#yes I do feel very prissy and cultured

[dykeredhood]

There are so many concerts/live theatre performances I plan to go to this season

So far I’ve gone to the youth theatre’s production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, a joint youth & men’s chorus concert, and opening weekend at the symphony (The Planets); I have further plans to go to the symphony’s Gershwin concert in late November and a local theatre production of Scrooge! after I get home from traveling in December

[winstonhenderson]

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖.

𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓐 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝓭 𝓐𝓷𝔂𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

George’s Notes

We were in India. Another place. Far from home. Enjoying meditation. Having fun. 

This was my passion! In 1966. I brought the sitar and Julia loved it! Or John. Whatever. She used it in her “Norwegian Wood”. I always liked to talk about Ravi to them whenever I got the chance and all of them knew how much I liked Indian culture. So this getaway to our “ideological savior” seemed like a great way to relax ourselves. And for me, a great way to attract the writing pair’s attention! They always put Ringo and me down, even when they don’t necessarily mean it.

But the most important thing to me is that we all cleared our heads. Ritch left first. I felt sad, he and I hang out a lot, so the fact of him leaving first hit hard. Also, I understood why he did, he had bad allergies and the food here was upsetting for him. 

The two that were left gave me a hard time, each in their own way. They talked to each other from time to time. Haven’t seen them talk normally for a while. Paul would be prissy and make stupid comments, while John was unbearlably fucking around with the idea of the religion. Paul was a bit too conservative for this so he left next. He tried out all the things this place had to offer, and I must say, maybe he explored this place the best. Linda was fine too… She is a nice gal. Like Cynthia, who I had the biggest crush on for a very long time. She fit in fine, and only seemed to care about two things; relaxing and John. John decided to stay however long I wanted to stay. Of course, we are quite similar, she was starry eyed too. Pattie and I had a lot of fun together, just hanging about and talking about the most basic stuff. It became a lot quieter since Paul left. John made some jokes but her-or his-or goddamn it, I’ve known this for six years and still can’t get it right! John’s attention was elsewhere. 

What I didn’t expect was that Cynthia and Pattie became close and started to hang out on their own leaving us two behind. This was the chance to sell to John my idea for songs. Although, John looked more spaced out than usual. Offhanded comments here and there. Something about the sun, or nature, or the feel of the wind. John got poetic fast. And now, John and I are sitting here, on the beach. “Geo, do you really believe this small guru?”, oh… This is serious. It’s not really John when it’s serious.

“Yes, why?”

“Hum.”, she took a biscuit.

“Julia, why do you say that?”

“I think he is doing some fraudulent activities. Paul found something while he was scavenging.”

“And you still trust Paul?”, oh no, she is mad. Or no… Dissapointed.

She chuckled.

“Geo, he is still my songwriting partner. And here you are.”

She handed me the paper. It had a complete description of some customers' orders and the amount they charge. There was the order and then a tipping mechanism where they took 50% from people.

“I felt like Maharishi was a good little guru. Always setting up people. Making you bite.”, what the fuck are you saying Lennon!

“Me? We all bit it!”

“You bit it first.”

“Lord, Jules… Could be fake for all I know, or could be I dunno repurposed.”

“George. I’m not exaggerating aaaaand I’m not letting you spend any more money on this SCUM.”

“I know how to handle money! Sometimes better than you! Always better than John!”

“You don’t involve John in this! This is about you!”, Julia.

“Jules, I am not that fifteen year old anymore! I’m twenty five! I can make the right decisions on my own!”

Julia was distraught. But I told her the truth!

“Look, I know you are responsible, sometimes even more responsible than I am, but you are naive! You think everything can be resolved-”

“OF COURSE IT CAN! Julia, you could’ve made it known at any moment that you are a woman and it wouldn’t matter! We are on the toppermost of the poppermost Jules! You wanted to be there, remember!”, think woman, think!

Julia got angry, but not Julia angry but John angry, which was much scarier.

“We are there because people presume we are all men! And you never know what problems would arise should I do that! What if I put myself in danger? No, you in danger! I still don’t know why we’re on top. I know people dislike some of our music and want to see us fail! Half of the time I think our music is pure shite that won’t last a fucking day after if we hadn’t had such good marketing!”

“You must really hate yourself, Julia, if this trip couldn’t get you out of your mindset.”

“Georgie. Was it ever a secret?”, Jules laughed.

That woman drives me insane. I… This whole trip, the reason John was spaced out was because Julia was monitoring what I do! Lord, John or Jules always kept tabs on me! And I wonder how sometimes I could be lucky that Brian didn’t find out something or that Paul didn’t shout at me. Julia had my back! 

“Jules! You should let me fight for myself! Goddamn it! Fuck you! I… Can’t stand you sometimes. I can’t stand that you…”

Push me and want me to write more, sing more, play more? Then as John put me down and snuff out my confidence.

“I cannot let you fuck yourself up because of some unimprotant man and his cult! I can’t let anyone scream at you because of something stupid that happened. George, I do that for Ritch also, though Ritch doesn’t get into sticky situations that much.”

“Stop helping me in the worst possible way. I have to face the consequences! I have to see it for myself.”

“But what if you never figure it out?”, Julia hugged me, “What if you continue believing in your delusion and it costs you everything?”

“JULIA, that is the thing I’M TRYING TO TELL YOU!”, I hugged her.

“What?”

“You have to stop! Paul gave up on you. He married Linda, because he couldn’t marry you! You destroy yourself with drugs. You drift away more often.”

She was speechless.

“You hurt Cynthia, Ritch and I as John because of the stress and misuse of drugs! You are not yourself anymore.”

“You can’t say that you don’t use drugs too…”

“I don’t use them as much as you do. Our mommy’s death broke us. It broke you two the most.”

“Shut up, George.”

And here is John.

“John is becoming his own thing and I don’t think you can even see when you are the one or the-”

“JOHN ISN’T A REAL PERSON!”, he covered his mouth.

“He isn’t a person, he is just a device, an idea!”, he flailed his hands around.

“I can do everything and I don’t need your stupid advice. I came here to tell you and try to get you out of this cult, not to be lectured by some pussy.”

I sighed.

“George, I am going. Enjoy the view. I cannot anymore. I don’t even see properly without me glasses, so what did I even see in this place? Don’t think I didn’t get hopeful when I got here! I did. I was hopeful I would relax. I didn’t. I was scared half of the time someone would fuck up and with any interaction with Paul and other half of the time I was questioning this place. I am restless, and suppose I will be, for the rest of my life.”

“John, I told you what I meant. I am direct. Unlike you, just like Julia. I cannot watch you suffer any longer! I can’t watch people around me suffer! Just think about it! Just think!”

“I feel. I have to feel it’s right.”, John looked at me with teary eyes. Never seen Julia cry as John.

“Alright… I didn’t want to make you cry… Now it looks weird because you are still in that John getup of yours.”

Julia laughed.

“Getup, haha! Geo, you are getting more creative by the day.”

Julia lit up.

“Okay, if you want me to relax so much, I have an idea, juuuust look away for a… Couple of minutes.”

“Oh no, I have encouraged Julia Victoria Lennon to do something.”

She smiled and I turned away. I heard the sound of clothes moving around. Then bandages being taken down. Maybe even a hair tie being let down.

“Turn around!”

Oh, now it’s just Julia.

“Ta-da! Now I can relax.”, she spread herself on the sand.

“Wait- Don’t relax too much! I want to tell you about my songs!”

“Alright, Geo, what do you have in mind?”

I told her every minute detail about the songs I wrote. She listened to me! Yay! And she even approved some! And gave me some tips and tricks to work on my songs. It was really such a nice session of writing. I missed when she would give me some song attention instead of treating me like a little kid who can barely write and play.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!”, Julia scratched my head, “Baby George!”

“Augh, I thought you said you’ll stop calling me that!”

“Well, John said that, I didn’t.”

“You can’t get away with this!”

She calmed down.

“But seriously, continue working on this, it will sound better and better. Maybe I could get Paul to approve it-”

“No, I’ll show it to him just like I’ve shown you! Don’t do anything Lennon, I beg of ya!”

“I won’t then.”, she wistfully smiled.

You could sense the feeling of satisfaction coming from her.

“Maybe you aren’t so fragile and small like you were Georgie. But enough about that, I’m going for a swim!”

“Not without me!”

We jumped into the ocean and played around. Julia loved to swim, she was fast on foot, and she was a fast swimmer. She swam almost half a kilometer away in just 12 minutes. How does she do that with our clunky clothes? I followed her but I didn't like the chance of getting an ache and I went back to the shore. I was happy for her. This is the first time she looked naturally relaxed during this entire trip! She swam back after 20 minutes.

“I wonder how you can swim so far and not get scared? Or any aches?”

“I got aches. I just ignore them and paddle my way back, simple as that!”

“You are so weird sometimes!”, I chuckled, “And capable!”

“Um, that’s my job as your leader, dummy!”, she knocked my head.

I laughed.

“I wish I could relax like this everyday!”

“Well, that isn’t happening. But, I have a mystery to debunk, and that is Maharishi’s history. I’ll have fun.”

“You are still on about what Paul said? How about you stop thinking about him and just think about hm…”

“No, I’m doing more as a fuck you to cultists then because of Paul. I’m angry at Paul. I’m miserable because of him.”

“Glad you understand basic human emotions.”

She giggled.

“Okay, Harrison. Tell ya if I find more evidence, but knowing these kinds of trickster buggers, you won't be waiting much!”

The sun was setting and we were gazing at the view. Until I heard some movement in the trees.

“Where did we end up? Are you sure both of them are here! Oh, look, there is George!”, Pattie! Darling!

“Come here! Missed you so much!”, I hugged her.

“Where’s John?”, Cynthia wondered. 

Oh my Lord, where is Julia?

“Um, I dunno, he was just here with me.”

I searched with my eyes and found Julia hiding behind a rock all panic ridden.

“Why are there bandages on the floor?”, Pattie asked.

Cynthia realized what had happened.

“Just some trash we encountered, how awfully dirty the tourists here must be!”

“I’ll then find a rubbish bin suitable for them.”, Cynthia, thank you for taking care of John. I’m glad Julia chose to be with you and pretend than anyone else.

Julia looked at me. Her look was basically telling me: “What do we do? Should I go out or not? No, tell them to leave! Give Cynthia a sign to make them leave. I don’t want anyone else finding out.”

I scoffed.

“Where did you scoff at.”, Pattie said, “At that rock!”

Julia came out with her hands crossed.

Cyn was shocked but relieved to see her. She was waiting for what Julia would do.

“OH, it’s John, see Cyn we found him! Though I must say you look more frail than usual.”

“What can I say? This sun eats ya!”

We chuckled.

“And I had to see what Cyn’s relief looked like. Never expected such a big reaction from ya.”

“How can I not react that way when I love you so much!”, she ran towards Julia and hugged her as hard as possible, “I was already thinking I had to call the search party to search all over!”

“Don’t worry Cyn, I can handle a little labyrinth!”

“I don’t think so!”

“Alriiight.”, Julia sighed, smiling.

“Glad we are all here then! Let’s all go back together to our houses!”, Pattie was happy.

“Nah, I’d like to stay here a bit longer with Cyn.”, Julia disappointed me yet again.

“Oh- Oh, well have fun!”, Pattie waved them goodbye and I took her hand.

I sent another look to Julia. It meant “When are you going to stop lying!”

I figured Cyn helped Julia get bandaged up, because it was going to be dinner time soon. The rest of the day went normally. And the rest of the vacation was great, though it was cut short because of John’s investigation! He found out that Maharishi is a fraud, and really a fraud! So I dug deeper, and found the same, with more evidence! We united the evidence and presented it to the man, who said we were exaggerating and not understanding what it said!

“Look, you can’t deny your eyes and there are two of us claiming this against you! You lied to me!”, I began, “You lied to me that money wasn’t that important!”

“Well, I didn’t say that it was not necessary, you got to make a living!”

“By scamming others, not such a little good guru afterall! With this kind of behavior, I would’ve thought you would also pay flying carpet lessons!”

Maharishi chuckled.

“You know, this proves you’ll be absolutely the same as before if you leave. You, Lennon, have something to hide. Always look like that. You think you are clever, but you are not. You are empty, surrounded by enlightening remarks. But what is their purpose, you don’t know. For you, George Harrison, you will still be that insecure and childish egoist I met. Direct and naive; curious too. No wonder you dragged the whole group of you to-”

John was angry.

“You are not going to talk that way about us UNLESS I say what I think about you first! You are a snide, privacy breaking, yellow bellied, ass licking, greedy son of a bitch who likes to think he is so high and mighty! So it is just right to take away people’s hard earned cash like that!”

“The Beatles are basically the same thing!”

“We make good music.”, John replied.

“And we make good points? Explain the difference, Lennon, explain it! Oh, and haven’t seen this much emotion from you during your whole stay, I’m glad-”

“Because I didn’t get mad!”

“I’ll answer instead. We follow the regulations. We are not some other outside organization. We aren’t money grubbing. Maybe our producers are. And I know we will fix that when we find some inconsistencies.”, I jumped in to help.

“Maybe we are materialistic, but we aren’t putting other people in DEBT you whore! I checked multiple times.”, John continued.

“To check isn’t in character for John Lennon.”, Maharishi chuckled.

“It is if I think so. I don’t con people.”, John answered feeling confused on why Maharishi would say that. Then the guru scammer smiled.

“I’ll figure you out, Lennon. You have something to hide.”

John chuckled, “To hide is to survive? Isn’t that the principle of not getting caught in your scam?”

Maharishi got serious.

“You are feeling guilty of your scamming and blaming others, meanwhile I don’t have anything to declare.”, John stated with confidence.

“I know a deviant when I see them.”

“Oh, and now it’s John’s fault I have turned against you, isn’t it!”, I figured it out, “Trying to blame him for my complaint!”

Maharishi looked at me with some kind of disgust.

“Of course. Of course, we are leaving now. This instant.”, I got mad.

“Don’t go mad Georgie, this mister right here can use it against ya. You have to be relaxed and fulfilled, like he said. That’s how you get happiness, right?”, John joked.

I chuckled and calmed down.

“Yer right.”

“Well, mister, we loved the island and all, but you're a fraud and we have to go!”, John waved him goodbye and I followed. Maharishi pulled me back.

“Mr. Harrison, don’t listen to him!”, he told me, “He is a deviant, a snake, presenting himself as he isn’t!”

“And why would I not? He is one the lads! And you are the snake here.”

“No, no, that’s not a “lad” as you say, not a traditional lad, that’s a hijra.”

“A what now?”

“A… neither male nor female.”

I looked at him blankly. So he figured out the twin tale?

“You cannot trust someone who doesn’t know what they are. And this person, this “John Lennon” as they call itself, is absolutely not trustworthy. Always joking around, always monitoring you, always making inappropriate and underhanded comments. You want freedom and expression right?”

Lord, this slimy motherfucker.

“John is still one of my best friends and pals. You can’t make me stay here any longer. You just made me more angry and volatile. And you accuse John of such heinous acts with no evidence to support it.”

I began walking away towards John, who was packing with Cynthia and Pattie.

“Oh, I understand now. You know of Lennon’s decadency even before I even tell you! Both of you are flawed, go then! I don’t need a place for rude and deviant people like you!”

“Oh, where’s the “we welcome everyone to our family!” or “we are happy to accept any LOST soul”.”, John argued.

Maharishi smiled and walked up to John. He said something to him that made him shiver. Still John behaved cocky and said,

“Oh, I promise I’ll do that. For the chance to piss you off, I’ll continue doing that for as long as I want to!”

We boarded the boat. I looked at John perplexed. 

“What happened for us to go earlier?”, Pattie wondered.

“John, what did you do?”, Cyn asked.

“Absolutely nothing that deserved that kind of send off! Accusing me of deviancy just because George and I handed in some damning evidence that Maharishi scams people!”

“That’s… Fun.”, Cynthia sighed, “Well, at least we’re in one piece and haven’t been held up by that con artist in any other way.”

“You are so smart, Cyn.”, John chuckled, “Yer right as ever.”

John proceeded to kiss her. Before that he gave her a small, not really noticeable sign. He always warned Cyn before kissing her. But I never really noticed Cyn tensing up before the act.

I kissed Pattie as well and whispered in her ear:

“I’m glad this hellish discussion is over and you have absolutely nothing to do with it!”

“I’m glad you’re okay, George.”

Pattie looked at Cynthia and John, “Let’s go inside, it’s getting a bit chilly in here.”

“Wait for us two inside then, I have to talk to John about this shit in private.”

The wives giggled.

“Alright then, George, we’ll be inside. If you need any advice or a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find us!”

“Pattie, sometimes you could be so funny!”, my sweet Pattie.

“And not always? The insolence of this young man! We are going inside, pronto!”, Cynthia pulled Pattie with her.

John rolled his eyes while chuckling.

“No wonder Cyn is my best female friend.”

“Well, a wife is a best friend too.”, I joked.

There was a small pause. We looked at the ocean and the waves splashing in the sun. 

“John, what did that son of a bitch tell you?”

“There is something called a hijra in Indian or Southeastern culture. It is a person in drag, a person who identifies as the opposite gender… He told me that he figured out I was in drag. He told me I can’t keep it together and remain normal if I ever was. He told me I corrupted you… He told me I will drag the entire band into ruin. And even if I told everyone the truth that I would make everything the Beatles did worthless and meaningless.”

“What a freak!”, I couldn’t believe it. Maharishi was today very awful towards us, especially towards John. Was he always a bit more awful to women? Now that I think about it, he didn’t talk that much with our wives. He focused on us four. What a scammer.

“I know that, but it does send shivers down my spine, y’know.”

“I’m just happy we had fun and we’re going home, Jules.”, ahh, fuck this man.

“Yeah, I’m happy too. Let’s go inside, Geo.”

“Yeah. Thanks for looking out for me… But please don’t do it as much anymore, Julia.”

“I’ll try not to. And… Perhaps, baby George is right about some things.”

I think some things are going to change in the Beatles and I hope for the better. The most important thing is that I have proven that I’m not a child anymore - I’m an adult who speaks his mind and deserves to be listened to. Perhaps, they will put more songs on the next album… Can’t wait to work with Ritch again…

Rest of Sacrifame

[romiantic]

𝐚𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬/𝐨

this includes eren, levi, armin, connie, and jean

reading: black!fem!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: decided to bring this back while I’m redoing my page so don’t mind

━ 𝗘𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗝𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗿

Y’all would definitely a power couple, the ones that rule the internet

You know those cute ones you find on Pinterest? That would be y’all, definitely De’arra and Ken vibes

Eren would be such a teaser, he would tease you like all the time, and definitely a tickler no matter how many times you tell him to stop

Every time you feel insecure about trying new colors or different hair styles, he’s gonna always convince you to do it

You would literally debate on big chopping your hair and he’ll convince you to go for it cause why? You’ll look beautiful no matter what

I feel his favorite old movie would be boyz in the hood

Randomly, he would scream that “RICKY!!” line like all the time

Eren would definitely let you braid his hair or let you try cute styles you find

Oh and you would do the style on yourself just to match and take pics, POWER COUPLE TINGZ 🥰

Eren would not take wash day seriously for his life 😭 mf would add either too much or too little of deep shampoo or keep splashing water around the shower, meanwhile you’re trying to deep condition your hair

Don’t worry, he’ll apologize after you beat his ass (you barely won though)

━ 𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶 𝗔𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻

Y’all would definitely be one of those rich couples

You know those rich aunties that are living their best life in bora bora while sipping mimosa? That’s y’all

You and Levi would live in like a mid-size mansion or a beautiful penthouse that has a nice view

Y’all bed is nothing but fine black or royal blue silk

All you two both know is Chanel, Dolce and Gabana, Prada, Givenchy, Armani, the list goes on

You two don’t know the broke life, y’all wouldn’t even dare to touch or enter the Gucci store

Only the fanciest restaurants for the fanciest couples

Wash days would turn into a bubble bath with you laying on Levi’s chest and him washing your hair for you while you’re sipping wine and ranting on about anything

I KNOW Levi be giving some bomb ass scalp massages, feel like his fingers were sent from Heaven

Now when it comes to actually getting your hair done, he’s running background checks and doing the utmost to make sure your hair tech isn’t a scam

Let someone talk about his beautiful wife, him AND your security guards are beating their ass

Now if y’all had a kid, WHEW CHILE 🚶🏾‍♀️

I feel like the world would try levi and give him a bad ass baybay kid (hopefully y’all know what I’m talking about 😭) or a prissy kid with his attitude

Either way, the kid is getting their ass whooped from either you or him

Now don’t get me wrong, he would be very overprotective of his kid and only accept THE FINEST for his kid

━ 𝗔𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻 𝗔𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘁

You two would be those cute aesthetic couples, more so on the soft boy/indie vibes

You guys would have picnics dates like allll the time, of course, you don’t mind since this gives the chance to appreciate and learn more about one another

Everyday Armin would give you a fun fact he learned about us black folks, sometimes the fact would even shock you

Armin would definitely be a fan of the Black Panther Party

Wash days would just be him helping you and soft music playing in the background

Armin would take the time to do deep research about our culture

Your family would love him so much, he would always get snatched up by either your baby cousins or aunties every time you bring him to the cookout

Every time you get your hair or nails done, he’s always there next to you, chatting up a storm

The girlies in the salon shoot a glare cause of course they’re mad they didn’t bag a loving boyfriend like Armin

If he’s not there, he’s FaceTiming you or asking for pics in the end

Sometimes he’ll go above and beyond and wear outfits to match your new do and take pics

Every time you’ll feel down or not yourself, he would buy you small gifts like flowers or your favorite food to make it better

If that doesn’t work, he’ll let you sit or lay on his lap and listen to you rant, even if it’s about the most trivial thing

━ 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝗦𝗽𝗿��𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

You two would be those goofy couples that roast each other all the time

You would say a minor thing like his shirt is inside out and he’ll joke about something about you, now y’all going back and forth till one of y’all almost die from laughing

You ever wonder why your bonnets go missing? It’s because of your boyfriend

The mf would walk around the house wearing it likes it’s nothing and misplace it

Until one day you catch him wearing it

You: Connie why are you wearing my bonnet?

Connie: They’re cute and I think I look good with them *insert lightskin face*

You: Boy give me my shit back, no wonder I keep losing them

Your biggest hype man EVER no matter what

You could just be washing the dishes in an oversized t-shirt, shorts, and a bonnet and he’ll hype you up

He just loves seeing your beautiful face 🥰

Now when you get your hair and nails done, he’s definitely showing you off, especially on Instagram

He’s taking multiple pics and multiple stories like a photographer and you’re out here feeling good about yourself

━ 𝗝𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗞𝗶𝗿𝘀𝗰𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗶𝗻

Y’all would a chill couple, those couples that just mind their business and love each other

Every once in a while you guys would update social media, barely though

You two definitely do y’all skincare routine together and take cute pictures

Super indecisive whenever you ask him what color or hairstyle you should try next

At first, he would be nervous to ask you to help wash your hair but washed over it and decided to ask you, of course, you said yes

Just like Levi, Jean definitely gives one of the best scalp massages EVER

Except his massages would send you to sleep and you’re just laying on his chest, lightly snoring, while his fingers work magic

I feel like he would talk about having a kid of his own a lot. He would be so happy to have a mini mixed him running around (not to the point where he’s fetishizing though)

Dates with him would mostly consist of something chill like visiting an aquarium or staying home and watching movies

Jean would definitely have thousands upon thousands of questions if you were to show him a black movie though (especially a tyler perry one)

At this point, you would have to tell him to write his questions down so he wouldn’t interrupt

shoutout to anon cause this was my first ever request

decided to bring it back while I’m redoing my page

not to brag but it was my second biggest post also

bye babes, drink your water, stay hydrated, and remember that you are the baddest bitch on the planet 🥰 no matter what ANYONE says

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝟓:𝟔 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟣 𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗄𝗎𝗌𝖽𝖾𝗄𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[pillage-and-lute]

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though. 

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly. 

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow. 

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color. 

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible. 

“Nice display case, isn’t it?” 

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue. 

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else. 

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked. 

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were. 

“YEah?” came the response. 

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said. 

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth. 

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions. 

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some. 

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing. 

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. “Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears. 

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?” 

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression. 

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer. 

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said. 

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed. 

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him. 

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.” 

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment. 

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive. 

Geralt wanted to hold one. 

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road. 

It felt very much like a retreat. 

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum  @holymotherwolf

[ashleyfableblack]

Just picked this up on XBL on sale and yes, I do recommend it. As to why...

For starters, it's more of a story-telling experience, what some of y'all might call a "walking simulator". The game has a fairly linear progression as you move Koala P.I. protagonist Stone through the events. Not so much "laser-whoosh kapow" as what many traditionally think of as a "game". So your enjoyment is going to be mostly based on how much you enjoy the story and characters.

Now- on THAT point- to be transparent here, they HAD me at "gay koala".

Gay males get next to no representation in movies and less in gaming. What little exists is mostly archetypal and either over-the-top or degrading, the mincing comic relief, the preening, prissy villain or some anime-teen-twink. The titular Stone is a believable, relatable, flawed character as are the supporting cast. Their interactions are realistic and not The usual cartoonish caricatures LGBTQ characters are boxed as. The tension at the center of the story is a relationship I've seen firsthand as I know many of y'all have as well, for better or worse.

The Australian setting added an interesting feel to the world. As I enjoy other cultures, hearing the different cadence of speech and vernacular was refreshing and fun, even with the emotional and occasionally bizarre tone.

The humour was chuckle-worthy, dipping into the crude or abstract wells a few times.

The art style is simple. A few character models are noticeably 're-used to fill in here and there. Still, the use of animal-characters ironically is very humanizing. Alex being a bird, for example, communicates so much about him. He's aloof, mobile, has a detached view you might expect from an artist. Stone, the bear is more sedentary, gruff, coarse.

If you're a horror-hound like me you might enjoy a special in-game extra. One location Stone can visit as he explores the town is a cinema featuring several full-length movies you can watch. Among these are the original "Night of The Living Dead", The German impressionist silent great "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" and the SUPER-classic "Häxän: Witchcraft Throughout The Ages".

Should you play through the game(and it is fairly short)don't rush off at the ending. There is a post credit epilogue level which really brings things home.

Though I know it's not for everyone, if the genre is one you like, I say give it a go. It's on sale right Now for cheap and is a pretty quick play-through that'll probably hit you right in the feels, as the kids say.

Qhttps://news.xbox.com/en-us/2020/01/27/stone-now-on-xbox-one/

[af-answers]

Hey! Very important question for the humans: So as Europeans do you watch The Eurovision? Thanks!

Artemis: Do I seem like someone who would watch Eurovision?

Angeline: Yes, it is a bit pedestrian. The songs are fine, but I don’t feel the need to sit in front of a television and watch the performances.

Juliet: Dom and I have watched Eurovision together since I was little. I really liked it back then but now, it’s more for nostalgia.

Butler: I still enjoy it, and I listen to the songs for weeks. And Jules, you have to admit it’s gotten more interesting since Minerva started watching with us.

Juliet: Her commentary is hilarious! “I thought this would be more of a testament to their cultures!” “This is the problem with the westernization of media.” “Oh, they started a new song? I couldn’t tell because they’re SO MUCH ALIKE.”

Butler: And yet she comes to watch it with us every year for the past 3 years.

Juliet: It’s like a weird, prissy French pilgrimage.

[akechicrimes]

Can you elaborate on why you think Makoto is a polar opposite of a strong female character? Just interested to know why.

yes of course!! errrrmmmmmmm i did my best to explain but im not entirely sure i did it very well so if anyone wants to jump on this post please do so.

makoto’s character conceit is that she’s a “good girl,” a pushover doormat, who rebels, becomes a fierce independent woman with a spine, and kicks ass and takes names. she’s cool and beats up enemies.

her character flaw is that she... does things too well...? she’s a biker chick but like, not in a greasy hairy loudmouthed way, she’s a biker chick in a cool and chic and skinny and pretty way. she’s a strong and independent woman, but at no point does she challenge joker’s authority, never acts independently, and actually primarily behaves like a team mom to make sure that people don’t act out of line. she’s so theoretically strong-willed and independent, but for some reason never has any strong opinions for herself. she rebels against her good girl image in her social link by.................... becoming an even better student council president? she she beats up enemies with her fists of justice, but like, in a sexy way. she’s the very image of someone who could challenge you, but she never does.

there’s a really insidious thing that i see sometimes where men take a lot of character design hallmarks of “strong empowered female character” (such as being a biker chick), but instead of honoring the agency, autonomy, and flaws that comes with full personhood, her “personality flaws” and “strengths” are carefully kept within the boundaries of “what doesn’t make men uncomfortable.” or even these “personality flaws” and “strengths” are meant to be endearing quirks to make her more attractive to men.

it’d have been very different if makoto rebelled by dropping out of school, say. or if her outfit wasn’t skintight. or if she actually disagreed with joker. or, hell, if she became in any way “unfuckable.” instead, all these “female empowerment” choices are still carefully calculated to make her more attractive, just in a spicy, biker-chick kind of way.

it looks like like female empowerment, in a way that makes men feel good about themselves and their waifu choice, but ultimately the waifu is still about The Man and how much The Man would like to fuck them. her individuality actually becomes about Men again. makoto wears leather and spikes on her shoulders but what does this really mean if these character design choices are just pandering to certain dudebros who consider that to be hot?

sometimes i think that men want to receive woke points for being attracted to Strong Women but not in a way that inconveniences them, and sometimes i think that maybe men want to feel like they’ve “conquered” a woman who could have posed a threat--put her in her place, or to just reassure themselves that women’s rights won’t really mean that male control over women won’t lesson. both in both cases, “empowered independent woman” becomes subverted to be “empowered woman in a sexy way, and specifically not in a way that challenges my male dominance over women.” 

if you’re familiar with gillian flynn’s gone girl “cool girl” monologue, the principle is basically the same. the type of girl she’s referring to (cool girl who eats hot dogs and isn’t prissy but maintains a size 2 and still has impeccable makeup) isn’t literally in persona 5, but the concept is the same. also, she’s referring to real women who are trying to make themselves palatable to men, but this doesnt apply to makoto because makoto is literally a fictional woman. the “cool girl” monologue refers to women making a fictionalized version of themselves so that they can be seen as attractive to men; in makoto’s case, atlus is making a fictional girl that will be seen as attractive to men, but in a “cool” way, because those frilly limp-wristed women are so passe nowadays. it’s cool to have a biker chick girlfriend instead.

from a japanese cultural standpoint, also, it’s worth keeping in mind that it’s always been considered the woman’s role to be strong, cool, and collected, to even rule the house with an iron fist--but only the house, and also only for the benefit of the man. if you’ve played persona 4, yukiko amagi’s theoretical reputation is the peak of this beautiful, ideal woman: the woman so intelligent and strong-willed that she can run an entire inn by herself, but specifically for someone else’s interests, and also she’s not really permitted to leave the house or choose any alternative careers. 

tldr depictions of female strength can easily become misogynistic when that “female strength” is only exclusively harnessed for male benefit, instead of actually affording the woman any room to be a human being outside of the dimensions of what is attractive and unattractive to men.

[spc4eva]

Mandokar: Chapter 1

Summary: The Mandalorians owe a debt. This is to be repaid by taking an Anaxian princess in as a Foundling in the wake of the planet’s destruction. How will she fare being raised Mandalorian?

Word Count: 13,188

Author Notes: OMG I have been planning this for so long, so thank you for any who are willing to ride it out with me and wait for updates because I'm going to be a PITA on editing and making certain that absolutely beautiful chapters come out. I'm going to try and update weekly, but we'll see if I can get the cogs turning and maybe post 2. Doubt it, because I really want the time to edit and putz around with dialogue. 

My intentions for this fic are simple - I want a Mandalorian raised OC of my own self-serving elven race that I've made up. HATE ME. DO IT.

Originally, I wanted this to be a fem!OCxPaz, but after much deliberation, decided against it in favor of fem!OC & BigBrother!Paz, because their sibling relationship has given me so much damn life and daydreams. For those hoping this will be smut with a plot, I'M SORRY, but it's not.While there are definitely adult themes much... much.... MUCH later when Sena becomes an adult, that's a long way off and so is any smut since that's not the intention of this fic.

Full intention is to delve, dive, and describe day to day life of the Tribe, growing up as a Mandalorian, and the challenges our little bird will face along the way. This will include Mandalorian slice of life, culture, strife, and angst - but also tons of rewarding drabble and accomplishments.

Armorer will be around and of a similar age to Paz. Whereas, Din will be the same age as Sena. Whether or not I ship them, I haven't decided, because I intend for them to be rivals and the intention isn't to make this a full on romance fic (though I'll not lie and way down the road it might turn into that).We all want a BAMF Mandalorian OC, so here I am gonna gush all over the culture and vomit up tons of content for you to swallow. If ya want it.

Crossposted on AO3

"Your grace."

The morning was chill, much more so than typical for the mid season. Lifting her palm toward the sky, she felt a few drops of dew splatter to her palm, pressing cool kisses to her skin. Cocking her head, her eyes slid back from the balcony toward the servant entreating her. She broke a gentle smile. Today would be a fine day. Faylen wasn't certain why, but she had a good feeling. Birds trilled in the thicket of trees that surrounded the grounds in a verdant embrace, sheltering the beauty of the architecture which had long since been replaced elsewhere in the galaxy. Not here. Genmaris was one of a kind, the beauty of the Anaxian culture still in full swoon. Protected, hidden, secret. 

"Yes, Merith?" the girl, only just 13 years old, turned gracefully, the pale ivory skirt of the night shift skimming her calves. 

"Your father sends word that we shall be receiving guests today. He requests that you dress accordingly," Merith bowed her hair, dark hairs scattering around her cheeks as she bowed respectively. Like the princess, she had tanned skin and long pointed ears, however she did not share the same golden eyes nor the speckled teardrop marks of the goddess that pressed against the girl's shoulders and latticed down beneath her bodice, twinkling like amber teardrops, visible beneath the thin material of her chemise. Kissed by the goddess - a great honor and blessing. 

"Do you know who these guests might be? It's very rare that we receive outsiders," Faylen trotted forward, drawing near the bath as Merith turned on the water. The servant's fingers skimmed the heat, making certain it was not too scalding for the girl's skin as she threw her chemise off and climbed into the copper tub. Drawing her knees up to her chest, more markins slid down against her tummy and against the outside of her legs. On the tops of her feet, the golden teardrops were double lined in the shape of crescent moons toward her toes. So many kisses, so purposefully placed. Few laid eyes on all the girl's markings and aside from her parents, these people had only been servants and a couple of doctors. Rumors floated through the air on wings. Despite not seeing them, many knew of her markings throughout the lands. Most Anaxians were graced with a handful at most, if they were lucky, but the princess had one hundred and twenty two. Skimming her spine, forming another half-moon at the base of her neck, cradling her chest, and trailing down her throat in a purposeful line. The common folk speculated what this meant, foretelling that the princess had a great destiny ahead of her.

"Well..." Merith drawled, uncertain on whether or not to betray the information she'd heard for the sake of it not being true. Yet, when the honey hued irises turned up toward her, she melted like a candle hearted by a raging flame. "I hear they're Mandalorian." Bending down, she began to scrub the girl's warm toned skin with a sponge, careful not to work her markings too hard. 

Faylen perked up, her long ears twitching slightly before Merith poured water over her head, plastering her inky hair to her adorable face. The servant chuckled slightly as the girl moved her mop of hair out of her face, peering out like a swamp monster. "Mandalorian?" she repeated curiously. "As in the best warriors in the galaxy?"

"None other, your grace," Merith smiled, beginning to lather the girl's thick hair. Even on this remote planet, the legend of the Mandalorians had reached them. The princess had heard about their prowess, just as anyone else. The corners of the servant's lips remained pinned up as the teenager drew in a doleful breath, fluffed her cheeks out.

"Why? What do we have here that they could want?" Faylen asked. 

"I cannot begin to fathom, your grace," Merith admitted calmly, pouring water over her head again, causing the girl to sputter. "Only that there are two of them and your father is entertaining them."

Sinking lower into the water, the child's hair floated on the surface like dark tentacles. She blew bubbles, smelling the minerals and floral soap, sniffling slightly at the pungency. Her father had told her a few stories about Mandalorians and she knew that they were fearless warriors who wore armor of beskar - the strongest iron in the galaxy. T-visor helmets, obscured faces, an ensemble of weapons and gadgets, skill in hand to hand combat, prowess that could rival Jedi. A shiver went down her spine, despite the warmth of the water, wondering what it would be like to meet one. Would they be intimidating? Did they remove their helmets? Would they be gruff or courteous? 

"Let's not keep them waiting all day. You wouldn't wish to offend or upset the Mandalorians would you?" Merith scolded as Faylen skulked in her own head, continuing to blow bubbles. Jolting upward, her eyes went big like saucers, wondering if she was being rude with how long she was taking. "C'mon now, your grace." Offering a towel, the girl scampered out of the bath and let Merith swaddle her before fussing with her hair. "So much of it, Maker, so much hair."

Faylen chose a proper dress for guests, spending longer than she ought to. Did Mandalorians even like dresses? Or did they only like armor? Maybe she should wear pants to prove she wasn't just a prissy little princess. Her father had taught her how to shoot a blaster, how to use a dagger, and a little hand to hand combat. Papa had said that people might wish to hurt a princess, so it was important that she could defend herself should the need ever arise. Faylen was still soft though and didn't spend half as much time as she ought to in practicing. Instead, she'd play in the forest, dirty her expensive gowns, and hide in hidden alcoves and glades. Princess Faylen was notorious for eluding guards and making her papa sick with worry. Wasn't her fault that Anaxes had such interesting fauna that she just had to follow. There wasn't even anything outside the palace to worry about, Faylen had long since realized the vipers were amongst the court.

Merith chastised her for taking so long. "We should have been done by now, your grace-" she continued on her tirade of banter, the child drowning her out as the female brushed through her long tangles of inky hair. Not listening, the girl stared in the mirror at the shimmersilk gown of pale blue. The goddess marks on her throat and collar were visible, but the others were hidden beneath the luxurious material. Merith twirled pieces out of her face, leaving the rest loose, keenly aware that Faylen would rip apart any hairstyle too ornate. Lifting a platinum circlet, she placed it on the girl's brow before letting out a low sigh. "Try not to get this one dirty. That'll be the fourth shimmersilk gown you've destroyed this moon."

"I don't try to destroy them," Faylen groused, rolling her eyes at the servant in the mirror. "Last time was definitely not my fault, I swear. Rathas was chasing me through the gardens-" she puffed out her cheeks like a frog. Rathas was a sore topic for her, a blight on her existence, and a hellion pretending to be her friend. Faylen wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't do that, it's not a very lady-like expression," Merith huffed, shaking her head at the hopeless princess. "And Rathas is likely to be your betrothed one day. You'd do well not to scuttle away from that boy and make friends with him."

Faylen feigned a retching noise, repulsed by the very idea of the boy even glancing in her direction. "Gross! He's so gross! Papa would never make me marry him," she retorted, voice hitching into a plaintive and very high, tinny tone. "He tried to kiss me you know. I punched him in the nose. He was boasting that he fought one of the sabre boars in the forest, but it was really me."

Merith groaned. "Oh my Goddess. That was why-" she rubbed her face, pulling down on her lower lids as she tried to wonder how the king could have such an unruly daughter. His majesty was so well mannered, patient, and benevolent. His daughter could be polite and courteous when necessary, but a little too curious and explorative for her own good. Having never had a proper scolding in her life, she rarely realized that her behavior was inappropriate. The princess wasn't a brat, but there was certainly some work that could be desired for the child's disposition. "You're ready now, your grace. Let's go to the gardens to meet the guests."

Standing up, Faylen took Merith's arm, her heart thumping excitedly in her small chest. Mandalorians. What did their armor look like? What color would it be? Maybe they'd let her touch it, if that was allowed. Leaving behind the wispy elegance of her chambers, she stepped out into the hallway. Genmaris' Castle was constructed of polished wood and elas stone - a pale white marble streaked with veins of gold. The wood panels were tangled with vines, full leaves leaning eagerly toward the passerbyers. Flora was very much a part of their everyday life. It was almost everywhere around the castle, the grounds; in the halls, on the balconies, even in the washrooms; acting as the lifeblood and veins to all of Anaxian life. Drawing a deep breath, Merith released her as she skirted down the wide staircase leading to the fronds of blue grass that hemmed the entrance to the topiary section of the garden. 

Sunlight slanted fingers through the trees above them, casting little peeps of warmth. King Ardryll stood in simple regal, a fine emerald doublet chased in golden embroidery, a set of tan trousers, and dark leather boots. Aside from the golden circlet on his tanned brow, he might've been easily mistaken for another castle goer. Entreating a pair of armor clad figures, his topaz eyes slid over toward his daughter as she stumbled through the grass and collided into his side with big, excited eyes. Chuckling lightly, he brushed a stray piece of hair behind a long ear. Despite how wild the girl could be, he would not trade her exuberance or grins for anything.

There were two Mandalorians, one in a full suit of dark, sherwood green armor. He was tall, lean, and had an impressive posture that reminded her of the knights around the castle. Her eyes went to the vambraces he wore, including the right one which had a ton of tiny buttons on it. Beside him was another Mandalorian, whose helmet was similar, but two pieces he wore were actually made of beskar. He was tall too, almost the same height as the green warrior, though his chestplate was made of durasteel. 

"Ah, here she is," Ardryll hummed, drawing his daughter in, holding her shoulder, giving her a meaningful look. Almost as if to say ‘please try not to be too silly’. She was a princess after all, even if she forgot herself when she was too excited.

"Welcome to Genmaris Castle. It is a pleasure to have you here," remembering her manners, she grabbed her skirts and curtsied prettily, before stealing one look up at her papa. He gave an approving nod, before her eyes turned back toward the Mandalorians. She had so many questions, but sucked on her teeth instead of asking.

"This is my daughter, Faylen," Ardryll introduced. 

The green Mandalorian stepped forward, kneeling down to that he was of a more similar height to her. She was astonished by how close he got, his dark visor setting into her eyes; dark and shaded so much she could not even see his eyes even this proximity. "I've heard a lot about you, Princess Faylen. Your father and I are old friends. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Hux Vizsla," he introduced, taking her hand in his glove and giving her a warm pat. "Now... my son, Paz, has never been to a proper castle before. Would you mind showing him the grounds?" 

Her head tilted, scattering her long waves of hair as she realized that he was referring to the other Mandalorian. Given the warrior's height, she had assumed he was an adult; maybe he was, she couldn’t tell how old either of them were. Big eyes slid over to him and she swallowed hard. "Of course! It would be my honor, Mr. Vizsla," clearing her throat, trying not to twist her hands anxiously as Hux returned her hand she glanced up toward the visor of the other Mandalorian. "Sir, please come with me-" she puffed out her chest, offering her arm to this... Paz. 

"I'm not-" his visor turned toward Hux and she might've believed that he was slightly anxious from the cracking of his voice. The green warrior stood up and gave an affirming nod, Faylen still holding her arm out, trying not to look dejected as she thought he was going to ignore her. Finally, he took it, and Faylen preened slightly. "You don't have to call me sir," he grumbled.

"Papa, we'll be around the gardens first," Faylen proclaimed, feeling the leather of the Mandalorian's glove through the thin material of her gown. It was sort of rough, but sent tiny shocks of electricity lancing up her skin as being so close to a feared warrior. Guiding him away from the pair of adults, she stole a few sideways glances before gliding past the bantha shaped bush. "As you can see the shrubs are very... shrub-like-" she announced, using her princess voice which was rather courteous and dry, trying to seem as dignified and royal-like as possible. He was utterly silent, which made her a bit nervous. "Is that a vibro-blade?" He was quite a bit taller than her, his belt about chest level for her, meaning it was easier to glance down than up, assessing the tiny arsenal on his utility belt.

Pausing, the suit of armor finally glanced down at his belt which she was eying. "Yes," he confirmed, unsheathing it so that she could stare at the way the sunlight caught the reflection. Brushed grey steel, verdant with the fingers of sunlight chasing down, reflecting the garden greenery.  "Why does a princess know what a vibro-blade looks like?"

"Cuz-" she sucked in air and bent down, pulling her own out of her boot. "I carry one. This is Pig-Sticker. It's not as nice as yours," she held it up, scrunching her nose as she glanced between the differences. The Mandalorian's knife was twice the size as hers. Still, she had a knife and knew what they looked like, so she had a certain sort of pride about her as she brandished the little toothpick. 

"Pig-Sticker?" 

"Well, it's kinda small. Probably wouldn't even stick a pig, if I'm completely honest," she contemplated out loud, turning the knife over in her hand, glancing back over at his. "I just thought it was a funny name. People name blades, don't they?"

The Mandalorian rumbled with a laugh, the soft noise crackling through the vocoder. "They do.  Sometimes. "

"So what's the name of yours then?" 

"I didn't name mine," Paz betrayed. 

"What about..." she cocked her head, narrowing her eyes as she leered at the blade. "Now that ought to be a good Pig-Sticker, but mine's already named that. So maybe Bantha-Sticker?"

The Mandalorian laughed again, a little louder this time. Faylen warmed at the noise, excited that she'd made the mysterious warrior chuckle. He didn't seem as scary or intimidating as the legends said. Rather, she thought he was sort of nice - nicer than most people around the castle who just feigned smiles down at her and pretended to be kind. She’d heard some of the ladies in waiting complaining about her before, despite having been silkily sweet to her during tea time. Faylen didn’t like when people were double-faced like that, but being honest wasn’t a very common quality round these parts. 

"Bantha-Sticker," he considered carefully, spinning the blade dexterously between his fingers. "Who have you been sticking with that blade, your grace?"

"Oh," she tucked it behind her back as if she shouldn't have revealed she had it. Kicking at the grass, slightly doleful, she rolled her shoulders. The only reason she'd taken it out was because she wanted to ask a bunch of questions and it was the easiest way to bridge the gap. "Trees sometimes. I've never actually had to stab anyone... Yet."

"I hope you shouldn't ever have to. Can you show me what you might do if you needed to?"

She blinked a few times, slightly taken aback that he wanted to see. Giving an overly exuberant nod, hair flying around her, she pulled the dagger back out. "I'm in a dress, so I might not be as good," she told him quickly, sweeping her foot back and bracing her wrist before turning the hilt in her palm. "But I'd stick them like this. Papa says that since I'm small, supporting my knife hand is important."

The Mandalorian circled in front of her. "Your father is a smart man."

"I know that," Faylen scowled, but quickly replaced the expression with delight. "How do you hold your knife?"

He humored her, dropping into a similar stance, though it suited him much better in armor than in a shimmersilk gown. Using a reverse grip, he also braced his arm, gripping his vambrace as he displayed his form. The princess turned her blade to try and mimic him. Hoping that maybe she could possess even one ounce of the warrior’s impressive form or the way in which it looked so natural, like wind blowing through the leaves in the trees.  "Oh careful there-" he reached out before she could cut herself, steadying a hand as she nearly turned the metal onto her supportive wrist. "Takes a lot of training to be able to hold it like that."

"Gotta start somewhere," she shrugged, but was nonplussed by Paz's steady hand keeping her from cutting herself. "I'm supposed to be showing you around..." she realized, her mouth dropping into an O shape. "Sorry, I'm being an awful host. I just got really excited. I've never met a Mandalorian before and then I saw-" she began to gush, bending back down to tuck Pig-Sticker back into her boot to save herself showing her face, which had began to grow hot with blush. 

"It's fine, your grace. You're considerably more hospitable than most people," Paz revealed, which made her brows push together. People weren't kind to Mandalorians? Did they have some sort of death wish? He held his arm back out to her and Faylen eagerly latched on, not feeling intimidated by the tall young man. "So the shrubs. What would you say about this one?" He pointed up toward one of a local creature. 

"That's Cù-sìth," she told him, admiring the beauty of the canine bush. "It's like a dog. They live in the forests. Most of the time they're harmless, except when you make them angry. They have a very distinct bark. If you hear the first one, you better start running. If you linger long enough to hear the third, you'll go raving mad."

"Ah, sounds very pleasant," Paz acknowledged warily. 

"I mean, they're cute. I've seen some before. As big as banthas, shaggy green fur, adorable amber eyes."

"I have a feeling that you tend to like things that are no good for you, princess," he chuckled softly. 

"I've never had one bark at me," Faylen insisted as they resumed their walk through the grounds. "Most of the wildlife here won't bother you unless you bother it. Cù-sìth is much the same. They just want to be left alone to their peace."

"What other kind of interesting fauna do you have here?"

"Plenty! Let me show you where the Frynocks. Now those are things you really don't want to meet. I swear, they'd survive even if Anaxes were nothing but a pile of rubble," she tugged him toward where the strange creature was hewn into green leaves. "They can only come out at night. The sunlight hurts them. So we don't ever see them around here... but some are bigger than you."

Faylen continued to pelt the Mandalorian with information about the animals native to the planet, specifically those she had come in contact with during her wild escapes. Rather than scold her, he listened on politely, offering a few questions and comments. His intrigue made her blather on much longer than she should have, but she was so excited to share and not be told that what she did was very unbecoming of a princess.  Plus it was a Mandalorian, so who knew how long it’d be before she met another one. Anaxes wasn’t renowned for being the most frequented planet, so she doubted she’d see a Mandalorian for a very long time. If rambling kept one in her attendance, then Faylen was going to keep spewing words until the sun set.

"Is that beskar? Your helmet I mean. I think your chestplate is durasteel if I'm not mistaken," she decided to lob a question at him, since he wasn't utterly stoic. 

"Yes, it is," he informed her. Maybe she mistook it, the slight bit of surprise that she knew what durasteel armor was when her home was gilded of stone, wood, and marble. 

Faylen sucked on her teeth again, her face screwing up slightly as she tried to swallow her next question. "Can I feel it?" The words fell out of her mouth anyways. 

"Uhm-"

"Sorry!" she squeaked, cheeks burning. She’d crossed a line, she knew it. "You don't have to. Don't feel obligated. I won't order you or anything. Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I can make people do whatever I want. I was just curious because I've never seen a Mandalorian before or beskar or-"

"Breathe, your grace," he reminded her kindly. She had let the words basically vomit out of her mouth for fear of offending him. "It's alright, here-" In the same manner that Hux had, he knelt in front of her and tilted his head forward. "Just... touch. Don't try to remove it or I might have to use Bantha-Sticker on you."

Faylen wheezed slightly at his deadpan joke, splitting a wide smile. Lifting a hand, her tanned fingers brushed the side, icy cold beneath her pads. Testing at first, she then pushed her full palm against it, gazing on curiously as the frigid metal before drawing her hand back. "It's colder than normal steel. I'm surprised, since it's not ever very cold here... Thank you... for letting me-"

"You're welc-" but the warrior was interrupted, tensing slightly as a figure trundled out from behind one of the shrubs. Moving swifter than a lightning strike, the Mandalorian was back on his feet and brushed her behind him. "Stay behind me, princess," the warmth of his voice vanished in an instant and her eyes widened as he touched the blaster on his hip. Despite the order, the tremor of power in the male’s voice, she peeked her head around his figure and spotted the assailant that had startled them.

“Oh, it’s just  him ,” her voice dripped with irritation, lips tugging down as far as they would go as the gangly boy froze as if he’d been placed in carbonite. Rathas was in his gawky, in between phase, not quite growing into his new longer limbs, a pudgy baby face haunting him each time he looked in the mirror, trying to hide behind a curtain of lank greasy hair. She knew he didn’t like to wash it often because it curled and made his face look more rotund. Didn’t change the fact that it reeked, despite the oils he put in it in a vain attempt to mask the stench. “Mr- uh, Paz. It’s alright.”

“You know him, your grace?” the warrior craned his head slightly, the edge of his visor catching her in his peripheral. 

“Wish I didn’t,” Faylen snarked quietly, as not to be overheard. Stepping out from behind the shadow of the Mandalorian, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew up as haughtily as she could. For someone so small, the girl was little more than a skulking loth-cat, especially dwarfed by her blue durasteel and beskar counterpart. “What do you want, Rathas? Can’t you see that I’m escorting a guest around the grounds?” He had no place in interrupting or being there. It did not strike Faylen’s mind that he might also be curious. No, she was rather greedy, wishing to have all the time of day to drill Paz Vizsla with questions without being interrupted.

Rathas recovered swiftly after the Mandalorian’s hand slid off his blaster. Drawing himself up to his full height, he pressed a hand over his doublet, to his collar. “My apologies, your grace,” he simpered, hazel eyes mostly muddy save for a few flecks of amber and jade. “I heard that there were a pair of barbarians trolloping around the grounds and wanted to make certain that you were safe. Since you are the heir to the throne and of petite stature, I was worried for your wellbeing.”

Faylen’s temper flared at Rathas calling the Mandalorians barbarians. The same boy who’d tried to force a kiss on her a few weeks back was now pretending that he cared for her health? No, she knew he just wanted to interrupt and cause her a bit of misery after what she’d done. “Those ‘barbarians’ are the guests of the Crown and you’d do well to mind your tongue. Nor my father or I will suffer such indignance,” her voice was sharp, slightly petulant, but she did as papa had told her: to own her tone in moments like this. Even if she did not like to bask in the power of being royalty, Rathas was definitely an exception. “Now, since you can see that I am in perfectly good health, you may leave.”

“Your grace, even if you insist, these Mandalorians are outsiders. I could not, in good conscience, abandon you to wander deeper into the gardens with this man,” Rathas continued.

“My father trusts them. I put my faith in his hands… unless you are questioning the judgement of your king?”

The threat missed the target and Rathas curled his lip indignantly, rising to the challenge of her words.

“I do believe the princess asked, rather kindly, that you leave,” Paz spoke now, his voice rumbling like thunder, vacant of the mellow warmth he’d spoken to her earlier with. He brushed his sidearm, a much more  real threat than being told off by a whiny princess. 

Rathas knew when he was beat, not willing to bet that the Mandalorian wouldn’t shoot him where he stood. Forcing a smile on his thin mouth, he bowed stiffly. “I wish you well, your grace, and that no ill befalls you.”

She snorted as he turned and ducked away, not content until his stupid head was utterly out of sight. “Thank you,” she turned back to Paz, dropping her arms and the defensive posture. “I… don’t like him very much-” the memories washed over her like a deafening wave, the fear she’d felt pinned against the tree outside the castle grounds. Frollicking like she usually did, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until Rathas caught up with her. He was bigger than her and in spite of his spindly, spider limbs, he was stronger too. Rubbing her arms self consciously, she tried not to think about it anymore. “You see his nose? The way it was kinked like this-” she brushed her own, small upturned nose which was dotted with a tiny constellation of freckles. “-I broke his nose a few weeks ago. Gave him a real good hook-” she swung her arm up to indicate just how she did it, feeling her heart swell with a tiny jolt of adrenaline as she’d fought back against her assailant, remembering how the blood had gushed out like a river and ruined yet another of her shimmersilk gowns. Despite losing an expensive dress, she had reveled in the fact that she’d actually managed to break his nose.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet curiously, gazing down at her intently. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He  did ,” she agreed, a dark menacing grate to the edge of the girl’s voice. “So-” she drew a deep breath, chasing away the torrent of swirling emotions. Instead, she plastered a smile to her face, big and dopey as her ears wagged slightly. “There’s still a little more of the gardens you haven’t seen. Then maybe I can bring you to the spires! They have the most magnificent views of the forests.”

 ----

“I was beginning to think that you’d never call upon me,  Jetii  ,” Hux Vizsla leered at the man across from him, so different from how he remembered him. The last time they had met, his fate had been written in the stars and the word they spoke was death. His own brother had made the mistake of crossing the Order amidst the Clone Wars and Hux believed he was going to die with many other Mandalorians, wishing to see the face of his son once more, wishing that he wouldn’t be leaving Paz without a  buir . Yet, Ardryll Krisdi stood in front of him not as a Jedi, but as a king. He suspected there had been more to this man a few years back, but after glimpsing the girl - probably less than a handful of years younger than his own son - he comprehended why Ardryll had been willing to help him in the first place: he had not been loyal to the Galactic Republic. Hiding a secret life away in the groves of Anaxes, he need only fake his death before laying down his lightsaber and returning amongst his people. Hux found the irony in this, considering that a Mandalorian had once done the same thing thousands of years ago.

“Come now,” Ardryll spoke in the same, perfectly manicured and intelligent tone. His eloquent accent reminded Hux duly that this was a cultured man, not only due to the station of his birth, but his time spent in Coruscant amongst the now fallen Order. “We both know that term no longer applies to me. I forsook that path the moment I laid eyes on my late wife and then had Faylen.”

The lust for a family. Hux could not blame Ardryll, as family was central to Mandalorian life. How the Jedi could turn their backs on all attachment… he did not know. What he did know was how unnatural he thought it was and that it was no surprise that one of their own had gone manic. It had happened before. History seemed to repeat itself often with the Jedi. One would think they would learn that turning their back on love resulted in nothing but a ticking time bomb to see which would detonate first. Hux hadn’t really believed the transmission he had received, thinking that Ardryll would keep himself away from anything that so much as smelled like the Republic.

“Why am I here?” Hux asked tartly. This was a business transaction, not a run-ashore. The king wanted something and that was the only reason he had bothered the Mandalorian. 

“Please, let us go somewhere a little more private,” Ardryll requested, lifting a palm and gesturing toward a thicket of rose bushes in full bloom. Even if Hux was irritated with being there, he could not deny that the planet was beautiful, especially the forests that the selphi-subrace occupied. Whilst a small fragment of the mountainous world, the Anaxians had found a way to peacefully coexist with their woad. An ability that Mandalorians had not learned, after desecrating their home in sake of mining for beskar. There was a sublime loveliness in Genmaris, the lack of steel walls, and the warmth openness from the halls to the outdoors. Lead out to a gazebo coated in a cloak of ivy, Ardryll sat down on a wrought iron chair and let out a low sigh. “I’ve not called you here to waste your time.”

“That has yet to be seen,” Hux retorted, taking the other seat and gazing out amongst the gardens. On the far side, he could see the glint of his  ad’s  armor, stooping slightly over the princess who was smiling larger than the man would have thought possible. “Your kid is interesting. She got any of your talent?”

“Hm?” the king glanced up, having been deep in thought before he shook his head, long pointed ears swaying. “No, she does not have a connection to the Force. Thank the Maker for that.”

Beneath his helmet, Hux frowned slightly, wondering why anyone would not wish for their child to be gifted in that manner. He also had not known the Anaxian to be distracted. He was a highly trained Jedi Knight, honed and capable of defeating Mandalorians. “What is… going on here?”

“Your son seems to like her,” Ardryll muttered quietly, turning his luminous eyes to pin Hux right where he sat. They were molten, like gold melted in the Foundry. 

Hux glanced back out, watching as the teen let the girl hang onto him, her excited gibbering palpable even from the spot they roosted in, keeping a hawk’s eye on the pair. “Why? You offering to marry her off?” he joked lamely, but was slightly taken aback by the soft sigh that parted the king’s lips. “No kriffing way-”

“Not marriage,” the Anaxian finally said. “But Mandalorians take Foundlings, do they not?”

“We do, but-” his words died on the back of his throat, observing the clasp of the Jedi’s hands and the slouch in his shoulders. “The Empire.” Separatists ripped apart most of the Mandalore Sector and had also ravaged parts of Anaxes. The was a brief respite, followed by the wake of Imperial clone troopers continuing to wash over the Core Planets, slowly marching their way out across the galaxy, taking planet by planet or destroying those who refused to comply. “You’re a  Jetii  , a  king . You’re telling me there’s no better option than being Mandalorian?”

“Anaxians are too identifiable. From our dark skin, pointed ears, to the fact that Faylen has many goddess tears… There will be no doubt who she is. I sense a darkness on the horizon and I know I have one more battle with my lightsaber, but-” he pursed his lips, closing his bright eyes and slinking back into his seat. “There will be no mercy for her. Even if she has no promise to be a Jedi, she is my daughter. I know what is coming and  he  shall not spare her.  He did not spare any of the younglings-” the king’s voice cracked and a single fat salty drop ran down his cheek. “Please. I know your Tribe keeps their helmets on aside from those that are family. Our debt. Pay it in this manner. Take her and train her.”

Hux remained eerily quiet, glancing back out toward where the two trotted along, Faylen tugging Paz in the direction of the castle now. “She is older and small-” his voice finally sizzled out of the vocoder, weak and ill. The idea of the little girl being killed twisted like a knife in his belly. “There’s really no one?” Hux knew the answer to this, as the king had just explained that the child was too identifiable. Between her golden markings, her eyes, to the dark tan of her skin; Anaxians were unmistakable, especially the princess. Even the selphi were different, in spite of the pointed ear similarities. 

“Faylen is strong. She broke the nose of a boy twice her size just a few weeks ago. And she always finds a way to sneak out of the castle, despite all the guards and droids being assigned to keep an eye on her,” Ardryll informed him, finally opening his eyes to implore the Mandalorian - to save the last little shred of his family. “I cannot take her elsewhere. Because of what I am, I will be hunted ruthlessly. I do not wish that for her. I must stand my ground here as the king, support my people in our final hours, make one last effort for the sake of Genmaris.”

Even if they had been enemies at one point, Hux’s chest burned with respect for the king’s refusal to abandon his people to hide his daughter. Still, he pitied the Jedi, who had chosen the path of love to slowly lose it piece by piece. “Broke a boy’s nose?” he snorted, eyes trailing the girl as she disappeared behind a set of shrubs with his  ad. 

“Anaxians are quicker than humans. Not stronger by any means, but we are lighter on our feet, as you are keenly aware,” Ardryll reminded him, thrusting the Vizsla back into a fit of memories, the hazy glow of the yellow saber in the Jedi’s hands. Whirling it like a dervish, creating an arc of light reminiscent of the sun, striking him back against the frame of the gunship - cornering him like a rat. Even if he had beskar, the Jedi had known to strike where the armor did not meet. Hux should have died.

“How much time do you think you have?” Hux inquired, looking to the trees that would soon be barren and charred, the tall manicured grass that would be trodden to nothing but slick dirt, and the gardens which would wilt under the barrage of blasterfire. All this beauty would be gone, replaced with nothing but desolace and strife, blood and bone, and death. These were not things that Hux was unfamiliar with, but he did not think that Anaxes deserved it. The planet was quiet and peaceful. They had done nothing more than remain loyal to the Republic and that was enough for the Empire to drop the guillotine over their heads. No mercy for those who would not convert.

“A few days at most,” tilting his head, the king’s dark hair glinted like obsidian against his circlet. “You’ll take her?”

Hux grumbled, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a princess. Foundlings were not usually acquired this way, but the fact that Anaxes faced its demise and the girl would not be spared, he couldn’t turn his back on the child in good conscience. She was older. Foundlings came in all shapes and ages, from infants to teenagers. Hux would have preferred her to be a handful of years younger, as it would be easier to train her when she was still highly impressionable. “I owe a debt,” was all Hux betrayed, thinking back to Ardryll’s praise of his daughter. He did not think the Anaxian would lie just to impress him. The girl might have some training, but she had also been raised as royalty, which meant she’d probably never had a hard day in her life. “The Way… it will be difficult for her.”

“Faylen is a resilient child. She will do well amongst your people. She needs only the chance.”

Hux resigned to drinking in the gardens, admiring it and committing it to memory because he knew that once they left, none of it would remain. The king let him wander on his own, pausing by a lattice of strange violet flowers that hung like bells, long golden stigmas hanging out like a dog lolling its tongue. Taking it between his fingers, he turned over the petals and thought of Sivo and how the hue of the flower was similar to her beskar. What would Sivo have done?  She wanted a daughter so badly to train. To teach how to be good at both shooting and cooking. To raise a large clan. Our clan was supposed to be large too.

Aware that no one would miss them when the planet was burning in a few days time, Hux picked several of the bell flowers and took them into the castle. A few people eyed him, as if he’d done something against the rules - picking flowers from the king’s garden - but they could all go sod off. Acquiring directions from a servant, he was escorted to a chamber that they had been afforded for the night. The room was as large as his home back on Concordia, making him huff an irritated sigh. He’d been to more exuberant places, decadence dripping off the walls to the point where it felt gaudy. Even if Genmaris wasn’t that overdone, it was still slightly overwhelming. 

Paz arrived shortly thereafter, glancing at the pile of flowers on the table, tilting his helmet in slight confusion. Dismissing them, he plunked down into one of the plush lounge chairs and slid his helmet off. Fussing with the mess of blonde helmet curls, he pinned his icy eyes at his father. 

“How was the tour?” Hux inquired, pulling his own helmet off as he laid back on the bed and glared at the ceiling. Bed felt nice.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had a tour like that,” his  ad  chuckled. “I assume that most royalty is not as…  enthused .”

“Seemed like a  copikla adiik  ,” Hux speculated, rubbing his eyes as he considered the situation even more. A bucket would have to go right on her head, but then again those  ears would be a problem. Maybe some sort of headband to pin them down so they wouldn’t get chafed?

“She carries a knife on her,” Paz laughed, still smiling at the thought of the princess. “Even named it - Pig-Sticker.”

Hux chuckled at this, wondering where the princess had gotten such a braw disposition from. He assumed it was because Ardryll hadn’t reigned her in. 

“Why are we here? I know you have a debt to settle. The king is the  Jetii that helped you escape on Mandalore, was he not?”

Hux sat up and nodded at Paz. “ We are taking the girl with us,  ” he switched to Mando’a, uncertain if they were being listened to. Ardryll had mentioned that others might have ears around the castle. The teen’s eyes hardened and he gave a questioning look rather than ask openly. “  The planet will fall to the Empire soon. Her father is Jedi. They will kill her. She is to become your sister. ”

This could go one of two ways with his  ad,  but he was glad to see it go in the better. Paz set his jaw and gave a stern, comprehending nod. He did not question, he did not disagree. Instead, he turned back toward the hearth he sat near, watching the flames lick hungrily at the wood, crackling softly. “Kaysh mandokarla. ” 

Hux hummed at these words, pleased to hear it, almost as if they settled some of his doubts. Mandokarla; the  right  stuff. His own son was declaring that the girl had the  right  stuff to be Mandalorian, a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and lust for life. Truly, this was all that Hux could hope for the kid, aware that her journey in joining the Tribe would not be easy. She would be behind other children her age, many of which would have a few years of combat training and Mando’a on her. Still,  if she had the heart, that was one less thing to worry about. 

A soft knock on the door roused them, both immediately reaching for their helmets and replacing them. No one was allowed to see their faces - only  buir, ad,  and  riduur  could look amongst each other freely. Paz pushed himself to his feet and answered the door, a hand tentatively brushing his blaster by his side as he cracked it open. His shoulders relaxed immediately and through the small slit, Hux saw that it was Faylen with a tray full of food. 

“Papa told me that you couldn’t have dinner with us because of your Creed,” she started, drawing in as deep of a breath as her tiny frame would allow. “So I brought food for the both of you, since you must be hungry.” 

Paz opened the door more so that he could take the tray from her. “Thank you, your grace…” but his  ad was confused by the gesture. “Couldn’t you have sent a servant?”

The child spluttered, clearly trying to come up with a rebuttal, but instead began turning a shade of pink. “Y-you’re our guests. I thought-” Hux couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night!” she squeaked, darting away before she could embarrass herself any further. 

No sooner than the door had shut, Hux roared with deep laughter. Paz turned around, still puzzled by what was going on, standing awkwardly with the tray in his gloved hands. “What?” the teen asked finally, needing the joke explained to him. 

“What did you  do on that walk?” Hux inquired through his guffaws.

“I didn’t do anything!” Paz’s voice was slightly panicked, as if his  buir were insinuating that he had laid a hand on the princess. 

“It’s probably nothing, just harmless curiosity,” Hux waved off, still chortling quietly. Paz grumbled, still not completely understanding, as he set the food down on the table. He’d comprehend one day once he had more experience with people. Most folks stayed as far away from Mandalorians as they could manage. The fact that the girl had appeared, doing a servant’s job, eying Paz with the biggest, golden irises… Hux knew the child liked him or else she wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. Good. It was better that she didn’t fear Mandalorians if she was to become one.

 ---

Skirting through the hallways, she ducked back into her room, heart pounding in her ears as loud as thunder as she flung the door shut behind her. Pressing her back against it, her ears burned as if they were on fire. Why? The moment the blue Mandalorian had opened the door, she had been so excited, remembering their afternoon together. Not that anything much had happened other than her showing him around the castle, but it had been fun. For once, she hadn’t been treated like a little doll or patronized, and Faylen was eager to get another chance to talk to Paz - even if it were as fleeting as dropping off dinner for him and his father. Although, the moment he’d asked why she hadn’t sent a servant made her freeze. It was… rather strange that the princess would come deliver the guest’s dinner?

Idiot. He’s going to think you’re stupid now, Faylen rationalized, pouting as she pulled her circlet off and began untangling the pins from her wavy hair. Tossing them haphazardly on the vanity, she threw open the balcony doors and leaned up against the bannister, just as she had in the morning. A soft sigh parted her lips, the breeze winding fingers through her loose tendrils, which comforted her scalp. Night has cascaded over the grounds, her hands reaching up toward the stars. Once, papa had told her that when someone died, they became a star and burned brightly for longer than they’d lived. Now, Faylen knew this was not true, but she liked to pretend the one, biggest star just above her balcony was her mother. 

Rather than go to sleep immediately, Faylen pulled out a stack of books and set a kettle on the fire. Tucking into bed with her favorite novel, she blew the twisting steam over the top and enjoyed the soft floral flavor of the beverage. Her tummy warmed and she flipped a page, resigning herself to her evening routine. This tale was about Jedi and how one had fallen in love with someone outside the Order. Time melted away, her tea long since drained as she plucked through the pages of the romance, nearly pushing her nose into the book as she squealed quietly at the first kiss. Deciding she’d gotten to a point where she could finally put the bookmark in, Faylen flopped down in her bed and put a pillow over her face. 

She was a 13 year old girl, but she had often been taught by private tutors. There were other children around the castle, to include Rathas, but she’d never really felt close to any of them. No, they were rather petulant and obsessed with things like the latest fashion or gossip. None wanted to talk about things that Faylen liked - such as running amok in the woods. They told her that was dangerous and one day she’d get maimed or die. She didn’t think that would happen, but took their goading as more of a reason to trot off. Her evenings were devoted mostly to ignoring her teachers and taking a moment to enjoy leisurely books - humming quietly about the romances, envying the freedom of the characters in the book. While she doubted she would marry Rathas, she also knew that it probably wouldn’t be a decision she was allowed to make. Thus, she went through novels in the library like fodder, filling her tiny heart to the brim with the idea that maybe she might get to experience it and not a predetermined marriage. 

No sooner than her light went out, did the wispy curtains by her balcony shuddered and an explosion rocked the entire castle. Faylen sat up immediately, her eyes going wide and her ears pointing down. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, she could make out the finer details as she knew them, controlling her breathing after it hitched, leaning over toward her nightstand to reach for the blaster concealed beneath the drawer. Papa always told her to have a weapon stashed nearby in case someone came for her. The noise was chased rapidly with gunshots, ringing in her sensitive ears, her feet sliding over the comforter as she cradled the weapon to her chest. 

Hide.

But her legs weren’t quite working. She had Pig-Sticker by the side of her bed, trembling as she checked the cartridge on the blaster and cocked it, posting her wrists on the edge of the mattress and pointing the muzzle toward the door. What was going on? Screaming. So much screaming. But they didn’t last long, followed with a terrible silence as each cry was severed swiftly. Her door rattled on the hinges, her finger moving from the side of the pistol to graze the trigger. Swallowing hard, the anguished cries faded and were only replaced with the tense beating of her heart, thrumming steadily like a war drum. The hinges snapped and the door flung open. She squeezed the trigger before seeing the dull glint of beskar. 

A groan followed the shot, which pinged off a helmet -  a blue helmet . 

Faylen’s gums flapped, but no words came out as Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway with a rifle strapped across his chest. Dazed, but uninjured from the shot, he staggered forward and glanced toward where the shot had come from. Oh kriff, he was going to kill her. She scrambled under the bed, screeching like a feral animal when a gloved hand locked on around her bare ankle. Slashing awkwardly with Pig-Sticker she heard him curse. 

“Dank farrik!  Stop it! I’m trying to help you!”

Pulled out from underneath the bed, the Mandalorian crouched beside her, motioning for her to be quiet. Faylen’s eyes burned, but she chewed her lip, disoriented and confused as her ears sagged beside her. 

“Get up. We need to go,” he ordered, grabbing her hand and wrenching her to her feet. Faylen staggered, in nothing more than her sleep dress, holding onto her blaster and knife with paling knuckles. A quiet sob shook her shoulders as she sat the lights flashing through the thin shade of her balcony curtains. “ Princess!”

Despite the insistence in his voice, Faylen was paralyzed with fear and horror. Rather than try to get her to recover, the Mandalorian hissed a sigh and grabbed her. Picking her up like a child, he adjusted the strap of his rifle, settling it over the both of them before running for the door. Faylen leered over his shoulder, quaking like a leaf barely hanging onto a tree during a storm, as they left behind her room and belongings. Absolute mayhem consumed the castle, the Mandalorian speaking into a comlink in a language she didn’t understand. They were running through the halls that she had been raised in, the pale elas stone smattered with crimson. The vines sagged, no longer reaching out to passerbyers as they curled into themselves and withered slightly from being exposed to blaster smoke.

A shot echoed loudly nearby, Faylen crying out and pressing her face into the Mandalorian’s neck as her ears ached. “I need to-” they ducked around a corner, obscured briefly by the shadows. “-put you down. Wait here,  vod’ika. ”

Faylen was set back on her bare feet, her toes stinging from the cold of the stone as she floundered slightly, reaching desperately for the Mandalorian as he stepped out from behind cover. A thin sheet of sweat coated her skin, hairs standing on end as she quivered in the shadows, eyes stretched wide as she saw white armored soldiers prowling through the corridors. They moved in swift regiment, prowling forward in a fine formation and right in their direction. Paz lifted his rifle and shot first, using the element of surprise before the soldiers began shouting in a foreign language. He returned vicious words with them in the same tongue before taking two more down. He sidestepped, diverting attention from her, but she noticed that he was walking straight toward a spire hallway, which would be locked seeing that it had her father’s study in it. Whimpering, she considered what might happen as the snow white enemies made ground toward the Mandalorian. He’d be backed into a corner.

They passed her hiding spot and she stepped out slightly, wondering what she should do. Paz said that he was helping her and she’d never seen those soldiers before. If she let them kill the Mandalorian, what hope did she have after? Swallowing hard, her fingers tightened around the hilt of Pig-Sticker. The knife was still a vibro-blade and the armor of the soldiers appeared to be similar in design to what Paz had been wearing… which meant that the throat would be exposed. Rolling her heels against the frigid marble, she followed them quietly, using her knowledge of the castle to hide behind statues and walls. There were three left now and Paz was at the door, little cover remaining as he realized now that the path was a dead end. 

Faylen had managed to sneak up just a few scant meters behind the troopers, hand shaking as she bunched the muscles in her legs up. Right at this moment, she was wishing she’d practiced a lot more with her combat. Bowling forward, she leapt onto a chair and used the height to fling herself to the nearest soldiers. The collision with the back of the clone’s armor drove the wind right from her lungs and her head spun, legs coiling around his hips before she reeled, nearly flopping right off. Screaming, she plunged the dagger into the exposed, black throat as the soldier flailed in surprise. Her fingers began damp and sticky, the vocoder sputtering as the soldier choked on his own blood. The distraction she had caused was enough for the other two to round on her, the body of the soldier she’d clamped onto falling to the ground on top of her. Stunned beneath the body of the man, she watched as the rifles trained on her and wondered if she was going to die. Her life flashed before her eyes and she hoped more than anything in that last moment - that the Mandalorian could escape with her diversion.

But the flash of red was not levied in her, but pierced their white armor, smoting it with blackened fingers before they crashed to the floor: dead. Still beneath the corpse of the soldier, she wriggled helplessly until a shadow fell over her. Shoving the body off, Paz tore her to her feet, her white chemise soaked entirely from collar to torso with thick, viscous warmth. Her fingers were still tight around the humming vibro-blade. 

“Looks like Pig-Sticker works,  vod’ika ,” he murmured, pressing a hand into the small of her back. “Do you know the way to the starship hangars?”

She wagged her head, her neck aching at her overdramatization. When she glanced down at her hand, she saw the dark liquid coating it. In the dim light of evening, the blood was discreet, indistinguishable aside from the unique heat and ply as she smoothed it in her fingers with macabre interest. Paz ushered her forward, stirring her from her fixation as she drew in a sharp breath, not realizing that she had been holding it. Her knuckles ached from how tight she was holding the blade, but her body kicked into autopilot. 

Survive. Survive. Survive.

The word echoed in her head, into an empty void as she thought of nothing else. Not the screams, smell of blaster smoke, the metallic tang of blood heavy on the back of her throat, or the haze of battle. Her bare feet splattered into pools of liquid, which she did not need to look at twice to know  what it was. Darting through the halls, she barely registered the fact that she had a gloved palm in her hand, weaving them dexterously throughout the halls, nooks, and crannies that she’d used to evade the guards dozens of times to get out of the castle and into the wilderness. 

Genmaris’ last stand was by the starship port of the palace, her eyes swiftly adjusting to the lights that were posted outside the blast doors, flanked by a pair of platinum clad Anaxian knights. Stiffing at the sight of the princess, coated in blood and wild eyed, they parted ways to allow her entrance. There was little respite, the folks that had managed to flee onto the flight deck quailing and weeping behind storage crates. Her brows snared, cocking her head as she saw Merith breathing shallowly against a wall, cradling her abdomen as her grey smock was stained a hue darker, her tan skin pallid, ears sagging as she clung desperately to the last ounces of life. 

“Faylen!” her father’s voice snared her eyes away from her handmaiden and she saw him striding across the shed floor to meet her in his strong arms. “Heavens is any of this yours?” 

She broke down, tears spilling out of her eyes again as he checked the wounds. “N-no. I don’t think so,” she stammered. “P-pa-pa what’s going on?”

“We have a brief moment. I’ve set the charges, but once they go off, we have all of minutes to flee,” Hux Vizsla approached, a rifle strapped across his chest as he entreated her father.

Ardryll stiffened and a low, deep breath parted his lips as he gave a comprehending nod. “Faylen-” he picked her up, setting her back on her feet. “I love you very much. So very much. Now, I need you to be a good girl and listen very carefully. The Vizslas are taking you away from here. A Sith is coming.”

Sith. Her eyes stretched even further, which she hadn’t thought possible at this point. Her lips trembled and her ears hung low. Papa had told her about Sith, the terrible and evil Force-wielders who fought Jedi. “When will I see you again? Where will we meet?”

For the first time in her life, her papa did not answer her. He bent down, brushing his nose to her brow before kissing it. “I love you, Faylen.” Stepping away from her, Faylen turned and watched in horror as he pulled a silver cylinder off of his belt. His clothes… in her shock she had not realized he was wearing strange brown robes. He still had his circlet on, but the tan and brown robes were unlike anything her father had ever adorned. Switching the cylinder on, a golden blade sliced up and hummed with the whispers of thunder indicating lightning was on the horizon. “Vizsla, I will buy you as much time as possible. They will be distracted by a Jedi.”

“ Papa! ” 

She lunged for him, but collided with a durasteel chest. Pig-Sticker clattered to the ground from her hand and arms wrapped around her so tight that she thought she was being strangled. Far. They were getting further from him, moving swiftly and into the hull of a ship as she saw the white armor of the clone soldiers breach the hangar entrance. Hux pressed a button on his vambrace, the ground trembling and the walls shuddering as multiple bombs around Genmaris Castle exploded. 

“NO! LET ME GO! NO!” she shrieked, the dock to the ship listing upward as Hux flung himself into the cockpit. Flailing against the blue Mandalorian, she fought in vain mostly, so tiny and small compared to the tall teenager. 

“ Vod’ika! You’re going to hurt yourself-” 

And of course, she did. She sent a fist flying into the helmet, lips pinching together as she held the breath that billeted up from her lung. Grinding out a furious howl, she cradled her knuckles that were slip and aching, the pain lancing up to her elbow. 

“Shh, calm down.”

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to hear, having watched her home burning around her, slick with the blood of her people, and her father charging off with a lightsaber in his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to survive the Sith.  He was a distraction . The original question she had asked: why were the Mandalorians here? - was now answered. Papa had called them to take her away to safety. Her hand hurt just as much as her heart, but she was in such despair that she barely noticed the hand patting the back of her head or running a soothing hand along her back. Despite having just punched him, she sagged against Paz and continued to release tears like a water fountain - to the point where she was hiccuping as the ship lurched beneath them. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed, other than the fact she had calmed down to only small sniffles, her entire face wet with salty tears. 

“Can I see?” Paz asked gently, trying to turn up her hand.

Her body was still stiff, but she relaxed slightly to let him pull up the fist that she’d punched him with. 

“Hm, going to need some bacta. If not for my bucket, you might’ve broken my nose too,  vod’ika ,” Paz decided matter-of-factly. 

Faylen coughed slightly, her nose all leaky, thus foiling her effort to scoff at his joke. 

“Do you think you can sit here? I’ll go get you a blanket-”

She shook her head, latching onto him like a tick, refusing to let go. What if he died too? What if he turned around and left? That would be one less person to be around, one less person who she trusted enough to attach to. 

He sighed quietly, pushing static through his modulator as he sat back down, muttering reassuringly in the foreign language he’d spoken earlier. Faylen’s eyes leered into the silver durasteel wall for a long while until her lashes fluttered and she closed them.

When she opened them again, the ship was listing through hyperspace, the terror of Genmaris a dull throb in her heart and the back of her head. Part of her expected to be put to bed, but was surprised to find herself still nestled against the Mandalorian who had also dozed off against the hull of the ship. Now that she wasn't soaked with tears and boogers, she could see and smell a little better. Her chemise was crusty, browned where the blood had soaked in, and chafing slightly at her skin. 

Sitting nearby, on top of a storage container, was Hux Vizsla - the dark green Mandalorian that had taken her from the demise of her home. Faylen had traveled a few times before, but always in comfortable luxury. The places she had been to were Naboo and Coruscant. Otherwise, she'd not been off Anaxes. He had a helmet in his hands, not his own, but one that was painted a dark, plum purple. 

"You're awake,  ad'ika, " he stated simple, his voice rumbling through his modulator as the impassive T-shaped visor leveled at her. There was nothing menacing about him, nor the other Vizsla that she was sitting on. From the moment she had met the both of them, she had felt rather comfortable around their masked faces and they'd not given her a reason to change her mind on the matter. Others would be filled with dread, fearful of what expression the Mandalorians might be hiding just beneath the beskar, but Faylen knew they were human and mortal. No droid would have comforted her like they did, nor would the droid have had a reason to feel enough pity to take her away. "Come here."

The demand was gentle, kind almost. Her legs quivered, but she did manage to push up eventually, disdainful over the state of her clothing and her skin. Her feet were raw and dried blood crusted like a cracked desert landscape with each footfall. Even if she was unharmed, the child had been through hell and her soiled dress and filthy skin was a testament to that. 

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly, approaching him so that she could glance down at the helmet he was holding. The visor was shaped slightly different, the wings like petals, leaning up in a Y-shape rather than T. The visor was dark and tinted with metallic midnight blue. 

" Gai bal manda, " he muttered, finally looking up from the helm again. "You will become a part of our family."

While the words were soothing, the idea behind them made her heart seize in her chest. Our family. The implication that there was nothing left on Abaxes and would never be. All hope that her father might've survived dashed like a starship exploding in a dogfight. There were few tears left in the girl, but she managed to let out a strangled and guttral whine, like a loth-cat whose tail had been stepped on. Hux put the helmet beside him and picked her up, propping her on his knee just as her papa would do. Running a gloved hand between her shoulder blades, he continued until her whimpering had quieted.

"What that means," he glanced at her, waiting until she drew a few shuddering breaths. "Is you'll start anew. You will join our Tribe and be raised as a Mandalorian; as my  ad'ika  and  vod  to Paz. I hear that you're good with blades - look at you - a  verd'ika  . Your  buir was very proud of you. This is what he wanted, for you to be safe."

"Why did they attack us? Why would anyone do that? Genmaris is peaceful, we never-" her eyes burned, but no tears came out, only a cracked noise from the back of her throat as she leaned into the comforting touch of the armored warrior. What he was saying didn't quite register in her head, thoughts jumbled up and out of order, his praise buzzing like bees, the satisfaction of being told she had done well not reaching her brain. 

"Because they do not care who they hurt or kill. The Empire is taking the galaxy and will step over anyone who so much as lifts a chin stubbornly in their direction. All they want is power. To them, we are insects," he answered honestly, the words registering as she nodded slowly. Even if it was a callous way of putting it, she needed to hear it phrased like this - to be told that she'd done no wrong and they were just bad people.

"Will they come for me? Or for your Tribe?"

"If we stir trouble, perhaps," he acknowledged grimly. "But they shall not know where you are or where the covert is. They will be too busy worrying about bigger fish than sniffing out you,  verd'ika  -" he picked up the helmet and showed it to her. "Because once you put this on, you will no longer be a princess. You will be  Mando'ade ."

"What would I even be the princess of?" she forced a chuckle, failing miserably and hiccuping. 

Hux offered a gentle laugh, the first bit of true warmth she felt, coursing all the way to her numb toes. The girl leaned into his shoulder, setting her head against the frigid green beskar, shivering slightly. "When you don this helm there are rules. You cannot take it off in front of any living thing - except for your  buir, ad,  and future  riduur..  . Paz is your  vod  , so he would be an exception as well. You may call other Mandalorians  vod  , but they are not the same as him. You will be a Vizsla from now on. Do you understand,  verd'ika?"

“Wha-what does all that mean?" 

Hux translated the Mando'a to her and comprehension dawned on her face. Only immediate family could see her face going forward, which would only be Hux and Paz. He explained the Resol'nare, which was a code of Six Actions that the Mandalorians lived by: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, their language, and their leader. Well, now that would also apply to her and she had to hold them to the highest regard and strive for perfection. The soft daydreams she'd had, wondering what Mandalorian life was like only to find herself unwillingly thrust into their civilization. Despite how jarring it was, Faylen felt slightly hopeful, glad that she wouldn't be alone and left to fend for herself. While her heart still hurt, at least she had something to look forward to. 

"Is this to be my helmet?" she pointed down at the dark beskar, which he had a tight grip on. 

"Yes, but before you don it, why don't you get cleaned up. It'll be too big for you and we need to find a way to make certain your ears don't get beat up inside the bucket," Hux set her back down on her feet, pulling out a set of black clothes which had been folded neatly. "They will probably be too big, but it's better than that-" he gestured to her blood stained smock. "Fresher is right around the corner."

Loading up the clothes in her arms, she went into the fresher and glanced in the mirror. Staring back was a ghost of a child, her tanned skin pale and clammy, goddess makings so translucent that they were barely visible beneath the crumbling flakes of blood. Parts of her hair were mattered with more of the dried liquid, creating a womp rat's nest on the side of her head where she'd slept against Paz's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and red, still damp and irritated looking. A new way of nausea and despair hit her as she looked at herself, the last few pent up tears leaking out as her chin trembled. Starting the shower, she peeled off the disgusting nightgown and sat on the floor, clutching her knees and rocking quietly as the gentle rain of the water plastered her hair around her in a soaking wet curtain. Finally, she stood up and grabbed the soap, resigning herself to lazy scrubbing as it felt weird to not have help; Merith had almost always been there to assist with her back. Now Merith was dead... probably.

After getting out of the shower, she dried off and put on the new clothes, which appeared to be similar to the clothing that the Mandalorians wore beneath their armor. The pants were much too long, wide around the hips, and the shirt bulky, falling down to her knees. Faylen managed to roll the hem of the pants and shirt sleeves, securing the belt around her midsection to keep the two in place. Balling up her ruined shift, she left the fresher behind and found the Vizslas sitting by a low table, helmets turning in her direction. 

" Verd'ika -" Hux motioned her over, holding up a makeshift bandana that appeared to be made of a ripped shirt sleeve rolled up and stretchy, so that it could fit over her head. He adjusted it, pushing her hair out of her face. The soft fabric pinned her long ears against the side of her head, smothering them in a tight embrace. "You will need a new name. Faylen is too unique," he informed her, continuing to adjust the headband until it covered most of her scalp and comfortably tucked her ears away. 

"Something Mandalorian?" Faylen suggested quietly as she was handed an elastic band. Without needing to be told, began plaiting her long, thick hair, tying off the end. 

"Do you have any ideas? You should pick your own name," Hux said, turning over her helmet to add a little extra padding along the inside. "Is there anything... a word or feeling that means a lot to you?"

There were many things on Anaxes that meant a lot to Faylen. From the forests and glades, to the evening sky dotted with stars. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft hum trying to decide which meant the most. A name too similar to her lost home would be a painful reminder each time it was spoken, a dull throb in her heart as she thought about her Papa and the life she could have had if the Empire had not stolen that from her. "Is there a word for song?" A new life, a new song - just like the birds outside her balcony that she'd listen for in the morning. 

" Laar ?"

Faylen shook her head, not liking the sound of that. "Or bird?" She was flying away from home to find a new place, migrating like the paradise birds that would go to the mountains in the summer and return to Genmaris during the autumn. Only, Faylen would probably never return. 

" Senaar ."

" Senaar ," she repeated quietly, closing her eyes and imagining the verdant plumage chased by sunset oranges and ambers. "Senaar," she decided more resolutely. Faylen was a bird now. Not a paradise bird. If she had stayed on Anaxes she could have been one, gilded and pretty. Now she was more like a bird of prey. She was going to be Mandalorian after all. "Sena for short?"

" Sen'ika ," Paz rumbled, slightly amused. "Little bird."

"Little," she snorted, finally finding the heart to smile faintly.

"Tiny," Hux agreed, turning toward her and offering the helmet. "It is time."

"Time?"

" Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Senaar Vizsla," he bent down, touching his helmet to her forehead. A wave of emotion consumed her, choking her up as if dark, churning water were drowning her. Despite the fact that all it was was cold metal on her brow and words she did not understand, she knew her new name when he spoke it. The tightness of his fingers on her shoulder, the promising tone of voice - the promise that she'd never be alone despite all that she had lost. Papa had made certain she was in good hands, hands that would never let her go, despite their differences. Soon, those differences would be scattered amongst the ocean - lost to the tides of change as the gaps were bridged and she became just another visor amongst many. 

" Ni kyr'tayl gai vod,  Senaar Vizsla," Paz spoke next, drawing her attention from Hux and over to the young man who was to become her brother. "Call my  ori'vod , it means big brother."

" Ori'vod  ," she repeated. There had been times where she'd dreamed of having a sibling, older or younger. A small, but characteristically dopey smile plastered itself to her face as she realized what she had gained in the shadow of her loss. "Then... you were calling me little sister before?  Vod'ika  ? Because little bird is  Sen'ika ."

"She's a natural," Paz crooned to their father. 

"Smart kid. At least you have some brain cells. Might have to make up for your  aliit  every so often," Hux joked, tapping her head with his helmet again. "Now, let's see how this fits and we can make some adjustments."

Lifting the helmet up, Faylen - no... Sena - placed it on her head. The wrappings on her head did well to keep her ears from flopping around. She hissed slightly, the tips still getting pinched near the crown where there was little to no padding. Despite it, she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the inside. A hydraulic hiss was followed by a click, the vocoder whizzing with her heavy breathing. She could not smell anything other than the beskar, which had a slightly acidic and cool aroma. Her view from the visor was distorted, illuminated as she saw the entire room through a filter. The lights weren't as keen, but the edges of the ship, the corners chasing away shadows in the same method her eyes could naturally adjust.

"How does it feel?" Hux inquired, making her jolt slightly as the visor shifted with a pulsing analytical wave, shifting to the sound of his voice, informing her that he was 70% questioning, 20% concerned, 10% unreadable. 

"It can-" she was startled again, her voice coming out modulated and rather airy like a little whizzing fairy, high pitched and obnoxious.

"Ah, hold on, that's not a good setting. Sova always had a deep voice," he grumbled, reaching up to fiddle with a sensor on the side of the helmet. "Try again?"

"It can read emotions in the voice?" The modulator was closer to her own voice now, but there was still a mechanical ring to it, making her sound much colder than typical. Interesting. Was the purpose to obscure their true voice to keep it from being analyzed by enemies? Or perhaps the purpose was to seem scarier and less mortal. 

"Yes, among other things. How does it feel?"

"It needs more padding around-" she lifted her hand and patted the spots where the tips of her ears were pinned. "-there and there. Pinching."

"Off it goes-" he reached for it, but gave her a meaningful tilt of his helmet. "Remember what I told you. No one other than the two of us can see your face, Sena. Anyone who tries to do this-"

"Stick em!"

Hux chortled, her helmet reading that he was mostly amused before he disengaged the seal and pulled it off. "You're going to do well,  verd'ika ."

--- translations

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child

Ni kyr'tayl gai sibling - I know your name as my sibling

Aliit - family/clan

Verd'ika - little soldier

Gai bal manda - adoption ceremony

Ad'ika - little one, daughter, son

Buir - parent

Jetii - Jedi

Vod - sibling

Ad - son/daughter

Riduur - spouse

Copikla adiik - cute child/kid

Vod'ika - little sibling

[amphtaminedreams]

S/S 2020 Fashion Month: A Basic, Uneducated Fashion Heaux’s A-Z of Everything Noteworthy (Part 3/3)

Hi to anyone reading,

I’m finally at the end!

It’s only taken me, like, over 2 months but I’m finally about to review the last 5 shows I wanted to talk about from this year’s RTW offerings for S/S 2020. It’s very frustrating that I couldn’t include them in the last post and make this a nice, neat, equally sized two part thing but Tumblr was being difficult and so here I am. On the plus side, I guess I can also make this post a bit of a round-up of my ultimate favourite collections of this year and some of my absolute favourite looks!

To quickly finish my review though, I’m gonna start this post with Vivienne Westwood’s S/S 2020 collection!

And I hate to start the post on a downer but I wasn’t wild about it. The bridal look worn by Bella Hadid and the similarly structured red dress are the only pieces that I really love. The accessories are beautiful, especially the shell necklace, and the fitted corset upper halves are very flattering, however, there’s just nothing particularly exciting about this collection for me.

As for YSL’s S/S 2020 collection, my opinion is pretty similar. Don’t get me wrong, I personally love the embroidered pieces, and the jewell tones, and the whole art teacher/female Russell Brand vibe (I’m aware this is my second Russell Brand comparison of this review, don't @ me) but why does there have to be SO GODDAMN MANY FUCKING SEQUIN SUITS? I included a couple of the more interesting ones just for reference and can you believe that’s only about 1/10 of the sequin suits that were actually shown. I feel like they genuinely made up a good 33% of the show. It’s so boring and overdone from Saint Laurent, like you really can’t convince me that they didn’t do this exact same thing last year and the Eiffel Tower being in the background and the presence of the goddess that is Naomi Campbell and all the fancy lighting in the world isn’t a distraction enough because they DID THAT LAST YEAR TOO. It’s just disappointing from a brand like YSL who really has the money to take it to any wacky and inventive place that they want, and who has drawn on so many historical and cultural references in the past; the bohemian looks I am here for, everything else can go.  

Next is Zadig and Voltaire, which is obviously more of a pedestrian brand than YSL, but still...disappointing. 

I guess disappointing is the wrong word really because it’s not as if I had especially high hopes, it’s just that in comparison to a collection like Off-White’s, which was also a lot more of a “wearable” line, this is very Stradivarius/Zara/H&M/any member of the Inditex group. I like the ruffles, but we’ve seen them done in a much more interesting way in pretty much every other show and same with the blazers and suits. Even the styling of the teal faux fur coat, which I adore, is meh. Even Emily DiDonato can’t save it for me and that’s saying something because she honestly might be one of the most beautiful women on this planet.

On a more positive note, Zimmerman was beautiful. In a collection inspired by the ocean, the tranquil colour palette, the ornate, frothy ruffles and the flowing materials are dead on, and indulgently so. I can see most of these pieces having universal appeal and looking good on anyone, and yet this wearability doesn’t make the collection boring by any means; I think it really is a matter of having a clear concept and attention to detail that save more subtle shows from falling by the wayside. 

And lastly, Zuhair Murad, which is always a designer I look forward to; I love a good princess dress and on that, he always delivers.

However, whilst there’s a similar feel and colour palette to Zimmerman, I’d say this collection doesn’t have quite as clear a direction. There’s definitely a lot of recurring themes of the ruffles and the high necks and the bohemian prints and suits that we’ve seen throughout fashion month, but this still doesn’t feel like the most relevant or current collection I’ve ever seen from Murad. It goes without saying that the dresses are beautiful but in the context of a red carpet where every dress is a princess dress, I can’t imagine any of these taking my breath away which is usually the case. 

I really WANTED to end on a positive note, I’m sorry! And there were so so many amazing moments this season. In general, I’m excited for a lot of the trends that are seemingly going to be coming up: more of the milkmaid thing, peasant blouses, bohemian influences and a shit load of gorgeous suits!

I was going to try and do a top 10 but I honestly have too many favourites so I’m making into a...top 20. It sounds like a cop-out, but when there’s THIS many shows to go through I think a top 20 is perfectly fair. 

1. Gucci

It has to be my favourite overall. The clearest concept, the most beautiful colours, and a whole range of interesting accessories and structures. Blew everything else out the water. Might make like Elsie Fisher in Eighth Grade and just start randomly saying Gucci out loud at totally inappropriate moments to express my love.

2. Marc Jacobs

Kooky and in your face but also thoughtful and delicate. Every piece is a statement. 

3. Moschino

The intersection where art meets fashion is always my favourite place to lurk and so it’s not surprise that Moschino’s Picasso inspired collection ticked so many boxes for me. Aside from that, the structures are gorgeous and on trend and I love the accessories.

4. Valentino

So. Many. Heavenly. Dresses.

5. Mugler

Definitely the sexiest S/S 2020 collection.

6. Paco Rabanne

I mean, yes, it is a little primary school teacher-y (it’s probably the coloured socks), but a fashion-y, wear-it-to-the-club version of primary school teacher style.

7. Ralph and Russo

A prissy pastel dream that channels the Sandra Dee sleepover scene from Grease in the modern day, the only thing that could’ve added to the Ralph and Russo show would be a more diverse group of models.

8. Brock

There’s never going to be an appropriate moment to wear any of the garments from the Brock collection. Does that mean I’m going to stop thinking about it? Never.

9. Balmain

I know Balmain didn’t go down too well with the fashion critics but the noughties pop girls obsessed child in me loveddddd it.

10. Etro

Not the most high-fashion but I would wear.

11. Dion Lee

Dion Lee took corsets and suspenders and harnesses and turned that whole dominatrix trend on its head by pairing them with androgynous silhouettes, fresh whites and subtle nude tones, and I’m here for it!

12. Alessandra Rich

Eighties presidential candidate’s wife/sorority queen realness.

13. Dilara Findikoglu

Definitely my favourite of the more “avant-garde” shows we saw this year.

14. Oscar de la Renta

These dresses speak for themselves, do I really need to say any more?

15. Christopher Kane

Christopher Kane made galaxy print cool again for the first time since it was murdered by 2013 “hipster” Tumblr and then buried 6ft under by the plethora of £5 and under wholesale retailers who thought it would be a good idea to mass produce leggings with said print on. 

16. Loewe

Delicate, purposeful and refined, Loewe put out a practical yet very, very pretty and season-appropriate spring collection.

17. Thom Browne

Thom Browne brought Marie Antoinette onto the runway. ‘Nuff said.

18. Louis Vuitton

I will never turn my nose up at anything 70s influenced and Louis Vuitton’s collection was probably the most authentic (and thus kinda ugly at times) that I’ve seen.

19. Simone Rocha

If I ever became part of some modern day witchy, forest-God worshipping cult, I would expect us all to be wearing Simone Rocha’s 2020 S/S collection and nothing less.

20. Vera Wang

Jenny Humphrey in Gossip Girl for the 2019 e-girl xoxo

SO.

3 parts and 3 months later, this is my review of fashion month 2019 coming to an end. I mean, it’s actually closer to A/W 2020 fashion week now than it is to S/S 2020 buuuut let’s just forget that little detail because I had NO FUCKING IDEA it would take this long.

If there’s anyone out there who read this to the end (and I highly, highly doubt there is and I don’t blame you) or even anyone that looked at the pictures (which is probably what I would do), please let me know! It got a bit long at times but I have generally reallllly enjoyed doing this and more than anything it’s got me sad that I’ll never see these shows in person :( sad times :( oh to be on the benefiting end of nepotism :( 

Thank you sooo much!

Lauren x

[tangled23works]

Way Down We Go Pt 2

Read on Ao3

or keep reading here:

The emergency lights kicked lending the space an ethereal glow. Under other circumstances it would be considered romantic. If they didn't mean that she was now trapped in a metal box with Starling City's prodigal son. Her glasses had fallen off somewhere but she had to untangle herself from Oliver Queen in order to find them. Felicity gasped as she tried to get up. This however meant that she had to put more weight on the Mayor’s body. Needless to say, she ended up touching him in places other women would beg to touch.

“Why are you so hard?” she asked trying to figure out if he was really as much a fitness freak as the tabloids reported.

He made a weird noise like he was choking. Felicity looked at him perplexed as she finally located her discarded glasses behind his head and put them on. Then she replayed her last words in her mind.

“Oh!”

Mayor Queen just pressed a hand to his mouth. Felicity began a heartfelt - if somewhat - incoherent apology before she realized that he wasn’t mortified. Nope. The bastard was actually laughing.

“Oomf, let me get up, you..." She struggled to find an appropriate insult, "You’re so immature Mr. Thick Thickety Thickface!”

“What did you call me?” 

He hadn’t stopped laughing and his blue eyes were sparkling with amusement and mischief.

“Thickface. You know. Like from Doctor Who.”

“Who?”

“For TARDIS’s sake, I’m stuck in an elevator with a man who hasn’t even heard of Doctor Who.” 

She paused for a second looking around. She was actually stuck in there, wasn’t she? Odd, she hadn't considered herself claustrophobic but the fact that she was closed-in and had no way to escape made her hyperventilate. Felicity tried to get a deep breath but realized she couldn’t. Being familiar with panic attacks since her college days didn't mean she could easily defeat them. She hugged herself and backed away.

“What’s wrong?”

He sounded completely serious now. He was even using his mayoral voice. It was deep, full of concern and really attractive, not that she would ever tell him that.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter.”

“We’re stuck here, you dufus! And I just realized something. I think I’m afraid of narrow cramped spaces.”

“You think?”

“Fine. I know I’m afraid. Happy?”

He muttered something unintelligible and pulled out a slick iPhone. Technology! Felicity had left all her things at the office but surely he hadn’t. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Instead she had gone from insulting the Mayor to panicking in front of him. 

Great, Felicity. Just great. 

Relief flooded her body and she sat down in the corner. She might as well get comfortable while waiting for rescue. Judging by his ‘hello’ the Mayor managed to get somebody on the line. Probably poor Denise who was the most efficient person Felicity had ever met. Which was good because it meant that their time together was coming to an end. Quite literally since this was Felicity’s last day on the job.  

“How soon can you get us out of here?”

Whatever the other person’s reply was, he didn’t look pleased.

“Fine,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you call Makayla and warn her? Tell her she can wait at the loft. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Felicity grimaced. Of course he had a date. It was Friday night, the man was single and half of Starling was in love with him. Women must wait in queues for the chance to go out with the mayor. Makayla must be a supermodel or influencer. Or perhaps a youtuber? Felicity shuddered at the thought.

While she had been pondering Makayla's profession, he had put the phone back in his pocket and he didn’t look happy.

“So, we’re not leaving anytime soon huh?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He rolled his shoulders and crossed his ankles. “Do you still feel anxious?”

“Don’t talk about that! I’m fine talking literally about anything else. Just don’t remind me-”

“That you’re stuck in an elevator with me. I heard.”

His voice wasn’t that soft now. He actually sounded prissy. Felicity had to admit that she hadn’t been very welcoming in the past but she had a good reason for that. Also, she never said that she minded being trapped with him specifically.

She cleared her throat. “It’s better that you’re here to be honest. It would have been so much worse if I had been stuck all by myself.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Do you know that’s the first kind thing you have ever said to me, Miss Smoak?”

Felicity smoothed her polka dot dress to avoid looking at him. “Umm, you can call me Felicity you know. After all, I already called you a dufus and a thickface.”

He smiled. And not his fake ‘everything will be okay’ politician’s smile but a real one. She could tell from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and an adorable dimple appeared on his face. Felicity smiled back feeling absurdly pleased.

“And you can call me Oliver, Felicity. I prefer it to dufus anyway.”

She almost shook his hand but since she had been working at City Hall for more than two years it would be totally crazy.

“Just keep talking to me, Oliver. So that I don’t panic again.”

He loosened his tie and considered her. 

“Shall we play a game?”

Felicity gave him a sideways glance. It wouldn’t do to forget that this man was a notorious playboy.

“What kind of game?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He lifted his arms in surrender. “Hey, I live with an eleven-year-old these days. We play guessing games in the car to school so that he doesn't get bored. What did you think I was talking about?”

Felicity winced. She had put her foot in her mouth. Again. People tended to disregard the fact that he was the father of a young boy and not the man who frequented Verdant, getting drunk and sleeping with pretty socialites. Apparently she was guilty of making the same mistake.

“How about twenty questions? I would suggest ‘I spy’ but we would be done in about thirty seconds in here.”

Oliver flashed her a half-smile and nodded. “Me first.” He was quiet for a few moments. “What is Doctor Who?”

Felicity tsked. “Your knowledge of popular culture is sorely lacking if you don’t know the answer to that. Doctor Who is a British science fiction show. It would take me years to properly explain it because it’s been running since 1963.”

“1963?” he asked, full of awe.

Felicity giggled at his expression. “Fans of the show are called whovians.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” She couldn’t help but add, “There is a time machine on the show. Also, aliens and monsters.”

“And I thought that Keeping Up With The Kardashians is the weirdest thing on TV.”

“You don’t know Doctor Who but you know the Kardashians?”

He laughed openly at her outrage. “Your turn, Felicity.”

“They say you have a tattoo. True or false?”

“True.” 

“Where? What is it?” Felicity had always been fascinated by tattoos. She was too afraid of needles to ever consider getting one herself but the thought that Starling City’s mayor was hiding a tattoo underneath those Armani suits… It was hot. Undeniably hot.

“The one they’re talking about is on my left shoulder. It’s a dragon.”

“You got more than one?”

“Yes.”

“Curiouser and curiouser!”

“That I recognize. It’s from Alice in Wonderland, right?”

Felicity was surprised he recognized that iconic line. “Your son likes fairytales?”

“No. Thea went through a whole fairytale phase when she was little. Mom had to read her this one for a bedtime story everyday for a year. We had Alice in Wonderland tea parties and I was always the Mad Hatter.”

She tried to picture him wearing a top hat and sipping from a delicate teacup and failed. The man the city had voted as mayor two years ago was too serious and too sexy to play dress up with a little girl. Although the fact that he was willing to do that for his sister earned him a lot of brownie points.

“Are there incriminating pictures?”

“No.” He answered so quickly that his denial had to be a lie. “That was your fifth question, Felicity. It’s my turn now.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’d rather be the one asking the questions, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t help it. You’re kind of intriguing.”

“Yes,” he said, accepting the compliment because it was true, “but it’s more than that.”

“I’m not that interesting, Oliver.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. And you owe me three more questions before it’s your turn again.”

Wrinkling her nose, she crossed her arms and silently gave him permission to go ahead.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Mr. Mayor that is the most boring question in the history of this game.”

“Humor me, Felicity. You know everything about my family,” his voice slightly mocking, “but I know nothing about yours.”

“Well, since you told me about your Alice in Wonderland tea parties…” she began. Oliver chuckled in a way that showed he enjoyed her teasing so she went on, “I have no siblings. That I know of.”

He tilted his head and a furrow appeared on his forehead. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s a story for another time.”

She thought that her refusal to answer the question would bring a hundred more. But she should have known that being a Queen meant that he had spent most of his life avoiding noisy people and indiscreet questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Red. It depends on the day. Yours?”

“Green. But it’s still my turn, Felicity.”

“Okay, okay.”

“What is your favorite superhero?”

“The Green Arrow.”

“Who?”

“Really, Oliver? You haven’t heard of the Emerald Archer?”

And as he shook his head she proceeded to tell him the story of one of the most underappreciated superheroes of all time. At least in her opinion.

What followed was the most comfortable and fun conversation she had ever had with a man. She tried (and failed) to educate him about Marvel and DC. He tried (and miserably failed) to educate her about sports and his favorite team, the Blue Jays. Who would have thought that the guy she had been avoiding like the plague was so easy to talk to? Most of all she was impressed by the way he was able to laugh at himself and his previous lifestyle. He answered everything she threw at him (even the one about the infamous cop incident) and she purposefully stayed away from questions revolving around his son. Since he had respected her privacy before, it was no hardship for her to respect his. They discussed everything you were supposed to talk about on a first date but without the pressure and sweating that usually accompanied first dates. Felicity felt free to be herself without worrying about being too awkward or annoying.

Oliver glanced at his watch. “I think the fire department will be here soon.”

“Oh, right.” Felicity hadn’t even thought of the time for the past twenty minutes.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Is this really your last day? You’re leaving us?”

Felicity gulped and nodded.

“Are you going to start your own company or something?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“No. Actually, I got an offer from PalmerTech.”

He scoffed. “Ray Palmer?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “What’s wrong with Ray Palmer? He’s a good guy and a wonderful boss. Not to mention that his company is on the top of Fortune 500.”

He removed his jacket with a little bit more violence than the action required. “He’s a douche, Felicity. Plain and simple. Did you know that last month he approached me about renaming the city? As if we would change the name of a whole city just because Ray thinks Star City sounds more modern than Starling?”

“Star City is not a bad suggestion.”

He ran a hand through his hair and glowered at her. “Do you know what a starling is?”

“Sure. It’s a bird.”

“History says that there were no starlings in the United States until a man released 60 of them in Central Park back in the 1900s. According to legend, a shepherd was walking across a field when he heard someone calling for help. He ran towards the voice but couldn’t see anyone. Then the voice called to him from the top of a tree. It was a small bird who could speak like a human. She claimed-”

“The bird was a woman?” Felicity asked, fascinated.

“Of course it was a woman. Wouldn’t be much of a legend otherwise. Anyway, the woman said that her name was Jocelyn and that an evil queen had cursed her to become a bird when she had refused to marry her son. The problem was that the son was the Devil himself.”

“If the Devil looked like Lucifer she wouldn't have said no.”

Oliver didn't pay attention to her irreverence and went on, “So the hero promised to fight the Devil himself and the evil queen for her. He only asked for one thing in return.”

“Let me guess. She had to marry the shepherd when the fight was over.”

“Correct.” Oliver rolled his sleeves up, totally derailing Felicity’s train of thought. There was a vein running along his forearm which drew her gaze like a magnet. “Once they had an agreement, he tapped the ground twice with his crook. It opened to reveal a downwards path leading to the gates of Hell. While the little starling was waiting, the shepherd went down the path and entered Hell. He didn’t return for 320 days.”

“Should have been named Penelope and not Jocelyn,” Felicity muttered.

Oliver let out a startled laugh but continued with the story. “Of course, he came back victorious and proud of himself. The little bird was free and was now a beautiful woman. She married him and they spent the rest of their days raising a family here and building a town called Starling to commemorate the way they met.”

Felicity scrunched her nose. “It’s not a bad story.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mr. Mayor?”

“That we come from somewhere. Our city may not be old itself but it is deeply rooted in history. We don’t want to forget that, Felicity. Forgetting where you come from means you’ll eventually forget where you are headed.”

She didn’t say anything out loud but his words had hit a nerve. Wasn’t she guilty of that? Hadn’t she moved a thousand miles away from Cambridge just to avoid the past? Wasn’t she doing the exact same thing every time a man asked her out? She exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling very disappointed in herself.

“I didn’t tell you the story to make you sad, Felicity.”

She peered at him over her glasses. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… Having an epiphany while being trapped in an elevator sucks.”

Oliver gave her another one of his genuine smiles.

“Anyway, I’ll make sure to tell Ray that our city doesn’t need a name change.”

He ignored her comment. “Did you have big plans for tonight? Seeing that this was your last day working here.”

“Big Belly and red wine.”

"I have never tried Big Belly burger," he confessed.

"But you must! The moment we're out of here you should ask Mr. Diggle to take you. It's in the Glades though and I know that the previous Mayor rarely ventured there but you have to try it at least once. It's full of grease and salt."

"Ah, the secret ingredients," he teased.

Felicity laughed. "What about you? Do you have any big plans for tonight?" she asked even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know more about his date with Makayla, the supermodel.

“My son has,” he stole a glance at his watch again, “well, had to present a science project this evening. I was supposed to be there for him.”

“I’m sorry.” An inadequate sentiment but she meant it.

“It’s okay. He’s used to being disappointed by his parents.”

The offhand comment prickled her curiosity. "What does that mean exactly?"

"You've heard the story. My family paid Samantha - William's mother - a lot of money to disappear. And she did for about ten years."

"But she's back now, isn't she? You live with William after all."

"Samantha decided that she had enough of being a single parent. Last year she left William with me and moved to Central City. She visits him every other weekend."

There was more to it of course. Felicity thought over his words. He didn't say that he paid Samantha Clayton, he said that his family paid her. The press considered it the same thing, but the distinction was important to Felicity. Also, the fact that the boy's mother had chosen to abandon her child with a father he barely knew was incomprehensible. Fathers were the ones who were not reliable based on her experience. People could count on their mothers to always be there. Come hell or high water.

One thing was for sure. She had grossly misjudged Oliver Queen.

[maddiicake]

Ramblings of a Madwoman

Because I honestly have no other idea what to title this as. To put it simple, that's what this entire journal is going to be. From start to finish--no stopping to think about whatever f-ed up stuff will be put into written text and to be immortalized for eternity (deleted after or not) here on the World Wide Web--nothing but unedited, freewriting, off topic sidebar-ing throughout the entirety of this Journal. So, we'll see where and how it ends.

In about a month, I'll have been on DeviantART for an entire decade (and about 8 years since Tumblr). And, I just want to make it clear: I've done a shit tone of fucked up things in all the years that I've been here. Of course, this was things that I mainly did to people. (Yes, people, because, let's face it, whether or not we have the comfort of anonymity behind the keyboard in the middle of our "safe space" of the internet, we're still people on the other side of the screens). But, yes, I've done and said fucked up shit to people during me time here. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Nor will I deny any of the messed up stuff that I've done, especially to said people, in the past decade. I'll spare you all the wall of novel-length text that consists of my usual self-deprecating self-flagellation, since you all know the drill by now. Plus, I would hate putting you all to sleep just at the beginning of this Journal.

I'm messed up in the head. Plain and simple.

In my younger years (earlier in the decade, right about when I first appeared on dA), I had something wrong with me--not sure what, but it was definitely something that I, unfortunately, would never fully realize until recently this year. I grew up sheltered in an overly Conservative and Bible-Thumping household. The neighborhood I grew up in was what my parents lovingly called "God's Waiting Room", because of all the old-timers living in the homes. Any kids around were ones that I wasn't allowed to socialize with because my parents didn't want them "influencing" me. So, needless to say, I didn't have much of a social life growing up. I only went to a real school for two and a half years of my life, and, during that time, I stuck out more than a sore thumb (Hell, I didn't even know what a "Cafeteria" was, because the only "Cafeteria" I knew of was the dinner table. So, needless to say, my first time experiencing "lunch" was very awkward). All in all, being sheltered and not having much of a social life when you're still in your single-digits you grow up having this narcissistic know-it-all, controlling, 'I'm better than you', 'I'm the only person in this world and everyone else doesn't exist' personality and you think that you can control everyone else to your every whim. Being put into a real school with other real life people and kids my age was, obviously, a massive culture shock. When you suddenly realize that other people are their own individual person and have their own free will, you start to become aware that you were educated and raised in a world that could be similar to solitary confinement.

"Oh, hey, (Saki's real name). What're you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to think of how I can get all my classmates together for our superhero team so we can go off and fight bad guys in my head, all the while thinking I can bend them to my will as if they're not actually other human beings."

"...Didn't Chris-Chan already do that?"

"Pfft. This is 2005! Chris-Chan won't be a thing for another few years."

Now, my parents weren't perfect. I was their first child, and the first-borns are always the "guinea pigs"  for new parents.  Of course, I never understood that my parents were humans until my 20s. They made mistakes with me, like thinking that not giving their young impressionable daughter a social life through the first crucial years of her childhood was a good idea.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining--that's always the initial reaction people get whenever they read posts like this from me. "Oh, Saki's just starting drama", "Kura just wants attention", "She's cray-cray and needs help, like srsly...". Believe me, I get it, I completely understand why one would think that I sound like I'm complaining. Because you, the reader, are just reading these little pixelated words that look black on your computer monitor/mobile screen. But, in reality, when up close, those pixels are just a collection of RBGs. You interpret what you see through your reading and comprehension of the words before you. Because you're not the author. You merely interpret what you're writing and filling the blanks with guesswork of what the writer is trying to convey through these little pixels making up words.

It's weird, y'know... They say that "hearing voices" is the first step into insanity. But, are you insane if you're fully aware of it? They say that psychos and sociopaths don't admit nor are aware of their disorder because of the narcissism that accompanies it. So... would you still be a psychopath or sociopath if you admit it and/or are aware of it? These are just a handful of the kind of questions that fill he chaotic Hell in my mind when nothing else is going on.

Lately, though, that hasn't been very often. For those of you, who follow me on Tumblr (by the way, if you still follow me there, you must have a lot of tolerance for me), you may have noticed the rather alarming on-and-off episodes I've been having over the past few weeks. Trust me when I tell you that former friends will assure that "This is normal for Saki/Kura. Just stay away from her. She's just a lost cause. You'll only end up hurt associating with her, much less talking to her."

"Saki... the things you have been saying aren't really 'normal'--"

"Oh trust me... this is the Keemster-level of a 'cycle' that she goes through. Why do you think we made her theme song that Keemstar Parody of All Star? LMAO. This is 100% Normal for her."

But, what is normal? 'Normal' is nothing more than a perception of what we're used to: routines, topics, lifestyles--whatever we are used to. When something occurs that is out of our routine, we immediately perceive it as 'abnormal' (or just not normal). Much life me experience, albeit rather brief, time I spent in an actual school. You feel that unnerving unease as the stranger in a foreign land.

Now, what I do and say isn't Healthy, that would be the proper use of the phrase you're trying to portray. But, my diagnosis came far too late. There's no undoing what is done. There's no chance at saving loathsome sinners, the chance they had was the life they had before and the punishment is this. There's no rainbows inside of demons.

People, who view others outside of their little bubble, call those 'abnormal' people "toxic", simply because that person has disturbing psychological issues. It's like: "Ewww! A mud puddle! Gross I can't believe I stepped in that! Now my $200 shoes are ruined forever because of that damn puddle!" Those people are treated as lower than dirt just because their perceived in such a negative light. It's a label those high and mighty ones quickly slap onto those, who can't help the disorders they have. Sometimes those people aren't even aware they have a disorder, yet those prissy princesses still sit with upturned noses and chastise with their prim: "You need help, srsly." with their venomous undertone of "I'm better than you." Is it really fair to be some uppity hoity-toity sociality; sneering through your little rainbow-soap window down below at those loathsome dirty little plebian peasants? Perhaps that may be "normal" for you.

Sometimes--no, actually, often; very often--I just want to pop that bubble. Let that sprinkle of soap sting their eyes as it dribbles into their corneas. Their screams and cries in pain while they lean over the sink to wash them out would be such a delight.

I would go into more detail about other things regarding this, but I'm not dumb enough to freewrite my thoughts out to the point there's incriminating evidence against me.

"...Saki, this Journal is getting a little dark..."

"It's called 'Ramblings of a Madwoman' for a reason. Besides, the little 13-year-old edgelord wannabes on this website get away with far worse. Trust me, I've seen them. Some of them are in their 20s and haven't grown out of that phase. Them going on and getting away with using their boyfriends, who has ties to the dark Web, to get the personal information (mailing address and all) of the people they don't like just so that they can have them killed. You'd be surprised how thin-skinned these little lefties are. 'Someone Disagrees with me?? -cue Mission Impossible montage of tracking that person down and killing them-'."

"But you're talking about killing people!"

"I have said no such thing! At least not put it in writing. What part of 'I'm not dumb enough to post incriminating evidence of myself' did you not understand, my dear?"

Yes... it would be nice to have a peace of mind for once day. It would be amazing to not have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from another night terror (had one just last night actually). When people want you dead--and have gone out of their way to find your address so that they can kill you--, all you want to do is keep you and your family safe. People can't kill you if they no longer exist, right? It would be just so nice to be able to go on for the rest of my life without having to worry about being sought after and killed just because I disagreed with someone and told them they were being stupid and immature. Or just randomly responding to condescending Twitter users, who think I'm talking about a certain someone when I'm not. But, just knowing that people still continue to go after me for no apparent reason just causes those night terrors to persist.

I just want to keep my family safe. Selfishly, I want to be able to sleep without having to worry about people in other States and Countries somehow knowing where I live and can come and kill me at any moment.

"Why didn't you call the cops--?"

"Because I didn't know it was them at the time it happened. Their former friend didn't tell me about all the plots and things they said in their Discord server until two years later. So, they were able to get away with this because of the Statute of Limitations."

Regardless, that still won't put my mind at ease knowing that they're still out there and can pull the same thing or worse once again. I wasn't the only one they they did this too, either. Of course, that the YouTube Drama Channels for you. They do fucked up shit behind the scenes while putting on some "I'm a good person" face.

You can't trust people, who act nice publicly. They aren't the innocent souls they want everyone to believe that they are. They want something. They want something from you. And when they've squeezed everything out of you that they want... they'll toss you away with no hesitation because they're done using you. Using you to feed their little lambs, whose fleece are white as snow, while they sleep their way to the top.

They want me dead. They've always wanted me dead. They know where I live, and they'll take me out along with the rest of my family. They'll rejoice and be glad of course~ ^u^ "Ding Dong the witch is dead~!" They will sing as they dance together happily in the streets. "Huzzah! Hooray! The monster has been slain. No longer shall she continue to torment us because we have FINALLY killed her~!" They said so themselves: "I'm happy that people told you these things." That was back in 2015 (and I still have the screenshot and the link to the original post)... half a decade ago. Even back then, they wanted me dead. Their party planning for that day is still in preparation. But, they'll immediately set up once that time come when I no longer exist. "...Saki, you're not okay."

This is what happens to people when they've finally Snapped.

But, I want to get better. Don't get me wrong. I don't like that I've become this person. No, I don't believe in change--I don't believe people can change whatsoever. I just want to feel better and not have to worry about these things anymore. But, I know well that things will never be the same. All I can do is continue moving forward and hope and pray that I don't mess up once again and start the cycle all over.

[nightshade-zoe]

Thoughts while rewatching 3x07

Sorry for the long post

Also I’m incapable of rewatching up through the first scene with Josie but

-I am glad there’s no time jump. I understand why everyone would criticize Anne but I’m tired of her constantly being put down despite having the best of intentions. Also it bothers me the dynamic between Ms. Stacy and Gilbert was “why couldn’t you talk some sense into her” Though at the same time she knows they have a deep connection. ***I realize now she meant “you” as in the class.

-I appreciate that Anne stood her ground against Marilla. Also that Marilla had a moment where she considered what Anne was saying. It reminded me of Marilla when Anne first goes to school and she’s wishing she’d had choices.

-FUCK JOSIE’S PARENTS

-The character growth of Prissy was excellent. She was a beautiful combination of biting retorts and cool logic. You can see her words have an impact both on her mother and Billy so I’m looking forward to seeing how that plays out in later episodes.

-I am a bit confused on why Anne made Josie’s situation worse aside from embarrassing her further. Because Jane already said her reputation was ruined and the engagement was off last episode so it’s not like Anne’s article caused either of those two things. Yes, being used as a scapegoat would hurt, but the fact Gilbert attacked her for “ruining a girl’s life” seems like much. It was Billy who did that. I am still so incensed Gilbert never apologized even if he technically realizes it was Billy who started this.

-I appreciate that Diana and Anne’s friendship is where they can call each other out. It’s an interesting parallel though that when Diana is angry with Anne, Anne heeds her advice. Yet later, when Anne calls Diana out for her treatment of Jerry, Diana just defends herself.

-Josie has a right to be angry. I understand that it’s a realistic dynamic where two girls are sort of friends but one can be mean however it’s unacceptable to me people keep expecting Anne to make things right and be nice with Josie who apparently has been calling Anne trash still. It’s not okay and I’m not okay with how not even Diana has stopped this.

-It would’ve been more powerful if Anne had said “Gilbert, I did try to talk to everyone about it yesterday but you shut me down” instead of attacking him for believing in equality because that was his mistake. He also never actually admits this mistake. It’s an interesting point though about how him bartering for a parcel of land given we didn’t see Gilbert and Winnie interact at the fair really. We saw Winnie’s father offer Gilbert connections to the Sorbonne.

-“before this room spontaneously combusts” cough foreshadowing

-Okay I’m glad for this Ms. Stacy/Anne dynamic. It was a beautiful balance of commending and explaining where Anne went wrong. I did really think Anne was going to mention Josie called her trash though. Side note, I know Anne is banned from the paper and the press is gone but I have a suspicion we will see one more article from her that will actually be impactful.

-It was incredibly poignant to have Mrs. Lynde who most of the time never shuts up and who criticized Anne as soon as she saw the article begin to feel the impact and necessity of the words. Also they focused on the cigar so much like wow props to that foreshadowing.

-Good pop culture reference here with Frankenstein. Diana was rather cruel but it’s been foreshadowed in her initial recoil at the hay on Jerry’s jacket and how she used Jerry’s family, despite their poverty, as an adventure she could slip on for size. I don’t think she’s being malicious though just sighs Jerry’s face. I also think they’re trying to depict unintentional toxicity in relationships and/or being physically attracted to someone but not having feelings.

-YES MS. STACY GO OFF. Also Matthew is the most unproblematic male ever. Also I love how it’s being framed as a learning experience for Marilla too.

-also “what’s next? An ode to cigars?” Cough cough foreshadowing

-I’m super upset on Anne’s behalf but I’m also glad this screaming isn’t for anything as dire as was predicted. Also the poetic justice of her using something Billy destroyed to defend the voiceless. W.R.I.T.

-Um excuse me Moody. Also good on Gilbert for realizing who the actually villain in this story is. I appreciate how this scene is done, showing the importance of male allies while also giving the credit and words to Anne. Also that rather than looking at the article is a whole, Gilbert is taking bits of it that are easier for everyone to swallow and realize they don’t disagree with.

-It is frustrating though he won them over with well reasoned logic but the same couldn’t be said for Prissy.

-I love the parallel of the girls rushing up to Anne and Gilbert smiling. She totally knows he defended her. Also I stan Ruby saying she knows her mind best and also glaring at Moody to agree with jeez

-Ruby saying oh good/Anne having a plan reminds me of Ruby going but you’re NEVER out of plans and also Anne knowing how to save Ms. Stacy.

-Also the music while Gilbert is speaking is the same as when Ms. Stacy defended herself at the town hall.

-The barn scene clowned us butttt Gilbert you’ve got a paint can in front of you. Why do you have to lean over Anne ;)

-Anne said both parties must have feelings and Diana looks stressed hmmm I think they’re going for having physical attraction vs feelings towards someone

-Once again Josie calls Anne trash but this was very well said by Anne. It’s also interesting she says that only you can define your self worth when we saw her last episode question whether anyone could ever love her and this episode question whether her best friend looked down on her :-/

-Josie is totally going to the protest though.

-JERRY AND ANNE . . . Oh no. I love that Anne is really looking out for him. The dialogue is confusing because Anne’s like you have a girl?? And it’s not till later Jerry is like “wait she didn’t tell you”

-I love love love the parallel of Josie taking off her hair ribbons with last season when we first saw them.

-Billy is so abusive like he’s trying to frame this as I still like you despite what you did and just come back to me and everything will be okay. Good on Josie for rejecting him. He clearly took to heart what Prissy said about him having power but not that he’s the one at fault.

-I stan supportive Matthew always always always saying they should let Anne be happy and live a full life and reach her full potential

-Oof the Dianne fight. Once again objects have a lot power. “If you were my friend you would understand” feels like “if I could take it all back I would”

-I’m getting the feeling Diana is just very physically attracted to Jerry and is confused because she thinks that physical attraction and feelings should be the same but aren’t in her case which Anne doesn’t get because she thinks the same way. Anne was right to call her out on her behavior towards Jerry but also/probably will eventually hear Diana’s side of the story. Also yikes at her thinking Diana is going to ditch her.

-I feel like one of my issues with this season of AWAE is that they’re trying to present a ton of relatable teenage experiences but they all get colored by Anne’s past trauma and struggles with self-worth. Fighting with her mother isn’t just a small disagreement, it’s her struggling to remember/figure out if she was/is loved. Having a crush becomes, I just wanted to believe someone could love me that way. Fighting with her best friend is, I’m an orphan who will never be good enough for her. But the fact that her experiences are being tinted this way is never addressed by her or anyone on the show.

-On that note the way Diana says “here we go again Anne Shirley and her tragical tale of woe” bothers me. Has this been an issue before? Is Diana just upset because she feels she has valid problems too, which is very true? Does she not believe Anne? She says “a true story at last”. I never got the sense Anne talked much or at all about her childhood to Diana.

-This is too painful to watch but also they are both so dramatic both when blowing kisses goodbye and fighting that I wouldn’t be shocked if it blows over next episode. I absolutely fought with my best friend like this when I was sixteen only for both of us to call each other sobbing in apology two days later.

-Prissy ❤️❤️ You can see her mother is thinking about what she’s saying. Also I know Jane is under huge backlash right now but I think it’s important that this was included as it’s a perspective a lot of women, even in those that I know, that intelligence and feminism aren’t connected and sometimes those who are privileged can’t see why sexism is an issue

-Gilbert: “just a suggestion not telling you what to do” seemed like a growth in his understanding of Anne

-I loved the little moment between Prissy and Anne showing how they’ve evolved. It was Anne who originally started the scandal about Prissy but they’ve both matured so much and united and ahhh it’s perfect.

-Marilla waving the handkerchief is beautiful. Also the little glance Ruby and Tilly give each other when Anne mentions Diana won’t be joining them.

-THIS MUSIC IS MY FAVORITE MUSIC IN THE SERIES. It’s the hot air balloon music except layered with more instruments.

-I called the freedom of speech AHHHH Good on Josie for taking a stand. Anne smiling at Gilbert reminds me once again of the time they saved Ms. Stacy

-The minister only tries to take boards from the girls.

-That photograph is absolutely going to come back.

-I love the growth of Rachel and Marilla. Rachel crying because this has an impact on her. That proud look matthew gives Marilla for speaking up.

-Also like how did Gilbert rip that paper so perfectly it’s so hard.

-the last frame of this scene is the cigar smoking guy really why didn’t I see this coming the first time

-I love that they have Prissy and Josie talking.

-Also while I perpetually wish we’d seen more of Muriel/Anne that hug was everything.

-Ah I’d missed Gilbert staring longingly at Anne. While he clearly has feelings this season there haven’t been any moments of him just watching her in awe.

-where is this music on the porch from I’ve heard it before someone help

-the spelling. The throwback. The glances of longing. THE MOONLIGHT. The realization they work together well and care about each other deeply and have run out of “misunderstandings”

-Anne did nothing wrong here, as far as she knows, he’s dating Winnie. BUT I am glad we have finally visibly seen Gilbert looking conflicted about there being two girls. And he couldn’t drink his tea.

-They really stole the printing press. I guess the title was “a strong effort of the spirit of good” which fails both in Frankenstein and I guess now also here

-the music overlay is the same as when Anne comes back from Charlottetown terrified of the grifters and grabs marillas hand in 2x03

-really they burned the schoolhouse? Do we have time for this?

[cosmonaughtt]

how I'd rewrite Danny Phantom

forever salty that elmer glue ruined such a good concept so it’s my territory now

Ghosts are dead, 100%. The science behind it is very paranormal investigation-y but the Fenton family is ten thousand times better than the other “ghost hunters” of their time.

Also, there are some ghosts that come from metaphorical deaths. I.E. Pandora, she technically didn’t exist but when the Ancient Greek culture died out, so did the gods and goddesses. They’re not technically ghosts but they are ectoplasm-based, so they get lumped in with them.  

The Fenton family has been a bit dysfunctional for the past four years (10-14 for Danny, 12-16 for Jazz) because it took four years for Jack and Maddie to build the ghost portal. Jazz took over and learned how to really clean the house, while Danny learned how to cook. He’s not the best, but Danny can definitely make some good Ramen from scratch.

Maddie and Jack realized a bit later that the portal had overtaken their life and feel really bad for abandoning their kids, and when it didn’t work they tried to rekindle those relationships. Even with it working, they still do.

We all know what happened when the portal finished; it didn’t work. Because Jack put a switch on the inside that should’ve been on the outside, not the “on-off” button. The switch was loose and when Danny knocked into it, the portal turned on, because it was just waiting for a little spark-- like how when a cord is not totally plugged in. 

This was the beginning of summer, around the end of May, and a month after it was technically done. Danny (no stranger to the hospital, he’d been in a few times when he was younger because he was born two weeks premature) was in the hospital until August, a few weeks before school started. He was exempt from his eighth-grade exams and passed all of his classes, so the district let him slide.

Danny doesn’t have an ice core. As cool as it is (pun intended) it makes no sense in the narrative. Like, he was electrocuted, and he’s got the “ghost-stinger” ability, why would he have ICE POWERS? He’s got an electricity core instead (slightly inspired by the electric undead oops). 

His ghost sense is less of a mist and more of a gut feeling, and he literally becomes a static electricity magnet.

Danny’s character is a bit closer to the show.

He's quiet around strangers, but open with his friends. Trust thing.

Still made fun of for being the kid of two weird parents, but he’s honestly used to it by high school. He’s also bullied for his autism and ADHD, but he’s been bullied for them for about ten years so he’s used to it.

Still wants to be an astronaut-- science is his best subject, second to math. History is his third-best, he hates English and Gym class.

He’s tiny and scrawny, like a toothpick. It comes from being a sick child, though after the accident he’s able to lean out and gain a bit of “muscle”. 

After the accident, he gets a bit paler than he was before and doesn’t tan. There’s also a Lichtenberg scar covering about half of the right side of his body from the accident, going from his fingertips, up his arm and over his chest, neck, about down to his knee. 

He’s incredibly self-conscious about it but it doesn’t hurt, weirdly enough. For the “first season” he covers up and wears a lot of sweaters and long-sleeves. 

His pulse and body temperature are much below normal. The hospital was concerned with this after the accident, but after a few days of him seeming fine, they had to drop it. Danny can also hold his breath about five times longer than a normal human.

Is he half-dead? Yes, technically. Does he not try and think about his mortality? Yes.

He enjoys puns and jokes still, though he makes them more as Phantom.

Speaking of Phantom, no, he doesn’t go by “Danny Phantom”. Just Phantom. He is trying to avoid dissection from his parents, you know. 

Phantom has no scars from the accident, the only thing that he has in common with his human half is the mole on his cheek, but it’s green now (because yes, both halves have freckles!) because of his ectoplasm. He’s much more floaty, and if you don’t focus on him  he looks like he’s made of television static. He also has little fangs.

You can see his details better up close, and the longer you spend with Phantom, the more details you can see. All ghosts are like that, their energy is on the fritz all the time and human eyes need to adjust to it to understand certain features. The only reason Sam  and Tucker know him right away is because they watched him, y’know...

Danny is asexual, only realizing the identity in the middle of freshman year when Sam literally had to explain that yes, Danny, sexual attraction is a thing and not made up. (Based on my own experience.)

Sam and Tucker are both different in this story, but they still remain Danny’s only friends. They have other friends, though.

Sam is still goth.

She wears all black and even dyed her ginger hair black. There aren’t many surviving photos of Sam with her natural hair, she made sure of it. 

Sam is like... punk-goth? Punk-goth-grunge? She identifies as goth, but her clothes can fit all three categories, really. 

100% bisexual, has bi pins all over her bag. Out to her parents, who are slowly trying to understand. She doesn’t mind they/them pronouns, either, and her gender identity is just a shrug with middle fingers.

She knows a lot of the LGBT students at school and is the vice-president of the GSA she helped found. 

Both Sam and Danny had a mutual crush on each other through half of freshman year and all of eighth grade, Sam decided that she’d rather be friends and Danny realized it was mostly him wanting to be friends. 

Sam is vegan. She isn’t as pushy about it as she is in the show (I feel like it was extreme and really made fun of vegans/vegetarians, I know it’s a kids show but still) and all of her family is vegan, too. She’s big on animal rights, but recognizes the line to not cross.

Her family is also Jewish, like in canon.

Though she did campaign and successfully get the school  cafeteria to have a “Tofu Tuesday” every other week, so that’s something, at least!  (And where Mystery Meat would start)

Still mourns My Chemical Romance, into all music like that. 

Tucker is still a “nerd”, but he doesn’t get picked on by the jocks for being a nerd. 

He’s pretty hipster, too. His red beret is now a red beanie, and he has naturally curly hair poking out. He loves his natural hair, he just  loves the beanie.

His “nerd”  seems from his technological abilities. He has the latest smartphone a month after it comes out, and always has a “tablet”/iPad knockoff in his bag. He knows how to take things apart and sell them for money, and is also pretty good at programming.

Tucker DEFINITELY has a gaming channel. He only has about 3,000 subscribers, but that’s still pretty good. His most-popular video is him talking about the Indie game industry. He might try and program some of his own games (ahemPhantomfangameahem)

He loves meat, just like in the show. He jokes about it a lot with Sam, and Sam jokes back. Sometimes they can lead into fights if neither are in the mood, but both of them are pretty good-natured about it.

Tucker is a ladies-man, and a man’s-man, and a nonbinary’s-man-- he’s pansexual. Doesn’t figure out that’s a thing until he stays behind school one day to help Sam with the GSA, but once he does he’s out and proud. Still flirts terribly, though, but now no one is immune from his terrible flirts.

Scared of doctors and needles-- had a bad experience as a child, projects it on everything medicine-related. Tries to avoid taking medicine at all cost, unless it’s really severe. Hates flu season, can be a bit of a hypochondriac/germaphobe. Has one of those Bath and Body Works  hand sanitizer things on his bag.

Out of the trio, he’s more terrified of the ghosts, though after a while he gets used to them.

The A-Listers and school remain mostly the same.

Wes Weston is 100% a thing.

The A-Listers are more preppy than before, and definitely try and get away with what they can with modern fashion-- at least, Paulina and Star will. Dash and Kwan are a bit fashion-deaf (Kwan. Owns. Crocs.)

They’re still jerks and Dash still picks on Danny a lot, but the teachers are more competent and he can’t get away with more physical stuff unless no one is looking. Dash is probably a victim of his own domestic abuse at home and takes it out on people-- totally wrong and not moral, but he doesn’t think there’s much of an option. Only Kwan and Paulina know about his situation.

Kwan is pretty smart and strong, but he dresses like a disaster. He mostly sticks to wearing his letterman jacket and a black t-shirt and jeans, but if he ever has to “dress-up” or wears something else, it’s awful. Cargo shorts galore. Crocs. Someone get the Fab 5 to help  him, please.

Paulina is pretty prissy, and doesn’t like getting dirty often. She’s a cheerleader and she’s good at it, but she’s only second-in-command of the squad, or however that works. She doesn’t mind, less work for her to do, and the person in charge enjoys it a lot. Paulina tends to make fun of Sam and Tucker’s clothes often, and like the rest of the A-Listers, everything listed above for Danny (sans the Phantom thing). Once Phantom becomes big, she gets a huge celebrity crush on him, probably has ten different Stan accounts for him.

Star is the head cheerleader, and enjoys every moment of it. She also enjoys math, and she’s really good at  that too. Of the canon characters, only Danny can keep up. She isn’t good at much else academia-wise, though she does enjoy a bit of biology and forensics. Much smarter than most people think-- it will astound you.  

Valerie is a part of their squad at first, only because she, Paulina and Star live in the same neighborhood. After Valerie moves to an apartment, their friendship falls apart after a big fight-- this is entirely not ghost-related, by the way. Vlad only contacts her after learning that her dad was hurt in a ghost attack and Phantom wasn’t there to help, and emotionally manipulates her. She becomes the Red Huntress and hunts Danny, and they do date for a few months before calling it quits. I’m not big on shipping, per say, but if there has to be a canon endgame, it’ll be these two.  

Wes Weston. He’s technically canon? I guess? But also fanon? Either way, having a character like Wesley Weston trying to expose Danny as Phantom and always failing is hilarious, but can also introduce other things into the series as well. How does Wes know? Is he like, psychic, or something...? 

 Oh, and Vlad.

He’s much more emotionally manipulative. Danny was really considering having him train him in ghost-powers and stuff until Vlad made an off-comment about Jack, and Danny saw through the act.

They’re very much enemies. Not frenemies, but enemies. Danny is terrified of Vlad, but doesn’t want him to hurt his family.

Vlad, above all, wants a family. He missed out on those years being in and out of the hospital because of his own, botched accident, and he has scars all over his face from the “ecto-acne” that he hides with makeup.

He’s equivalent to Elon Musk, but less of a weeabo. DALV Corporations has a lot more stock in experimental sciences, though, including paranormal investigation. When he learns that Jack and Maddie had successfully created the Ghost Portal, he puts a lot more funding into their projects and reconnects. 

Still got the creepy Maddie-crush. Does get a cat named Matti, though (no connection or correlation, shut up, Daniel). Hates Jack because of his own accident, and begins to despise him even more for not noticing the scars left on Danny’s accident, too.

Less of a vampire in ghost form. He has a fire core, which makes a lot of his ectoplasm heat-based. Probably has laser eyes that Danny desperately tries to emulate but alas, cannot. The only reason he has a leg up on Danny is experience, not strength. He was only blasted in the face, not the whole body, after all.

At some point there’s probably an argument with Vlad and the Fentons and he decides “screw it” and makes an offset of DALV that focuses on ghost-hunting.

No Mayor thing, but he does move away from Wisconsin to live  in Amity Park.

Amity Park is... Well, it’s something.

It was already a pretty creepy town before the ghosts get involved.

It was already a pretty creepy town before the ghosts get involved. 

There’s always been unexplained murders, disappearances, and strange lights in the sky that no one could identify—a lot of hints towards something other-than-ghosts existing, which makes sense. 

Amity Park is much weirder after the ghost portal opens. Not because of the ghost attacks and their ghostly superhero, but because the veil was torn a bit, and it was felt throughout the town. 

On the moment of Danny’s accident, there was a massive power outage, and they become a bit more frequent to everyone’s dismay.  Much of the older residents of the town are against ghosts—if excepting Phantom, on occasion. The younger residents are more open to the undead spectres, though, and are much less afraid of them. 

Phantom becomes a youth icon, and his twitter account that started off small and as a joke gets him national popularity. 

Tucker, naturally, rides this wave and gets a giant boost in YouTube subscribers, especially after he posted a few videos with Phantom. No one questions this except the A-Listers, who just want to know howhe did this. 

Okay that’s enough of an info-dump I don’t want to spoil everything. I’ll probably post this stuff on my ao3—calling this story “Hero Complex” for now, still working on the title.

[adambethyname-blog]

Complaints After Seeing “Avengers: Endgame”

We are a week removed from the release of “Avengers: Endgame.” After seeing it last Friday night, I pretty much went on a tear reading every interview, analysis, and commentary I could find all over the interwebs. I noticed that there was a commonality between a lot of the questions that people generated after a first pass through the movie. But this isn’t about questions, it’s about complaints and grievances.

First and foremost, a quick review: I absolutely loved it. It takes a lot of skill to wrap up 22 movies and that’s probably why the movie was three hours long, but the writers deserve a special pat on the back for not re-treading through old story lines in an effort to bring people up to speed. For example, Captain Marvel just shows up... no explanation. You were expected to have seen “Captain Marvel” back in March. You were required to know who she was and what she could do, and if you didn’t... well, that’s on you. 

Now, to be the prissy little diva that people expect me to be, I’m going to list my petty, whiny complaints. Why? Well they’re the most fun because I am never truly satisfied with anything. 

Thanos’ death wasn’t good enough: Honestly, he deserved worse. MUCH worse. They spent 22 movies building Thanos up to be this God-like villain who was almost invincible. When push came to shove and it was time to finish him off, he sat down and got dusted after Tony Stark/Iron-Man snapped his fingers. 

There were so many characters in the Marvel MCU that deserved to pull the trigger on Thanos. Drax’s family was murdered by Thanos. Nebula was taken apart a piece at a time for disappointing him. Thor lost half of the survivors of Asgard along with his brother, Loki, to Thanos’ genocide. Gamora deserved revenge for her mother’s death which we saw in “Infinity War.” Hawkeye saw his three children and wife disappear during a Hallmark-moment family picnic (Aside: there was a 15.6% chance of Hawkeye’s whole family being dusted with him surviving. Yikes,). So to just see him sit down, accept his fate, and turn into the contents of a 77 El Camino’s ashtray was a little anticlimactic. I actually said out loud in the theater, “That’s it?”

Really? Rats walking on the keyboard? : The big question after seeing the trailers leading up to “Endgame” had to have been “How does Ant-Man get out of the Quantum Realm since we saw Hope, Janet, and Hank get dusted on the rooftop in the “Ant-Man & the Wasp” post-credit sequence. I was thinking the surviving Avengers would get some lead about Ant-Man that would lead them to the van or something. Maybe his daughter finds the van (in the comics, she takes up the Ant-Man role) while looking for her dad. But no. Random rats just happen to stroll across the control panel and they happen to hit the “retrieve” button which just HAPPENS to bring Ant-Man back from the Quantum Realm. C’mon. That’s just lazy writing right there.

Stark’s Infinity Gauntlet Was Good Enough to House the Infinity Stones? In “Infinity War,” Thor travels to Nidavellir, a distant planet next to a dying star, to see Eitri (Peter Dinklage) about forging a new weapon to fight Thanos since Thor’s hammer was destroyed in “Thor: Ragnarok.” While conversing about the events that have gone down, we’re told that Thanos sought out Eitri about creating the Infinity Gauntlet for the express purpose of housing the six Infinity stones. We’re even shown the mold. 

It’s pretty much an understatement that to say that the Infinity Stones are powerful and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that it would require something very special in order to harness all their power. Quite frankly, if I had to lay a bet, I’d say a molten glove forged from the heat of a dying star would do the trick. But to find out later on in the movie that Tony Stark was just able to cobble one together using old armor parts with Earth-harvested materials is a little much. Not to mention, whatever metal he used to make the Stark Gauntlet had the exact durability of the star-forged-space model. Not to mention, he was smart enough to make a gauntlet, but knowing what a snap did to monsters like the Hulk and Thanos, he couldn’t have beefed up his own version a little more to protect himself? It seems short sighted for a genius-level weapons engineer.

The Stones are still out there: “Avengers: Endgame” is supposed to mark the end of this entire storyline in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Truthfully, it was wrapped up pretty tight with major story lines closed. However, Steve Rogers aka Captain America takes the Infinity Stones back to the spots in the timeline where they “borrowed” them from. That means, quite frankly, another megalomaniac can grab a stone and start this mess all over again. As definitive as the end of “Endgame” was, there’s still an opening for the dreaded “reboot.” Oh boy, get ready for gender-flipped “Iron Man” a la “Ghostbusters” in 2025.

Nebula killing herself should have created a time paradox: If someone invents a time machine at noon, it won’t be 12:05 before someone brings up the rules of time travel established by “Back to the Future.” For some reason, we, as a society, have decided that of all of the time travel rules that we’ve learned as a result of pop culture, it’s “Back to the Future’s” rules that we are committing to the Constitution of Time Travel (I’m sure some of “Terminator” is going to be sprinkled in there as well). Even in “Endgame,” we are treated to Scott Lang, professional cat burglar, pontificating about time travel and casually dropping the rules about time travel including “no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events...” Professor Hulk throws cold water on the whole theory by saying, “If you travel to the past, that past becomes your FUTURE. And your former present becomes the past. Which can’t now be changed by your new FUTURE.” 

Still with me? Head explode yet?

Nebula’s case was driving me nuts for a solid week because in order for Endgame Nebula to become Endgame Nebula she had to evolve from Past Nebula. The two confront themselves toward the end of “Endgame” and EG-Nebula shoots P-Nebula. Now, P-Nebula doesn’t have the opportunity to evolve into EG-Nebula so EG-Nebula should CEASE TO EXIST because the events that turn P-Nebual into EG-Nebula will never happen and therefore EG-Nebula won’t come to be.

I get what Professor Hulk was saying, but the Nebula’s case is different because it’s literally the same person on the same timeline, just at two different points, that were brought together at a single common point in time. Quite frankly, using my time travel theory, P-Nebula COULD have killed EG-Nebula because then P-Nebula could still evolve into EG-Nebula; however the door doesn’t swing both ways since time is linear (which was confirmed by The Ancient One in another scene). 

I thought a better ending would have been for P-Nebula to kill EG-Nebula and when it looks like Thanos is about to re-snap the world again, P-Nebula turns on him and finishes him off. Why? Well you have to go back to “Guardians of the Galaxy.” 

“Guardians Vol. 1″ revolves around the acquisition of the Power Stone. Ronan the Accuser acquires the stone and wants to head to Xandar to destroy the planet. Nebula and her sister Gamora have been sub-contracted to assist Ronan in getting the Power Stone on behalf of Thanos; however, when Ronan realizes what he has, he tells Thanos to piss off and he’s keeping it for himself. Ronan is going to destroy Xandar and then come for Thanos (who at this moment is stoneless). Nebula who watches the FaceTime call Ronan has with Thanos turns on her father. She says, “You see what he’s turned me into. You kill him, I will help you destroy a thousand planets.” It’s apparent that even way back then, Nebula was harboring some awful feelings for her father who turned her into a cyborg for losing sibling fights with her sister. 

In “Endgame,” P-Nebula comes from the “Guardians Vol. 1″ spot in time, so it’s safe to say that she is still harboring these terrible feelings for her dad. It would have been poetic justice if she turns on him right when he’s about to fulfill his destiny. 

Yes. These are petty, but I have a petty mind that questions things like this. I just hope that when you commit to 22 movies, you put a LITTLE more thought into the plot. I mean, c’mon.

Oh, before I forget. “Spoiler Alert.” You probably should not have read all of the above stuff if you haven’t seen “Avengers: Endgame.” Consider yourself warned. 

[past-perfect-future-tense]

Elements of Chance Part 4

So apparently my Word program has decided to work so I’ll post the next part of the book.  Again, I like comments, reblogs are good, whatever you want to talk about from the post.  Tags are at the end.

“Can you at least for once tell me where we’re going? For the better half of the day I have been at your mercy.” I questioned for something, I would be happy for even a hint of the destination.

“Well, it’s not as though I sat and planned this day out. I think you will like where we’re going. No, I think you will love it! I think you might even hug me to thank me for the surprise.” He was smiling as he said this.

“Don’t push your luck. So if I love it I will hug you and if I hate it can I hit you?” He wasn’t too keen on that idea as I could see from his expression. “So do we have a deal? I mean if you are that confident in your assumption, then you won’t mind the wager.” I could see I was pushing it and he was playing along.

“Fine, you can hit me if you don’t like the place that I’m taking you. Care to shake on it?” Now he was just being coy.

“No, I trust that you will hold up your end of the deal.” I smiled at him as we continued to walk a little further. If he left me here, I would have no idea where we were. I’ve been in London and some of the areas I’m very familiar with, however this was not one of them. Eventually we came up to a store with two large windows framed in bright yellow. It was very eye catching and quite bright for the area. The yellow caught your attention and was a pop of color against the dull brick facade of the building and those around it. I read the sign, it was a book store. He was right and I would have to hold my end of the deal.

“So, do you like our destination?”

“Yes, I love bookstores! How did you know?” I was surprised and flattered by his observations of me.

“After your display at the museum when you became distraught over not being able to buy some books I figured you would love a place like this. Come on, let’s go inside.” He reached to open the door but before he could reach the handle I reached out and embraced him. I gave him squeeze and stood upon my tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” I was touched by his thoughtfulness and kindness. Why did he have to be so perfect? Why did he have to be so hard to resist? He smiled and opened the door and I walked in ahead of him.

The smell of the bookstore was amazing. I loved the smell of old books. It had a familiarity and history that you can’t get from a big bookstore with bright lights and a crowd of people competing for overpriced books. From the sign on the front I read that it sold rare and used books. When I was in London previously I had taken home several used books from a charity shop in Chelsea near the flat where I was staying. When you find an old used book, it would seem to me like a pirate finding a treasure and the contents of the treasure were truly valuable, even if only to you. We split up and began to look for different things. The shelves were tall and the store had a yellow border that wrapped around the inside perimeter. Books were in almost every corner, like a buffet waiting to be devoured by famished brethren.

What he was looking for I did not ask about and vice versa. I didn’t know where to start, so I began in the back of the store and worked my way to the front. Going aisle by aisle browsing for anything that caught my fancy, I was in a reader’s heaven. He was the opposite and worked from the front of the store to the rear. I found a small stash of Edgar Allen Poe and decided to buy a book of his short stories. It was in great condition for a hard back and had an interesting dust jacket. I continued my journey through the narrow byways of the store searching for a jewel in the rough.

I found a jewel in the rough; he was standing in the same aisle as me. Tall, blonde, fair skin and sexy as sin, he was like a leading man from a novel too good to be true. I could picture him riding horse-back in an Austen novel through a field on a cloudy day to find his true love; with the wind in his hair and the determination to get to her at any cost set in his face. He looked over at me and smiled. I smiled and looked away. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, watching me, waiting for his moment. Would I allow him a moment? I looked back toward him and he mouthed hello. I gave him a short friendly wave with my hand and went back to my book. I wondered what book he was combing through. Should I take a chance and go to him? No, I could never do that. He looked my way again and I figured I would go for it. With all of my courage I looked him in the eyes, put a kiss in my hand and blew it to him. He caught it and then did the most unthinkable thing he could ever do, he put it on his crotch. He then gave me a sly, devious smile. I rolled my eyes and looked away in complete disgust. It was funny and I hated to admit it. Smiling at him with slight disdain, he casually walked over to me. No matter how distasteful his joke had been or not, he was inexplicably handsome in his caramel colored suede jacket and dark blue jeans.

“You had to ruin it didn’t you?” I told him with disappointment in a low voice.

“I just wanted to make you laugh, that’s all. Hey you have to admit it was funny.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright it was a bit funny and you may wish that, however I will have nothing to do with that area of your body.”

“I can dream can’t I?” He laughed lowly as not to disturb the others in the store.

“Yeah one of your better dreams…” I wasn’t finished looking at books. So I looked back to the shelf I was before.

“So you don’t do everything, do you?” He was questioning me, continuing his game.

“I believe that my sexual prowess is none of your concern.” I continued on.

“You’re a hard one to figure out.”

“Me? You’re the one making vulgar gestures in a bookstore.”

“I’m not giving up on you, no matter how difficult and prissy you are.”

“Congratulations, you’re figuring me out.” I put my arm in his, “And you like me to be difficult and prissy.”

“See, there you go, you win me over again. I do like difficult and prissy. Although I didn’t know I did until today.”

“So, what book did you find?” I asked him about his selection.

“I found an old copy of a song book, words and music from the Doors.”

“Oh, I love the Doors. I had such a crush on Jim Morrison….I would look at the album cover of his single face, while my mother played it on our turn table, a 78.” I wistfully looked at him as I remembered back. “May I look at it?”

“Here” He handed me his book and took mine to browse through. “You like Poe?”

“No, I love Poe. His dark, brooding energy, it gives me chills. I have several different compilations of his, nothing like this one though. It will be perfect for my collection.”

“He is quite interesting, I like him as well.”

“This is a really good find.” I gave him the book back. I continued to look through the art section. I found three others I decided to take. There were mainly picture books of Helen Frankenthaler, Gustav Klimt and Andy Warhol.

“So you collect picture books too?”

“Yes, I started when I first entered college and haven’t stopped since. I started collecting them of Georgia O’Keefe, since she was my inspiration to try painting. The more I really started to study art, not just as an artist but as an appreciator, then I began to collect many other artists. I will always collect my favorites first, but now if I find a good book of any artist that I feel remotely has an impact on art, and then I will add them to the collection. My goal is to have a library of picture and biographies of artists in my studio. I would like my children, if I have any, which I doubt, to be able to go to my studio and pick up a book and find out what they need to. A visual art history if you will.” He was not surprised by this; he seemed to understand me more than anyone on this. What my desire was and how I was fulfilling it.

“I think your ‘children’ will be inspired by your commitment to their art education. I know I try to do the same with mine as well. Art is a natural reflection of life. Some of its good, some not, but the beauty of it all is that it is a part of all cultures in any time throughout history. There’s nothing more pure and contrived hosted in one thing out there. Well, maybe music, we aren’t talking about that though.”

“No not today, but we can sometime.”

“It’s good to know you were listening and not just imagining me naked. I know that is very difficult for you not too, but please, I have my dignity.” He stood next to me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh my God, I’m going to vomit.” I put my hand over my mouth and made a gagging sound. He smiled at me and then I said, “I would have thrown up had I’d of had anything in my stomach.”

“So you are saying you are hungry?”

“No. I’m not hungry, why would I be hungry? I mean I haven’t eaten anything all day come to think of it. We should go eat. Are you hungry, too?” I asked him.

“Yeah, come on. Are you finished looking around? I am. We have been here for a couple of hours. They would probably be glad to get rid of us.” I followed him to the counter. “Ladies first”

“Thank you.”

“Hello and how are you this evening?” The clerk asked me. He was a younger man, in his early twenties.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.”

“Was there anything in particular you were looking for?”

“No, not really, mostly just browsing and whatever looked appealing, well then you just take, right?”

“Yeah that is the way to browse, have an open mind. Art enthusiast?” He asked me.

“Yes, all my life I’m afraid.” I smiled at him and he returned the smile.

“You know she is an artist herself. She even has a show going on. You should check it out. Here is the card for the gallery.” He gave the clerk a card from the gallery. When did he confiscate that?

“I will; thank you.” The clerk smiled at me and then at him.  

“Oh, here put them all together.” My friend handed the clerk his book.

“No they are separate purchases. Thank you though for offering.” I smiled at him and handed him the book back.  

“Wait I owe you some books, remember.” He put the book back on the counter and the clerk took it swiftly and rang it up before I could try to take it from him.

“That’s right you do owe me some books, however these will not make up for the others.” I slightly scowled and as the clerk laughed.

“I think I owe you much more than the books.” He said and the clerk looked down and began to put our books in a bag. He gave the clerk his credit card and we waited for the transaction to finish. The young man gave him the receipt, the bag of books and thanked us.

We left the bookstore in search of something to eat. I really was famished. I was starting to get light headed.

“You know the restaurant is a bit far from here, so I’ll get a cab. We have done quite a bit of walking today.” He hailed the cab for us and as usual I was the first one in. He told the driver the address and we were off.

 Tags @nightcrawler0213 @dracris33 @xmarveled @michelehansel @melodramaticfanatic

[qzwrites]

here you want some ridiculous ace attorney fic where edgeworth doesn’t realize he’s gay? because here you fucking go

am i confident in this characterization or this writing? no. but is this an incredibly funny concept with some lines i’m very very proud of? yes.

---

"Miles Edgeworth," Franziska said without so much as a hello the instant Miles picked up the phone, "tell me what L.A.'s gay culture is like."

"Good morning, Franziska," Edgeworth said. "How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking. And what?"

"I require an insider's perspective," Franziska said. "You will provide it."

Baffled, Miles pulled up the relevant Wikipedia page, which hadn't been updated for two years, evidently, but he couldn't imagine it would be too wrong. Yes, the few things he knew seemed to match up with the website. "Well," he said, "centered in West Hollywood, for one thing."

"Fool! That is easily researchable information," Franziska chided. "I asked for a personal perspective."

"I don't have one," Miles said. "I don't exactly have a lot of time for socializing, as you should know."

Franziska sighed loudly. "You useless fool," she said. "I have recently determined I am a lesbian, or at the very least primarily attracted to women. I have a personal interest in the subject and you have no reason to keep this information from me."

"What?" Miles asked. At least that explained why she was asking, in a manner of speaking. "Good for you, congratulations, whatever, but I don't see why I would have any information about this, let alone keep it from you."

"Miles Edgeworth, are you telling me that in four years you have made no efforts at all to learn the culture of this city you were so intent on returning to?" She tsk'ed at him, which he could hear perfectly well through the phone, and thus imagine her wagging her finger at him almost as clearly.

"I understand the culture of Los Angeles just fine, thank you," Miles said. "I'm less acquainted with subcultures which have never proven relevant in a case, and in which I am not immersed."

"I am beginning to feel put upon, Miles Edgeworth," Franziska said. Great, three names in one short conversation. She had the temerity to be annoyed at him, when she was the one calling him at work to ask ridiculous personal questions. "If I ever find a reason to visit your incomprehensibly chosen home city, I do not wish to be lost or out of place. As such, I require this information and insist you stop evading my questions."

Miles put his hand to his face. "Franziska," he said. "I am not evading your questions. I have no information for you, and I am at work."

"Hmph. Very well," Franziska said. "But I will leave you with this observation, which you apparently require: you are never going to acquire a boyfriend with that attitude." The phone clicked and the call ended.

Miles stared at the screen. "Why would I..." That would explain why she thought he would have an insider's perspective on L.A.'s gay culture, he supposed. Though how she had reached this conclusion, when he had never indicated any such interests, he frankly had no idea. Franziska wasn't ordinarily one to jump to conclusions.

Well, he thought, she was still a teenager. Better that she make mistakes in her personal life and assumptions than in the courtroom, certainly. As long as she didn't mention it to her father.

*

"Someone oughta tell that old lady she's barking up the wrong tree," Gumshoe said, shaking his head.

"She is certainly optimistic," Miles said. "You'd think she would have better luck with men her own age." Gumshoe made a face. "What is it, Detective?"

"Uh, nothing, sir!" Gumshoe said.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't concern yourself with it," Miles said. "Spit it out."

"Uh, it's just...Aren't you gay, sir?"

Miles stared at him. "Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked.

"Nothing, sir, no reason! Forget I said anything!" Gumshoe said, and immediately found a reason to inspect a different part of the crime scene.

Baffling. Perhaps someone was spreading rumors. He couldn't see the point, or that it made any difference, so he put it out of his mind.

*

While he was in Germany, a colleague invited him to a lunch meeting. The colleague in question was a clever forensic scientist who even Franziska acknowledged was "only occasionally foolish". Miles assumed they were going to discuss a case, or investigation techniques. His colleague was clearly under the impression it was a date. It hadn't occurred to him a lunch meeting with a colleague might be as much of a trap as an invitation to an event, and made what he feared were abrupt excuses.

Visiting another department for a celebration of some mundane goal, someone asking personal small talk questions asked if Miles had a boyfriend back in the States. Was this happening more frequently, or had he not noticed before? She didn't assume anyone else at the table was gay, he noticed. "I don't have time to date," he said, which was truthful, if misleading, but he barely knew anyone there and there was no point in making a scene. Even if she had made an assumption about him and no one else. Which felt quite personal.

There was still no way to disabuse anyone of the notion without looking like he was protesting too much, or homophobic. And he certainly wouldn't want to make things awkward for Franziska, even if she would never admit something like that bothered her.

*

Miles should have known better than to let Phoenix Wright choose and lead him to a restaurant. Wright got turned around and had to ask for directions, while Miles waited impatiently behind him.

"...And then we go straight," Wright said, and the small older woman he'd asked for directions nodded and shooed him away. He started walking the way the woman had told him, and Miles went along with him. Wright glanced over his shoulder at Miles, looking amused. "Well, that last part might be hard for us, but other than that I think we're golden."

"Excuse me?" Miles said.

Wright's smile flickered a little. "We--might have some trouble going straight," he said, as though Miles might have simply misheard him. His fault, really; he should have been more clear, since he knew Wright was easily misled. "I mean," Wright went on, "I know it's not a good joke, but I can't resist a set-up like that."

"I don't understand how it's a joke," Miles said. He generally avoided admitting that to people, but Wright was consistently and persistently friendly, so Miles wasn't especially concerned about him taking offense or thinking less of Miles. "You're the only one here getting turned around going to places you've been before."

"No, it's...it was a gay joke, Edgeworth," Wright said, no longer smiling at all. He looked confused, even, which made two of them. "I'm bi, you're gay, we can't just go straight?"

Well, this was getting ridiculous. "Why do you think that?" Miles demanded. "Who told you that?"

"No one told me," Wright said, holding a pacifying hand up. Maybe Miles had been a little strident with that demand. "Sorry, are you not?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Miles said. "Other people keep saying it, though, and I don't see why."

Wright frowned at him. "Really?" he asked. He shook his head. "No, I believe you, it's just...I was really sure this time." He scratched the back of his neck. "At least I'm not the only one making assumptions, I guess."

If it was just him, Miles wouldn't be so frustrated, but if it kept happening, he was obviously doing something to encourage this impression. Miles glanced at Wright, who looked a little deflated. Embarrassed, perhaps. Which made sense, Miles supposed; he hadn't ever heard anything about Wright being bisexual, which meant he just tried to come out to Miles in a casual way and had it go awkwardly.

According to the old woman, they were still half a mile away from their destination, which left plenty of conversation time to fill. "Wright," he said. Wright looked over at him. "Since you just made the same assumption, maybe you could tell me why this keeps happening."

Wright laughed, and immediately covered his smile with a hand. "Sorry," he said. "But...you really don't know?"

Crossly, Miles said, "I certainly wouldn't ask you if I did."

Wright groaned, but he was still smiling. "Okay," he said. "Uh. Where to start."

"Where to start"?

Wright must have seen the incredulity on his face, because he said, "Come on, you really don't know?" He waved a hand at Miles. "Your whole...thing. The way you dress, the way you act..."

"That's remarkably stereotypical," Miles said.

"Stereotypes are based on something," Wright said, looking bemused. "It's 2017 and you wear a cravat."

"It's a jabot, Wright."

Wright pointed at him. "That," he said. "That was so prissy. Come on."

Miles gritted his teeth. "If that sort of regressive thinking is the reason people keep thinking that," he said, "perhaps I shouldn't wonder about it."

"Oh, it's not just that," Wright said, matter-of-factly, like he didn't even have to think about it. "I mean, have you ever dated a woman? Or talked about finding a woman attractive? Or, you know, looked at a woman?"

Miles scoffed. "Some of us," he said, "are busy."

"No, all of us are busy," Wright said. "Most people find time to look. I mean, you work with lots of people. Aren't most of them dating or talking about dating, even when things are busy?"

"I've always assumed that's why I'm more efficient than anyone else," Miles said. "I'm not wasting time mooning over colleagues."

"Was Neil Marshall a good prosecutor?" Wright asked.

"Of course he was," Miles said. "He was an excellent prosecutor."

"Tell me, was he single when he died?" Wright asked, in the tone he used in court when he was confirming something he knew to be true. It was astonishing he ever managed to surprise anyone, let alone in every trial.

Miles sighed. "No, I don't think he was," he said. "I believe he and then-Detective Skye were involved for quite some time."

"And was she bad at her job?"

"Of course she wasn't, Wright," Miles said. "Though when she was Chief Prosecutor, she was too busy to date."

"Or was she grieving over her murdered boyfriend she thought her sister killed?" Wright said. "How could she date anyone under all that emotional stress? I don't think it was the workload, Edgeworth."

"Fine, I see your point," Miles said. "Though in that case, wouldn't it make more sense to assume I'm asexual?"

"Mmm," Wright said, which didn't sound like agreement. "That's definitely a possibility," he said, "and I guess if you're really not interested in men, either, that would be the case."

"Yet that's not what you assumed," Miles said. "Or anyone else, as far as I can tell."

"Like I said, there's the way you dress," Wright said. "And act. And you'd probably be more likely to keep quiet about boyfriends, or finding men attractive. Statistically, I mean, the general, hypothetical 'you'."

"Of course," Miles said drily. "And it's impossible to prove a negative. Thank you for confirming my lack of faith in the general population's reasoning ability, Wright."

Wright shrugged. "You asked," he said. "I mean, there's..." He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Don't never mind me," Miles said. "There's what?"

Wright looked over at him and grimaced. "I can't explain it, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you'll think it's stupid."

"That's been true of many things you couldn't explain," Miles said, "but I believe you usually get there in the end."

Wright shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Sorry. But, out of curiosity, who else said something about this to you?"

"I believe the first person was Franziska," Miles said. Then he frowned. "Though I suppose I might not have noticed before she drew my attention to it."

Wright scratched the back of his neck again. "And, uh, she's gay, right?"

"Yes," Miles said. "It was when she came out to me that she said something."

"Hmm," Wright said.

"I don't care for that 'hmm', Wright," Miles said.

"Well," Wright said. "She definitely never told me anything about being queer, or anything about her relationships."

"I don't see how it would come up," Miles said. "Or be any of your business."

"It wouldn't," Wright said. "But...I still knew."

"Well, she isn't exactly the subtlest person," Miles said, which was an understatement.

Wright laughed. "No, she isn't," he said. "But I don't think I ever even saw her outside of cases, or the precinct. I'm actually trying to explain the thing from before."

"I don't see how the two are connected," Miles said, because he didn't.

Wright sighed. "I'm sure you've heard of gaydar," he said.

"I have lived in this world slightly longer than you," Miles said. "It's come up."

"Okay, well, straight people have kind of turned it into a joke," Wright said. "But it's kind of real."

"Kind of real."

"I mean, it's not a perfect system," Wright said. "I don't know if there are rules or anything. But there's...God, this sounds so L.A...there's a vibe."

"A vibe," Miles said.

"I told you you'd think it was stupid," Wright said. "But it's totally real, and it's how I pretty much knew Franziska was queer, and it's why I absolutely would have sworn, until this conversation, that you were too."

"Because of a 'vibe'," Miles said, not bothering to hide his disbelief.

"Because of a vibe and because of the way you dress and because you have never even looked at a woman as far as I can tell," Wright said. "I'm really bad at it, I wouldn't have even said anything unless I was totally sure."

"And you think it's this...suggestive combination of circumstantial evidence," Miles said, "that leads people to this conclusion."

"Yeah," Wright said.

"That is preposterous," Miles muttered.

"You said it keeps happening," Wright said, "so it can't be that preposterous."

"Hmph," Miles said, and he didn't say anything else as they turned the corner indicated by the old woman, and went forward, since apparently Wright was incapable of "going straight".

The "totally legit" Polish deli Wright had finally led them to was reasonably accurate. It certainly smelled right. He shouldn't have trusted it was actually as close to his office as Wright claimed, but it did look worth a trip, if not the mile of walking in circles with Wright. It would have taken a fraction of the time to drive, though he supposed Wright was even less used to navigating from a car, and they could have gotten even more lost.

Wright seemed nervous as they got their food and sat down. At first Miles couldn't think of why. It certainly wasn't a pricey place to eat, and it hadn't been that long since his last case. Then Miles realized he had never actually said anything to Wright about his coming out. "You know," Miles said, dabbing grease from his mouth, "it doesn't matter to me if you're bisexual."

Wright laughed. "No," he said, "it wouldn't."

Miles frowned. Now what was that supposed to mean? "Wright," he said. "Were you...flirting with me?"

"Well, that would be kind of pathetic, wouldn't it?" Wright said. "I mean, look how it turned out."

Oh god, he had been. "Wright, I'm sorry," Miles said.

"You don't have to be," he said, shaking his head. "It really doesn't matter." He changed the subject by asking Miles for recommendations for cheeses they had in the attached shop. Which Miles was content to allow, because he had only so much patience for personal conversations, and he'd had enough of it for one day already.