ex who’s interested in getting back together, but then it turns out he’s just using her to infiltrate the station for the fascist terrorist group he’s secretly joined. Then she falls for an archrival of hers, Talia, who works for Psi Corps, the organisation she loathes most of all things - but it’s okay because it turns out Talia is starting to question them too! Maybe these crazy kids can make it work! They have one night together and then OOPS turns out Talia was being secretly controlled by a sleeper personality implanted in her by Psi Corps the whole time. Ivanova’s love life is doomed. 

So for two seasons, she has this sort-of-flirty, sort-of-bickery, sort-of-friendship going with Marcus, who is on the surface of it very much “why not fall in love at first sight like a true romantic, YOLO!” but it turns out is actually deeply messed up himself and full of survivor’s guilt and pain and, you get the clear impression, would have died of shock if she’d actually called his bluff on the OTT flirting and said “yeah, let’s go for it”. And then he sacrifices himself to save her life. It is a very tragic ending, it is absolutely the way he would have wanted to go, she wakes up both furious and absolutely distraught, says that the last thing she heard was him saying “I love you”, says she wishes she’d at least slept with him once, and says that in a way all love is unrequited. PAIN. 

So, lots of fix-it fanfic, lots of ‘Marcus comes back to life’, lots of canon divergence AUs where he doesn’t die and they live happily ever after and both get over their huge levels of unresolved pain. Pretty standard for that kind of pairing. And as a pairing it doesn’t get in the way of any big canon pairings, it doesn’t imply anything icky like mentor/student power imbalances or adultery. And JMS clearly quite liked it. So that’s better, right?

NO. It was WORSE.

JMS wrote an Marcus/Ivanova story himself, published in one of the sci-fi magazines, to try to give them a happy ending. This happy ending involves Marcus, many many years in the future, waking up from the cryogenic suspension he’s in (it’s sci-fi, keep up, keep up). Ivanova is long dead, but he isn’t about to let this get in the way, so what he does is to *create a new Ivanova* by getting some kind of DNA + computerised memory/personality bank thing, finding a doctor who will clone her, putting himself back into animated sleep until the clone reaches the age Ivanova was when she died, then - THEN, I’M STILL GOING - takes her to a distant planet where, with her memories wiped and their spaceship having deliberately been crashed BY HIM so there’s no way back, they live out their lives in peace.

WHAT.

That pairing still does okay in fandom but it’s not really taken on a post-show world of headcanons and riffing on other people’s ideas and tropes in the way that Delenn/Lennier has (and we all just pretend that story never existed). 

So! This has been my experiences in the field of What We Do When The Show Has Thoughts On That Non-Endgame Ship We’re Into. Fandom manages. Fandom will see you through. And in the words of Susan Ivanova:

Babylon Five was the last of the Babylon stations; there would never be another. It changed the future, and it changed us. It taught us that we have to create the future, or others will do it for us. It showed us that we have to care for one another, for if we don’t, who will? And that true strength sometimes comes from the most unlikely places. Mostly though, I think it gave us hope that there can always be new beginnings - even for people like us.

[megsironthrone]

Never Fake-Date Your Savior

Based on this request: : glad you’re back!!! i hope you and your hubby get to finish HotD soon! 👀👀 a while ago you wrote a sandor x reader drabble where he’s in the mafia/gang and protecting reader from the boltons by holding their hand? i was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a continuation where they’ve kept up fake dating to keep reader safe but on one of their dates, they both highkey admit they’ve grown to genuinely like the other? 👉👈 if not that’s totally ok, you can ignore this!!! 💌 hope you have a great day

Here you are lovelies!! This is the fic that the 1st place winner of Game of Characters chose to be posted next! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

This fic is a continuation of a drabble I wrote for my 2200 follower celebration

Warnings: Mentions of mob violence? Modern/Mob AU. Fake Dating Trope. Angsty-ish. Fluff.

Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x reader

How did this happen? That was the question you’d been asking yourself for the last several weeks. Ever since you figured out who the man who’d saved you from Roose Bolton’s men was. You’d managed to trade one mob family for another. However, Sandor Clegane was nothing like Roose Bolton or his son. He had saved you the night you met him and had even given you his number so you could contact him as often as you felt unsafe. 

You told him exactly how you’d gotten on the Bolton’s radar and he called you stupid. It wasn’t said to hurt you, but rather to stress just how poor your decision making in your dealings with the Boltons was. You realized that when the Bolton’s men would not leave you alone. It got to the point where you were calling or texting Sandor every other day. It was getting tiresome, but luckily for you, Sandor came up with a brilliant idea.

“What?” you asked in disbelief as you stared at the scarred man. “As often as I see you, we might as well.” You merely stared at him as your brain processed his words. “Let me get this straight,” you managed to say after a few minutes, “You want to fake-date me and make it obvious until Roose and his cronies finally decide to leave me alone?” He nodded. 

“Look, they leave you alone whenever I’m with you. We might as well make sure that’s as often as possible without you having to pull me from work. And I don’t have to listen to your whinging every time you see them.” You glared at him. “I don’t whinge,” you muttered, but he heard you anyway and arched his brow. With a loud sigh, you said, “Fine. I know it’s the best idea we’ve got. So, let’s do it. What could possibly go wrong?”

*time skip*

Feelings. That’s what could go wrong. You developed feelings for Sandor faster than you ever thought possible. Spending so much time with him, day in and day out lead to you falling head over heels in love with him. And you were doomed. Sandor was not a man who expressed feelings easily and he certainly had a very bleak outlook on love. There was no way he would ever, ever return your feelings. 

You hid your growing adoration as best as you could. You stopped seeing him as often, which didn’t help the whole Bolton situation. You kept conversations shorter unless you were out in public together. Anything you could do to avoid confronting your feelings, you tried. Eventually, however, you couldn’t any longer. 

One evening, you and Sandor planned a dinner “date” and for some reason it made you even more nervous than usual. You couldn’t help feeling like something was going to happen. Good or bad, you didn’t know. Just something. You just knew that your life was about to change again. 

Dinner was a soft-spoken affair. That was typical. Sandor didn’t talk much and when he did, it was either quiet enough so only you could hear or loud enough the entire restaurant could hear. No in between. After dinner, you were still feeling a bit antsy, so you asked Sandor to walk with you through a nearby park. He agreed, but was even more quiet than usual. 

“What’s up?” you asked when you were finally away from a crowd of people. Sandor didn’t reply so you stopped walking and looked up at him. “Sandor…” He met your gaze and those deep brown eyes nearly had you drowning in them. “Are you okay?” He nodded, but you didn’t believe him and asked again. “Sandor, I know something’s bothering you. What is-”

“You.” You blinked and your jaw dropped open in surprise. “Oh,” was all you managed as you felt your heart twist in your chest. “I see,” you croaked out, willing the tears not to come. You would not let that man see you cry over him. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my head?” he asked, almost too quietly for you to hear, “You’re always there. I can’t take it anymore. WHY? Why do I always see you staring at me with those (e/c) of yours? You don’t look at me like everyone else does. Like I’m dangerous, which I am. My entire family is. You look at me like…like I mean something. ” 

At that, you felt the tears you wanted to stay away come to your eyes. “Sandor, you do mean something. You mean so much. I-I think I might…” you trailed off, unable to put your feelings into words. Instead, you stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his unscarred cheek. You gently guided him down so you could meet his lips, kissing him softly.

When you pulled away, Sandor was gazing down at you in surprise. He clearly had not been expecting that. While the two of you had shared small pecks, mostly on the cheek, to sell the idea that you were together, you’d never kissed on the lips before that moment. You gave him a soft smile. 

Then, as suddenly as your happy moment came, it ended. Sandor glanced up and a frown made its way to his lips. “Oh,” was all he said before backing away and heading in the opposite direction. You took off after him, confused until you looked over your shoulder. Bolton’s men. 

“Sandor,” you panted, “Wait!” He stopped and whirled on you, fire blazing in his dark eyes. He was furious. “What was that about?” you managed to ask. He gave you a look that said, “Are you kidding me?” 

“I knew we were pretending, but that was lower than I ever thought you capable of,” he growled. Your brows knit together in confusion. “What?” 

“Kissing me like that just because Bolton’s men saw us again. I know I’m no prize, but you didn’t have to…to-” he trailed off as you realized that he wasn’t angry. He was hurt thinking that you only kissed him because you were pretending. You had to remind yourself that the man standing before you hadn’t been shown real love in his entire adult life. “Sandor, I didn’t even know they were there. Honestly. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” 

Sandor was silent, hanging on your every word. You continued, “When we started this, I was just grateful to be protected. But then I got to know you and spend time with you. I don’t know when or even how it happened, but I fell and I fell hard. I love you, Sandor and nothing else matters. Not what people think, not the dangers from any other “families”, not the Boltons, not even your brother. The only thing that matters at this moment is whether or not you love me too.” You answer came in the form of the giant man pulling you to him and kissing you breathlessly. 

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @smalltownbigheart @frozenhuntress67 @cd1242 @gruffle1 @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks @nkjktk @silversprings98

[realbeijinger]

Another semi-coherent rant on climate change, the value of idealism, and TGCF (I finally finished!)

Well, I finished Tian Guan Ci Fu. And, oh man, if you read my last post, you’ll know that I was terrified that the entire novel would be a criticism of blind idealism. But I am SO glad I was wrong!!! Looking back on what I wrote before… it’s kind of hilarious how worried I was. I was so sure that I knew where it was going, was so busy preparing myself to be offended/emotionally crushed, that I wouldn’t even entertain the idea that maybe MXTX had a similar worldview to me all along.

In my defense, aside from the line, “Something like saving the common people… although foolish, it is brave,” everything seemed to point toward the idea that trying to do good is pointless. I mean, up until the moment when Xie Lian was lying with a sword in his chest on the streets of Yong’an, all of his efforts to do good had essentially been in vain. He hadn’t been able to help anyone.

And then, when the one guy stopped and gave Xie Lian his hat, I dunno, I just cried. It was so perfect! Like, ugh, damn you, MXTX! So sneaky… destroying us, just to bring us back later!! It was such a small, insignificant win, but it was exactly what Xie Lian (and I) needed. I love the line, “Just one person was enough!” Just one person doing something selfless. It’s enough to give us hope.   

It really resonates with me because I think a lot about how to maintain hope. In terms of the climate crisis, I feel like Xie Lian—completely powerless. I want to stop eating meat, use less plastic, spend more time on environmental activism, but honestly, what do any of these things matter? The meat industry is not going to change because I choose to stop consuming. Even my activism has a completely negligible effect—whether or not I join a protest or write a letter to my congressman will almost certainly not be the deciding factor for any climate legislation, no matter how much effort I put in.  

And yet, I still want to. I love the moment when Xie Lian chooses to get stabbed over and over rather than create a second plague of Human Face Disease, and White No-Face asks him in shock, “Why??”—as in, why would you ever do that? And Xie Lian responds: “I don’t have a reason—just because I want to! Even if I explained it to you… Useless trash like you wouldn’t understand.” This line is so great. Xie Lian can’t explain it to White No-Face, because, in truth, it isn’t entirely logical. It can’t be explained by reason. I want to do my measly, unimportant part to help the world… because I want to. Because it feels right. Because it’s my way of keeping my heart, of maintaining faith that there is some good in this world worth upholding. (As an aside, I love how the English title of the live action drama—which we may never get to see, God damn censorship!!!!—is called “Eternal Faith.” Of course it refers to Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s faith in each other, but I think it also means having eternal faith in the value of doing good, despite centuries of experience that seem to show its pointlessness.)

As I talked about in my last post, if you zoom out far enough, nothing really seems to matter. Everything we love and care about will one day be gone. And yet, I believe we still have to act like it matters. This is the basic tenant of existentialism, and I think MXTX portrays this philosophical paradox really beautifully.

It’s funny, because I think MXTX has a lot of profound things to say, but in an interview I read, she warned against viewing her work too deeply, saying, “I am not a guru.” I get that she may not want the responsibility of giving people spiritual advice, but I do think she presents some really fascinating, really novel, philosophical ideas. So, sorry MXTX, but I’m about to analyze TGCF like it’s a piece of freakin scripture. Soo here we go…

The main theme she comes back to again and again is that fortune is limited, so the only way you can do good for others is by taking fortune from somebody else. Which leads the characters to a bunch of ethically impossible choices: the people of Yong’an and the people of Xianle can’t all be saved (Xie Lian must choose who to help), neither can the people of Wuyong and the surrounding kingdoms (Prince of Wuyong must choose), and Shi Wudu can’t save his brother from a tragic fate without taking fortune from an innocent person. When the characters try to avoid choosing, and try to “play God” by creating a “third path,” it just invites disaster.

But is this really true? Is fortune actually limited? It’s an idea that reminds me of Buddhism and Daoism, but also seems kind of revolutionary… (I like to think I know something about Chinese philosophy but it could certainly be a thing and I don’t know). I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in limited resources, and the idea that nature tends toward balance. I think conceiving of it this way, as a pool of fortune, is really interesting.   

It reminds me of this Meme:

In other words, who is the protagonist and who is the villain is entirely based on perspective. And, according to the laws of nature, we all must survive by eating others, or causing others to starve (i.e. avoiding being eaten).

I tried to think if this is really true in all areas of life. I’m a teacher, and one of the ways I convince myself that I am doing good in the world is by helping my students—preparing them well for college so that they can get into good schools and follow their dreams. But then, is this just taking fortune from others? If I do prepare my students well, and as a result they all get into top universities, does that mean they are taking spots away from other students? Am I simply just helping “my own,” at the expense of others?

One place where I see this concept play out very clearly is with our modern, industrialized society. As I mentioned in my last post, we live in a world of abundance. Most of us have enough food to eat, live in houses with electricity and running water, and don’t worry about a whole host of diseases endured by our ancestors. It seems we have done what Xie Lian couldn’t—we have expanded the well of fortune for most of humanity.

But this fortune wasn’t spontaneously created. It was taken from other species. It was borrowed against our own future, when climate change will likely destroy this world of abundance we have created, causing untold suffering. In truth, when it comes to prosperity, there is no such thing as a free lunch.   

Even now, when we ought to be enjoying our fortune, most of us are not happy. We want other things. We take food, clothing, and shelter for granted, creating even bigger, more lofty demands—a bigger car, a better house, a machine that’s sole purpose is to make bread. In fact, it seems like whenever we make things “better,” the goalposts just move. I recently read a book called Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, which mentioned that with the advent of washing machines and vacuum cleaners, everyone assumed there would be more free time. Yet, the real outcome was that standards of cleanliness just changed. Suddenly, people expected you to wear fresh clothes every day and have a perfectly dust-free home, which meant spending just as much time cleaning as in the past.     

And according to psychologists, getting what we want doesn’t really make us happier. Instead, something like getting a promotion causes our happiness to spike, before it quickly returns to baseline. The psychologist Dan Gilbert writes that the purpose of our emotions is to act like a compass—to tell us which direction to go in. If you feel good, you can continue the way you are going. If you feel bad, you should probably turn—make a change. But if you get what you want and become permanently happy, your compass is now broken. It’s stuck in one direction and becomes useless.

All of this is very Buddhist, of course. Suffering is not caused by our external circumstances, but our desire to change them.

Like I said, I don’t necessarily believe in “fate” or “fortune.” But I believe this all points to something deeper that MXTX is getting at: which is that we cannot fundamentally make a better world, for the common people, or for anyone. This idea of “better” doesn’t really exist. The world is as it is. Trying to alter that is like playing God. And like Xie Lian says, “In this world, there are no true gods…”  

So, what do we do? How can we survive this absurdist tragedy of life? I don’t think we can just throw up our hands and not give a shit—that way lies depression and Jun Wu-style cruelty. We cannot lose our heart. But we also can’t try to fix everything.

One thing I find a bit difficult about MXTX is she is very clear about the impossible situations our characters find themselves in, but not really clear about the solution. She seems critical of the characters’ actions (I’m thinking also of Wei Wuxian here), but what exactly does she think they should have done? In other words, what is the point?

I spent a long time thinking about this. And I realized that Xie Lian was able to get back on his feet, find happiness and make peace with himself. How did he do this? Ultimately, I see Xie Lian’s solution as having three parts: self-sacrifice, gratitude, and purpose. Which all sounds very academic and maybe not that profound on an emotional level. But hear me out. Because, in the end, I think these choices are incredibly beautiful. They are the kind of thing that make me feel like reading TGCF was actually a spiritual experience, no matter what MXTX says. That makes me admire Xie Lian and want to follow him (like the God he is).

Okay so first: self-sacrifice. If fortune is limited, and the only way to make others’ lives better is to take fortune from someplace else, then there is really only one place you can take it from without hurting others—yourself.

So, part of Xie Lian’s solution is to take fortune from himself and give it to others. It’s why he asks for a cursed shackle that disperses his fortune, so that his fortune will naturally flow to those around him. It’s, of course, a very small thing. He is no longer playing God, or trying to “fix” the world on a grand scale. He is simply, in his own, quiet way, serving the common people.

My desire to give up meat and to spend more time on activism—these things feel like big sacrifices for me. And yet, they will have a very small impact on the greater situation in the world. They’re a drop in the ocean. I still want to do it, but it’s hard. It’s hard to care, or think that these things matter. Yet, this is the trade-off Xie Lian was willing to make. I really admire him for it.   

I believe self-sacrifice is actually a really important, beautiful thing, that our society has forgotten the value of. We are individualistic—obsessed with our own wants. As I mentioned previously, our expectations have risen, so we buy and buy and buy. We are unwilling to rein in our consumption. I know a lot of people baulk at lifestyle changes as a solution to the climate crisis, and I agree that putting pressure on individuals instead of governments or corporations is misguided. But, first of all, there simply aren’t enough resources on earth to sustain our current levels of consumption. And, second… I don’t think we can completely let individuals off the hook. What is society anyway, but a collection of individuals? If we are going to address this thing, it’s going to take a massive movement—bigger than the civil rights movement or the works’ rights movement or the women’s movement. It’s going to take millions of people worldwide getting out of their own heads, their own lives, and concerning themselves with the greater good. That requires immense sacrifice.

Which takes me to gratitude. In order to be willing to sacrifice, you have to appreciate what you already have.

People often talk about gratitude these days as a path to mental health. Instinctively, it sounds like an uplifting, positive thing. And it is… but it also entails having a relatively negative worldview. It means remembering all the horrible things that exist in this world which we are lucky enough to avoid on a daily basis. You stepped in some dog shit? Well, that sucks, but you could have stepped into an open manhole and broken your neck! So! That’s something to be grateful for.  

We are all so lucky. I’m sure everyone reading this has pains and traumas and challenges. This isn’t to diminish those, but, I hope, at least we all have at least one person to love. That’s all Hua Cheng had, and it’s what kept him going. Just one person was enough. And most of us, I hope, get to eat food every day, get to sleep in a bed, get to play video games or read novels or write poetry when we are sad. Not everyone gets those things.  

Xie Lian, of course, was the king of low expectations, because he knew his future was going to be bad. He had intentionally accepted bad luck for a lifetime. So, there was no point in hoping for things to get better.

I think this attitude is best shown by his interaction with the Venerable of Empty words. The Venerable of Empty Words feeds off people’s fears. But Xie Lian didn’t really have any. When the Venerable of Empty Words warned him that his hut will collapse in two months, his response is, “Two months? If it’s still standing in seven days, then it’ll be a real miracle.” Because his expectations are so low, he’s essentially immune to fear. I can’t help but think that if you could really think this way, it would be a kind of superpower. It reminds me of the famous quote by spiritual teacher Krishnamurti, “Do you know what my secret is? You see, I don’t mind what happens.”

And so Xie Lian is okay with everything. He can sleep anywhere, crash boulders on his chest for money, not eat for three days, regularly suffer corpse poisoning, and still be okay.

Which leads to my third point: purpose. Xie Lian is able to endure such hardship because his expectations are low, but also he knows all his suffering has a purpose. “If I am to become a God of misfortune, then so be it,” he says. “As long as I know deep down that I am not.” He is okay with being laughed at or avoided for his bad luck, because deep down he knows he is doing the right thing. People can withstand a great deal if they feel their suffering has meaning. In Man’s Search for Meaning, the psychiatrist Victor Frankl’s writes about the horrors of living through a concentration camp, and how over and over, it was creating purpose that allowed him, and others, to find motivation to survive. Which I think has an important lesson for self-sacrifice. People are willing to sacrifice a lot, if they feel their sacrifice has purpose.

I get it when MXTX says that she is not a guru, and maybe it’s a lot to ask of a danmei novel to take spiritual advice from it. The book wasn’t necessarily perfect, and I do have some critiques (which I was gonna add here, but this thing is already wayyy too long). But… I do think I found something really meaningful in this story—some inspiration. I want to follow Xie Lian’s example, and live with gratitude and acceptance, while keeping my faith in doing the right thing. In other words, WWXLD! (What Would Xie Lian Do?)

[rizaposting]

big bang ask time!! woohoo!!

1. what was your favorite thing about the event?

2. favorite and least favorite canon things about royai?

3. what was the most challenging thing to draw for you?

Can't wait for everyone to see your work!! ☺️💕

Yippieeeee!!! Thank you Ana!

1. what was your favorite thing about the event?

I know everyone has been saying it BUT it's been so fun to get to chat and get to know everyone involved. We have so many silly conversations and everyone is genuinely so nice and talented!!!! ;w;

2. favorite and least favorite canon things about royai?

Oh this is a tough one hmmm... I think my favorite thing is their dynamic, which is kind of a wet noodle answer but! Even before we know about their past you can really tell that there's history between them, and they care about each other more than a usual amount. Some might even say... They are really abnormal about each other. I also love the potential!!! Almost any scenario you could propose, I could see there being a way for it to happen between them. Childhood sweethearts? Secret dating during canon? Post-PD confessions? I could go on.

For my "least" favorite... It's not that I dislike it, but something I wish more people would address is that Royai grew up entrenched in fascism, and I think that's, in part, where their rigid black-and-white idea of punitive justice comes from. And I see a lot of people interpret it as the Correct mindset to have or don't really think about it and it can be so frustrating. I ALSO wish more people would address how self-centered Roy's ambitions are. They're good and well-meaning, don't get me wrong, but he (and Riza) tends to view himself as The Only One Who Can Make Things Right And Make Sure There Is Justice. Which stems from a good place but man it really smacks of his (both of theirs, really) martyr complex WHICH I THINK IS AN INTERESTING FLAW. CAN WE CONFRONT THEM ABOUT THAT? It's one thing to go "if you want something done right you have to do it yourself" and it's another to be like "if Roy doesn't become the Good Guy Dictator this can NEVER happen by any other means. No one else cares about it". I dunno. I'd love them to get called on their bullshit <3 Like babes, get over yourselves <3

3. what was the most challenging thing to draw for you?

I knew EXACTLY what I wanted to draw for 'Accretion' (by raisingmybanner on AO3; get hyped it's a SUPER fun art heist fic) but I struggled a lot trying to figure out the composition. I wanted to show Royai of course, but also show the art piece in question, but also show the gallery. I wanted a lot of depth but I really struggled with it XD The most "classical" art training I have was high school art courses, so my lofty ideas made me really feel that lack of technical skill and know-how. I still ended up really liking the end result! But I certainly had to reign it in to match my current skills hahaha

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Hi! Just read this fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748141) and the post that inspired it (https://ladycrimsonandblack.tumblr.com/post/658164849325604866/brawltogethernow-brawltogethernow-tama-gives), and was wondering if you knew any other fics where Luffy is a Fae or a Changeling or just not really human? Thanks!

Hello ! Sorry this took us a while, as it seems there are very few fics that fall under that category, but here's what we've got for you:

The closest that comes to mind is :

Wild Wind At Dressrosa by khepiari (M)

[Mod notes: I am personally recommending this one as it is set in a world of magical realism. Luffy is not explicitly a magical creature, but there is certainly a certain magic and mystery surrounding him, which gives this story a whole air of surrealness and fairy tales.]

Doflamingo has troubles- to govern Dressrosa, collect taxes for the King, a womanizing Secretary, a stupid Brother, an angry Wife and a Rebelling Son who is romancing the Biggest Troublemaker- a Wayfaring Godless Curio-Shopkeeper, who is storming the calm streets of Dressrosa. Law's heart is hell-bent to unite with the Wild Wind called Monkey D Luffy- a tale of food, books, friendship and love.

The Moonwitch And His Dumb Werewolf (also) by khepiari (T)

A.U., Fantasy. Happy Ending. Three Part. LawLu (Switch Couple) When his village gets burned down and family captured by the bounty hunters, a young werewolf pup, Luffy, finds himself in the protection of a witch boy named Law and his father Corazon. As the war ravages, the magical creatures must unite to fight their biggest enemies; humans.

Perfect Completion by quackquackcey (E)

Water sprite Luffy curiously happens upon a gathering of vampires and falls at first sight for a certain golden-eyed vampire…but will his feelings be returned?~

A Crown of Flowers by @hyperbolicreverie (M)

The Wild is a mirror, a magic realm of possibility parallel to the mundane one, and people like Luffy, changelings who've made a devil's bargain for power, walk the line between worlds daily. When Luffy makes a mad dash to rescue his brother from certain death, he sets off a chain of events that makes the very foundations of that realm shudder. Soon, he's got several other people along for the ride, and the situation quickly spirals out of control. There's something the people in power aren't saying, and it might be the key to all the strange events that keep happening around them. Luffy just wants adventure and fun and freedom. Law just wants to be left alone to live his life. Kid wants to never be beholden to someone else again. And Ace just wants some goddamn agency for once. But there are other entities in the Wild with agendas of their own, and they don't care about what others want at all.

How To Snare A Life by xairylle (E)

Accidentally ensnaring a parasitic sexual demon and being his host wasn't exactly how Law wanted to end his night or his life for that matter. LawLu/LuLaw.

A Fleeting Moment (When the Sun Can Kiss the Moon) by purplehairedwonder (T)

Once upon a time, the Sun fell in love with the Moon.

[We also recommend checking the #Sun God Luffy tag for godly Luffy material.

And finally, not Fae Luffy, but we'd like to recommend Fae Law]

To Give You My Name by cosmicatta (M)

Trafalgar Law, last of the faes, had committed a fatal mistake 15 years ago: he had given Doflamingo his full name. Now, even after having escaped, the looming threat of his ownership still follows Law everyhwere he goes. He can only try to survive as a runaway, hoping to, someday, find a way to cut the invisible string tying him to his former captor. Until he meets Luffy. He’s just a regular human. But maybe that’s all Law needs.

And, ofc, the one you recommended:

waters of the wild by ladycrimsonandblack (T)

Even to his nakama, Luffy sometimes appears just a little bit too odd. (Or: Five times a Straw Hat notices something strange about Luffy, and the one time someone knows what's going on.)

We're also happy to tell you that your ask prompted some of our writers to give Fae Luffy a shot, so expect some new fics under that tag soon enough.

-Mod Gigi

[throughparisallthroughrome]

"In Darkness, We Transcend"

Chapter 3: "The Chosen One"

Series Description: In a mission gone wrong, Obi-Wan has vanished. It’s up to Anakin to find the ex-Jedi turned Michelin star chef who may know where he is. To say they don’t exactly get along would be an understatement. But with a shared goal, who knows what’s possible?

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Lots of cursing, mentions of death, culty things, weapon usage, 

A/N: Unfortunately, this chapter took forever! I’m really excited about where the story is going—I have a feeling there may be a little Kenobi rescue mission soon… As always, inbox is open, requests are open, and any and all feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

Coruscant is the planet that never slept- so neither did you. 

Being a chef and working at one of Coruscant’s finest meant there wasn’t a lot of room for error. Which meant there wasn’t a lot of room for sleep either. 

When the idea of “Like a Bantha!” came to mind, you spent every waking hour working to make it a reality. When you considered bringing to life a 5-star Nubian-style restaurant to Coruscant’s upper levels, you immediately made some calls. It’s not like it hadn’t been attempted before; plenty of Nubian eateries were around, but nothing like this had been created and survived- thrived even. But that was them, and this was you. 

You knew yourself. You knew your passion, devotion, and creativity. You knew you had it in you. When you weren’t trying to make calls about grants, builders, and possible spaces, you were sketching out every idea you had. You kept a series of notebooks on you at all times. The first was for menu ideas as you traveled far and wide throughout the planet, as well as other planets, to try various foods, drinks, and cultures. You looked at their restaurants, seeing what worked and what didn’t. What ideas you may implement and ones you certainly wouldn’t. You befriended the staff, chefs, and managers, all giving you closer work to see how their system works and how their restaurant was run. Although Coruscant was huge, the restaurant community was pretty tight-knit- at least the classier places were. 

And that was how Notebook 2 was born. The second notebook kept every restaurant secret, advice, and architectural idea you had in it. You knew you wanted a lot of greenery, wines, and furniture representing the planet you came from and loved. Besides the menu speaking for itself, you needed the restaurant to speak for itself, too. You spent countless hours seeking the right florals, tables, silverware, and other “meaningless” things. It had to be perfect- everything needed to tell a story. A glorious restaurant plan was constructed, along with a suspicious budget. Writing in this notebook only produced more ideas, and something beautiful was born. 

“What is it you like about this place, Chef Na'vida?” You took out your notebook, attempting to read the Twi'lek’s expressions before you. He had a thick accent and a smile that never seemed to fade.

“Well- you know- the kitchen is, uh, how do you say- like a bantha?” You laughed at this.

“Like a bantha?!” You exclaimed, thinking it was just the most amusing thing you had heard. 

“Well, yes.” He grins and continues to frost the dessert in front of him. “During service, it’s loud, chaotic, terrifying even. But once we close and the cleaning begins, it’s calm, and relaxing, and honestly therapeutic in ways.“

“Like a bantha.” You mumble, the grin slowly spreading across his face.

“Like a bantha.”

You had engraved that interaction in your mind, his words adhering with you like no others. Although it was amusing, he had detailed the precise reason you chose to open your own spot. You loved the disorder, knowing it ultimately would settle down and fade into something worthwhile. You never received that feeling from the Order; it never gave you that drive. You craved that constant adrenaline rush.

When the restaurant had developed further, you gave Na'vida a call to let him know you were naming it in his honor. He passed away before he ever got to experience it. 

“Like a Bantha!” very quickly put you on the map and made you famous. You participated in several interviews, photoshoots, and talk shows, all of which were extremely invested in your craft, your tastes, and how you brought something incredible to life. You’d be lying if you claimed you never enjoyed it. The fame was nice- the money even nicer. The connections always helped, and the restaurant became a celebrity hot spot. You were the hot spot. Getting to befriend you was an honor among the Chef community. The average Joe and celebrities alike fawned over you. It never died down, and you honestly never grew tired of it. You felt as a Jedi you were rarely given the credit you deserved. Now, this was different. Everything you do is important, and you could give something back to your community. And everything you did was under the name “Y/N L/N,” a pseudo-name for your new life. Of course, there were those who knew you were once a Jedi, but surprisingly, it was rare for you to be questioned about it. 

As you both closed in on your apartment building, you carefully strolled down the dimly lit alleys, trying to calm yourself. Anakin walked closely next to you, making sure to scan for your surroundings. Although it was about 2 a.m., you passed plenty of people on the streets. There were several bars, clubs, and restaurants still open. He didn’t like the scenery; there was too much that could actually cause a scene. 

You zig-zagged through the crowd, casually throwing your hood up in the process. You knew the Children of Nox were widespread, and after an unscheduled meeting with both Gil and Anakin, you weren’t ready to take many chances. Anakin noticed your actions and put his hood up as well. If you already thought stealth was a safe option for now, then he trusted your judgment. 

At the last second, you decided to take a shortcut and turned the corner, heading down a particular sketchy alley. You glanced at a group of Rodians talking in hushed voices near the end of it, clearly dealing with something that wasn’t meant to be seen by others. Your breath hitched suddenly, and you forgot all about the man beside you. You hastily turned around, tripping over your own cloak and hitting your head against Anakin’s shoulder. You let out a quiet “oof,” but it wasn’t quiet enough. Their attention suddenly turned to you, and before you could think, Anakin was already pulling you into a little offshoot supply closet. 

“What the fuck are you doing!” You push him and turn towards the exit, eager to handle the conflict you started. Before you can grab the handle, his hand is on your wrist. 

He pulls you back inside before you can get away from him and spins you around, putting your back against his chest while he holds a hand over your mouth and on top of your head. You try to argue with him against his gloved hand, but he tightens his grip against your mouth. Obviously, there was something you were missing here. 

The Rodians approach near the closet while they talk amongst themselves, the conversation growing louder as the conflict rises between them. The sound of a blaster goes off right outside the door. You jump slightly, and Anakin pulls you in tighter against him. You begin trembling slightly, the gravity of everything starting to come down on you, and you hear him quietly, “Shhhh,” to make you more relaxed. He caresses his ungloved hand against your head, slightly massaging your scalp. He didn’t know you well, but he didn’t need you panicking, and he certainly didn’t need you to cause a scene. You finally relax in his arms, still feeling frightened of what could have happened.

The talking and fighting begin to deescalate, and the sound of the footsteps trails into the distance. Anakin slightly relaxes his grip on you, withdrawing his gloved hand from on top of your lips and putting it on your shoulder, still keeping a protective stance. 

“Stay here, please. I want to make sure it’s safe.” He gently turns you around to look at him, giving you a playfully stern look. You nod in response and offer a worrisome smile. 

He steps out and checks, and you feel your heart rate increase slightly from his absence- not that you’d ever admit that was the reason. He quickly returns to retrieve you, giving you a gentle nod that it’s secure to step out into the alley again. You both begin walking again, refusing to give each other eye contact. Assuming it was better to not talk about what just happened, neither of you said a word for quite some time, maintaining an uncomfortably separate distance from one another. 

“Y/N, do you take this route every night?” He calmly asks as you both continue walking down the alley.

“Most of the time. It’s usually safer- I’m not sure what’s in the air tonight.” You turn to face him, letting out a slight chuckle, the corners of your mouth tugging into a smirk. His tense expression doesn’t waver, but your smile does. You continue down the path, but he stops in his tracks, continuing to examine the surroundings. 

“What would have happened if I wasn’t here?” You turn around to face him, cocking your head at his question. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes and scoff at the audacity and ego of the man in front of you, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, attempting to believe he cared about the safety and well-being of a woman he just met. Maybe you should let up on your abrasiveness towards him. Maybe.

“Skywalker—I—it’s okay. It’s never typically like this. And besides,” your eyes flick up to him, studying the misplaced concern as bewilderment washes over you. “I can handle myself. I was once a Jedi, too, you know.” You try to smile at him again, but he doesn’t let up. 

“I just-”

“Anakin, please- we need to keep moving. Please.” You look at him gently, and he nods. You didn’t understand why he cared. Your concern involved Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan only. Anakin Skywalker was the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t have him treating you this way, being this soft and nice, especially after the Council’s warnings. As much as you disobeyed the Council and tore yourself away from the Order, you assumed if they kept you away from the chosen one for your entire life, there had to be a good reason to do so.  

You both walk for another 10 minutes, the area around you becoming increasingly more welcoming as you approach your penthouse. The location around the restaurant was excellent as well; it was those few streets in between that were sketchy, and always sketchy, no matter what time of day it was.

You step in front of your building, nodding to the doorman as he opens the doors for you and Anakin while telling you goodnight.  

Anakin stood in the lobby of the building, glancing around at its beauty. Its tall, vaulted ceilings with intricate designs were a grand display of the wealth of those living there. The architecture and molding adorned the walls in muted blues, greens, and creams. 

You turned around and smiled at his reaction, darting away and moving to the elevator before he could see your face. 

“C'mon, Skywalker.” You strolled into the elevator, and he hurried along next to you, watching the lobby he was intrigued with vanish as the doors shut before him.

“This is a really nice building. I didn’t realize-”

“Didn’t realize what?” you interrupted him, raising an eyebrow. A slight smirk grew as you saw the panic flash on his face.

“Nothing- sorry.” He trailed off and broke eye contact, peeking around the elevator you were both in. He felt as if he had been in there for an eternity, the elevator continuing to rise higher and higher. He huffed in annoyance. Why were you even going to your apartment in the first place?

The elevator stops with an elegant Ding! And he immediately feels less tense. As you both step out onto your floor, you unlock your penthouse door and stroll inside, welcoming him in. 

Your space was a lot more refined than he assumed, accompanied by the most exquisite kitchen he had seen in his entire life. And it was apparent that it was well used. Like the restaurant, your penthouse was also reminiscent of Naboo, reminding him of the fond memories. He kept forgetting you and Padme grew up together. When looking at your apartment, that much became very obvious. 

Anakin glanced at the artwork that graced your walls, as well as a few Naberrie family portraits. He slightly smiled at a picture of the young Padme he remembered, grateful he got out of Tattooine when he did. Graduation pictures, coronation pictures, and assorted family photos were all along the walls of your entryway. You had some shoes on the floor, as well as books and miscellaneous jewelry scattered along the table in your hallway. 

You took off your cloak, throwing it on the back of a chair as you made your way to the opposite side of the island as him. 

He noticed your kitchen's beautiful pastel multicolored tile and the dark floors provided a lovely accent. There were numerous plants, all well-kept and maintained. He thought of his pitiful half-watered plant in his quarters. He really needed to do something about that; it was getting pathetic at this point. The countertops were a beautiful green stone, accompanied by cream-colored cabinets and the palest pink accent walls. 

“Want some tea?” You began to pour your own into a small mug. 

He glanced over towards your living room, taking in the beautiful fabrics, artwork, and random decor. He noticed there were a lot of different kinds of stones scattered around the space. A protocol droid came around the corner and grabbed your cloak, returning it to what he assumed was your bedroom. He stared at a particular artwork; it was unpleasantly dark. It made him feel a little off-put. It was hung on the wall above your sofa, filled with deep reds, blues, blacks, and greens. It looked like it could be a plant or maybe an eyeball, but it was definitely something living. And more unsettling than anything. Why would you hang something like that in your home? He just didn’t-

“Skywalker!” You yelled, holding out a cup of hot tea for him to grab, suddenly gaining his attention. 

“Oh! Thank you.” He gracefully accepts the cup and nods, smiling at your eye roll. “Sorry, I was just appreciating your nice space. That painting is fucking creepy, though.” He takes a sip of the tea. It was the same as he had in Naboo. 

You laughed at his derogatory comment towards your art, setting down your tea to stride over to where the painting was hung.

“This is actually from the Children of Nox, which is why it’s so unsettling.” He walks up beside you, and you turn to face him as you explain the artwork.

“It was hung in their main temple. Obviously, the temple is highly secure now, more so than it ever was. But honestly, the fact that I managed to sneak this out is fucking crazy.” You sipped on your tea, turning to Anakin as you scanned his face, unsure of what he could be thinking. His eyebrows furrowed as he licked his lips, unsure how he felt about the sight before him.

“It’s a painting of their all-seeing eye. It represents the highest member of their order, their beloved high priestess. The high priestess is a compelling dark-side user, one that I have yet to encounter. The painting consists of the blood of other high priestesses and the painting itself was very valuable to the cult. I stole it as a parting gift to myself.” 

He cocked a brow at this, surprised by your confession. He doesn’t respond and instead sips his tea. He turns away from you, walking back to your kitchen. You feel yourself annoyed by his coldness and turn to follow him. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” you question, biting your lip nervously. He sets his tea down and looks up at you, more frustrated than before. 

“I just don’t understand how you could have associated yourself with something so evil. You hang that painting on the wall as a trophy, despite all the bloodshed and horrors that cult has committed and represented. It’s just- It’s not very Jedi-like.”

“Well, Skywalker, for one, I’m not a Jedi anymore.” You stroll from him to the other side of the counter, forcing direct eye contact between the two of you. The tension was rising in the room, and you swallowed nervously. He didn’t know; you could feel yourself trying to tell you that. But you were offended. You were offended he assumed you could even stand for something like that. You were slightly hurt by his harsh words and suddenly very angry, and those past resentments towards Skywalker made their way to your tongue. Before you knew it, you were yelling.

“And I didn’t have a choice, either. The Council asked me to infiltrate The Children of Nox. It’s not like I wanted to. I witnessed awful things, I was asked to do awful things, and I had awful things done to me. And no matter what, the Council asked me to persist and get as close to them as possible. My sanity never mattered to them; my morals certainly didn’t either. I was asked to leave behind the Order and, my feelings and everything that was important to me in the name of research for the Council. In the name of the greater good. And when my mission failed, I returned to the Order. And I fucking wrote. I wrote every single thing I could remember, every minuscule detail. And that was the last thing I did before I said, “Fuck you,” and left. I couldn’t do it anymore. The Order never cared about me; they cared about what I could find out for them. I was nothing but a foot soldier for them, like your clones they put into battle.” 

Anakin felt his heart twist with your closing statement. The Order’s treatment of clones never sat right with him. He gulped slightly at this new confession, feeling a new respect for you that he didn’t before—and a new sort of guilt as well. You could read everything he was thinking, and you had a feeling mentioning the treatment of the clones to the General of the beloved 501st would do something. You were grateful it worked but exhausted from your emotions. 

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you felt that way.” He looked to the ground, taking a small sip of tea as the remorse continued to wash over him. You felt bad as you witnessed his reaction, walking over to him and awkwardly putting your hand on his shoulder. He sat up to meet your eyes, noticing a certain glossiness over them.

‘It’s okay—I just—I didn’t mean to yell. This isn’t your fault, Anakin. I understand how you feel and how this all looks. I’ve never talked about that stuff since it happened, and it’s been a few years. It’s hard not to get emotional about it. Something tells me you’ve had your own run-ins with the order, too.” You smile at him as he laughs slightly.

“You could say that.” You stepped away from him, moving your hand away. After the loss of contact, your fingers tingled. You needed to focus on Kenobi, not how the situation made you feel.

“Okay, let’s get to work.” Your face turns cold again as you motion for Anakin to follow you. He bites his lip, confusion washing over him. Just as you both were getting along, you acted this way towards him again. He shakes his head, thinking that maybe being friendly with one another will take more time than he thought it would. 

You lead him further into your apartment, down a hallway with a locked door. You pull out a heavy set of keys, flicking through them and grabbing the right one. You carefully unlock the door, peeking into the room slowly before motioning for him to follow after you. 

His jaw drops. You really have done your research.

Your study makes his look clean. There are piles and piles of books everywhere, followed by so many notebooks, recipes, cookbooks, and numerous notes hanging on the walls. He glances over to a map of the galaxy, different threads connecting different people throughout the stars. He looks above and sees multiple pictures of faces, all of them relating to the Children of Nox. A scene that would freak an average person out has Anakin increasing his respect for you. He steps closer and begins to read some of the notes around the map, different sightings, meetings, and sayings you had overheard throughout the past few years. 

“The trail stopped cold 6 months ago when Gil Paven dropped off the face of the Galaxy.” You walk up next to him, tracing your finger over the last note you wrote. Gil has vanished, Amara with him. They were last seen in level 156. Eric hasn’t heard anything since they took in the new recruit. 

“However, Gil Paven himself paid me a quite horrifying visit tonight right before you did.” You turn to face Anakin, and he suddenly raises a brow at this revelation. 

“How come?” 

“They want me back. Otherwise, they’ll put a bounty on my head. Convenient timing. Something tells me he was trying to get to me before you did. Funny of him to assume I would do anything of the sort.” You shake your head and chuckle` at the idea. No fucking way.

“Well, something tells me he didn’t mean it.” Anakin turns to face you, suddenly crossing his arms. 

“What do you mean by that?” You step back slightly defensively. 

“Those Rodians were after you, Y/N. You walked right into them before they could get to you first.” Anakin admits, and you freeze. He was right; you were just too blinded by your own ego to realize it. You turn away from him, shielding the emotion on your face. 

“Anakin-”

“Y/N, trust me.” He approaches you and puts his hand on your bicep. Suddenly, you’re back in the alley.

Anakin’s force energy flows through your body, and you can see the Rodians in front of you, as well as yourself. You see their eyes, their plans for you. You can read their every thought, every corrupt plan they have for you. It had the Children of Nox written all over it, but Anakin wouldn’t know that. They spot you both, and you’re suddenly pulling yourself away from them again.

You break from the trance, feeling Anakin’s force energy leave you as you open your eyes to face him. The concern is written all over his face, and you divert your eyes from his once again. 

“Fuck- I- Okay. We need to move fast.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, scratching your head as you walk away frantically. You slightly trip over a couple of books before catching yourself on the desk before you. You can feel the apprehension radiating off of the man behind you, knowing he was about to move forward and attempt to assist you. Your head automatically starts spinning as you try to brush off his unwelcome feelings. You search through a drawer, pulling out a box with an intricate wood carving of a tree on top. Anakin moves closer. You carefully open it and pull out your lightsaber, carefully clipping it to your belt. You gesture to Anakin to come back over as you move toward your holoscreen, pulling up a picture of a man. 

“This is my contact, Eric. We need to get to him. He’s a few levels down, but I wanted to bring you up to speed before we went. He can be intense at times.” You face him, and Anakin shakes his head, laughing at your concern.

“I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

You roll your eyes before glancing back at the holoscreen and seeing that it is nearly 4:30. Fuck. There was no fucking way you were getting to Eric before the morning. He’d probably kill you and Anakin both. You sigh.

“Anakin,” he faces you with soft eyes, “We’ll have to go in the morning; it’s nearly 4:30. I have a guest room you can stay in tonight if you’d like- actually- I’m asking you to stay.” You wince at your words slightly, “I don’t have time to wait for you in the morning.”

He raised a brow at your words and smirked. 

You fake a smile, holding back the malice on your tongue. You swiftly place your lightsaber on the table and shut the holoscreen down. As you exit your study, you motion for Skywalker to follow closely behind, and he obeys, being welcomed into your home despite your attitude. 

“You brought a FUCKING JEDI? I thought you were DONE with the Order?” Eric yells as you put your face in your hands, sighing.

Anakin scoffs and circles around the weapons table, tracing his fingers over blasters, knives, and assorted dangerous objects. He glances over at you, noticing the stress in your energy. He knows there is more to this for you than just Obi-Wan, and he knows that, oddly enough, he is inclined to help.

“Eric, If you’d let me fucking explain, then maybe you would understand why I brought a Jedi!” You stand up, motioning to Anakin as you yell at the short man in front of you. “And besides, this is the fucking chosen one.” The room goes silent. What the fuck was happening? 

Anakin furrows his brow at your words, unsure why that mattered. He is usually flattered, but this time, his status isn’t a good thing. He briefly reads Eric’s reaction; it is full of hostility, resentment, and... sympathy? 

“I see,” Eric swallows briefly, moving quickly towards the holoscreen, “So Kenobi is missing? And Gil paid you a visit? What a fucker. Always knew that fucking cockroach would show up one way or another. He never could resist you.” You roll your eyes and scoff. 

“Don’t remind me.”

“And Amara?” He questions as he swiftly pulls up some files. 

“Still nothing. Apparently, they want me back.” You shrug, cringing slightly at the thought.

“And?” Eric faces you after pulling up a file on Gil, his smug face taking up the holoscreen.

“What do you mean ‘And?’- That’s it.” You scowl at his contempt. He didn’t possess the urgency you needed.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes at you, running a hand through his dark hair. I have reason to believe Kenobi is being held here,” he says, pulling up a picture of the temple on Mustafar. 

“Fuck,” You mumble, your tone catching Anakin’s attention.

“Fuck is right,” Eric moves closer to the screen, sighing as he looks at the Temple. “High Priestess herself must want him badly. The old contact that led us to Gil last time mentioned something briefly about Amara wanting a Jedi. Can’t imagine it’s anyone else- that’s my lead.”

“Wait, I’m confused-” Anakin starts before being interrupted by the courageous man in front of him.

“Wait your turn, Jedi,” Eric sneers. “Kenobi is being held at the mothership. The chances of you both sneaking in there and then sneaking him out—especially when he holds mass importance to them—are very, very slim. You’ll need more than the force on your side for this one.” 

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding Anakin’s accusing gaze. He watches as you lick your lips nervously, fidgeting with the blaster in your hands. 

“Well, then, where do we begin?” He swallows nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing while he ponders the idea of this mission. None of this was going to be good. None of it.

“Luckily for you two,” Eric cocks a blaster, setting it down next to him, “The head chef at the Temple owes me one.” You shake your head. No fucking way. 

“Well, that’s convenient,” Anakin says, turning towards you and wiggling his eyebrows playfully. You sigh. 

“Well then, shall we begin,” You mumble, standing up and turning towards Anakin.

“Wait,” Eric furrows his brows, grabbing your arm. Y/N, just saving Kenobi doesn’t end this fight—you know that. We’ve never had an opportunity like this to end it all once and for all, not since you were part of them. We need to do more than save Kenobi—we need to save them all.” 

The weight in the room shifted; you knew there was more to this. So did Anakin. You felt nauseous, sweat pouring down your brow as you contemplated your next words carefully. None of this was easy—it never would be. But were you ready to face it? That was the million-dollar question. You swallowed, knowing exactly what needed to be done. Anakin may not like it- Hell, you didn’t either, but it’s time for this all to end, once and for all.

“Okay,” you stand up straighter, avoiding the lingering gaze of the two in front of you. Instead, you unclip the lightsaber off of your hip, holding it in your hand as you gently trace the intricate silver details along the hilt. “We’ll finish them all off, then. It’s the right thing to do.” Your palms are now sweaty as well, and your heart rate peaks as your brain tries to wrap itself around the slightly irrational and prompt decision you just made. You needed to get away from this- from the people around you and the feelings clouding your brain. The longer you waited, the harder it became to breathe.

“Y/N, wait!” Anakin watches you leave and attempts to pull you back, several questions threatening to spill from his lips. He could see the sweat, feel your heartbeat, and feel the feelings lingering behind your eyes. You walk away through the small corridors of Eric’s house and into a nearby restroom, the panic attack edging itself into your brain. 

Leaning against the wall, you mumble affirmations to yourself, breathing deeply, avoiding thinking about anything. You try to clear your mind, desperate for some peace. Desperate for something other than the situation at hand. Your body shook, your heart rate was in your ears, and your mouth was incredibly dry. You clear your throat, pick yourself off from the wall, and look into the mirror above the sink in front of you. You looked like a wreck, nails bitten, hair disheveled, and the bags under your eyes had bags. Needing a refresh, you gently splash some water on your face, patting it dry with a towel on the counter.

Your back pocket buzzes; pulling it out, you see 4 missed calls from Cora and about 50 new messages. Fuck. You take a deep breath and dial her number, hearing the line pick up the second you ring. 

“Chef?? Is everything okay? You didn’t come in to prep this morning and-”

“Cora, I need you to listen to me,” Your tone is serious, laced with a hint of sorrow. “I need you to be me for the time being.”

“Chef-”

“Listen to me. Please.” You silently beg, “Chef, I need you to be me. Please. I’ve had a crazy 24 hours, and you know I haven’t missed a day of work since opening and-” Your voice is overcome by the panic attack you were having, and you failed to realize how obvious it was.

“I’ll do it. I hope everything is okay, Chef. We’re all here for you.” You suddenly breathe out at her response, unaware of the breath you had been holding since you called. 

“Thank you, Cora; you seriously have no idea how much this means to me,”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated. And stay in touch- I’ve never done this before, Chef. Not trying to fuck it up.” She giggles, attempting to lighten the mood slightly. 

“I will, no need to worry. Thank you once again.” You smile slightly at her words, ending the call and leaning back against the wall, letting yourself sink to the floor. 

You didn’t know when you started crying, just that once you did, it was hard to stop. You tried to stay quiet, knowing the men outside the door could probably hear. You choked back a sob, throwing your hand over your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut.

Anakin could hear you on the other side of the door, his heart slightly aching for you. But more than that- he could feel your pain. It was like he knew like he knew what was wrong and could take it all from you in an instant- but instead, he felt it too. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, turning back around to the headstrong man with him. 

“Eric, what don’t I know?” He approached Eric, looking at the screen with Gil’s face on it. The two of them studied the file. 

“What do you mean?” Raising a brow at Anakin’s question, he turns around with a smirk, tugging at his lips.

“I mean, like,” Anakin inhales sharply, “Why is she so cold towards me, and why does it matter if I’m the chosen one? I don’t understand the contingency of all of this.” 

“Oh, you mean she hasn’t told you?” Eric exclaims, crossing his arms across his chest, looking particularly amused with the annoyed Jedi in front of him. 

“Hasn’t told me what?” Anakins' voice was notably harsh, and he bit his lip in confusion. Eric smiled, motioning for him to follow him, and he did. He was being led to a more private room within his house, what he could only assume was Eric’s study.

“So, What exactly do you know about Y/N?” Eric leans against the wall, grinning. He knew this was going to be interesting. He also knew he probably shouldn’t be entertaining this at all, but he was doing it to help you. He knew this wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Well,” Anakin pondered the thought for a moment, furrowing his brows as reflected on Eric’s question. Did he really know anything about you? “I know she’s a chef of a restaurant-”

“Of a restaurant? Just a restaurant?” Eric scoffed at the Jedi's ignorance. Obviously, you don’t know much.” 

“I wasn’t finished-” Eric irritated Anakin. That much was obvious. But pointing out his arrogance and ignorance- well, that was a little too much for the Jedi. “I know the order forced her to join the Children of Nox. I don’t exactly know why. I know she has some weird resentment for me- no idea why. I know her family and her sister. And I know her books on the Children of Nox- I’ve read everything she’s ever written- it was the little bit of peace I could afford to have in this chaos of a fucking galaxy right now.” 

“You are the reason. The reason for it all.” Eric blurts out suddenly, squeezing his eyes and lips shut immediately afterward. Anakin raises a brow, crossing his arms defensively at Eric’s bold statement. What the fuck was he talking about? 

“Let me explain—you may want to sit down for this.” Eric motions to a chair in his study for Anakin to sit in. “And don’t tell her I told you this—I know her. She would never tell you, but I think it’ll make your life easier if you know.”

Anakin nods impatiently—he desperately needs the rest of this story. He didn’t like the feeling of this from the beginning, and now, knowing he may be involved, well, that wasn’t something he was necessarily excited about hearing.��

“Since Y/N was a child, the council kept her away from you.” Eric paced the room in front of Anakin, choosing his next words carefully, “For the longest time, she didn’t know why. She came back from the Children of Nox mission wanting to stay with The Order- I believe this was right after you had returned from protecting her sister. And your previous master- Master Kenobi- told Y/N the truth. Something about feeling ashamed for keeping it from her for this long. And upon hearing the truth- Y/N decided she had enough and she left the order.”

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Anakin gulped nervously, lightly balling his hands in a fist and squeezing to calm himself. 

“She—well, she is also part of the Chosen One prophecy, actually,” Eric mumbles softly, diverting himself from Anakin’s stunned gaze. 

“She- what?” Anakin stood up abruptly in disbelief- there was no fucking way, “You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m not- and that is exactly how she felt.” Eric nods his head reassuringly, feeling a pang of guilt for him, “She was kept away from you for years- the Council fearing the possibilities of your strength together- at least that’s the working theory as to why they did it. But she was held back- her potential abandoned because the Council decided that you were their Chosen one- not her. It isn’t your fault- you had no idea. She’s just- well- fucking stubborn is the only thing that comes to mind.”

Anakin takes a deep breath and sits back down in his seat, feeling a wave of shock, rage, and guilt hit him all at once. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the reality that was just disclosed to him.   

“I don’t know what to say-” Anakin begins,

“Neither do I,” The boys turn, noticing you in the doorway, clearly pissed the fuck off by the conversation you just witnessed. Their hearts drop at the sight of you. You were a wave of emotions not to be fucked with- and they just committed the ultimate sin. 

“Oh fuck.”

Chapter 4.

[strqyr]

ozpin questions blake after the events at the docks about her past education, where she got her training—blake didn't get training in any of the many combat schools, yet she passed the entrance exam with flying colors; "i was raised outside the kingdoms. if you can't fight, you can't survive." "well, you have most certainly survived."—and also revealing he knows blake is a faunus.

"how did you know the white fang would be at the shipyard tonight?" / "i didn't. i just happened to be at the right place at the right time." / "you wouldn't have been the first. but what happened tonight was not an isolated incident. i may be your headmaster, but i am also a huntsman, and it is my sworn duty to protect this world from the forces that conspire against it. blake, are you sure there is nothing else you would like to tell me?"

("the queen has pawns" says the message qrow sent to ozpin at the end of V1, while ozpin is looking at the live footage from the shipyard; from forces that conspire against it -> he's gathering information about salem's plans and if blake is involved.)

raven and qrow grew up outside the kingdoms, and survival is important to raven especially. eventually, they were sent to attend beacon, and they had to pass the entrance exam: "the entrance exam was a child's play compared to what we'd already been through. we were good. so good, that we caught the attention of beacon's very own headmaster, professor ozpin. even after we were put on a team, i could tell he was keeping an eye on us. back then, i though it was because he knew, but it was team strq he was interested in."

i think ozpin knew, considering that the tribe is called the branwen tribe and raven & qrow weren't exactly subtle with their surname pick, and they likely didn't have any paper trail to any of the combat schools, just like blake; what's especially interesting here is that ozpin took note of them already during the entrance exam, before team strq was even a thing.

especially since salem has no issues with working with bandits (unlike cinder, who objected to it); the few men tock had with her also looked pretty bandit-like, so there's precedence to salem getting bandits to do her dirty work, if necessary.

which kinda makes me wonder... was ozpin suspicious of raven and qrow just bc they were bandits in general (understandable), or did he have more reason to believe something was up bc the branwen tribe had worked with salem—unknowingly or not—before?

[jeannereames]

Your top 5 Alexander the Great moments?

Top Five Alexander Moments

One issue with answering this is to figure out what events actually happened, especially when it comes to anecdotes! Here are four I find either significant to understanding his charisma and/or which explain how he functioned and why he was successful, plus one I like just because I’m a horse girl.

1) To my mind, the event that best illustrates why his men followed him to the edge of their known world occurred in the Gedrosian Desert. While I’m a bit dubious that this trek was as bad as it’s made out to be (reasons exist for exaggerating), it was still baaaad. One story relates that some of his men found some brackish water in a sad little excuse for a spring, gathered it in a helm, and brought it to him. Given his poor physical condition after the Malian siege wound, he no doubt needed it badly. He thanked them (most sincerely), then carried it out where all (or at least a lot) of his men could see, raised it overhead, and announced that until all of them could drink, he wouldn’t. Then he poured it onto the rocky ground.

That gesture exemplified his charisma. And it absolutely is not something the likes of a Donald tRump could even imagine doing—nor most dictators, tbh. They’d be blaming everybody else and calling for heads while drinking Diet Coke, not suffering alongside their people.

This wasn’t an isolated event of that type. While he almost certainly didn’t have time to engage along with his soldiers in every project, we’re told he would drop in from time-to-time, to inspire them and to offer a little friendly competition.

He also dressed like his men for everyday activities, especially early in the campaign. As time went on, some sources say he inserted more distance—probably necessary as his duties exploded—but he still seems to have found time to “just hang out” with his Macedonians on occasion. The claims that he was too high and mighty to do so appears to have been exaggeration (as such accusations often are) in order to forward a narrative that he was “going Asian.” Troop resentment over court changes was very genuine—I don’t want to underplay it (especially as I’ve written about it in a few chapters in this), but it tended to boil up during certain periods/events, then die back again. Alexander was trying to walk a very fine line of incorporating the conquered while not ticking off his own people.

2) Reportedly, he once threw a man out of line because he hadn’t bothered to secure the chin strap on his helm. I pick this one because it tells me a whole lot about how he saw himself as a commander, and what he expected of his men (and why he tended to consistently win).

On the surface, his reaction seems almost petty. It’s precisely the sort of mistake students whine about when professors ding them for it. It’s just a chin strap! I’d have tightened it before I went into battle! (It’s just a few typos; you knew what I meant! Or, Why does everything in the bibliography have to be exactly matching in style? Who cares? What a stupid thing to obsess about!) These objections are all of a piece. First, they’re lazy, and second, they indicate a disconcern with details. In battle, such disconcern can get a person killed. And on a larger scale, for a general, such disconcern loses battles.

One of the striking aspects of Alexander’s military operations was just how well his logistics worked. Consistently. We hear little about them precisely because they rarely fail. Food and water was there when they needed it, as were arrow replacements, wood to repair the spears, wool and leather for clothes and shoes, canvas for tents, etc., etc. All those little niggling (boring) details. If these are missing, soldiers become upset (and don’t fight well). Starting with Philip, the Macedonian military was a well-oiled machine. That’s WHY Gedrosia was such a shock: the logistics collapsed. Contra some historians, he did not do it to “punish” his men, nor to best Cyrus.* He had a sound reason—to scout a trade route.

Alexander understood that details matter. It starts with a loose chinstrap. (Or an unplanned-for storm and rebellion in his rear.) Everything else can unravel from that.

3) Alexander sends Hephaistion a little dish of small fish (probably smelts). He also helps an officer secure the lady of his dreams. And writes another on assignment (away from the army) that a mutual friend is recovering from an illness. While technically three “moments,” these are all of a piece. Alexander knows his men, and is concerned not only for their physical well-being, but also their mental state: that they’re happy. Granted, these are all elite officers, but it suggests he’s paying attention to people. I’ve always assumed he sent Hephaistion the fish because they were his friend’s favorite, and/or they were a special treat and he wanted to share. That he didn’t punish an officer for going AWOL to chase the mistress he wanted but offered advice, and even assistance, on how to court and secure her suggests the same care.

I don’t want to take away from what appears to be his serious anger management problems(!), but little details like those above strike me as the likeable side of Alexander—why his men were so devoted to him.

4) Then we have the encounter with Timokleia after the siege of Thebes. While probably a bit too precious to have occurred exactly as related, I think it may still hold a kernel of truth.

Alexander had a reputation of chivalry towards his (highborn) female captives. If some of that was likely either propaganda from his own time or philhellenic whitewashing later by Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch (and Arrian), poor treatment of women is not something we hear attributed to him.

Ergo, while the meeting was probably doctored for a moral tail, he may well have freed Timokleia as an act of clemency to put a better face on a shocking destruction he knew wouldn’t sit well with the rest of Greece—who he both wanted to cow yet earn support from. (A difficult balancing act.) Also, if Timokleia hadn’t been high-born, she’d probably have been hauled off to one of the prisoner cages with little fanfare.

Nonetheless, I find his actions surprising given the casual misogyny of his era. If we can take the bare bones of the story as true, and it’s not all invented, Timokleia was raped as a matter of course during the sacking of Thebes, then managed to trick her rapist and kill him by pushing him down a well and dropping rocks on him. I assume this happened when his men weren’t there, but they found out soon enough and hauled her in front of Alexander to be punished for killing an officer. To the surprise of all, Alexander decided the man had earned it and freed Timokleia. One might be inclined to call this overly sentimental, but….

There’s a similar story that occurred much later in the Levant, when two of Parmenion’s men seduced/(raped?) the mistresses/wives of some mercenaries. Alexander instructed Parmenion to kill the Macedonians if they were found to be guilty.

In both cases, we have an affront against (respectable) women. In the latter case, Alexander was (no doubt) working to avoid conflict between hired soldiers and his own men, who—in typical Greek fashion—would have looked down on mercenaries as a matter of course. Some sort of conflict between Macedonians and Greek mercenaries up in Thrace had almost got Alexander’s father killed. Alexander saved him. No doubt that was on Alexander’s mind here.

Yet what both events illuminate is a willingness on Alexander’s part to punish his own men for affronts to honor/timē that involved women. Yes, this is clearly about discipline. But it also shows an unusual sensitivity to sex crimes in warfare: actions that would normally fall under the excuse of “boys will be boys” (especially when their blood is up).

I doubt he’d have felt the same about slaves or prostitutes; he was still a product of his time. Yet without overlooking his violence—sometimes extreme (the genocide of the Branchidai, for instance)—I find his reaction in these cases to be evidence of an atypical sympathy for women that I’d like to think isn’t wholly an invention of later Roman authors. And just might show the influence of his mother and sisters.

5) Last… the Boukephalas story…because who doesn’t love a good “a boy and his horse” tale? Obviously the Plutarchian version is tweaked to reflect that author’s later concern to contrast the Macedonian “barbarian” Philip with the properly Hellenized Alexander. Ignore the editorializing remarks, especially the “find a kingdom big enough for you” nonsense.

But the bare bones of the story seem likely: unmanageable horse, cocky kid, bet with dad, gotcha moment. You can imagine this was an anecdote Alexander retold a time or three, or twenty.

——

* His attempts to copy Cyrus may be imposition by later writers. In his own day, he may have cared more about the first Darius, for reasons Jenn Finn is going to explain in a forthcoming, very good article on the burning of Thebes and Persepolis.

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Everyone's Fate Is Up To The Saints, Except Hers - Tolya Yul-Bataar

Prompt: “If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off her.”

Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat

This is really just a drabble but what can ya do.

Not proofread because "no beta we die like men"

Had anyone asked, Tolya would have made it very clear that he 'never doubted her for a moment', that 'her capability was easily beyond that of the task at hand' and he knew, given the opportunity, 'she would've likely taken it on alone'. But Sturmhond, in a brief moment of clear insight, had drawn the conclusion that Tolya would have been very little help carrying out his duties if his mind had been following someone out on the mission. Waiting, wondering and worrying were three things not very conducive with carrying out duties to their requirement. So Sturmhond sent the both of them. No one questioned him, everyone else because he is the captain, but Tamar because she held the same knowledge that Sturmhond had based his call on: her twin for all his openness and cheer, was not letting on quite how deep the river of his care flowed when it came to one particular crewmate.

The she in question, had picked up a pace while Tolya had been somewhat lost in his thoughts.

"Falling behind there sesh?" You ask, turning around with a wicked grin, continuing to walk in the direction you both were headed, but now watching Tolya instead of the path. Walking backwards was something you had gotten very good at with the years of sword training, if you lean to step back with balance enough times, learning to follow the pattern is easy. Yet now, it was certainly more to show off than for practical use.

"You're still not using that correctly," Tolya smiled, an abundance of laughter in his voice. His shadow was being cast by a far off light and the distance made the silhouette looking deceivingly small, compared to the reality. Tolya was just as tall as he was handsome, which is to say more so than anyone really hard the right to be.

"Well if you gave in and told me the word I am looking for," you tease, the sentence hung in the air, feeling unfinished and incomplete. But the years have taught Tolya that sometimes you spoke in half, and it was up to the one hearing the words to decide if it was their turn.

"I will not teach you words in Shu just so you can mock me," he means the words he is saying but his tone is far from mean.

"I'm not mocking you," you defend. "I'm attempting to describe you."

"Describe me in your own language," he pulls his graze away, hoping that maybe if he stops staring, you might start looking where you're going, but to no avail.

"So you'll read me poetry in a language I do not know, but you shall not teach it to me?"

"Not when I know your interest lies in different intent, if you wish to understand the poem I'll happily explain it-" he is suddenly silence by a quiet and quick whistle, a signal that stops him in his tracks.

You look on edge, looking around the dim lit street with such concentration and apprehension that Tolya notices how small it makes you look, the fear. He isn't used to seeing you look afraid.

"Sorry," you say pulling yourself back in, raning it back and composing yourself. "I didn't mean to interrupt you when it's about poetry."

"I don't take it personally," he says. "You know Tamar well enough."

"Exactly, I try to let you talk about it as much as possible when there is no one to tell you to stop," the comment is offhand and absentminded, you hadn't meant much by it. It was a truth, and you did not choose to shy from the truth often, but it wasn't something you had meant to declare in any kind of way. Yet the look in Tolya's eyes makes you run the words back, trying to find the secret of the universe, the strangely powerful compliment that had to be hidden in the words you'd spoken without a second thought.

"Thank you," he says, his voice so soft, it hits like whisper.

"There's no need, there are few ways to show someone how you matter to them, and this is mine," if you had to break it down, the moments before, the reasons that this moment unfolds, you could lay out each factor in pieces. The light being so low. The quietness being so rare that sound is a welcome visitor and therefore can lull into a false sense of security. Maybe even your own foolishness, having not turned around despite your previous scare. But if you were honest with yourself, truly honest, it was not your ego or your environment that betrayed you in this small moment. It was your heart. Had you not been searching for something tangible in the unspoken distance between the two of you, there was no way someone could have gotten close enough to place a blade into the small of your back before you reached for your weapon.

"I wouldn't try it," the blade is pushed closer as you move for the weapon, the voice is dark and quiet, but the accent isn't from around here, and there's a gruffness that shows the man's age.

"I am guessing you are exactly who we are looking for," you reply. Tolya reached for his own blade the moment the assailant had stepped out of the dark, he holds it tight and his eyes are fixed over your shoulder. "We aren't here for a fight."

"Tell that to your friend," the man replies.

"Tolya," you say calmly. Tolya is reasonable, Tolya is smart and above all Tolya knows better than most, much better than his twin, when there's not a need for a fight. But he doesn't look willing to backdown.

"Perhaps I might be more inclined to step down if you remove the blade from my friends back," Tolya says slowly.

A hand grips your shoulder tight, and the blade moves from your spine to your side. A much more defendable position, but a still a threat. "Better?" The man asks.

"If you wish to keep your fingers, I’d take your hands off her.”

You watch him and your heart, against your practiced calm, races in your chest and his eyes flicker to meet yours. It dawns on you why he hasn't calmed the situation, why he is defensive and not quite like his normal self. He senses your confusion, your fear and he is not used to that in you. He isn't paying attention to the man's heartbeat or his emotions because he is still fixed on you. And that realisation makes your heart jump in a way you should know better than to let it do, and Tolya feels it. "He won't repeat himself," you tell the man, and he drops the blade to his side. "We were sent to get you, alive was the preference."

"Who sent you?" The man asks.

"Sturmhond," Tolya explains, listening to his heart now, sensing the fear, the anger, the loss. "We are here to help." Tolya's expression softens, he has been in the world and really seen enough of it to know that there's danger in the most unexpecting of places, but one of the many things about him that is never unsurprising, is how he still sees the opportunity for kindness and grace amongst them.

Sturmhond stares at the two of them and is quick to dismiss Tolya, who walks out on the deck and is soon shoulder to shoulder with Tamar.

"You seem tense brother," she muses, eager to hear what had happened.

"I shouldn't have gone," he thinks aloud. Tamar frowns.

"How did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?" She asks, pulling at a piece of the bread she is eating.

"Because it was my presence that made her vulnerable," he explains. "She was scared, I've not seen her scared before."

"Are you sure it was fear, and not anxiety?" Tamar asks nonchalantly. "Besides, Everyone's fate is up to the saints, is it not?"

"Not hers," Tolya says without pausing to think. Tamar gives him a side glance and he shoves her shoulder.

"Not hers?" Tamar echoes. "Not if you can help it."