#who’s blood is it you ask? very good question (rex perhaps. or anyone that even so much as looked at either of her wives wrong honestly)

[eeblouissant]

vamp stuff + others doodles from tonight !!!

[theodora3022]

Incandescence

Yandere! Xiao x Adeptus! reader

Summary: Xiao does not want you, the only healer among the adepti he can converse with to be out and about in the mortal realm.

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my pile of drafts, gathering dust for a while, so here you go! I recently got some insight on the tsundere mindset so um....It's really plain and simple I hope you all enjoy this crumb oml. I tried to keep the reader gender neutral, but if I missed something do let me know through an ask or comment!

Warning: Mild description of blood, obsessive and possessive behaviour, mentions of murder and violence, Xiao being a social recluse, mild yandere content

When did this all start?

Xiao has no recollection. One thing that he can be sure is: it did not started to fester recently, rather accumiliation across centuries.

This itching, strange feeling in his chest? At first, Xiao paid it no mind, whenever you came into his field of view.

You do not even talk to him that much in the beginning, besides you have no sentience-altering power, not to his knowledge.

But those karmic debts that haunt him…you seem to have the ability to quell them, with your mere presence. It is only logical, Xiao supposes, as you act as a healer among the adepti. Always so gentle and calm, always smiling. Not even the slightest of frowns when he comes to your abode covered in dark crimson.

“Because beings would come to me whenever they are in pain. Discouraging expressions would only sever their suffering.” Your fingers gently brush over a minor cut on Xiao’s right arm, closing it almost instantly. Of course, it is foolish of him to ask. You are like this towards anyone in need of your services after all.

Whenever your powers came into contact with him, it feels...warm and comforting, just like your presence’s effects on others. Of course, the Yaksha would never say it out loud, but he can allow himself to relax with you around.

It is getting harder and harder to keep a straight face around you, something that irritates Xiao greatly. However, he nneds to see you frequently(not just because of injuries). Once a week, at the very least.

Like a fire on snowy winter mountains, or a glimmer of light that pierces through the darkness.

Strictly speaking, you are not the only Adeptus who is capable of mending wounds. But Xiao trusts you the most, coming to your domain has become second nature since time immemorial.

One day, he thought paying you some occasional visit after he patrolled would not be a terrible pastime. Since his karmic debt does not seem to have any effect on you. Your tea brewing and culinary skills are not terrible, it all just spiralled downwards from there.

You do not seem to mind his little visits, and he find himself geew rather found of your company over time. A good way to keep his karmatic debts under control, that is all there is, or so Xiao tells himself.

Always letting him initiate the conversation if Xiao is feeling talkative on that day, or it would just be a plate of almond tofu and your silence company, with a book in your hands. He prefers this much better than bothersome chattiness.

Those fools dare to call him unsociable, they are mistaken. He is just not used to common forms of socialization.

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

“You what? That is dangerous.”

You did not expect him to have such a strong outburst of emotion when you told him about your plans. After Rex Lapis steps down from his archon post, you thought Adeptus such as yourself are not bound to stay in Jueyun Karst by contract anymore. According to Ganyu, the familiar mountains of Jueyun pales in comparison when it comes to entertainment events. So you thought some sightseeing would be enjoyable.

Setting your teacup down, you noticed anger flickering in those golden eyes. “Xiao, what is wrong with going to the mortal realm?” He did not look up from his nearly empty plate, simply scrapping the remains instead of answering your question.

Xiao has seen how wicked and twisted those mortals can be. If you want to see mortals, Qingce village is more than sufficient. The harbour is no place for a soft-hearted, naive adeptus such as yourself. The Yaksha cannot even bear to imagine how those greedy creatures would exploit your kindness. It is dangerous, especially with foreigners like the Fatui scheming in broad daylight. You would probably be so blissfully oblivious to those lies behind masks. Your abilities are not suitable for fighting, unlike his own. What if you fall for those dirty tricks?

Xiao will not allow any harm to befall you.

That is his duty as a guardian Yaksha, as one of Rex Lapis’s subordinates.

Since his contract forbids him from killing mortals unless there is no other option, Xiao would have to figure out other ways to not let you fall into their schemes. You always said Jueyun Karst is plain and uneventful, but that is better than being reduced to a pet or target, by some vile merchants or researchers.

Who is going to smile at him, treat his cuts and bruises with such gentleness and cook the most delicious almond tofu for him when you are gone?

Immense anger washes over him, like stormy tides at the thought of you leaving and never coming back.

“Are you perhaps worried about me, Xiao?” You walked to the other side of the floating island to reboil water for more tea, so you missed the momentarily blush on his cheeks.

Worried? Of course, he would be concerned. It would be his fault if you do manage to get yourself harmed, or killed. The others would surely blame him too, as your relation to him is no secret in the close circle of Adepti.

Those filthy mortals are not worth a single shred of your warmth.

If bloodbaths for Liyue harbour means you will remain safe and sound… No, this is a dangerous thought, Xiao knows well that he must not encourage it. But it is not off the table entirely, either.

Convincing others is never Xiao’s forte, but he has to try, for the sake of your safety.

[dreamrecorder]

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

~

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

~

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

~

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

~

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

~ 

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

~

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

~

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall. 

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it. 

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

~

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more. 

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?” 

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils. 

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself. 

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice. 

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?” 

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

~

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue. 

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore. 

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil. 

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer. 

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night. 

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

[klixxy]

Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

-

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ;      ;  -  ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 15

Part 15 of the oof!au. (One part left! And it’s really more of an epilogue than a full chapter, so). It’s been a long haul and I have plans for a sequel (and some snippets that might go INTO the sequel). 

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Past torture, non-con, and mind control. Attempt at suicide and discussions of suicide. Mental and emotional trauma. 

Alt 10. Nightmares

 Cody stiffened down his spine when Rex and Ahsoka came back onboard the Recompense. It should have been good to see one of his brothers again - to see another Jedi - but he hadn’t managed to be happy about it when they showed up. They were just another factor, something he couldn’t control, something he didn’t know how to predict.

And then Ahsoka had told Obi-Wan he should have done a better job saving kriffing Skywalker and--

Cody didn’t even know they were back on the Recompense until they turned around the corner that led to Obi-Wan’s room. It was, technically, morning. Cody’d slept a bit, on his feet. He’d tried, once or twice, to go bunk down, but…

But he never managed to keep his eyes closed very long, worries about Obi-Wan across the ship, in a room by himself, eating away at him if he tried. He could snag a few clicks of sleep leaning against the wall, confident he’d wake up if anything happened.

Usually, it was the sounds Obi-Wan made in his quarters that woke Cody.

He screamed, sometimes, in his sleep.

Rex and Ahsoka woke him, coming down the hall. He blinked to wakefulness, pushing away from the wall, glad he’d stayed close even as Ahsoka’s steps faltered. “Commander,” she said, glancing towards Rex and then back at him. She grimaced, looking miserable before she added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t--I’m just sorry. I wanted to…” she gestured at the door to Obi-Wan’s room. “Apologize.”

“He’s asleep,” Cody said, because Force knew Obi-Wan wasn’t sleeping enough - none of them were sleeping enough - and he wouldn’t interrupt that.

Ahsoka’s expression tensed further, mouth twisting and pressing thin. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and said, softly, “He’s--not really, it’s…” She clenched and unclenched her hands, and said, raw, “It would be a kindness to wake him. But I - I may be able to help. Let him sleep better.”

Cody’d listened to Obi-Wan wake himself up screaming or - worse, somehow - trying to swallow screams back, for far too long. He swore, under his breath, and said, stepping forward to open the door, “Do it, then.”

Ahsoka didn’t hesitate, sliding into the room, the light flowing in around her. Obi-Wan was tangled in the sheets on his little bunk, jerking, just a little, making sounds too quiet to carry through the door, awful sounds, and--

“Sh,” Ahsoka said, sitting on the edge of the bunk, stretching a hand out, palm over his forehead. “Sh, sh, Master, it’s only a dream.”

Cody stood in the doorway, gripping the frame of it, and shivered down his back, watching Obi-Wan slowly go still, his breathing getting even and deeper, some of the lines around his eyes and mouth easing. His face was wet, catching the light, though his eyes remained closed as he settled.

Ahsoka didn’t make any move to get up off the bed or to take away her hand. She’d closed her eyes as well, expression set with determination. Cody wondered what, exactly, she was doing, but it hardly mattered.

It was helping. He could see it helping, soothing Obi-Wan in a way none of them had been able to accomplish. They’d found assistance. Someone to help, and--and Cody had promised - to himself - that he’d get his brothers and Obi-Wan out. That he’d save them.

He looked at Ahsoka, murmuring soft words with a lilting cadence, and realized that, perhaps, he’d done it. He exhaled shakily, turned on his heel, and walked away. 

# 

Rex waited, for a while, in the doorway to Kenobi’s quarters. He’d never seen Ahsoka soothe someone through a nightmare from this perspective before. He knew she’d done it for him, after - after the world fell apart. He’d woken up more than once to find his head resting against her leg, her palm cool over his forehead, all his nightmares kept away, at least for a few hours.

She had nightmares, too. He soothed them as best he could, without the benefit of the Force.

He lacked the ability to help soothe Kenobi, and he was fairly certain that if he made a move towards the bed he’d end up regretting it. Cody hadn’t been the only one of his brothers lingering around in the hall. They were all watching him, assessingly. He nodded, decided to leave the door open so they could keep an eye on their General, and took a breath.

He couldn’t help with Kenobi’s nightmares, but he’d seen the look on Cody’s face, before he left. It didn’t take more than a question to get a location for Cody’s quarters. Rex braced himself and went to find his brother.

Rex expected Cody’s door to be locked, when he arrived, but it opened at his touch. The space within was lit, revealing the little bunk and Cody, sitting on it, back to the door. Rex bit his tongue, hard, because Cody didn’t even turn to look at him, just...stared forward, blaster in hand and resting on his thigh.

Rex said, softly, “Hey, there.”

“Rex,” Cody said, voice flat and empty. He kept staring forward, even as Rex edged a step into the room, heart slamming against his ribs, blood burning in his veins. Rex had… anticipated something like this, after talking to Cody and the others in the mess.

He could remember, too easily, what had happened after they rescued Bly, after they pulled the chip out of his head, walking into his room the next morning and--and Rex hadn’t managed to get Ahsoka turned away before she saw the wall--

“Thought maybe we could grab some breakfast,” Rex said, with forced lightness. He’d made it far enough in to get a look at Cody’s expression and it was terrible. Blank and fixed, his face streaked with tears.

“You go ahead,” Cody said, and he had his finger curled around the trigger of the blaster, Rex noted, the cold in his gut spreading further. They’d all been trained, indoctrinated, not to draw their blaster unless they planned to shoot something.

“No, I’ll wait for you.” Rex shifted another step closer. He wondered, vaguely, if he could wrestle the blaster away. Cody had always been stronger than him, but Cody didn’t look up to struggling with anyone, at the moment. Then again, he knew better than most how stubborn his brothers could be, when they wanted to do something badly enough.

And he knew that Cody had - had broken that thing in his head, to get his way. He’d obviously lost none of his stubborn drive over the last three years.

Rex took another step, wetted his lips, and said, soft, “Why don’t you give that to me?”

Cody shook his head. He said, “I want you to look after him.”

“Yeah?” Rex edged nearer, close enough that he could grab Cody’s arm, if necessary. He didn’t bother asking who him was. They both knew. Everyone on the ship knew. Kriff, everyone in the galaxy with eyes knew. “You know, he wants you looking after him.”

Cody made a short, sharp sound. He said, “No.”

Rex flexed his fingers in and out, tried to tell himself it was a good sign that Cody was willing to talk to him, that he hadn’t just jerked his arm up and pulled the trigger. He picked his words carefully, wishing he were better at this kind of thing. “He does. Come on. Give it to me, please. Don’t do this to him.”

Cody blinked, for the first time. “I’m doing this for him.”

Rex shuddered, down his back. He wished, for just a click, that Skywalker was still alive, just so Rex could make him pay for what he’d done. “He’s not going to appreciate it,” he said, quiet. “You know that. Ahsoka said he’s already blaming himself for what happened. He’ll blame himself, every day, if you do this. It’ll be more pain. More nightmares.”

Cody’s breath hitched, and Rex could identify a weak spot when he saw one. Kriff, everyone had always known where Cody’s was. Rex touched Cody’s shoulder, soft, and said, “He needs help, handling what happened. The Jedi - they’re like us, not meant to be alone. He needs--”

“Not from me,” Cody snapped back, quickly, more life coming into his voice.

Rex drew in a breath, trying to play this correctly. “Ahsoka says she can tell he--”

“Not from me,” Cody cut in, gritting the words out, each one bitten off, snapped. “I enjoyed it,” he added, gutted. “What I did. To him.”

Rex almost recoiled back, restraining the urge at the last moment. He tried to imagine the possibility of the words being true and found he couldn’t. “No,” he said, firm, “you didn’t.”

Cody looked up at him, finally, his eyes wide and full of bottomless anger and guilt. He snarled, “You weren’t there. I--” 

“You want to do it again, then?” Rex cut in, because they were getting somewhere, dragging Cody out of his head, out of whatever terrible pit he’d fallen into. And because the words needed said, probably. He continued, the words tearing like glass in his throat, even just saying them making his stomach ache with disgust, while Cody stared at him, “You could, you know. He looks like a strong breeze would knock him down. You could walk into his quarters right now and hold him down and--”

The wall caught Rex’s shoulders and the back of his head when Cody surged to his feet and shoved him back, hard. Rex saw stars, terribly aware of the fact that Cody was still holding the blaster, of Cody’s hand, pressed hard against his chest. Cody snarled, eyes blazing, “Don’t you kriffing ever--”

“See?” Rex cut in, ignoring the pain, because getting Cody fully off the ledge he’d thrown himself onto was more important than a headache. Possibly a concussion.“You don’t want to. You never wanted to. Va--Skywalker raped him.” He stared across into Cody’s eyes, and gentled his voice. “Raped you, too, Cody.”

Cody flinched, looking to the side and keeping his hand where it was, terrible strength in him, for all that he was trembling, a bit. “You don’t understand. I--Obi-Wan didn’t--but I--finished--I--”

Rex swallowed, hard, second-hand agony moving through him. He reached up, slowly, and - when Cody didn’t twitch towards shooting him - gripped both of Cody’s shoulders, softly. He said, careful, “You can’t always help the things your body does. No, you can’t, not even - even without the chip. Some things just - just happen. That doesn’t mean you wanted it.” He slid one hand down, towards the blaster in Cody’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

Cody gritted out, “That’s what Obi-Wan says.”

Rex nodded, reaching the blaster, feeling the tension in Cody’s hand. He was gripping it far too tightly for Rex to just strip it away. He said, gentling, in a way he’d only learned how to be because Ahsoka had needed it, so much, after the war, “Well, he’s right.”

Cody shook his head, sounding hoarse when he said, “He says it’s his fault.”

That was a whole other nightmare, Rex considered. Hopefully one that Ahsoka would be able to help with, because Rex had no idea how to go about addressing it. “And he’s wrong about that.”

“Commander Tano having this conversation with him?” Cody asked, as though picking up the slant of Rex’s thoughts. It felt odd, to hear him call her by her rank, after so long without them, but Rex got the feeling they were all hanging onto the scraps of structure they had left behind, trying to keep the world held together, desperately.

And so he offered no correction, only said, “She might be. But she’s not the one he needs to hear it from. He’s not going to believe her.”

Cody grimaced. Rex got an up-close look at the expression. “Rex--”

“We all know how he feels about you,” Rex interrupted, because he could see chinks in the armor, and because he thought his heart might break through his ribs if he didn’t get the blaster away from Cody sooner rather than later. He felt Cody freeze, sucking in a breath and holding it. “It never was a secret.”

“He doesn’t anymore,” Cody said, voice broken, and Rex ached for him. “He can’t. Not after what I did.”

“Ahsoka says otherwise,” Rex said, a lie, because he and Ahsoka hadn’t discussed...that. But Rex didn’t need Jedi intel to see the truth of it. He’d watched the way Kenobi looked at Cody, yearning, full of hurt and the barest glimmers of hope, all at once, when they were around one another, yesterday. He’d seen Kenobi reach towards Cody, multiple times, only to draw back.

Cody dropped his head, gritting out, “Don’t.”

Rex pressed his advantage, such as it was. “Why is that so hard for you to believe? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?” 

Cody flinched back, away from him. “That’s not--”

Rex followed, focus split between Cody’s curved shoulders and the blaster, insisting, “Aren’t you?” Cody let out a terrible sound, not much of a reply, and Rex continued, testing each word, “Kriff, you broke your brain to help him. You killed Skywalker for him. Are you really going to let him suffer now because you want to take all the blame for something that wasn’t your fault?”

Cody looked up at him, slowly, eyes shining, face streaked with tears. Rex reached out towards the blaster. “They made us tools. They tried to kill us. They - they abused you and tortured you. You and him. But you lived. He lived. Because you had each other. You beat them, Cody, because you had him and he had you. Don’t let them win, now. Please.”

He restrained a relieved cry when Cody’s fingers loosened around the blaster. Rex stripped it from his hand, ejected the clip, threw the clip to the side, and then sagged back, breathing raggedly as he leaned against the wall, pulse pounding against his skin.

“Kriffing hell,” he said, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, adrenaline still burning him up. He hadn’t been sure how things were going to play out, hadn’t been fully confident that Cody was going to hand over the blaster without a fight. He drew in a deep breath and reached out, curling an arm around Cody’s shoulder and pulling him in.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” he said, Cody going stiff for just a moment before he slumped. “But it’s alright,” Rex said, because he’d come back from the chip. They’d all taken the first step to coming back, and Rex could help them travel the rest of the way. He wasn’t going to lose any more of his brothers. Not if he could help it. He tipped his head against Cody’s, and said, “We’re going to get through this.”

And standing there, just for a few moments, he tried not to think about the fact that everyone else on the Recompense probably needed to hear the same thing. Well. He’d be there to tell them. As many times as they needed to hear it.

He hoped, though, that Ahsoka managed to help General Kenobi. It would probably come across better, coming from him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cody said, voice all emptied out, shredded, and Rex wasn’t sure that he’d ever expected to hear Cody admit that. Not even at the end of the war, when they’d both been tattered and shredded by constant loss. 

Cody had always known what to do.

Rex shuddered. He said, “Well, sleeping would be a good start. When was the last time you did that?”

Cody shook his head, which wasn’t an answer, and said, “I need to go make sure Obi-Wan is alright.”

“He’s fine,” Rex said, relieved, in a way, that Cody had switched tracks back to worrying about Kenobi. It meant he was another step further away from going for a blaster. He doubted the fixation was strictly healthy, but… “Ahsoka is looking after him.” But Cody was already pulling away, expression drawn and tense, and Rex had learned to pick his battles long ago.

He followed Cody back through the halls. They weren’t, he noticed, very far at all from Kenobi’s rooms. The door was still open. A half-dozen of their brothers were lingering around, without making any pretense for their presence, just… keeping an eye on things.

Rex nodded at them as Cody stepped up to the door, peering in. 

Obi-Wan slept still, rolled onto his side, and he looked more like himself asleep, some of the lines erased from his face. Ahsoka sat on the side of the bed, her elbows on her knees and her head hanging down, turned to one side.

She looked up at their shadows in the doorway, her face streaked with tears, and Rex didn’t need to ask what she’d seen in the dreams. He could guess. “He’ll sleep for at least half a day,” she said, her voice raspy, when Cody drifted a step into the room, moving like a sleepwalker. 

“There won’t be nightmares?” Cody asked, voice quiet as well. He started to reach out, towards Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and caught himself, drawing back.

Ahsoka cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t be,” she said, scrubbing at her cheeks. She stood, curling an arm around her chest, looking smaller, all at once. Cody nodded and then, without another word, sank down to sit beside the bed, shoulders pressing against the mattress. “Oh,” she said, “you don’t have to--”

“Just in case,” he said, drawing a knee up, arm resting across it.

Ahsoka opened her mouth, and Rex reached out, curling fingers around her elbow, squeezing pointedly when she looked over at him. “Of course,” she said, after a moment, and reached her hand out, carefully, fingertips brushing across Cody’s brow.

Rex watched him frown, just for a moment, but he was most of the way to asleep already. It barely took a nudge to send him the rest of the way down, his head dropping back against the mattress, his eyes falling closed.

“Get some rest,” Rex said, quietly, tugging Ahsoka a step back. He promised Cody’s sleeping form, “We’ll look after them.”

#

Nightmares had plagued Cody for as long as he could remember. Even before the chips, he’d had ill dreams. Most of his brothers had, he knew. Dreams of battle and blood and death. Dreams where they turned on their Jedi and executed them, calm and sure and--

Cody had always had nightmares.

They’d just gotten worse, lately. He hadn’t slept much, since Mustafar. When he had, memories and twisted horrors moved through his mind. He dreamed of Obi-Wan, hunched in a corner, bloody and--

And he woke up with a jerk, in a room that felt strange, his heart threatening to rip apart in his chest. There was a hand on his shoulder, familiar, Obi-Wan saying, “--up, Cody--”

For a moment, the dream and the waking world blended all together, disjointed and confusing. In the dream, he’d been unable to control himself, but he could move his body again, abruptly, the way he wanted to, and Obi-Wan was right there, crouching beside him, radiating concern, and--

There was no thought to Cody grabbing him, his nerves all burning with alarm, with a need to make Obi-Wan safe. Cody pulled Obi-Wan closer and twisted, putting him against the bed. Cody curled his shoulders over, sure, in the confused mess left behind by the nightmares, that a blow was about to fall, ready for his own fist to come down against his back.

It didn’t land, and he blinked, after a beat, the nightmare washing out of his head. Later, he’d realize Obi-Wan probably had a hand in that, pulling it out of his mind and releasing it. It left him shivering, braced, with an arm curled around Obi-Wan, pushed close and into his space, and--

Horror made him jerk back. He’d just grabbed Obi-Wan, without so much as a by-your-leave, put hands on him again. His gut twisted, hard, bitterness flooding his mouth. He made to pull away totally, only to freeze into place when a snag of pressure made him realize that Obi-Wan had, for some reason, grabbed his shirt, fingers clenched tight, holding on.

Cody stared at his grip, for a moment. Obi-Wan’s knuckles were white against his skin. Desperate, just for a moment, before Obi-Wan released his grip, pulling his hand back and turning his face away, panting out, “I’m sorry.”

Cody’s gut twisted, terrible, and he said, “Don’t, you don’t have to--” 

“I do. I know,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes focused on the far wall. He looked… better, Cody noticed, with a lurch in his chest. There was some trace of color in his cheeks. “I know you don’t want to touch me, I know, I’m sorry, for--” he dragged in a breath, strangling himself off. 

Memories sleeted back through Cody’s head, all at once. He’d… almost put a blaster against the side of his head, hadn’t he? Would have done, and happily pulled the trigger, if Rex hadn’t found him.

He shuddered, swallowing hard, trying to focus on the present moment. He was sitting on the floor of Obi-Wan’s quarters, the door open almost directly across from him. The lights were dim and he ached in approximately a dozen places, both from old wounds and the position he’d slouched into while sleeping.

None of that seemed to matter very much with Obi-Wan saying: I know you don’t want to touch me. 

And Rex had - had said all kinds of things, only half of which Cody actually remembered clearly, the previous day had been a blur, but… “I do,” he said, fighting to force the words out, watching Obi-Wan blink towards him, control of his expression slipping. “I want to--make you safe. But I, fuck. I hurt you, Obi-Wan, I--”

“It wasn’t you,” Obi-Wan started, again, and Cody shook his head, hard, knowing he should shift back, give Obi-Wan more space, but…. But the door was open, and Cody itched, all down his spine, and he could restrain himself, but keeping his body between Obi-Wan and everything else made things easier.

He said, hoarse, “But I still remember doing it.” Obi-Wan went still. Cody felt it happen, felt him suck in a breath and hold it. “I remember hitting you. I remember what it felt like to - to force you, and I failed you,” Cody said, the past dragging at him, his voice ruined. “I hurt you. I -- couldn’t stop. I--” And he could almost see Obi-Wan gearing up to disagree, to try to take all the blame for everything onto his own shoulders, Rex’s words echoing in his ears and--

“No,” Obi-Wan said, reaching towards him again and stopping, his hand just frozen there, fingers outstretched, and Cody could read need in his expression, there and gone and buried. “Please, Cody, I should have--”

“Don’t,” Cody bit out, because he wasn’t sure he could actually bear to listen to Obi-Wan trying to blame himself for what had happened again. And he knew, bone-deep, that Obi-Wan was never going to agree that it was his fault. He’d fight, tooth and nail, over it, punishing himself for - for everything Skywalker had done. 

Cody shifted, made a choice, thinking about Rex reminding him of things he already knew, that the Jedi weren’t meant to be alone, and lifted a hand, slowly, towards Obi-Wan’s. He went slow, gave Obi-Wan plenty of time to jerk away, and Obi-Wan made a gutted, punched out sound when Cody brushed their fingers together.

Obi-Wan jerked towards him, not away, fingers clenching around Cody’s, tight, as Cody said, “It’s not your fault Skywalker tortured you. Us.”

Obi-Wan froze in the middle of opening his mouth, eyes going wide, shiny in the dark room. “It’s not,” Cody kept going, words catching at his tongue and his teeth, “your responsibility. What he did to all of us. You’re not to blame. How could you have stopped him?”

Obi-Wan blinked, flinching, as though perhaps he’d searched his own mind and fabricated some ways he could have possibly done the impossible. Cody shifted his grip, bringing his other hand up, palm pressed to the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. “It’s not,” Cody repeated, quietly, as Obi-Wan stared across at him, eyes wide and stunned, “your fault.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, shakily, his skin cool as he shifted his fingers, just a little. Cody asked, swallowing, bracing, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, quickly, before his expression shuttered just a little. “But you don’t have to--”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody tried to find the words to explain the ball of pressure in his chest, the knot that refused to ease, worry and tension and a driving need to make Obi-Wan alright, and-- There was no way to speak it into being, he didn’t know how. He shook his head, instead, and rasped, “I want - if you want - I need--”

And maybe something he said made sense, or maybe Obi-Wan had just always known him well enough to decipher the things he couldn’t say, because Obi-Wan shifted, tugging his hand free; Cody released his grip, worried that he’d squeezed too hard, that he’d hurt Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan took a little breath, met his gaze, and reached his hand forward, towards Cody’s shoulder. He stopped, a breath away, and asked, “You need this?”

Cody jerked out a nod, shamed to need it, to ask, to expect Obi-Wan to excuse what he’d done, but--

But he could not help the way his shoulders curled over, when Obi-Wan touched him, radiating soothing peace towards him, emotions curling around him, and none of them hurt, it was impossible--

“Sh,” Obi-Wan said, hand sliding to his back, tugging, just a little, and Cody heard the broken noise that came out of his own throat as Obi-Wan shifted closer to him, murmuring, so soft, “Cody, it’s alright.”

Cody made a harsh sound, half-disagreement, but it was muffled because he seemed to have pressed his face against the side of Obi-Wan’s head. His hands shook as he curled an arm up, careful, around Obi-Wan’s back.

Obi-Wan exhaled, ragged, and Cody had not expected him to collapse forward, to grip tight, holding on as Cody made a nonsense sound, holding him carefully, waiting to wake up from this dream, or to have it warp into something awful and nightmarish.

Cody squeezed his eyes closed, wondering if Obi-Wan had needed this all along, if he’d failed, again, and--

And he set all those thoughts aside, for at least a while, curling his other arm around Obi-Wan, holding him there, on the floor, until it stopped feeling like a dream.

[lifblogs]

Whumpay 2021: Day 30 - Breaking Voice / Stoicism

Hide the Pain

read on ao3 1744 words star wars, the clone wars, post-zygerria arc, anakin skywalker, angst, ptsd, implied/referenced rape/non-con, slavery mention, alcohol use

“And that is all that happened on Zygerria and Kadavo?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin did his best to keep his face completely plain, stoic. When he spoke, he tried to fill his voice with respect, “Yes, Master.” Though that word: master. It was like curdled milk on his tongue, going down to fester in his belly.

Thankfully he hadn’t had to use that word around the queen, but it had been everywhere. Nothing but slavery.

“Thank you, Skywalker. You’re free to go.”

He bowed, and then left the Council chambers, feeling sick enough to collapse, or to perhaps go back in there and tell them all off for sending him, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Rex into that mess.

It wasn’t fair! And why him? Their answer before sending him to Zygerria was that he was the one who had discovered the missing Togrutas, so he had insight on the mission. By insight they had probably also meant that he knew how the whole slave business worked.

So Anakin had tried to pretend that he was alright with playing the part of a slaver, had told himself that master was a good title for him. But really, being forced to make his Padawan dress like that, and presenting her to the slaver queen. It was one of the many heavy burdens he now carried with him.

Ahsoka had mentioned that she would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating, trying to center herself after all they’d been through. So he decided to leave her in peace and quiet. Obi-Wan was in the Halls of Healing. Anakin decided that’s where he would go. He couldn’t go back to his cluttered room and pretend everything was fine, couldn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments or her office. She would touch him, expect him to touch her. And he wanted to. Blast, he wanted to, and yet… Queen Miraj Scintel was stuck in his head like some infection.

He couldn’t see his wife. Not yet.

Truthfully, Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to see anyone, but he knew Obi-Wan had been tortured, so it was only right to visit him.

He was in a white tunic and pants when he entered the room he’d been given. He was surprised to see that Rex was there as well. Both looked weary, but most of their wounds were now light scars.

Anakin forced a smile onto his face, even while his blood boiled inside and his stomach churned.

Remain calm. Don’t let them see.

Obi-Wan started getting up to greet him, but Anakin waved it off.

“No, lay still. Rest.”

Rex saluted him. “General.”

Anakin saluted back. “Surprised to see you here, Rex.”

“Well, since I was so involved with the mission the Council thought I should stay close.”

“I’m glad. I hear the Halls of Healing have much better care than the military hospital.”

Rex leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. He shifted in his bed, and let out a sigh, eyes closing contentedly.

“That we can definitely agree on.”

Anakin went and patted his shoulder, and then went to Obi-Wan. He took a seat by his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, though it was a thin, weary thing, nothing but a mask. “Seeing as I no longer feel like I got shot, whipped, and beaten, I think I’ll be fine.”

Anakin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master. I was leading the mission, and—”

Obi-Wan held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t carry that guilt with yourself. I took risks I thought necessary, and well, I paid for them.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat bland, noncommittal tone as he leaned back against his pillows. “How’s Ahsoka?”

“Mostly unhurt. She was treated for dehydration, but she’ll be fine. She’s meditating.”

“Good, and you?”

Anakin paused. His heart beat wildly, and for a few moments he worried that his former master could hear it. Why were they even keeping up this charade? None of them were truly fine. Anakin could sense it, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame and guilt. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and focused he would be able to see Kadavo, see glimpses and brief flashes of the tortures he had gone through.

He tried to force a smile on his face, but he felt it was more like a grimace. So then he kept his features stone cold. His insides boiled, and burned.

“I’m fine.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Mm hmm.” Obi-Wan peeked around Anakin, and asked, “Captain, do you perhaps feel well enough to give us some privacy?”

Rex peeped open an eye and then got up with only a little difficulty. “I was thinking of taking a walk anyway, General.”

“Very good. Enjoy your walk.”

After Rex left, Anakin sighed, lowering his head. He didn’t want to face his former master.

“Anakin, on Zygerria… what happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I sense much anguish for nothing to have happened.”

Anakin swallowed roughly, and shook his head. “Just forget it.” His voice was gruff, not at all the hard phrik ore like he’d wished to display.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, voice gentle. “Please, Anakin.”

“I should go,” he said, getting up and making to leave.

“I want to help you!”

“You can’t.”

Anakin left, insides like a hot furnace, like fire and lava deep within a planet’s core. Darkness festered in it, and he wanted to rip his very skin off.

He wandered, blind to where he walked, until he found himself outside Yoda’s meditation room.

Before he could knock, he heard Yoda say, “Come in.”

Anakin entered.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin went to take a seat across from him. The blinds were half-open, letting in some of Coruscant’s light.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Questions, have you?”

“Why, Master?” he asked, all of the hardness he’d tried to build around him melting, liquid ore bursting forth. What he was left with was a broken voice, and tears building up in his eyes, the sensation pinching at his sinuses.

“The will of the Council, it was.”

“Yes, but why? Why send me? Why send any of us? You know my past. How could you do this to me! How could the Council—!”

Yoda held up a small green hand.

“Peace, young one.”

Anakin snarled at him, but quieted himself.

“Against this mission, I was. Hurt you it would, I feared. This pain you feel, from things you did not speak to the Council of, is it?”

Anakin nodded.

“What happened to me…” He clenched his jaw, and turned away. He couldn’t admit it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. “It shouldn’t have… I wish…”

“Know this, I do. Sorry, I am, as we all should be.”

“You think the rest of the Council is going to feel that!” Anakin shouted, getting to his feet, waving his arm about. “In the end, they agreed to send me there. Did they aim to hurt me? Is that what’s going on?”

“Young one—”

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin snarled. He knew he was young, yet he didn’t feel it. Not after all the horrors he’d been through, and not after his… his nights spent with the queen. “There is something wrong here,” he admitted. “With—with the Council, with all of it, if the leading vote was that I, a former... slave, should go on that kind of mission.”

“Insight, they thought you had.”

“Yeah, sure. Insight into all the pain and torture, and how humiliating and debasing it is! I had to expose my own Padawan to that! It—it dredged up things I wanted to forget.”

“But forget the past, we must not. Accept it, and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to accept it when it’s shoved in my face like that? When I’m forced to… When I’m…” Anakin trailed off, holding in a sob. Part of his voice came out as a whimper.

“Young Skywalker, these experiences you had, part of you they are now.”

“I don’t want them to be,” he ground out.

“For us to decide, that is not. To truly be a Jedi, accept who we are, accept the past, we must. Trust in the Force.”

Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force? Was that the only answer he was going to get? Anakin trusted in the Force, day after day, and yet hadn’t it betrayed him? Hadn’t the Jedi betrayed him?

“Forgive me, Master,” he said, bowing, needing to be alone. “I should not have troubled you.”

Despite Yoda’s admonitions, Anakin left.

Time slipped past him in agonizing moments, every noise setting him on edge, making him want to fight, freeze, or simply run and hide. He wanted to lash out at everyone, at the universe. He held it in, letting it rot in him with the blackness Miraj Scintel had put in him with her touches.

Hours later he found himself at a bar, not even sure where he was. He just knew he needed another drink.

Wobbling in his seat, he called over the bartender and ordered another shot of whatever it was he was putting in his body—spotchka, maybe. The bartender began to refuse, and Anakin just passed him more credits, hoping that would be enough to stay his worries.

A shot of blue liquid that glowed and twinkled in the dim light was passed to him, and Anakin drank it greedily. The alcohol was poison, but why not add to the poison already there? It was already going to kill him, surely.

His comlink beeped, someone wanting to speak with him. He ignored it, but a few minutes later, it went off again.

Anakin turned from the bar, and answered.

“Anakin, where are you?”

“Padmé?” he questioned, voice not wanting to come out, but it did so anyway.

“I heard you got back from your mission hours ago. Where are you? Why haven’t you visited?” Suddenly, a brawl started up in front of him, and there was cheering and yelling. “Are you—are you in a bar?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Anakin, come home. Please. I want you to talk to me. What happened on that mission?”

“Nothing.”

“Anakin, I—”

He broke the connection, sneered at the bar fight, and went back to his drink. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his pain.

[gabriel4sam]

Oh! Writing meme! Cody/Obi-Wan, #1 First Kiss? Thank youuu!

CodyWan First kiss under the cut ^^

  At the end of the last battle, Cody goes in search of his General.

Force exhaustion can strike Jedi at the more inconvenient places and often they crash the minute adrenaline is not burning in their blood. Cody has found him before in places like the laundry of a palace, nested in some pile of pillows, the carcass of a speeder, the armoury, a disaffected cantina and the list could go on. In fact, the Clone Commanders have some sort of running bet for the strangest places they have found their Generals. Rex is the current winner, as General Skywalker, despite how tall he is, loves to fold himself in the smallest places he can find, perhaps as some recurring trauma from his childhood.

This time, Obi-Wan isn’t sleeping. He’s sitting against Grievious’ body, which is even more disturbing in Cody’s opinion.

“The war is over,” Obi-Wan says casually, without turning to watch Cody approach. He doesn’t need to: no Jedi ever mistakes a brother for another, even when they switch armour for pranks, as Fives learned early on.

“There is still the Separatists Council to smoke out, wherever they are hidden,” Cody remarks, sitting on Grievious’s flank. It isn’t very respectful of the dead, but the enemy General was personally responsible for the death of so many brothers than Cody can’t find in him to care. If he had energy, he would kick him. Perhaps he will, in a moment, for now, he wants just to bask in the silence and the certitude than nobody will shot at them.

“What will you do?” Obi-Wan asks.

“About what?” Cody turns to him, his mind half to all the things they have to do.

“Now that the war is over,” Obi-Wan says, like it’s any clearer to Cody, raised for war and for war alone.

“I don’t know,” Cody admits after a moment, “I suppose I will go to the Chancellor funeral, like all Commanders. They want us to act as a guards of Honour.”

Obi-Wan makes a face. He’s quieter about his opinion of the Chancellor, since the man had been killed above Coruscant by Grievous, when Anakin and Obi-Wan were still trying to reach him, but he can’t bring himself to mourn him.

“Come,” he simply asks and Cody follows, like he always did.

*********************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks later, when they are watching the fireworks celebrating peace above Coruscant.

“About what?” Cody turns to him, his mind half to all the things they have to do.

“Now that the war is over,” Obi-Wan says, like it’s any clearer to Cody, raised for war and for war alone.

“I don’t know,” Cody admits again and Obi-Wan hums and takes another sip of the Theelin beer he insisted to buy the two of them, because Cody apparently needed to try it, right here, right now.

Cody takes another sip too and together they continue to watch.

*********************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks, as he has come to bid farewell to Cody, ready to escort Master Plo Koon to Kamino to bring back all the shinies, no matter how young, to the Temple.

“I don’t know,” Cody says, “I will do what I can to be useful.”

*********************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks, as Cody finishes the tale of Wolffe’s latest diplomatic fail.

“I don’t know,” Cody says, as he did every time Obi-Wan asked. The war has been over for almost a year, and Cody helped Master Koon rescue the shinies, helped the brothers who wanted settle down in colonies, helped bring back Echo home, helped Ahsoka in some of her missions, helped Rex conquer the Mandalorian he loves in defeating some idiotic warlord….

Obi-Wan is right to ask this question: Cody helped, because it’s what he is in the habits to do.

Nothing of those things were made because Cody wanted too.

“I don’t know,” he says again, and this time his tone is sad.

**********************************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks, when the Master Jedi come to bid him goodbye. Just a small ship and some credits, and the burning desire to discover in the vast galaxy something for himself, himself alone.

���I don’t know yet,” Cody says, “but I intend to discover it.”

*********************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks, small and blue, in the terrible holotransmission.

“Alderaan, I think,” Cody says, “I want to see their waterfall gardens. And next…perhaps something a little more wild. Oh, did you hear about Bly’s weeding?”

****************************************

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asks, almost three years later, when Cody has finished the tales of his travels. They are the last clients at Dex and the only noises are those of outside. Dex himself left after cleaning, leaving them the codes to close the door.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s hand. He has seen a lot of what the galaxy had to offer, the good, the very bad. And what he learnt in his travels is that the where he lives is not the more important. And not what he does. His mind is sharp, he learns fast, he could do almost anything.

What is important is who he wants to share it with.

“I thought I could ask you for a date,” he admits and the Jedi smiles beatifically, so far away from his official persona than possible. Cody had almost no doubt about the answer he would receive, he knows Obi-Wan more than anyone in the world, and Obi-Wan knows him, more than anyone in the world, but he’s still so happy to see that smile: he can’t resist it.

Obi-Wan’ smile tastes of the sugary treats they just shared and against his mouth, Cody feels the smile grow. So he takes a second taste.

[jacensolodjo]

Here’s the fic I promised to make a while back instead of the other (17/Jaster) thing in my drafts lmao 

Note: some of the dialogue is pulled directly from the comic series where 17 makes an appearance. In this case, specifically issue #51 and #60 of Star Wars: Republic

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

All that was in Alpha Seventeen’s head was a repeated sentence “I hate Force Users”. It had been on repeat ever since he had gotten back from his terrible no good very bad day. But, oh, he’s a little rude for a clone. 

Nearly hazel eyes stared at his reflection in a mirror that was split down the middle in some kind of laughing mockery of the cracks in his skin. 

A little rude... for a clone... who only escaped because he happened to be captured at the same time as a Jedi Master. 

“Where shall I cut you next? An eye? An ear? ...Your throat?”

“Might as well take my tongue, too, I’m not trained to answer questions.”

“You’re trained to be fodder. Trained to die for the false Jedi and the Republic...”

She, the Sith woman, had the absolute gall to touch him, foreign animal leather to bare skin. He felt an automatic sneer form on his face despite the fact she was the one holding the kriffing giant knife. 

He was trained to reveal only who he was in the system that fervently wanted to pretend he didn’t truly exist as a sentient being. Not even mission parameters would leave his lips. He had trained in interrogation and surviving it both. So many clones had him to thank for his training. He was not just fodder. 

Or was he?

He was aware of an ache slowly getting stronger in the shoulder that was still trying to cover a hole of burnt skin and sinew. And more aches blossoming along his torso, especially his rib cage. Breathing hurt but he tried to keep his mind off of it. He was home. He could recuperate. He should really get in a bacta tank, but honestly he did not trust anyone in the medical division to actually put him in bacta and not something... else entirely. It would make things so easy trying to get rid of another Alpha if he were to just nonchalantly climb into a tank of who knows what. Instead, he applied the gel that was certainly a slower way of doing things. Kriff, he could probably have asked Shaak Ti for some Force Healing but... 

“I hate Force Users!” he snarled to no one, smashing a fist into what remained of the mirror, adding further cuts and bruises to his knuckles. It didn’t matter. 

Just a clone. The way so many Jedi said it while claiming all life was precious in the same breath made his fists clench automatically. 

“The clone has a mind of his own now?” he had heard the padawan, Zule ask, who had to realize he was close enough to hear them but did they care? Did they really care he had tried so very hard to be shockingly polite earlier? They couldn’t have. And the way they talked about the progenitor...

“I hate Force users!” he rasped as he bowed his head to stare down at the sink which held untold amounts of his blood. Jango Fett’s blood. Blood shed for people who couldn’t care any kriffing less if he lived or died. 

He was glad Cody and Rex would be taking over as the clone liaisons for the Jedi. He had taught them well but they were still so idealistic. He had to send them into the meat grinder. Had to hope everything he had taught them was enough to not only survive the Separatists but being around Jedi as well.

They would learn and realize he had not been hard on them for osike and giggles. They would learn that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of what they would face. They would learn... and hopefully not lose their lives to Jedi giving orders they were nowhere near qualified to give. 

The Jedi were not the Republic. And perhaps the Jedi would learn this lesson themselves before it was too late. 

[thought-42]

Clone Wars fic Day Four

Sometimes the next day is two months later leave me alone. Today on the pointless modern au: Obi-Wan gets many visitors at work and handles it... poorly. Part One Part Two Part Three

Cody appears in the Starbucks ten minutes before Obi-Wan's shift ends.

"I'm giving you decaf," Obi-Wan tells him, watching the vein in his forehead pulse in fascination. His hands are shaking slightly.

"I'm driving you to the party," Cody says. "If anyone asks, you don't get off for another hour and wouldn't have been able to make it across town in time."

"Are you having a Day?"

The after-school rush has passed, and there's no one behind Cody in line, so Obi-Wan hands him his change then leans on the counter, hands clasped as he studies Cody. His coworker is nineteen and far more interested in sneaking glances at his phone than reporting Obi-Wan to their shift manager where she's unpacking deliveries in the back, so he's free to take as long a look as he likes.

"I'm fine," Cody says. "This is fine. Everyone here is absolutely fine."

"You have glitter in your hair."

"I also have dried lentils and blood in my hair," Cody says, alarmingly at peace with this state of affairs. "I took the day off to get everything ready for this party, I have no idea how this is still such a mess."

Obi-Wan makes a note to check him for concussion before he lets him drive him anywhere. "I'm sure Rex will appreciate all your work."

"He'd better," Cody says darkly.

"You only turn twenty-one once, I suppose."

"Somehow I don't remember my twenty-first birthday being that much work."

"Yes, well, it's all rather dependent on where you live, isn't it?" Obi-Wan does not actually remember his twenty-first birthday and he hadn't been in the States at the time, so he really hasn't got a leg to stand on. Cody doesn't need to know that.

"We need to pick up the cake on our way back," Cody says, tapping a finger on the counter. "Don't let me forget."

"I thought your dad was making it?"

Cody laughs and it's perhaps the most soulless thing Obi-Wan's heard in his life. "Me too."

Obi-Wan pats his hand lightly and slides down the counter. "I've changed my mind," he says. "You're getting herbal tea."

"This is harassment," Cody says, absently, tugging out his phone and frowning at whatever he sees. "Did you know Anakin is bringing his girlfriend?"

Obi-Wan huffs. "I don't even know that Anakin has a girlfriend, Cody. What could you possibly be talking about?"

"Do I want to know what that's about?"

"No," Obi-Wan says, cheerfully. His stomach does the sickening swoop that it's been doing every time he thinks about the fact that Anakin doesn't trust him with something as simple as his relationship status and he has no idea why.

"Hmm," says Cody. "It still feels vaguely uncomfortable that he's even coming."

"Boundaries are institutionalized artificial constructs that prevent the formation of strong community," Obi-Wan says, lightly.

"That... sounds ethically and emotionally questionable," Cody says flatly.

"You say this like Kix won't be there."

Cody looks vaguely horrified. "Will he be?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head gently. "Sit down. Drink your tea. Does your head hurt?"

"It's not my blood," cody says, like that's not the most worrying sentence Obi-Wan has heard all week. He decides the world will not end if he finishes his shift a few minutes early just this once.

He's hung up his apron, washed his hands, and is just putting on his coat when Qui-Gon fucking Jinn walks in the door, long wool coat at odds with his worn boots and faded tshirt. Never before has he visited Obi-Wan at work. Obi-Wan had not actually been certain he knows where he works until this precise moment.

Obi-Wan has had the benefit, for most of the time he's known Qui-Gon, of being able to ensure he's presenting a particular image whenever they interact. Be it forewarnings of his visits by group home staff, emails to organize a visit at uni, texts that provide dates and times for family dinners and holidays. There have been very few occasions when Qui-Gon has caught him unaware and ill-prepared. And most of those times he doesn't remember well due to illness or alcohol. Obi-Wan has been working for 20 hours with a half hour break spent on the bus to get between his two jobs, he smells like coffee grounds, he's kind of woozy because he's consumed nothing but tea all day, and his maybe sort of potential partner is in the midst of a silent stress breakdown with glitter and blood in his hair and wrath in his heart.

"Hello!" Qui-Gon calls, bright and friendly like he does this every day. "Good, I've caught you before you left." Seeing him standing in front of the pastry case just to the left of the table with the possibly Satanic graffitti is bad enough, but actually hearing his voice against the background of the generic singer-song-writer crooning (which has burrowed its way into Obi-Wan's ears and soul and will follow him to his grave) and the rumble of the espresso maker is so jarringly incongruous that Obi-Wan wonders for a minute if he's even awake.

"Oh good," Obi-Wan echoes weakly. Cody looks casually curious, blissfully oblivious for the moment.

"I was in the neighbourhood," Qui-Gon says, "and thought I'd treat you to dinner."

"I'm... quite alright," Obi-Wan says. "I've actually got plans, unfortunately."

"We have an hour," Cody says, helpfully. Obi-Wan isn't close enough to step on his foot, and Qui-Gon is watching too closely for him to communicate his panic rage with his expression.

Qui-Gon's attention snaps to Cody like a heat seeking missile. "I don't think we've met. I'm Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan's-- father."

He extends a hand and Cody shakes, looking mostly uncertain. Obi-Wan gets it, much as he doesn't want to. He hasn't been particularly complimentary of Qui-Gon when speaking to Cody, but there's still a reason he's remained attached to him for twenty years. His smile is kind and his handshake firm and with his long hair and laugh lines he comes across mostly as someone's hippy uncle or the strange old man in the back of a magical shop who vanishes as soon as the protagonist looks away.

"I'm Cody."

Obi-Wan is hardwired to cringe at the particular grin that breaks across Qui-Gon's face. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Anakin has told me about you."

"Well that's concerningly vague, thank you," Obi-Wan mutters under his breath.

Cody hums noncommittally. Qui-Gon says "You're taking Obi-Wan out tonight, are you? I'm glad, he'll vanish into his books for weeks on end if you let him."

Obi-Wan is thirty-three goddamn years old and this man who could never even be bothered to adopt him still speaks about him like he's a child. And there's nothing malicious behind it, which is perhaps the worst part. Qui-Gon is teasing out of affection and is probably legitimately concerned about obi-Wan's social life. Obi-Wan wishes desperately that Cody was not seeing him like this, is quite suddenly hyper-aware of his own body and his expression and any words that might come out of his mouth. He feels awkward in his own skin and painfully aware of how Cody might interpret anything he does, as if with Qui-Gon's presence he has been thrust on stage for a role he doesn't know and for which he is lacking a script.

"My brother's birthday party," Cody says. "I have a big family, so birthdays are always... an event."

Qui-Gon nods. "Family is important."

Obi-Wan is going to drown himself in the coffee server.

"Well, if you do have that hour, you've got to let me take you both for a drink," Qui-Gon says. "I'm always happy to get to know Obi-Wan's friends, and especially knowing that Anakin thinks highly of you."

Cody glances over at Obi-Wan, eyebrows up, clearly waiting for him to take the lead. Obi-Wan's brain, unfortunately, continues to spin its wheels uselessly against an oil slick of embarrassment and anger and anxiety. And Cody, for whom familial support is a fundamental tenant of existence, who is courteous to a fault in the face of authority figures and not actually as quick on his feet in social situations as most people assume, does exactly what Obi-Wan should have known he'd do.

"That'd be great, thank you," he says, dooming them all. "We've got to pick up the cake by 6:30, but that does give us some time."

Obi-Wan lingers behind as they leave the store long enough to snap a photo of Cody and Qui-Gon existing in the same physical space, which he sends to Anakin with a long string of screaming emojis. Anakin replies immediately, of course.

'Thats adorable! i'm glad hes meeting the parents'

'Looking forward to meeting Padme tonight,' Obi-Wan responds, vindictively.

[riviae]

so this is long & rambly but i’ve been working on this for awhile now.... anyway, starts out very introspective!regis-y but becomes geralt/regis fluff real quick lol. hope y’all enjoy: 

Before crossing paths with a witcher who proved himself to be a man worth following into the very jaws of death, the seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis. 

He knew the cycle of things--life and death, warmth and cold, planting and harvesting--but he was an outsider to these things just as everything else on the Continent. Time passed. Wars were fought. Blood was shed. Empires rose and fell. All the while, Regis remained, burdened by an immortal life lived alone. To take part in humanity, to love it to some extent, but disappear into the shadows when a curious eye took interest in him. When a hand reached out--something that rarely occurred, unless holding a sword, pitchfork, or torch--he knew it was time to pack up and leave, lest he get too attached. 

Self-preservation, for higher vampires, was confined to the affairs of the heart and the mind--their bodies were not in danger of ruin, but memories and emotions were often ruinous for his kind. 

Yet, whatever contentment he could find as a bystander to the world’s happenings and goings was dashed the moment he met Geralt. All those years ago, Regis had fled from Dillingen to his home in Fen Carn, a cottage in the midst of an elven cemetery, in an attempt at avoiding the ever-encroaching war. 

And in perhaps the same cosmically infinitesimal chances of the Conjunction of Spheres occurring, Regis’ entire life changed at the sight of milk-white hair and amber cat-like eyes. He stepped out of his hiding spot, brushed away the stray leaves that clung to his clothes, and faced his destiny with a reserved, tight-lipped smile. 

He’s a witcher, Regis thought, the wolf medallion at the man’s sternum sparking a tiny flame of uneasiness in the vampire’s gut. Then, a more logical thought followed: I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher under amicable circumstances and now, here one is, practically at my doorstep. What luck! 

As his journey with Geralt and the hansa continued, as they traveled and fought, bled and healed, wintered in a land akin to a fairytale, Regis had a startling realization. Something had thawed inside him and he was fairly certain it was the stirrings of love. Like a change in season, like the subtle shift from winter to spring, where one wakes in the morning and sees that all the snow has seemingly melted in the night, unaware of the slowly melting ice with each sunny day until it was completely gone, so Regis was caught unaware by what he felt for the hansa--by what he felt for Geralt in particular.

Just how far would he go for these humans? How much would he sacrifice for these flickering beacons of light, here one moment, gone in the next? It was the ghost of himself--the monster he once was--that would have asked these questions. But the Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzeiff-Godefroy of the present loved his friends even more for their fragility, their tenacity in the face of a world that seemed at the ready to send them into an early grave. Love, he decided, staring at the smiling faces of the hansa at their breakfast table in Beauclair Palace, was a good enough reason to die for--and a good enough reason to live for, when he was on the cusp of nothingness. When any other sentient being would have longed for death in the throes of agony, Regis held on. For them. 

Memories spilled from his head at the first touch of magic-touched flames, nails clawing helplessly at the air. Fear burned him alive, ate away at his flesh until nothing but a pillar of ash remained. It was a pain worse than anything he had felt before--worse than anything he could have ever fathomed. He was neither alive nor dead, but something grotesquely stuck in the middle, unable to pass on to the comforting abyss of oblivion. 

Between the coldness of fear and not-death, between the pain of a body futilely attempting to regenerate from nothing, Regis did find some respite. He dreamed. And dreamed. And dreamed. He was transported to memories of the past, and while some were happier than others, even the painful recollections felt better than the aching emptiness that threatened to swallow his consciousness whole. 

Angouleme’s encouraging laughter whenever he used one of her... unique phrases. A warning pinch from Milva when he veered too far off topic, followed by an apologetic, but brief pat of his hand. A comfortable silence between himself and Cahir as they stayed up to guard the group during the night, sharing a small tincture of mandrake hooch to pass the time. Dandelion’s rapt attention to Regis’ stories, one time so transfixed that he caught his sleeve on fire as they all sat around the campfire and didn’t even notice. Geralt telling him about Ciri, voice warm, eyes crinkled in a rare unguarded expression of fondness. 

He thought back on his journal entries, the once severe, cerebral scrawl now sprinkled with mentions of the hansa. 

Angouleme somehow stole a dozen baguettes from the last tavern we stopped at and took only a quarter of one for herself before distributing the rest to the unfortunate people living in the slums of the city--and I never would have noticed (her prowess as a bandit is not something to be dismissive of, regardless of her youth) if she hadn’t also tried to search through my satchel while I “slept” in the hopes of finding olive oil to spread over her bread. For a child raised by cruelty, her morals are far better than mine when I was her age--or, rather, when I was developmentally at her age. Well, better in certain respects. She’s been quite a menace to the echelon of Toussaint... 

Milva means to show me how to hunt like humans do, meaning that I must learn how to be an archer. I don’t have much skill with human weapons--for nothing is as deadly as a pair of claws or teeth built to pierce and bleed flesh--but I will try my best all the same. Perhaps after this we can continue our reading lessons. For as much as she bemoans academics and learning for the sake of learning (as in things not readily helpful in her everyday survival), she is a naturally charming and brilliant pupil. Her “common sense,” as Angouleme often calls it, has kept us from harm plenty of times--which is why her ability as a student doesn’t surprise me. Now, if only she would stop climbing up a tree whenever our lessons start to bore her... 

Cahir, to my surprise, has taken on the role of doing the laundry for the group. Granted, we all have very few vestments to spare, but what clothes we do have that can reasonably benefit from a soak, Cahir takes and washes in the lake. Which, while I appreciate the sentiment immensely, I still found myself mildly panicked when I went to dress in the morning and my trousers were nowhere to be found. The man is quite young, probably no more than twenty-two years, but he has an old soul, as the saying goes. I would not be surprised if he finally grows sick of war, having grown up in an Empire where bloodshed is the status quo, and decides to make his living as a fisherman or farmer after we reunite Geralt with his ward. I sincerely hope that he gets the chance. 

Dandelion, ever the poet, has shown me his latest ballad. And imagine my surprise when I realized it was about me despite my immense caution on writing anything regarding higher vampires at all. It’s incredibly vapid--a shame, since he is quite the wordsmith when not preoccupied by romantic affairs--but I admit, if it were published, it would become popular within a week. He took the story of my youth and twisted it into something nearly unrecognizable, save for the titular character being named Rex. A two-crown romance with the nominative case of my name attached... perhaps this is a caution to everyone: never make friends with a writer if you value your privacy. 

Geralt dozed off beside me with his head on my shoulder. Now, him sleeping close to me is not all that uncommon--we spent many nights as a company huddled around a dwindling campfire together. What was uncommon was that he sought me out--practically barged into my room--to take his late afternoon nap... all the while I remained as still as a statue, attempting to process the sudden show of affection. Toussaint had softened Geralt in a way, so much in fact, that he apparently saw no harm in falling asleep next to a higher vampire, his swords still leaning in the corner of his room. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his unusual straightforwardness. Where others might embellish their words, dress them up (or down) to suit their agenda, Geralt forgoes words entirely, instead letting his actions speak with a refreshing honesty. I heard the “I trust you, Regis,” as clear as day.

He thought back to all the times were his cowardice had kept him from voicing his feelings and it paralleled to his past, as if he were the same blood-abusing fiend of his youth. Centuries had passed and glimpses of the same shy, timid vampire who drank blood to be accepted, to make friends, only to lose himself in addiction, still rose to the surface. Blood was no longer a problem, but the fear of otherness, of being ostracized by those he cared about, still tempered his actions. And he was absolutely tired of it.

It was then that Regis made a vow to himself: If I live, If I become whole again, I will tell him the truth. He got his chance almost a decade later, when he was as whole as anyone could be after regenerating from nothing but dust and a drop of blood.

After Dettlaff was placated, no longer a danger to himself or others, Regis visited Geralt at Corvo Bianco. It was summer then, a season that saw him at the witcher’s door just as the last of the rows of sunflowers turned towards the sunlight in the midday heat. 

He knocked on the front door, politeness dictating his actions. A disheveled witcher opened the door, familiar cat-eyes widening marginally at the sight of Regis, as close to a slack-jaw moment of surprise as anyone were bound to get from Geralt. 

“Expecting someone else?” Regis teased, clutching the strap of his satchel as he crossed the threshold into Geralt’s home. He gave a cursory glance about the homestead--it had been decorated fairly well since the last time he visited to drop off the mutagenerator. In fact, the interior was downright cozy, a far cry from what he imagined a witcher keep to look like. 

No matter what Geralt says, his years spent on the Path have influenced him. Only someone who expects to wake in the morning would bother to decorate their home--or to have a home at all. 

The witcher shook his head, long, tangled locks spilling over his shoulders as he scratched tiredly at his beard. “Wasn’t expecting anyone. Thought if it was you though that you’d let yourself in.” 

Regis held his tongue, wanting nothing more than to sit Geralt down and trim his beard. He knew from their time with the hansa that the witcher preferred to be clean-shaven, but hated trimming it himself. The vampire pushed the thought aside. “While I could have simply misted through your window, I didn’t wish to give you a fright.”

“How considerate,” Geralt said, voice rough but teasing. “You chose to wake me instead of letting yourself in.” 

“I assumed you’d be awake. I didn’t realize that respectable vineyard owners slept in until noon.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes at the well-natured jab before walking to his room, leaving the door open behind him. Regis remained in the foyer, focusing his attention on the rather impressive collection of witcher armor that Geralt had acquired. Yet, his supernatural hearing made it impossible not to eavesdrop to some extent; he heard the rustling of fabric and the soft thud of an article of clothing hitting the wooden floor. 

“Hey, Regis,” Geralt drawled. 

“Yes?” he replied a beat too quickly, turning towards the open door. 

“...Gonna get in here? Or do I need to invite you into every room?” 

Scrambling somewhat, the vampire entered just as Geralt tugged a clean white linen shirt over himself. At meeting the witcher’s gaze, the man gave a wide grin. “You came at a good time. I’ve actually got something for you. But close your eyes first.” 

“Geralt, what are you--” 

“Shh. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” 

A brief flash of fond irritation flickered in Regis’ expression as he gave a long sigh, but obeyed, shutting his eyes. He listened to the tempo of Geralt’s heart-rate, the usual slow and steady rhythm having quickened by a few beats. Ah, so he’s excited, Regis mused. Even witcher mutations couldn’t rob him of the biochemistry of his sympathetic nervous system. Then, a sour thought: I hope this isn’t the last time I get to witness such a jovial mood. 

The sound of his heartbeat grew stronger as the man approached, some sort of fabric draped in his arms, if the rustling earlier was any indication. Gently, Geralt placed the mystery item in Regis’ arms and backed away, the old floorboards creaking under his weight. 

“Happy birthday, Regis.” 

The vampire opened his eyes to see Geralt smiling warmly at him. Peering down, he couldn’t stop the look of absolute surprise upon his features, mouth agape.

“This is...” Regis trailed, fingers running delicately over the soft fabric, briefly pausing to rub his thumb against the black fur which lined the inside. 

“It’s not the exact cloak, given what happened at Stygga Castle,” Geralt paused, briefly wincing at the horrid memory, “But I thought you’d appreciate a new one.” 

Regis opened his mouth and then immediately closed it, unable to find the words to express how much the gift meant to him. You remembered... years passed and you still remembered. 

“I know you can’t feel heat or cold like humans do, but...” he shrugged, a hint of sheepishness in his posture, a hand rising up to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s been weird not seeing you with one. You never took that damn thing off so I thought it must have meant something to you.” 

“Geralt,” Regis finally replied once he found his voice again. It was the only warning he gave before the vampire laid the cloak on the bed and moved to seize the witcher in a tight embrace. 

Geralt looped his arms around Regis’ back in return, chuckling. He made no attempt at ending the embrace even as the time spent pressed together stretched on. “So... guessing you liked the gift, huh?” he finally asked, leaning into the gentle swaying of their bodies. 

When Regis spoke, it was barely past a whisper, but Geralt heard him all the same. “Thank you. Thank you for listening to me--for knowing me. Thank you, above all else, for being my friend.” 

“I think I should be thanking you. All I got you was a cloak--but you helped bring Ciri home. Almost gave up your life. Can’t imagine that... risking your immortality for someone like me.”  

“Geralt,” Regis started, pulling away to stare the witcher in the eyes, expression serious, “You are exactly the kind of person that inspires sacrifice. You have a noble heart and, despite your best attempts at proving otherwise, it is a heart full of compassion for others. I know you would have done the same if our roles had been reversed.” 

The witcher was silent then. When he finally managed a response, he did so while clasping Regis’ shoulder. It was something the vampire had noticed ever since meeting Geralt again--the man was more tactile than he’d been before his regeneration. As if he was making sure that Regis was real. Alive. Of flesh and bone. Not something that would crumble at his touch or slip through his fingers like a ghostly apparition. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your kind words, Regis. i haven’t always been... noble. There are things I haven’t told you about. Things that pertain to you.” At this, Geralt’s grip on his shoulder faltered and he pulled away suddenly, as if he were expecting to be hurt. “Truth is, I’ve been keeping a secret.” 

Regis blinked in surprise, a retort resting on the tip of his tongue, but he paused. He noticed, for the first time, that Geralt did look genuinely nervous. Geralt had never looked nervous in his presence--at least not because of Regis. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth all the same.

The vampire took a step forward. If Geralt was also planning to tell him a long-kept secret, then he wanted to tell his own confession first. While he still had the courage to do so. “I too have kept something from you, Geralt. I hope we can still remain as close as we were after this... revelation, if you will. But I understand if you’d prefer some time away from me afterwards.” 

“I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make me want you to keep your distance, Regis. Not after Stygga.” 

Regis gave an attempt at a half-hearted chuckle. “Hearing you say that really warms my heart--especially the certainty in your voice--but I’m afraid that what I need to say will change the course of our relationship, for better or worse. You see, Geralt, I’m... quite fond of you.” 

“I’m fond of you as well...” Geralt replied, confusion twisting his features. “Is that really your big secret?”

“Oh, for the love of--” Regis cut himself off, reaching instead with one hand to encircle Geralt’s wrist while the other cupped Geralt’s cheek. “I love you, you stubborn witcher. I’ve loved you for awhile now, really. Even before Stygga. You’re incredibly easy to fall in love with, though I see now that you’re completely oblivious to this trait.” 

Regis’ hold was gentle, light--something Geralt could easily pull away from if he wished to. But he didn’t. Staring into his own reflection within the coal black of the vampire’s eyes, Geralt closed the gap between them, answering Regis’ confession with his own: a kiss. 

Between kisses, Geralt paused, huffing out a short breath. “...You know, I’m feeling like a fool for not telling you that I loved you sooner, Regis.” 

“Likewise. Which is not something I feel all that often.” 

At this, they both laughed before resting their foreheads against each other. It had been a long road to this--to love--but it was well-earned. Later, Regis’ cloak found a home within a closet in Corvo Bianco. Though the weather in Toussaint was rarely cold enough to warrant a fur-lined cloak, Regis wore it as often as he could, but Geralt left an empty hanger in the closet all the same--just in case. 

Seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis... but now, watching the morning sunlight from the bedroom window pool against the witcher’s back, he felt a tug of warmth at the first touch of Fall, at the chance of donning his cloak and the memory of the day it was gifted to him. He didn’t want to replace the painful memories, the memories of those he loved but lost, but he also knew that somewhere, surely, Milva, Cahir, and Angouleme were smiling down at them. And that was a sense of peace with his past that he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

[symphonic--chaos]

Hey I wanted a fic where maybe Rafe or Max gets kidnapped and Malec just loses it and tracks down the person who took their little blueberry or Rafe. Also a really angsty fic where they are just sad and pissed off and all. I mean they’re both trying to be strong each other but kinda end up hurting each other or pushing the other away/having an argument or something. A lot of angst. But happy ending in the end obviously with a lot of tears and fluff. (badass+angsty dads)

Going to a carnival had been all Magnus’s idea, he’d asked just once if Alec thought the boys would be a good enough age to let them go and enjoy one and, despite his mistrust of large crowds, Alec had eventually come around and agreed they could take them. They’d spent time researching different ones across the world, but eventually came to a mutual agreement that perhaps state-side would have been safer, both for Alec’s knowledge of where all the institutes within them were in case of emergency, and also because of language barriers with both Alec and the kids.

“Here’s some money for you and your brother, Auntie loves you more than any of your other aunts and uncles no matter what they say.” Izzy said with a grin as she handed a small panda change purse to Rafael after tucking a few bills within it.

“You really don’t need to give them money, I have money, Isabelle,” Magnus mused with an arched brow, only to be waved off by the shorter figure as she stood and ruffled Rafael’s hair.

“Of course I do, they give me joy, I give them money. It’s an aunt thing.” Isabelle replied matter-of-factly with a toss of her hair. Magnus had not once ever heard of aunts or uncles just giving kids money solely for bringing them joy, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

“You’re all set with Chairman and where all his necessities are…?” Magnus checked once more, his hand brushing Alec’s as the dark-haired male passed him, that bright smile flashed back at him over his shoulder in response.

“Yes, cabinet, cabinet, porch. Food, treats, toys and litter. Plus the…sweaters in the closet, brush and fashion collars in the drawer.” She knew she wouldn’t be changing his outfit and collar every day, but she knew it would please him that she remembered where they were ‘in the event he needed to look his best’.

“Come on, we’re going to be late for the train.” Alec returned carrying Max, having helped him change into his favorite dark blue jeans and his red T-Rex hood. The small tail on the base of it swayed over Alec’s arm with each long stride he took as if they were big dinosaurs, the boy accentuating the cuteness with loud ‘Rawr’s.

“Ready!” The boy said to Magnus excitedly as he noticed him in the room, lifting a little blue fist into the air. Max promptly broke into giggles as Alec wiggled his fingers against the briefly exposed belly, squirming then to try and get away from him. They’d only been a family for a couple years now, but it always warmed Magnus’s heart to know how well the boys had adapted to the change in their lives.

Looking to Rafael with a smile, Magnus offered a hand to the boy who looked clearly confused by the panda coin purse, tucking it quickly into Magnus’s pocket before his fingers curled around his father’s hand. It was something that Isabelle couldn’t help but make an excited noise over, quick to pull out her phone and snap a picture of the two, then motioned for Alec and Max to join in. “Get together, say ‘Cheese’!” That was what the mundane’s usually said to earn their smiles, but it only earned a questioning look from Rafael, his brow arching and lip curling in the picture, clearly telling of the ‘Why?’ that had accompanied the look.

~~“Oh, look at these cute little toys.” Magnus cooed, bopping the nose of one of the plush dragons at the vendors stand. “I know who would love one of these…” He gave a knowing glance to Max then, who’s eyes were larger than saucers, fingers already reaching for the green one.“Me! I have, please! Please!” The blue child said almost desperately, his horns hidden under a too large hood but threatening to spill out. Alec held on tight, knowing that if he kept any looser of a grip the boy would have easily spilled out. “PLEASE, PAPA!” “Okay, okay! It’s okay, Max!” Alec said with a laugh as he adjusted the boy in his arms to instead move him onto his shoulders. “I want to get it…” Rafael said after a long moment of contemplation. “I want the money now.““Rafe, save the money Izzy gave you, we’ll buy it, it’s no iss-” Magnus started, only to see Rafe’s sure and stubborn face looking up to him as he quickly replied with a firm ‘No.’

Magnus let out a quiet breath, knowing that stubborn look all too well- not only had he come from Buenos Aires with it, but it had only grown exponentially due to a certain Shadowhunter.

“Okay, okay. Let me get the money.” Magnus caved, releasing his hand to reach into the opposite pocket, his free hand already holding the long jacket out of the way. “You know, I’m very proud that you’re spending your money to get M…..Rafe?” The questioning tone had Alec turning his body back to Magnus and their son, having turned Max around so he could poke at a lantern bouncing around in the wind. Magnus seemed confused and rightfully so, as Rafael was gone. Alec turned once more as he looked at the vendor, who was busy selling to other kids, and to their right, an empty space. Nowhere for Rafael to hide, no one around to be blocking their view.“Where is he, Magnus?” Alec’s voice was low, panic already seeping in. A light pat to his head had him realizing he was now holding Max’s ankles too tight, as if he were subconsciously worried that the small one would disappear as well. “Magnus, where’s Rafael?”“I-I don’t know, I let go just for a second so I could get the change purse out of my pocket. He was right here, practically leaning against me, I don’t know how…” He turned quickly, the boys name loudly called then, in a desperate manner that only a nervous parent could manage.

“Rafe!” Max yelled from Alec’s shoulders, immediately catching on that something was wrong and his brother was missing. It didn’t take long before the other two separated and followed suit, calling the boys name.

Using his powers to try and trace any types of footprints from the area they’d been standing had let him see that there was Rafael’s and another set that had stopped behind the small set. The part that confused him most was the fact that neither of them had seen anyone approach, and those steps were where all ended, as if they just… vanished. There was no retreating footprints in any direction, no hint of leftover magic from the spot, like Rafael and whomever had him had just disappeared into thin air. Magnus felt terrible. This was his fault and his throat felt like it was closing up just realizing that if he hadn’t let go of Rafe’s hand, he’d still probably be here. They would be walking and enjoying the carnival, eating greasy foods that they would normally never feed to the children, giving them mountains of cotton candy bigger than their heads and dealing with the sugar-high repercussions later, as if it wasn’t hard enough getting Max to bed.

Magnus had let go, even after all the times he’d promised that beautiful little Argentinian boy that he never would.

Alec weaved through the crowd, calling for their son, his eyes tracing quickly through the crowds as he studied faces and different areas that could possibly be used to hide, though despite what he wanted to believe, he knew that Rafael wouldn’t do this. He was sneaky, rebellious, certainly a terror sometimes, but he knew better than this. This wasn’t something Rafael would put either of them through, especially not Magnus or Max, of whom was still on his shoulders, using the height advantage to look over the crowd, occasionally yelling the other boys name. “Rafael!” He joined in, looking down each alley he passed as the Nyx rune granted him nightvision to see if the boy had perhaps hidden in one.

“RAFAEL!” Magnus yelled, his voice almost cracking, the glamour on his eyes flickering as the magic began seeping from his fingers. Every bit of composure he’d had about himself and managed to hold for decades beginning to crumble away as he felt his heart sink lower and lower. When was the last time his stomach ached like this? Like there was some small, clawed beast digging away at everything within him in a desperate attempt to escape. As Alec’s same yell echoed from across the large crowd, Magnus swallowed, knowing their boy hadn’t been found yet and it only caused his throat to feel thick as he felt dread overcame him.

That dread only grew as he came across a small dirty area with shuffled footprints and two small drops of blood that seemed to have a purple sheen to it- certainly not Rafael’s. However, what was Rafael’s, was the small shoe resting against the wall nearby.

He’d been kidnapped.

“ALEXANDER!”

~~

Magnus’s fingers toyed with the panda change purse in his pocket as he and Alec made their way towards the building they had tracked Rafael to using Alec’s tracking rune. He hadn’t been able to stop touching it, knowing it was the very last thing Rafael had touched other than his own hand, the same way Alec kept the small shoe in the large front pocket of the hoodie he wore. Every emotion that passed the younger’s face broke Magnus’s heart, knowing how attached he was to the boy that he’d worked so hard to protect, and here he was, the cause of his panic.

“Magnus.” Came the quiet voice as Alec’s feet halted, swift unlike the slight stumble that Magnus’s normally steady feet were. “Come here.” It was followed up by Alec’s hand reaching out, pulling the warlock into his arms as his lips rested in the crook of his neck for a brief and gentle kiss before he lifted his head to meet the others shining cat-like eyes. “I can read it all over your face, this isn’t your fault.”

Magnus’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried looking away, only for Alec to turn his face towards him once more, wanting him to believe him. “I mean it, Magnus. This isn’t your fault.”“I let go of his hand–”“You let go of his hand to give him something he wanted. How were we supposed to know someone…or thing, was following us? How were we supposed to know someone wanted Rafe? This isn’t your fault, but we’re going to make the person who’s fault it is, pay.” Alec’s voice had become lower in register, raw as if he were going to cry, though there was more anger in his eyes than sorrow. Not at Magnus, but at the kidnapper.

“You’re right. You’re… Of course you’re right. He’s still here, right?” Magnus finally caved, motioning to the corner store they were outside of, looking like it had seen better days and had been abandoned for years. He could feel magic coming off of it in waves, no doubt there were wards littering the walls, which could only mean it had been a warlock that had taken Rafael.

“Yes, he’s still here. Max, do you remember what to do if anyone comes near you?” He asked the small boy holding his hand, who looked up to Alec with a determined nod. They’d been working on his magic once he’d proved he could reject advances of a demon, starting small with defensive maneuvers that were easy to master, especially with a tiny bit of help from ‘Bapa’.

The trio made their way into the building, Alec’s arm tight around Max, whom he was now carrying to make sure they stayed together. Their attempt to create a portal to get him to safety with Izzy had been something they didn’t want to do out of fear of losing him like Rafe, but it had also been something Max didn’t want, the small blue one screaming like a banshee and clinging to Alec’s arms. “I help save brother! I HELP!” This was the outcome of what it had led to.

“Ah look, your saviors finally found you.” A lisped voice called from a higher area, Alec’s gaze rising to the stairwell to the right overlooking the area they stood in. “He was expecting us,” Magnus said lowly, just enough for Alec to hear, “There are wards everywhere, we shouldn’t have been able to get in if he didn’t think we’d find them.”

“Give me my brother!” Max yelled, an angry growl following as he glared up to the man above them, only to look more than insulted when the man laughed at him and came out of the shadows one step at a time.

“How cute, you brought another one.” The man on the stairs mused, another voice following his from the corner of the room as Rafe was pushed out in front of the lithe figure, his hands bound behind him. This voice was higher pitched and questioningly female, their face perfectly androgynous with the sharp facial features and hawk-like nose, though their hair fell in long, well cared for curls around their shoulder. “The blue one could fetch a pretty penny in the market.”

Magnus could feel the air around them shift, this was the one the wards were created from, this was the one behind Rafe being taken. However, it wasn’t just their presence that caused the tension, he realized, as he heard the ragged inhale beside him from Alec, Max slowly lowered to the floor behind them. Magnus’s hand shifted, magic swirling and weaving tightly to his fingers, only bits sparking back to create an invisible wall behind them to ensure there wasn’t an ambush or anyone to appear behind Max and take him as well.

Alec’s voice changed then, in a way Magnus had never heard before. This voice was so much more than the authoritative leader voice he carried with the other Shadowhunters, this voice was a raw, deep and threatening voice. Something about it sent chills up Magnus’s spine, goosebumps hidden by the fine jacket covering his arms- something that perhaps in a bedroom setting would be enjoyable, but here… this voice was terrifying.

“Give us. Our son. Now.”

It was that voice that had the fear in Magnus’s body shift, all that worry about how this could all go down where they weren’t just dealing with some Mundane or simpler Downworlder, morphing into pure, unadulterated rage. Like someone who poured gasoline on wood before igniting it, Magnus’s powers began forming not only on hands, but traveled like flames all up his body. He was ready for anything and he felt Alec shift beside him, his legs parting in a stance that was ready to attack, one he knew well from the training Alec had given the boys almost every night.

“If only it were that easy. Your kind, you shadowhunters, killed people we loved. We took him as payment, an eye for an eye, ya know?” The androgynous one said in their strange tone, which Magnus finally realized sounded as if two people were speaking at the same time.

“We considered making him a slave, but that’s too good. Bait was better. Now we have all of you. Two Shadowhunters in one room, and two more warlocks. One that can be trained by me.” The voice once floating above them was now level, the man looking past them at Max as his hand came to rest on Rafe’s shoulder.

The bow appeared in Alec’s hand the minute the man touched Rafe, and even from his side Magnus could see the way Alec’s hand shook when nocking the arrow. The bowstring was held but not drawn, his patience small, lingering, but still there as he’d been trained to have. Magnus shifted his hand over, resting it lightly on his arm in a ways to calm him, hoping that just reminding the Shadowhunter that he was there with him, that it would help.

“The only person that will be training Max, is myself.” Magnus said quietly, his voice dripping with the warning of every threat that could have possibly been flung. “It’ll be okay, Rafe, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Briefly, Magnus’s gaze had dropped to their son, wanting to assure him that nothing would happen to him. The glow of blue in his hand only grew as Rafael was roughly pulled back, pushed into a chair and quickly enchanted so he couldn’t escape. What may have been something to bring kids to tears was nothing to Rafael, though the boys chest heaved and his mouth was gagged, his hands bound so tight Magnus knew he’d have to heal him, his eyes were clear of tears. If anything, they reflected the rage his parents had, that anger something that Alec remembered when they had first met in the Shadow Market. Rafael was keeping his calm, staying cool and collected and waiting for his moment like Alec had trained him in emergency situations.

Patience, unlike Alec, was not something he could find in himself when those he loved were threatened. The minute the man stepped forward with a glowing sword in hand, Magnus’s magic had already grown in hand, the ball quickly flung in his direction to disarm him. The androgynous one seemed to be ready for it, diverting it into the wall to their right, easily shattering the doorframe and quarter of the wall there.

It was queue enough to Alec who drew the bowstring and aimed his arrow at the warlock, only halting from releasing it due to Rafael being directly behind them. Alec’s breath escaped short and sharp, but the small boy seemed to understand and with a muffled yell, he threw himself sideways, causing the chair he was on to tip. It was less than a second before the arrow was released, hurtling in the air towards the warlock that had looked back to see what the movement behind them was. There was a thud as it landed in their shoulder, a howled shriek of pain leaving them as their fingers quickly moved to rip it free.

Magnus had wasted no time hurling everything he had in him at the male by the stairs, balls of sparking magic and energy chasing him along as he dove to avoid being hit by each. “Max, get ready, baby.” He called back to the little one, finally stepping forward and away from him to go after the man. Max was careful to stay where he was, knowing the protection Magnus had put up around him would keep him safe enough unless it was destroyed, though it was clear in his little face that the boy wanted to go to his brother.

“Vena, take out the warlock!” The man yelled to the one now tossing the arrow aside and forgetting about their hostage behind them and instead running at Alec and Max, their own magic beginning to travel up their arms and shoulder, causing the platinum curls to begin to float as a frustrated scream began forming in their chest. A blast curled it’s way towards Alec like orange tentacles on the air as his arrows, shot in rapid succession, fell out of their way. Magnus glanced back and focused one hand towards the barrier around Max, quickly working out the beginning of a spell to strengthen the ward, his attention failing him just enough for the ringleader to take advantage, rushing him and throwing his shoulder into Magnus’s chest. The taller of the two went down with a grunt, his barrier flickering as he shoved the man off of him, his fist going out and connecting with a stubbly jaw, his second going in a follow up right hook.

“NO!” Max shouted as he and Alec were approached by Vena when Magnus went down, his own little amount of magic feeding and surging off of the guard that Magnus had put up. A protective bubble of purple energy forming around himself and lifted him into the air, the defense and attack mechanism he and Magnus had worked on for months on end to perfect. The warlock lifted a hand to try and grab him through it, only to hiss loudly in pain, their hand smoking as it pulled back. Alec’s seraph blade was in his hand, glowing and flying through the air within seconds of Max’s yell, and not long after, Vena’s freshly severed hand was falling to the floor.

“Don’t touch my fucking kids.“ He panted as he regained his defensive stance, Max moving to float beside his father. “Max, stay in there, do not come out. Go stay by your brother.” He said as he turned the blade in his hand, pacing at Vena’s side as they writhed in pain on the floor, holding their stump of a wrist. “Come on, you wanna go after them, you’ll have to take us out, first. Get up.” He said as he lifted his arm and wiped sweat off his forehead, his body tense and ready. “Magnus, you alright back there?”

“Great!” Magnus called back with a loud grunt as he was shoved into a wall, feeling stronger now that he didn’t have as much going on in protecting Max. “So,” he pinned his opponent against the wall, his magic swirling around his neck as the flame-like magic reached his eyes. “Very,” the magic tightened and the man gagged, his feet lifting off the ground. “Great.” He finished as the man was slammed against the wall, knocked unconscious by how hard his head hit. Magnus’s attention turned then to Vena, lifting themselves up from the ground and cradling their lack of hand to their body.

“Are we done here? Have you learned your lesson?” Magnus asked as he tried to catch his breath, standing between Vena and their children. “We have a parade to go to, I’ve spent far too long planning this for you to ruin it for my kids, or anyone else’s kids.” He looked back as Rafe forced his arms around his legs, bringing them to the front and pulling at the cloth in his mouth as he tried to get free. “Stay in there, Max.” He followed up with Alec’s earlier words, not wanting to risk anything until everything was cleared.

“By the authority of the Clave, you’re both under arrest.” Alec’s grip tightened around the hilt of the sword, knowing fully well that they both wanted to do much more damage just for the trauma they put the kids through. Magnus harnessed what he had left of his energy, a portal opened beside him and moments later a few guards from the local Institute stepped through, grabbing both Vena and the unconscious man nearby. Before they had gone to find Rafael, they had made sure to get in touch with the nearest institute to have them on the ready. Alec watched them and looked to the one whom he’d spoken to, knowing he was the head of their Institute. “Make sure they go straight to Idris, straight to trial. Tell them to not show any mercy.”

Once they had gone through and the portal had closed, Alec let out the breath he’d been holding in, the seraph blade dropping to the floor as his hands rested on his knees and he bowed his head. Magnus moved immediately to Rafe, undoing the bindings around his wrists and legs, untying the fabric from around his neck where it had once been in his mouth. Max dropped out of the bubble and rushed towards Alec, who quickly scooped him up, his face burying in the small boys neck as he hugged him tight to himself, a relieved sigh muffled by Max’s sweatshirt. Rafe’s arms immediately went out to wrap around Magnus’s neck, the worry heavy on his face and Magnus knew that it wasn’t even for himself, but for he and Alec. His sassy, stubborn, selfless boy.

“I’m sorry. Lo lamento mucho, mi amor.” Magnus whispered, his arms wrapping tightly around Rafael as if he was afraid to let him go again, as if they were still around and about to take their boy away from him again. Rafe’s fingers curled in Magnus’s shirt, his breathing quick but stabilizing as he calmed in the elder’s arms, the tension leaving both their bodies. Alec’s arms soon joined as he dropped to his knees beside them, Max trapped (happily) between all three, squirming in between Magnus and Rafe then to hug his older brother.

“Do you want to go home? We can go home if you want. We don’t need to stay.” Alec asked Rafael before his lips rested on top of the boys head, pressing one, two, three kisses to the sweaty mop of curls.

There was a long moment of silence as Rafe looked between Magnus’s many necklaces, at the blood that had dripped down from his nose during his fight with the man earlier. They shifted to the side, to the rune covered arm wrapped around Magnus’s back, the other behind himself and keeping him close. Finally they rested on Max, his little face full of worry over his silence, the hood having fallen away to reveal the horns beneath as he looked up at his big brother. He took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to offer a smile to Max.“Max should see the parade. Sea feliz.” He said up to Magnus, who’s face softened as he offered a small smile and a nod.

“Okay,” Magnus started, then paused, “only on the condition that you let me carry you. Please?” It wasn’t that he didn’t trust it not to happen again, he would have held tighter to his hand, but now he just wanted to keep him as close and safe as possible.

~~

“A DINOSAUR!” Max yelled happily over the loud music played by the passing marching band, a large dinosaur balloon passing by as walkers held the strings securely. Rafael held onto the green dinosaur they’d been looking at earlier, keeping it close to himself as he silently watched everyone passing by, Magnus’s hand gently stroking his back as his free arm supported the boy sitting on his hip. They had come to the agreement that if at any time Rafael wanted to leave, there would be no questions or hesitation, they would portal right out.

“Want to get some cotton candy?” Magnus whispered to Rafael as a vendor approached with his cart. Rafael’s fingers moved to his pocket, carefully pulling out the panda coin purse that Alec had stashed there earlier, offering it up to Magnus.

“Keep the money, Rafe. We’ll always take care of you.”

[howamidrivinginlimbo]

The endless cycle of Radiohead’s Kid A and Amnesiac

I’m a huge Radiohead fan, they’re my favorite band and the album I love the most is without a doubt Kid A, followed by Hail To The Thief and A Moon Shaped Pool. Amnesiac’s probably in fifth place, which means I still find it an exceptionally good album. The reason I love Kid A so much is because I’ve always thought there is a story behind it, evolving with every song. I can clearly see the storyline and that adds extra depth to the music. Recently, I listened to Kid A, and the day after to Amnesiac. I started looking for a story in Amnesiac as well, and I think I can say that I found one. But what I found blew my mind away a little: I always thought the story was a chronological one, going from Everything In Its Right Place to Motion Picture Soundtrack. But in my opinion, it goes on in Amnesiac, and after Life in a Glasshouse, it just goes over in Everything In Its Right Place again! I’m aware this must sound very vague and maybe it’s something only I have experienced. That’s why I want to share this story with you. It’s quite depressing, so if you want to keep your happy experiences with these albums, you maybe shouldn’t read further. (But I can’t imagine these being happy albums for anyone, haha) Furthermore, these are my personal opinions and I’m telling these as facts, because I would get very tired of saying ‘in the way I see it’ etcetera every sentence. Warning: it’s a long read (>2000 words) and English is not my first language, so there will be mistakes.  Let’s start with Everything In Its Right Place. An individual is introduced, details don’t matter, let me call him ‘he’ to make it easier. He lives in a very organised/controlled society and works in a factory, to do boring work with an assembly line. You could ask if they really need people for that, but he is actually more of a machine than a human being. He speaks in a robotic way and is clearly programmed according to the rules of society, in other words, he is extremely indoctrinated (on the level of authority, laws and morals). Kid A: he goes back home, a small place, and there he actually starts to question if the allegiance and happiness he experiences, is based on real things. That’s the ‘white lie’ he talks about. With ‘ventriloquists’ and ‘heads on sticks’ he realizes how similar machines and human beings are, because morals, emotions, maybe even free will, aren’t natural, just learned when coming of age. And he is only part of a giant system, a robot who doesn’t have anything to say. Of course this makes him depressed. In the end there is even a rebellic sound in the form of leading the kids, who aren’t that indoctrinated yet, away, because they are the ones who can still be saved. (As for the rats, I think that’s just a reference.) But the sound in the end is one of helplessness, he does nothing and/or can’t do anything. The National Anthem: He goes outside and because he is not that indoctrinated anymore, he is shocked of all the people who do all exactly the same thing. There’s even a gathering on behalf of the state and he experiences agoraphobia and social anxiety being surrounded. Suddenly horns (maybe the voice of the Great Leader) come in and make everyone completely obedient and in sync. He puts his fingers in his ears and somehow manages to evade the same effect. Towards the end of the song the other people leave and he is alone, suddenly startled by the horns swelling on again. The government has noticed he isn’t controlled well enough and the horns make him feel terrible pain, the blood coming out of his ears and nose. At the end of the song he has collapsed and is lying at the front of his house, crying. How To Disappear Completely: Pretty much a continuation of the previous song. He deals with the fear and especially sadness that come with being locked up in this society, no freedom. He wants to be somewhere else. On the top of this anti-society message I get, there is also a nihilistic view coming on. At some points in the song, he has some ‘it all doesn’t matter anyway’ vibes coming off him. Near the end, he decides to actually escape (although it’s not made clear how and IF he escapes). Treefingers: The scenery has drastically changed. There is the North Pole, the Arctic Sea, and there are endless blocks of ice, and weird blue light coming out of the ice. There is no creature around him, and he seems to step out of his body, and forget himself. There is just the endless emptyness of the north, the ice that comes back every ice age, the sea that rises and goes down again. Cracks in a glacier and looking in those, seeing a cold, empty world. Little caves in enormous ice blocks. Diving under the frozen surface of the sea and being in a dark blue nothing, with white light coming from above. Seeing aurora borealis there. Ice bears. Orcas. All you feel, he feels, there is, is fascination. Optimistic: A taste of what it feels like living outside of society. The ‘he’ is gone, we are millions of years earlier, and it’s the end of the dinosaur time. A small herbivore dinosaur and his friend try to survive, but snow is already falling, and the sky is black. When trying to find some food, his friend gets wounded and some time later is left to die. The dinosaur tries to keep walking, evading enemies, that are everywhere, but the snow is deep and there are no plants left. With the words ‘dinosaurs roaming the earth’ he sees a dead T-Rex and dies himself, marking the end of the dinosaurs. In the last tones, when Thom starts singing ‘ooh ooh ooh ooh’, we fast forward in history, with mammals evolving, animals like saber tooth tigers, and human apes, and there, finally human beings, who go from hunter societies to industrialized cities and at the end a dead person is shown, marking the end of the human race. The extra bit is showing how every process is a cycle, even stars, and complete parts of the endless universe are destroyed before new stars etcetera are evolving. The feeling here? For the individual, there is only pain and fear, but taking the whole universe into account, the individual experience doesn’t matter that much > nihilism. In Limbo: This is my favorite song (maybe of all time) and it’s very hard to describe. The ‘he’ is back and he is lying on his back on a raft in the middle of an endless sea and there is no one around him. The most important are the feelings here. First there is the fear. He knows he is lying there, with the risk of falling into sea. He knows there is no one to help him and he will die of thirst on that raft. The only other thing he can do, is drown himself, which he isn’t exactly eager to do as well. Secondly, there is the sadness, because of his coming death and because of his loneliness. The last ‘emotion’ is the lack thereof, the nothingness, the nihilism. With ‘come back!’, for example, the emotions are coming back, but that is for a short amount of time. He stays lying there apathically, forever, dying and not caring, maybe even giggling about it. The most depressive thing I can picture, ever. This is a song that doesn’t make you cry, but just makes you staring in the distance. Idioteque: He wakes up, in his bed, in his house, in the society. He never escaped at all, it was a dream, because you can never escape. He is confused at first, but then he panics and is deeply depressed. He is again in the cell of society and has obligations he doesn’t care about. He ends up going to bed again, lying there in the dark, hiding himself. Morning Bell: It’s morning, surprisingly, and he needs to go to the factory, but he stays in bed. Of course this song is about the wish of being somewhere else, being back on the Arctic Sea of In Limbo perhaps (which is not where you actually would want to go, but maybe total freedom and no safety is better than no freedom and total safety). And again, this song falls into emotionlessness (‘walking walking walking walking…’). Motion Picture Soundtrack: Still in bed and it seems our man hasn’t eaten or drunk for a while. The first verse is about lamenting this society, maybe even this life, where there is nothing to be happy about (if ‘happiness’ exists). The second verse makes everything a little more relative, the ‘white lies’ part of society isn’t spoken sadly of, it’s just that way. This song seems to be about acceptance, but he doesn’t accept life this way: he dies at the end, or thinks, hopes he’s dying, all because he hopes there is something better to come, a next life, perhaps something like heaven. Also important to say, during the second verse he starts to imagine an ice cave with high ceilings, and minerals that are glowing, and endless corridors and rooms and great halls, white and blue. He hopes that is his next life, just walking there forever, always moved by the beauty. It is not clear if he gets a next life or not. I thought the story ended here. I am an atheist and I don’t believe there is something like a next life, or heaven. But Amnesiac could be a resumal of that story, and has definitely more supernatural vibes than Kid A. Amnesiac as a resumal of Kid A could mean two things: there is either a next life, or the suicide didn’t succeed. I’d like to go with the last scenario. Our story continues! Packt like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box: The individual is alone, in a dark place, most likely a cave. He has been there for a long time. The cave is where he went with his mind when he entered the ice cave, he went deeper and deeper and travelled through different sorts, all underground. He’s not sad or happy, quite numb there. One thing is clear: this is not what really happened with his body, this is just where he imagines he is. I personally think the State has prevented him to commit suicide and his body is just lying under their watch somewhere. Pyramid Song: Still in the cave, but now on a river. This song seems to confirm that he didn’t really die, but he soothes himself. He wished he was dead and imagines the river Styx. The dream is beautiful, unhappy, but peaceful. This is all the individual wants, for life can bring him only misery, he imagines death as the best thing that could happen to him. Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors: This turns the image in a scarier place. Maybe because the State can do with his brains what they want. Doors seem to be about choices in life. For this individual, there are only closed locked doors, and of course the trapdoors. If we are speculating, it could be possible that the State prints the image of open doors in his head, so that he thinks he has any influence on his life. But the image stays scary and weird, because of the State and because everything is in life. You and Whose Army?: The defence of the individual against the State. He makes them ridiculous and suggests there are not enough of them to stop him. He wants to overthrow them with the powers of.. what? Nothing. He fights, but he has no power. The State heard this and decided to mess with his head further, as they do not like opposing persons. I Might Be Wrong: Still in the cave, but now by an underground waterfall. It is very beautiful and glides out of the cave, which means out of the coma he experiences now. He now has a more positive look on things, he has hope, which is a great contrast with the last few songs. There is no question that the State does this. Knives Out: Again a very different song. The individual is placed in a new home, maybe with others he considers as family. He is brainwashed, and he doesn’t remember much. He is amnesiac. But the State has punished him for his treason: the environment he lives in is awful. Everyone there is constantly bickering with each other and has to deal with constant hunger, fear and coldness. The only option left is cruelty and cannibalism, in order to survive. He is of course confused, but he sees himself several times as the victim he eats. He knows he is not any better than who he is eating. Morning Bell/Amnesiac: A song we’ve already heard. That time it was about wanting to stop everything, and thinking you could succeed in that (suicide). But you have no freedom, so you can’t commit suicide. This song is hopeless. The individual doesn’t stop working, but he is hopeless and emotionless. Happier tones tune in, but it’s too late. (Not my favorite song of Amnesiac, but this is, if I think it through, very sad and beautiful) Dollars and cents: Because of his good behaviour, he is placed into a better home with a job. He pretends he does his work like others and have an interest in the capitalist ways. Very soon, he hears of his coworkers and the State that everyone must be quiet. He does, but protests a little (maybe in his head). He stays quiet, but the State is crushing all people, all animals, the whole planet, all the places he went to in his head don’t exist, just battleground. The money is the only thing that’s important for the State and it destroys everything. Hunting Bears: It’s like he starts living in his head again (escapism), because it’s the only thing he can. He can’t find his cave anymore, or any beautiful landscapes, but just empty fields with mud and bombs everywhere, crows looking for left-over meat and bones. Fighting is the only thing he knows. Like Spinning Plates: A song about the prosperity and greatness of the State, and the little, poor, hopeless person he is. This is totalitarianism, the opposite of individual freedom, and thereby a stark contrast with songs like Optimistic and In Limbo. Now it’s pretty clear that living in freedom in constant danger is still better than with all your means under the control of a regime. Life in a Glasshouse: The individual lives in a house. He is aware of all the misery in life, but he starts to forget these things a little and decides to just do what he is ought to do, because he knows the State sees everything he does. As we approach the end of the song, he becomes more and more obedient and turns into the robot he is at the beginning of Kid A. This is only because of fear, and he isn’t well programmed that way, the reason it depresses him every time so much. He weeps himself to sleep and goes to the factory everyday, until the tears have disappeared and his face is blank.

And then we go on with Everything In Its Right Place again…

Thank you for reading this analysis of Kid A and Amnesiac! I hope your experiences don’t differ much from mine, as I enjoy these albums tremendously.

[jghouse-asia-pacific]

New Post has been published on https://www.jg-house.com/2019/08/24/deceit-desire-saigon/

Deceit and Desire: Saigon

At 9:00am, Lan and I finished breakfast and left the dining room on the 2nd floor of Hotel Vissai to go to the Golden Smile Clinic. It was on Ký Hoà Street in District 5 of Ho Chi Minh City, about 30 minutes away. The previous night a new patient, from Australia, had arrived in the city formerly known as Saigon. The woman, Mary Lynn Tefford, lived in Canberra, Australia, and was desperate.

“She will be at my mother’s clinic at 10:00,” Lan said as we rode down in the elevator. “She phoned two weeks ago. She flew in yesterday.”

We exited the lobby and waited on the sidewalk in the polluted air. Binh, my taxi driver, brought his small car to a halt before us. He smiled, revealing a gap in his top teeth, a gap which hadn’t been present the previous day. Two days prior, he had mentioned needing to see a dentist, but I assumed he was going to have a minor procedure, like a teeth cleaning or a filling replaced.

Young Men Playing Cards, Saigon, Vietnam

The Edge of the City

The first rain clouds, dark specters, appeared on the horizon as Binh wove in and out of the buses, cars, and motorcycles on Nguyễn Văn Trỗi Street, the main thoroughfare between the airport and the center of Saigon in District 1.

By now, though, the daily changes in the weather were familiar.

Binh turned right on Công Ty Cp Bằng Hữu Quốc Tế-Cửa Hàng Số Street and then merged onto an even busier street, Trần Huy Liệu.

As Binh drove, he stared periodically at Lan and me sitting in the back seat. He wanted to listen to the story about Mary, the new client whom Lan’s mother’s had acquired and intended to treat for a recently discovered benign tumor in her uterus.

“She’s 42 years old,” Lan said. “She’s re-married. She wants to have a child with her new husband.”

Binh looked out the window and waved to a woman on a motorbike, who waved back at him.

“Mary doesn’t want to have surgery,” Lan said. “She wants to avoid any cutting with scalpels and a long recuperation from the trauma of surgery.”

Binh soon halted the car in an alley between Lương Nhữ Học and Triệu Quang Phục Streets. The area was popular with people looking for natural or herbal healers and for acquiring exotic and sometimes very expensive medicines.

Streetside Pedicure, Saigon, Vietnam

Golden Smile Clinic

Inside the Golden Smile Clinic, we saw the same miniature clerk who had greeted us two days before. She was 25 years old, but looked 16, and wore a white pressed blouse, skirt, and stiletto heels.

The clerk passed through a door at the back of the clinic, and we followed her into a narrow yard. We immediately saw a garden with an impressive collection of plants, not only sprouting from the ground but growing in pots hanging from a wooden structure with curls drooping onto the ground. The clerk pruned several leaves off of a tall vine with white and pink flowers, a pink-striped trumpet lily.

“We grow them for our clients,” a woman’s voice coming from behind me said. I turned and saw Lan’s mother. She smiled at me.

The clerk then cut off a Vietnamese coriander sprout and gave it to Lan’s mother. The clerk disappeared back into the clinic again.

The mother spoke to me. “Western medicine can help only so much in the most severe cases. I know it is the same in your country, even though you have many big hospitals and expensive clinics.”

The clerk, who re-appeared suddenly with a surprised look on her face, said a few words in Vietnamese to Lan and her mother, standing next to each other beside me.

“Mary has arrived,” Lan said, turning to me. “You can stay in the garden, if you like. Just relax until Mary leaves.”

Lan and her mother went inside.

“Do you want some water?” asked the clerk, whose name was Tran. “Perhaps coconut milk?” I shook my head to both questions.

The humidity was rising quickly. Lan and her mother didn’t return to the garden as Tran led me from plant to plant in the yard, describing each one and its uses, including the tần dày lá, or plectranthus amboinicus, for respiratory tract disorders; the sả hoa hồng, or palmarosa, for skin maladies; and the rau má, or centella asiatica, for blood circulation.

When I went into the clinic again, I saw Lan and her mother with the new patient, Mary, talking in low voices.

The Australian woman, who had short, blond hair and wore a blue polo shirt, tennis shorts, and Adidas shoes, was drinking a green liquid from a painted glass. The woman looked closer to 25 than 45 years old; she was muscular and appeared athletic and coordinated.

“My goal is to reduce the size of the tumor inside me so I can get pregnant again,” Mary said to me after shaking my hand. She looked as if she wanted to tell me more about herself, but she seemed to be distracted. “It’s important.” A jeep pulled up outside. “I have to leave. I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”

Two Men Contemplating Their Next Move, Saigon, Vietnam

In the Heart of the City

I told Lan that I had to go to District 1 and collect a folder of statistics on bilingual students speaking English and Vietnamese. Lan looked at me, disappointed, and her mother frowned. An idea occurred to me. I asked Lan if she could meet me for dinner at 7:30 in the rooftop bar of the Rex Hotel, one of the most iconic landmarks in Saigon.

Lan’s mother nodded, as if giving her daughter permission.

Karen had said to me earlier that morning that Duy planned to take her to the Rex at 8:00. Lan agreed to meet me. I wanted Karen and Lan to have an opportunity to talk. Although they were my two best friends in Vietnam, I suspected that they would soon hate each other or, more realistically, that they already did. I wanted to introduce them to each other before matters got any worse.

At noon, dark clouds gathered overhead as Binh brought his taxi to a stop on Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai Street.

A door opened on the ground floor of the three-story house, and Karen appeared in the doorway. “Emily is here,” she said. “I’m going to take her to SEAMEO when I go back for my afternoon class. You can come with us to the school. I have the folder ready for you in my classroom.”

I stepped inside. The smell of a recently cooked meal was obvious.

“Emily wants an extra teaching job,” Karen said to me, as we entered the kitchen. “But do you really need this job?” Karen said to Emily, who had just entered the room from another door.

“Yes,” Emily replied. “I can’t take any money from my mother in Texas right now. She opposes my relationship with Cao. I need the extra cash.”

Karen stared at Emily. “Do you really think that Cao will sacrifice his career in the army for you?” Karen said. Cao was a major in the Vietnamese army and rising fast in the Communist Party in Saigon.

“Why would he lie to me?”

I could think of at least ten good reasons. I thought that probably Karen could, too.

Two Women on a Motorbike, Saigon, Vietnam

SEAMEO School

Because Karen had to be back at the school at 1:30pm, I had to walk with her and Emily as they argued. Finally, from Lê Thánh Tôn Street, we entered the courtyard of the school, a property which once housed the CIA headquarters in Saigon.

Emily stopped and turned to Karen. “I appreciate your help in introducing me to the administrators here,” Emily said, “but I don’t understand your attitude toward Cao. I know you had a bad break-up recently. I guess you’re still hurting.”

Karen shook her head.

“I feel bad for what happened to you,” Emily continued. She was referring to Karen’s recent affair with a security guard during which he had fathered secretly a child with another woman.

Karen didn’t reply.

“Although Vietnamese men have a reputation for promiscuity,” Emily said, “I’m not concerned. I know Cao loves me. My situation is different.”

More dark clouds gathered in the skies above us, blunting the force of the sun’s rays but, at the same time, turning up the humidity.

“What Cao says now and what he says next month very likely will be different,” Karen replied with a scowl on her face.

“Let’s go and see the director,” Emily replied, ending the conversation.

Street Vendor, Saigon, Vietnam

Inside a Stretch Limousine

After walking the short distance from SEAMEO to Hotel InterContinental, I stopped under a tree on Hai Bà Trưng Street across from the hotel. A black stretch Mercedes stopped in front of me.

Although the driver, a Vietnamese man in his 20s, could have been anyone, I thought I recognized the big car. When the window in the back of the car rolled down, I recognized Howard in the dark interior. The car, I knew, belonged to Howard’s friend, Emile.

I assumed, then, that Emile’s girlfriend, Natasha, was with Howard in the car. I remembered that Natasha had just flown in from Moscow where she lived most of the year. Probably Howard and Natasha were on their way to look at more properties in the tony districts of the city. Natasha wanted a villa to rent, and Emile wanted Howard, who was a long-time friend from Pittsburgh—part of a large Jewish community in that city—to help her find a suitable one.

But I thought Emile also wanted Howard to help Emile hide his increasingly serious relationship with a young Vietnamese woman, a financial analyst who worked for Emile. Howard had become a shield or a diversion, enabling Emile to pursue the affair. I had tried to warn Howard, but he didn’t want to listen to me. He was in a dangerous position.

“Good afternoon,” Howard said, opening the door. “It’s cool in here with the air conditioning on.”

Howard slid to the opposite side of the car, and, while closing the door, I sat where he had been sitting. Phi, sitting beside Natasha, was facing me. Natasha was facing Howard.

The window next to me went up again, and the big car started to move quietly, as if it had a mind of its own. While the air cooled my face and arms, the blue light overhead made me relax and forget about the two American women, Karen and Emily.

“Howard thinks he knows the real-estate market in Saigon better than I do,” Phi remarked. “How long has Howard been here?” Phi said. “A month? It’s impossible. Absurd.”

Natasha glanced at me. “Although Howard knows the real-estate market in the States,” she said, hesitating and calling attention to her Slavic accent, “how he might or might not be able to find a house for me in Saigon is not important. I have Phi helping me.” She ran a hand through her hair, looking at me, expecting a reply.

Natasha, in her 30s, had high cheek bones, full lips highlighted with a pinkish gloss, and extra long dark hair. She looked more than exotic. She looked expensive.

I noticed Howard staring at me, wanting me to defend him, but I glanced at Natasha and decided I should refrain. The situation was complicated. I could have said many things, but I said nothing instead.

Natasha preferred a villa in the An Phu neighborhood, an exclusive area, located in District 2, but she hadn’t bothered to tell any of us, or even Emile himself, what she expected. Anyway, I knew that she had her own money and did what she wanted when she felt like it.

Emile was a little afraid of Natasha. All of us were.

Howard picked up some papers lying next to him on the seat. “From the listing for the property Phi has selected,” Howard said, “I don’t know why we should even bother driving out to it and viewing it.” He pointed to the listing. “It’s written in English. I have pictures, too.” He looked up at Natasha. “I know what the place has to offer. Nothing.”

Natasha, dressed in shorts with a see-through shift covering her legs and her upper body, placed a hand on Phi’s arm. “We’re going to see the place you’ve selected,” she remarked. “Don’t worry about it or worry about what Howard says or worry about what Emile might have told anyone. It’s my decision.”

Now I noticed Natasha wore a gold chain around her neck with a gold medallion suspended between her breasts. Howard looked out the window of the Mercedes. “What street is this?” he said.

Woman Eating Lunch at the Market, Saigon, Vietnam

Bar on the Ground Floor of the Hotel InterContinental

It was 4:00 in the afternoon. The crowd at Hotel InterContinental’s ground-floor bar, called Purple Jade, occupied all of the tables. A group of foreigners—all men—sat close by. The men spoke with English accents. Natasha, Howard, Phi, and I sat at a separate table next to the four middle-aged Englishmen. They had been been gambling at a casino, called the Palazzo Club, a couple of blocks away. Three of them were discussing what they had lost. The fourth bragged about what he had won.

“I told you,” Howard said, looking at Phi, “the master bathroom has to connect to the master bedroom. And, as you will recall, in the last place we visited, it did not.” Howard drank some wine from his glass. “Also,” he continued, “you must keep in mind that Natasha has a maid and a hairdresser. They go with her.”

We had walked through a villa with 12 rooms, renting for $20,000 a month. Natasha had followed Phi through all of the empty rooms and been impressed with the lay-out of the house.

“The place was beautiful, but it was not for me,” Natasha said. “We’ll look at two more places tomorrow if I have enough time.”

Howard drank some more wine. He looked at me and then at Natasha. “Don’t feel like you have to settle,” Howard said. “Phi has to find something you actually want.”

“That’s the problem,” Natasha said. She smiled. “I don’t know actually what I want.” She looked at the Englishmen, almost dismissively.

Abruptly Natasha stood up from the table. Her see-through shift seemed to get caught on her chair. “I’m going upstairs,” she announced. Her bare thigh brushed my arm as she passed between the tables.

The men from Great Britain watched Natasha. They smiled, a little sheepishly. They wanted to question us about Natasha, but they didn’t. They were silent for the first time.

Motorbike Riders Awaiting a Green Light, Saigon, Vietnam

Driving in the Rain

Under the tree on Hai Bà Trưng Street across from the entrance to Hotel InterContinental, I waited for Binh to arrive in his taxi and take me back to Hotel Vissai. The rain came down in sheets. Howard had borrowed a large umbrella for me from the concierge.

In the taxi, Binh practiced his English. I paid no attention. My thoughts turned to Karen, who now showed an interest in a relationship with Duy. Or, at least, she acted as if she no longer opposed one.

Binh pulled up in front of Hotel Vissai. I asked him to pick me up in one hour.

After showering, dressing, and sending e-mail messages to the States, I found myself back in the taxi with Binh. It was still raining. Once again, Binh talked to me in English. Once again, I paid no attention to him. I thought about Karen and Duy.

At the Rex Hotel on Nguyễn Huệ Street in District 1, in the heart of Saigon, I saw that it was brightly lit in the wet, shiny darkness.

“Are you going to meet the American woman or the Vietnamese?” Binh said.

“Both,” I replied. “It’s probably a bad idea.”

Garbage Collectors, Saigon, Vietnam

Bar on the Roof of the Rex Hotel

Under the awning, a cool breeze was blowing over the tops of nearby buildings and distant streets. I took a sip of Malbec, apparently imported from Argentina, and set the glass back down. I sat near the entrance on the rooftop where I had a clear view of the elevator and of people arriving. It was 7:30. The rain had stopped and a cool breeze swept across the city.

A couple emerged from the elevator.

At first, I didn’t recognize Karen, who, wearing makeup and high heels, looked 10 years older than usual. She was taller than Duy. Even for a Vietnamese man, he was short. The maître d’, wearing a black and orange uniform, led the two of them to a table along the railing at the front of the restaurant, where they had a view of the park below. They didn’t see me.

When the musicians started playing, I turned around to listen and, a minute later. I felt Lan beside me, touching my arm.

“Is that wine for me?” she asked.

She knew it wasn’t, but she started to drink it anyway.

The music was loud; the singer, with long, black hair, was Filipina, but she sounded American when she took the microphone and began singing.

“I know the song. It’s by the Eagles,” I said. “I can’t remember its name.”

Lan laughed. “Take It Easy,” she said. “It was sung by Glenn Frey.”

A Band Performs, Saigon, Vietnam

Ho Chi Minh’s Statue

“I like your dress,” I said to Karen. Lan nodded. I knew she wasn’t agreeing with me. Far from it. Lan didn’t like Karen, although she never said so.

I sat next to the railing on the rooftop and looked down into the street and the adjacent park. I stared at the bronze statue of Ho Chi Minh, a symbol of the past in the middle of the park.

“We went to the opera two nights ago,” Karen said. “We saw the Magic Flute, which turned out to be very good. First class.”

Lan didn’t respond.

Lan knew the opera and liked Mozart in particular, but she was pretending she didn’t to stifle the conversation.

“My friend was singing a leading role, the role of Pamina,” Duy volunteered. “I’ve known her for many years, someone I knew up the coast in Hoi An.”

I couldn’t keep my mind engaged. I stopped following the conversation.

After a few moments, I realized I was staring at Duy and Karen. My mood quickly was worsening.

I had hoped that Lan would like Karen. Now I knew it was impossible.

#LifeCulture, #Vietnam #Beauty, #HoChiMinhCity, #Love, #SoutheastAsia

[robertdaviis]

83 Hypothetical Questions – Fun, but nearly impossible to answer.

Coming up with the hypothetical questions can be a fruitful way to expand a conversation from dull everyday topics to something far more interesting and fun.

You can develop a set of questions to ask that are unique, outside the box, and have really memorable answers. And they can really be used in any situation, from dating… to getting to know a new friend.

So… try some of the hypothetical questions below to spice up your next conversation.

Contents

Best

To Ask A Girl

To Ask Friends

Interesting

Random

Funny

Deep

How To

11 Best Hypothetical Questions

Always start with the best, right? These hypothetical questions allow for some great conversation about all the best speculative topics.

Here are the 11 best hypothetical questions:

1. You’re walking in a forest and you found a black suitcase. Inside it, holds 1 million dollar and a piece of paper stained in blood with a single word “Don’t”. Would you take the suitcase home or leave it?

It’s the start of a great story, if people make the right hypothetical choices.

2. You are at war. Deciphering an intercepted code, you learn two things about your enemy. A single spot in their defense will be at its weakest in ten days, and they will attack on of your cities in five days. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?

Is victory or defending others the most important thing in life and war?

3. If you could really sell your soul to the devil, what would you sell it for?

The oldest bargain on offer, but what would actually make it worth it?

4. You find a book and begin to read only to discover that it is your life. You get to the point that you are at now, do you turn the page knowing that you will not be able to change the events to come?

Would knowing the future be exciting or spoil the adventure?

5. If you were really a robot, would you want to know?

A deep question about how we define ourselves.

6. If you got to choose between fifty years of being incredibly happy or to live forever and be unhappy what would you choose?

What price would you pay to be immortal?

7. If you could learn any one skill in the world without trying (like Matrix learning style), which would you pick?

Find out what skills people really wish they had.

8. You are offered a pill that makes you 25% more intelligent but permanently removes your hair including eyebrows. Do you take it?

A fun way to examine the worth of beauty vs. intelligence.

9. If Jurassic Park were real, would you visit it?

An incredible vacation, although that park does have questionable security.

10. If a zombie plague were to start right now, where would you hold up?

Who doesn’t enjoy a good hypothetical zombie apocalypse?

11. If you could change one thing about how the human body has evolved, what would it be?

Give everyone jetpacks on their feet, obviously.

11 Hypothetical Conversation Starters Questions

Getting beyond introductions is perhaps the hardest part of a conversation.

To life hack those problems, just use some of these hypothetical conversation starters to introduce interesting and amusing topics everyone will want to talk about.

Here are the 11 powerful hypothetical conversation starters questions:

12. If you were a superhero, which of your friends would you pick as your sidekick? And what would your respective powers be?

A question about friendship and cool powers. Sure to get people talking.

13. What historic figure would make the worst ghost to be haunted by?

Who would be the most annoying or terrifying ghost from all history? A lot of options.

14. If you could ask your future self from the year 2050 one question, what would it be?

Find out what people really want to know about the future.

15. Would you accept a $30k/week job offer where you get paid to sit in a pitch black room and do nothing for 8 hours a day?

How much is that money worth to you?

16. If you could only listen to one band for the rest of your life, what one would you pick?

This isn’t just a favorite band, it’s one that would keep you from going crazy after so much repeated listening.

17. Would you rather travel for the rest of your life (only staying in one place for like 3 months), or never leave your home state again?

This tells a lot about how a person approaches life.

18. If you could breed a hybrid animal of any two species, what two would you choose?

The options are endlessly amusing: from the dog-whale to the pig-fish.

19. What amount of money per month would it take for you to give up your mobile phone forever?

A dollar sign that says more about phone obsession than the cash in hand.

20. Would you rather be a deep sea diver or astronaut?

Decide the best hidden world to explore.

21. Would you prefer to live in the Sahara or in Antarctica?

Which extreme is worse?

22. If you were to lose all five of your senses, how would you know if you were truly alive?

A really deep thinker that leads to some very existential questions.

11 Hypothetical Questions to Ask a Girl

Use hypothetical questions to ask a girl something she hasn’t been asked a million times. These questions will help her to really open up and tell you about herself.

Here are the 11 powerful hypothetical questions to ask a girl:

23. If you had to give up television or the internet, which would you choose?

Find out where she goes for most of her screen time.

24. If you were the President of the United States, what would you do on your first day?

A great way to find out about her feelings about society and what needs to change.

25. If you owned a bar, what would it look like?

Give her a chance to design her ideal watering hole.

26. If the job “President of Earth” actually existed, who would you want to be doing it?

Is she power mad or timid at heart?

27. If you were going to a famous historical figure dress up party, who would you go as?

A great way to find out who and what she admires.

28. Would you rather live for another 60 years but not be able to leave your house ever again, or live for 10 more years and be free to go where you wanted?

Is life about the time or the quality of the experience?

29. If you had to describe your life in 20 words or less, what would you say?

Get her to summarize her whole life for you in a couple sentences.

30. If you could relive the last year, would you change any decisions you made? If you would, which ones?

This opens a whole conversation on regrets and missed chances.

31. If you could have complete knowledge of any 5 things, what would you want to know?

What is she really curious about?

32. If you were invisible for 12 hours, what would you do?

A fun question that lets her imagine all the hijinks she could get into.

33. If you ran Google, what would you do differently?

Save the world or make even more money: get her priorities.

11 Hypothetical Questions to Ask Friends

Having some hypothetical questions to ask friends makes sure you never run out of fun things to talk about. Use some of the questions below.

Here are the 11 awesome hypothetical questions to ask friends:

34. In the event of a zombie apocalypse, what would your hand weapon of choice be?

Always go for the chainsaw.

35. If you could organise a car race for you and your friends where you all drive the same car, what car would you pick?

Just imagining the car race makes the question worth asking.

36. Which Ninja Turtle is the best? And which would beat all the others in a fight?

Perhaps the toughest question on this list.

37. If when you die, you are given the choice between finding out what is next or staying on earth as a ghost to wander the planet alone for eternity, which would you choose?

This makes people question how brave they are when facing the unknown.

38. Imagine you are on top of a 40 storey building, there is a giant inflatable landing pad at street level, its big enough that you have a 95% chance of surviving the jump. Would you jump off to save a friends life?

A lot of pressure on this one with other friends sitting around.

39. If, for some reason, computers had never been invented, do you think the world would be a better place? Explain your answer

Deep and sure to lead to a long, interesting debate.

40. If you could buy any existing .com domain, which would it be?

Mantelligence.com. Obviously.

41. You’re fighting a war, you can pick between having a tyrannosaurus rex or a tank on your side, which do you choose?

Fight the hypothetical battle out between the two for extra fun.

42. How do you think your life would change if you didn’t need to sleep? What would you do with the extra time?

A deeper question that lets everyone examine how they use the time they have.

43. Would you rather know all of the languages in the world, or know how to play all of the instruments?

Communication or music: what’s more important?

44. If you had to get $10,000 by tomorrow and no bank would give you a loan, what would you do?

This can lead to the best bank heist ideas at the table.

12 Interesting Hypothetical Questions

Hypothetical questions are, at heart, all supposed to be interesting questions. Use these to add a little more quality to your next conversation.

Here are the 12 best interesting hypothetical questions:

45. If a person could go to the center of the earth, what would be his weight ?

A question for the physicist at the table.

46. Does the fact that we don’t know of anyone from the future time traveling back to our time (or our past), prove that time travel will never be possible?

This can lead to all sorts of explanations why we don’t see time travelers everywhere.

47. If animals had evolved at the same rate of humans (in terms of intelligence), what do you think would be the dominant species on earth today?

The emperor penguin: it’s more than just a name.

48. How would the world be different if humans commonly ranged anywhere from 4 foot to 12 foot tall?

Other than different sized doorways, what else would happen?

49. What do you think would happen if it was somehow proved there was no god and every religion is pointless?

A tough question full of huge consequences.

50. What do you think would happen to the world if somehow one religion was proved beyond a doubt to be correct and all the others (including atheism) were useless?

A twin to the question above. It’s sure to lead to lively debate.

51. How would you change your life today if the average life expectancy was 400 years?

A deep question about how our assumptions about time affect us.

52. Two kingdoms are poised to erupt into war, the course of which will kill many of the populations on both sides. War can be avoided through marriage of a princess from one kingdom to the prince of the other. The marriage will be loveless. Should the marriage be forced?

Is the good of many outweighed the misery of a few, or not?

53. If the government gave you the responsibility of coming up with a plan to combat online piracy, what would you do?

Put yourself in the public policy chair and solve one of the world’s biggest problems.

54. If you were a scientist, you rather discover something huge, but die before tell before telling someone, or discover nothing at all?

Is the point of discovery the knowledge or the fame you get from it?

55. Do you think the world would be a better, worse or just different place if all land was connected (like it was millions of years ago)?

Would we get along better or far, far worse?

56. How long do you think you would survive if food stopped being shipped and you had to grow it / forage it yourself?

Find out who you know is a real survivor.

11 Random Hypothetical Questions

Sometimes, the best answers to hypothetical questions come from random questions. Throw a few curve balls using these questions.

Here are the 11 awesome random hypothetical questions to ask:

57. How would you change how you live your life if life was like a video game where you respawn back at home after dying?

A great way to imagine the crazy adventures respawning would allow you.

58. If you had to describe each of your friends with you right now only through hand signals (like sign language), how would you do it?

A lot of fun to be had from translating those hand signals.

59. If you had to be renamed after one of the planets in the solar system, which would you pick?

Uranus is obviously right out.

60. Do you think the world would be a better place if someone like Iron Man really existed?

Dream up a world of superheroes and imagine the real consequences.

61. Imagine you lapsed and cheated on your partner – you felt horrible and knew you’d never do it again, would you confess?

One of the all-time tough hypotheticals.

62. If you were the captain of a pirate ship, what would you name your ship? And what would your title be?

A great game to play over a few rums.

63. If you were to have either a teleporter or a time travel machine, which one would you want?

Would it be better to go anywhere or anytime?

64. What would win a fight between a rhinoceros and hippopotamus?

Work the battle out yourselves.

65. You can make one change to any winter olympic sport to make it more exciting, what would it be?

Ice hockey with a beachball or bobsled without the sled?

66. If all swear words became socially acceptable, what existing word would you use to replace them?

Try it in practice for extra fun. Oh, cottage cheese!

67. If you could send yourself from 10 years ago a message no longer than 20 seconds, what would you say?

Invest in Bitcoin? Or would it be more personal?

9 Funny Hypothetical Questions to ask

If hypothetical questions are good for anything, it’s a good laugh. Use these hypothetical funny questions to ask something sure to add a little comedy to your conversation.

Here are the 9 best funny hypothetical questions to ask:

68. Why do we drive on parkways and park on driveways?

A question for the ages.

69. Why is it that if someone tells you that there are 1 billion stars in the universe you will believe them but if they tell you a wall has wet paint you will have to touch it to be sure?

This may require philosophical, and potentially messy, answer.

70. Would a fly without wings be called a walk?

Sure to get a groan and a laugh, but what would it be called?

71. Why are there no ‘B’ batteries?

Sure to elicit an online search for these mythical object.

72. When does it stop being partly cloudy and start being partly sunny?

A real test in defining terms.

73. If a kid refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?

A question sure to get an exhausted laugh from every parent.

74. If God sneezes, what should you say?

You bless you?

75. If a bunch of cats jump on top of each other, is it still called a dog pile?

Or is it a cat dog pile?

8 Deep Hypothetical Questions to ask

Add some depth to your conversation with hypothetical deep questions to ask. Use these hypothetical questions to lead your conversation in far more thoughtful directions.

Here are the 8 powerful deep hypothetical questions to ask:

76. You lost your fortune, everyone turns on you. You manage to get $1000, what will you do with it to work on creating wealth again?

A unique way of examining the best ways to get rich.

77. Would you rather one of your dreams came true, or two of your best friends’ dreams?

Selfishness or altruism, what matters more?

78. If time can be divided into infinitely decreasing segments, does that mean we live infinitely long in just one second?

A great way to examine the nature of time.

79. If the whole world was going to die out, would you sacrifice your self to save it or let yourself live and everything else die?

Is your world defined by you or by everything around you?

80. If the world was “reset” to the same state it was 5,000 years ago, do you think by the time the alternate world got to our timepoint, would it look much the same? Or would it be quite different?

You’re asking if things must happen as they have or if it was all chance.

81. Would you live your life differently if nobody would ever judge you for anything you did?

Do you behave as we do because of our morals or because others watch and judge us?

82. How do you think the world would be different if advertising didn’t exist? Do you think we’d all be better people, “wanting” less? Or is it human nature to “want more”?

A question straight to the heart of what it means to be human.

83. If animals could talk, or at least communicate in a basic, intelligent manner, how do you think the world would change? Would you still eat meat?

A vegetarian vs. meat-eater question for the ages.

Downloadable List of Hypothetical Questions

Here is a downloadable list of hypothetical questions (right click the image and select Save Image As…):

More Great Questions To Ask

If you’re looking for more great questions that go a little beyond the hypothetical, Mantelligence has even more on offer. Try some of these:

Looking to get a little strange? Try these weird questions to ask.

Go a little deeper in the speculative with these what if questions.

Keep digging deeper with some philosophical questions for your next gathering.

How to Ask Hypothetical Questions: 3 Tips

Asking hypothetical questions are as easy as they are fun. Just follow these 3 tips to introduce them into any conversation.

1. Know your audience

Make sure your audience will be game for a few questions. Find people with fun, creative minds that like to be a little intellectually playful.

2. Know your questions

Choose questions that fit the mood of the people and the place you’re asking. Don’t ask a risqué question at a business meeting, and don’t go too bland when hanging out with friends at a bar.

3. Know your moment

Some questions are great to start a conversation, some to add something midway through. Pick the right moment for your question, then ask away.

In Conclusion

Remember:

Hypothetical questions have the ability to move conversation outside the traditional limits.  These are questions to ask when you are looking for unexpected questions with great, unexpected answers.

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