#but the desire to Post outweighs everything else
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more art for @queruloustea's that makes two of us, then - ch 19 grabbed me and wouldn't let go. i love these two so much it's unreal and every new chapter breaks my heart in the Best Way. don't cry Hollow, it's okay :(
#hollow knight#quirrel#the hollow knight#thk#quirrelhollow#spent most of today packing for move and rewarded myself with gay bugs you know how it goes#covering my face. i'm still in a mental perception low re: my own art#but the desire to Post outweighs everything else#two cakes mentality coming in clutch#tmtout#lorne art
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WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME ? ; friends
introducing the skittle squad ☆
characters ;
y/n: you are a social work major, wanting to better the lives of those in need. you are on your second year of studying your degree. after your particularly rough breakup, you went through a phase where you decided to stream online to find people similar to you, landing you to your current day semi content creator friend group. you’re also a faceless streamer! mostly streaming hand cams or having venti sit behind the camera for you.
lumine: she is a marketing business major, a real saving grace for when you started to get sponsored and needed help with deciding what brands to show off. they love traveling with their twin brother, aether, and sends you postcards everytime they are out of town (which is often). she also loves dancing, and takes classes for ballroom dance on the side. she doesn't stream, but will crash their brothers streams to dump water on him.
kaeya: a cosmetology major, he will critcize your split ends and dry skin as his way of showing how much he loves you. kaeya was the first friend you made in college that paved the way to get to know everyone else in your group. while he doesn't stream, he has a lot of followers throughout various social media sites for his creative hair and makeup looks.
diluc: kaeya's older sibling. he graduated with a business degree in accounting where you two met prior to your friend group expanding. she was always the leader in group projects the two of you did, so it wasn't a surprise when she told you she inherited his father's wine company. while kaeya and diluc butt heads everytime you force them to be in the same room together, they care about you and have shown their support throughout your growing online career. oh, and you always make sure to bribe diluc to let you take some alcohol home when you visit.
keqing: studying political science as well as minoring in history, keqing is no stranger to blowing her friends off to cram in a last minute study session. while she doesn't mean to come off as rude doing so, she may have lost a few friends over the years because her degree comes before everything else. thankfully, you didn't give up and have continued to stick by her side. she won't admit it, but she's glad to have you as a friend and be the main reason she is dating her childhood crush. while her social media presence is limited, keqing will gladly post pictures and videos about her girlfriend.
ganyu: they study international business as their major, but also communications as a minor. a busy woman indeed, ganyu believes she doesn't have enough time on her hands to study everything she needs to. in comes you, who has helped ganyu to relax and find the joy in the small things of life. not only that but you single-handedly helped ganyu to confess her longterm crush on her current girlfriend, keqing. so you get extra pats on the back for that. she likes to stream cooking, baking, anything related to her side passion about making food for others. you often asked her why she didn't become a professional chef with how well she could cook, but ganyu doesn't budge, and decided to go down the workaholic route.
tighnari: he is a botany plant biology major and a dedicated father of many, many plants. unlikely friends, it seemed at first, with his sarcasm outweighing your desire to get to know him any further until you found him in the back of one of the school buildings crying over his dead plant. he's very sweet and caring at heart, but likes to annoy everyone with his knowledge and wits, which, by now, you're used to. he accidentally got famous online when his boyfriend turned on his stream and told a string of shitty jokes that went viral and now streams usually with his boyfriend or younger sister in the background.
ayaka: marine biology major, though on the side she is not only famous online but in the real world too. she debuted as a figure skater when she was younger and has garnered a fanbase ever since, a passion she has never discarded. the kamisato company is big in maintaining international business affairs and while she'll eventually run the company, her older brother ayato has taken the stress off her shoulders for now to allow her some freedom to do what she wants. the two of you met at a mutual club meeting you had, and her smile was infectious - how could you not be her friend?
venti: ah, him. a musical theater major who dropped out by his third year, why? because they were spending all their money on alcohol and useless nonsense, if it weren't for you taking him in, venti would probably be out on the streets. while it's technically not allowed for her to be roommates with you... nobody needs to find out! venti is your best friend and your ride or die, wherever you go, he's closely following. either that or they're drunk somewhere in diluc's home.
masterlist | playlist
prev | next
notes:
idk if it is obvious but ive never gone to college so if the majors dont make sense im sorry pookies i researched i swear it also doesn't really matter in this au what their majors are lol jus making them more human
if you're confused about me using diff pronouns for certain characters check their locations these are headcanons esp on diluc bc i told my bestie i'd make diluc transfem in this au giggles plus all the archons have like no gender anyways so genderfluid venti supremacy
childe will be in scara's friend group list because they're bff's (reluctantly)!! just know that the roommates are - y/n, venti, childe and soon to be scara teehee
🏷️:
@machiroll
#genshin impact#genshin#genshin fics#genshin modern au#genshin impact modern au#genshin impact fic#genshin headcanons#genshin drabbles#genshin impact smau#genshin socmed au#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche imagines#scaramouche smau#kunikuzushi x reader#kunikuzushi x y/n#kunikuzushi x you#kunikuzushi smau#why didn't you stop me scara au
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Since Young Royals is over I wanted to take a look at some characters and kinda explain how I interpret them as people. (this is hella long but I’m mostly praising the show and how they handled things cus I’m an optimistic girl who loves life)
First of all you have the students of Hillerska. Hated them.
Genuinely cannot stand most of them and I gotta be honest, I was cheering for the school to close down. The toxicity and pure classism that radiates of that school is sickening but I’m afraid not unrealistic. As Willhelm said it’s in the walls of that place, it’s impossible to get it out. Everyone in Hillerska loves to pretend everything is fine. As Wilhelm said EVERYONE IS FAKE. Not just Hillerska but the monarchy and that entire system is too. While there are most likely very close friendships in the school it seems like nobody really knows or tries to understand each other. They refuse to acknowledge the fundamental problems of the school and instead party and just see the school closing as a sad thing.
Vincent is a perfect example of that. I love how they showed that queerness never was a problem for him. Vincent was fine with Nils being queer cus it doesn’t directly effect the system. Simon being a socialist who can possibly talk about the issues of the school was. I also think that he sees August purely as his role. He sees him as a party animal and having connections to the royal family. That’s the role he fulfills so he’s confused as to why he wants to be more than that because position wise he’s in a perfect situation. Him not knowing what August wants as a person and not knowing his best friend was queer just shows to me how little they know each other. How superficial their friendship is.
Nils is interesting. He’s queer and him being a person of Color all give him an interesting position in the whole system. He probably has a little more empathy and is a little less out of touch than his friends (ex. he is the first person to talk about how fucked up their initiation was) but he chooses to ignore it. I think that for him the pros outweigh the cons because at the end of the day he’s still rich and at the top of the foodchain at hillerska so it makes sense that he has no desire to change anything. Which brings me to why I LOVE felice.
Felice is by far my favourite character (Simon is a close second). She very much could turn a blind eye to everything and be like everyone else but she doesn’t want to anymore. I think being a black girl in Hillerska gave her more sympathy and understanding of the problems but I think even then she could’ve dealt with it like Nils because lets be honest racism is everywhere. But she realises if it’s already this bad for her she can’t imagine how it is for the people of the lower class. It made her see how fucked the hierarchy is and realise how deep it is engraved in the school. She realises that not even her best friends want to truly understand her struggles because it’s awkward for them (I said in another post her friends weren’t as bad as Vincent but honestly they’re just as bad). That realisation made her not wanna go to New York. She doesn’t wanna ignore her problems like everyone else but face them head on and goes to Sara. The one person who at the end wasn’t fake to her.
Im absolutely in love with Sara and Felice’s relationship. They kinda parallel Simon and Wilhelm in a way because Sara was the first truly honest person in Felice’s life just like Simon was to Willhelm although Felice and Sara are the platonic version of that (and while I loved that it portrayed the importance of friendship, my lesbian ass was really wishing they would’ve kissed like the TENSION but that’s just me). I also think that’s why the betrayal of her with August was so painful. She couldn’t care less about August, she cared about the fact that the one person she thought she always could rely on did that to her.
I also loved Sara this season. She’s a very flawed person yes but you could always tell her apologies were sincere. You could tell she had strong feelings for August but she was able to put Felice’s, Simon’s and most importantly her own feelings first. I was really scared they were gonna make her and August get back together in the end (especially with the conversation about giving people second chances in reference to her dad being also possibly about August) but they made sure to stick with her character development.
That brings me to August. He’s a really interesting character to me and I never know how to feel about him. He has done some horrible shit and at first I wanted him to suffer or do something big to try to make things right and I didn’t like how he never truly got his karma but I like how open they left his character. He obviously has some issues (eating disorder, trauma from his initiation,…) but he doesn’t ever delve deeper into them. He acknowledges the things he does and is obviously very sorry but just like the rest of the people in Hillerska and the Monarchy he ignores the causes of it. He never acknowledges his eating disorder. He’s probably aware that he has a problem (cus Simon pointed it out) but ignores it. He ignores the reasoning Sara gives for them not working out and gives her solutions that in the grand scheme will not change things. He still has huge respect for Eric despite what he did to him and the fact that it clearly left lasting traumas and just brushes it off. He longs for the Crown Prince role not even thinking about the harm that it can cause him. I said that he didn’t get karma but that’s not true. I think that the Crown Prince title is a curse and even if Wilhelm didn’t mean it that way, I think he got his final karma at the end by passing that curse down to him.
I love how they handled Wilhelm and Simon. Wilhelm had just like the rest of Hillerska and the monarchy the tendency to ignore things. Simon was the one who had to give him a wake up call and break things off. Simon forced him to face reality. He didn’t understand why Simon saw the title of Crown Prince as such a curse. Everyone ( ex. His mother) around him kept saying how much of a privilege it was that he never took a step back to question if it really was such an honour. His mothers words were so deeply engraved into him that it took him a while to finally be able to hear Simon. Simon wasn’t the reason why he didn’t want to be the Crown Prince, he just made him realise he never wanted any of this in the first place. It was never about Simon it was the fact that Wilhelm as a person was never really for the Monarchy. He loves his mother and the connection to his brother but he finally was able to let it go. He knows his brother still would’ve loved him but the perfect image of his brother the Crown Prince is gone. I don’t think he’s ever gonna forgive August but he has let it go and given him the title he so desperately wanted. His hatred towards him is not strong enough to keep the title of Crown Prince. In the relationship he was the one who needed to change. Sure Simon also went through growth and had to have a lot of understanding but it was Wilhelm who had to realise his core teachings and the way he thought of life were very flawed. He had to be his own person outside of the system that held him down so desperately. And even the mother understands that. She will always be part of the monarchy but she acknowledges that it nearly destroyed her and realises that she doesn’t want that to happen to her son and lets him go.
Hillerska, the monarchy and the classist hierarchy is not gonna change. But some people can. That’s why I think in the end there was no song about revolution. They didn’t have one. Sara, Felice, Wilhelm and Simon were the ones who truly got away from everything. They were able to get away from the schackles of the system and leave it behind. Even if Hillerska did reopen I doubt they would go back. They didn’t revolutionise anything other then themselves. There wasn’t a revolution but an evolution of themselves.
I think that’s a beautiful message. You can’t always change the bad things around you but you can change the things about yourself that were caused by the bad things around you. You can do and be better even when the world isn’t.
#young royals#young royals season three spoilers#young royals season three#young royals season 3#yr3#prince wilhelm#wilhelm x simon#simon eriksson#ignore the fact that in the last posts I spelled Wilhelms name wrong multiple times#yr s3 spoilers#also WTF happened to my man Alexander#he was there but didn’t say a SINGLE thing the whole season#other characters also didn’t speak anymore but I was most interested in his thoughts about all of this and Hillerska#MAYBE IT WAS ALEXANDER WHO SPILLED#idk man it’s 1 am I’m tired as hell#I love this show 10/10#also love the actors#i need to go to sleep
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Setbacks - 9
Pairing: Jigsaw!Billy Russo x Fem!Reader
Content: Lighthearted, SH, Curtis putting up with Billy’s bullshit, ED’s, Nightmares, Slit Throat, Rawlins
POV: Second
BR Taglist: @snowkestrel @judig92 @k-marzolf
Setbacks Taglist: @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend
~
The room from where Curtis ran his support group was pretty nice. There were some large windows that let a decent amount of light in. Curtis had let you sit it on a session so you could see how he worked with vets. The man wanted to help you but he also knew the importance of establishing credentials. Billy held your hand the entire time, letting you play with his fingers as if he were a doll.
Once the session was ended Curtis started stacking the chairs up, you helped out and the man smiled at you warmly. He had gotten to pick up on some of your habits easily. You held your breath around all men except for Billy, you tugged down your sleeves whenever someone looked at you, you scanned a room whenever you walked in to plant a route and you had a set of scripts in your mind for any social situation.
From a cupboard Curtis pulled a bottle of craft glue. Billy sat down on the floor and pulled you towards him. Landing in his lap he placed small kisses to your neck. Nuzzling into you. He already knew what Curtis had planned, the bottle of glue was just beginning.
“I’ve heard of this technique from a few of my guys who have kids who’ve cut in the past. It’s not the greatest as it still hurts and as you’ve got some fresh wounds we wanna avoid, Billy’s offered his arm to you”
You nodded slowly, the idea reminded you of grade school when you’d poor glue onto your hand and peel it off. An arm wrapped around you and your eyes drifted to Billy. Both men could see the mischief in them. As Curtis handed you the bottle you quickly got to work taking Billy’s jacket off. Revealing his strong arms that you’d fallen in love with. Twisting the cap open you poured some of the glue on, spreading it out and waiting for it to dry.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you start cutting yourself?”
You busied yourself with focusing on the glue. Words forming an answer in your head. Practicing different ways to say it out loud.
“Everything in my childhood felt like it went wrong, nothing felt like it was good. Sure there were happy memories but the bad outweighed it. The first time I cut myself it’s because there was this girl from Girl Guides, she uh- she posted a video of her cutting her arms and my dumb 11 year old self thought it would help me. So I grabbed a pair of kiddy craft scissors and dug the blade into my skin. It didn’t work like the video did so I tried a knife. The cuts bled a little but not much. Eventually it got worse, I would take sharpeners out of blades and when I turned 15… I opened my first disposable razor. The first time I ever got down to the fat layer. I don’t like this, it scares me. I’m scared all the fucking time but it’s all I know”
When the glue was tried and tacky you started to pick at it. Ripping it off. Billy groaned loudly, trying to dampen the sound of pain. A laugh escaped Curtis’s mouth as the scene happened. An ex-marine who’d seen war and who’s face was mangled yet he found this painful.
“Sounds like it was your attempt at control. Tell me, did you ever have disordered eating habits?”
You kept ripping the glue off of Billy’s arms. His hair coming with it. Each new tear revealing a smooth patch of skin.
“I used to count calories religiously back around 16. Lost nearly have my body weight since I never went over 500 calories in the end”
Curtis nodded, looking up to Billy for confirmation this was okay. The man nodded. Whether or not you wanted this it was needed. Billy wouldn’t let addiction take anyone else from him. You’re not his mother, he matters more than your addiction right? The truth was Billy wouldn’t be okay if he wasn’t that important to you. He had this sickly desire to be needed by you, he’d never been needed but when he saw you. A small fragile thing covered in your own blood, his fantasies of someone depending on him were fulfilled.
“So you weren’t taught how to cope, you had no control and these mechanisms you learnt were your way of having that control”
What Curtis was saying made sense. As you applied another layer of glue you looked up at the man. Realisation coating your face.
“That… that makes sense”
He smiled at you. When Billy had first told him he’d taken you in it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t worried. Billy was volatile, even more so after the accident. So when the man asked Curtis for help he was shocked. Billy had a huge ego, he never liked asking for help. His life taught him to be independent, that help was weak and the weak died first.
“I’m not going to pretend I know what you’ve been through, but when Billy asked me to help you I did do my research. Since I mainly work with Vet’s this isn’t my expertise. What I’ve learned is that a lot of kids who grew up in situations similar to yours turned to this mechanisms. The adrenaline you get from hurting yourself leads you wanted more, it’s what makes it an addiction in the first place. This rush makes you feel good for a little bit and then you crash down. So you do it again, you get the adrenaline, the energy and you’re forgetting your problems. You haven’t had a lot of happy moments so when you cut yourself you feel good because of the rush it gives you. It turns into a cycle, it’s how you cope with the trauma. Im assuming that in your mind, it’s how you control your emotions. If you need to be happy you’ll take the blade and open yourself up. You get the adrenaline, you get the energy and you feel good. Eventually it all comes crashing down after the buildup. That’s what your suicidal and depressive episodes are, the storm after the sun”
Quickly you ripped the glue off Billy’s arm. The follicles of hair coming up with it, followed by a loud gasp. Billy lightly swatted you lightly, getting to your sides to tickle you. For a moment you forgot Curtis was in the room and it was just the pair of you. When Billy pulled away Curtis was glaring at him.
“I’m the one being tortured here, I should get to return the favour”
Curtis rolled his eyes at his brother. Even with the scars, with the things he’s seen there’s a glimpse of the playful boy he was overseas. The same boy who put scorpions into Franks bed.
“You asked me for my help Bill, she seems pretty happy as is”
You were, it felt foreign. Unknown and overwhelming. Billy made you happy, really happy. The kind that they’d talk about in teen reality shows. Butterflies in the stomach, kicking feet, sickeningly happy.
“I am, Billy’s helped a lot. It’s actually overwhelming how great I feel”
Curtis nodded and as his eyes flitted to Billy he smirked. The man in question was lit up red like a stoplight. Inside Billy’s mind the rational side stopped working as he pulled your lips towards his own. Kissing you gently as a hand trailed onto the back of your head. As he pulled back Billy realised what he’d just done.
“Fuck shot Im so sorry I should have asked I just… fuck”
Jaw open you were still in shock. Curtis had stood up, holding his hands in surrender as he walked out of the room.
“It’s okay.. I- I trust you and it felt really nice”
He repeated the last word, taking you in his arms and just spending the moment holding you. That was until he pulled away and noticed the large wound on your neck. He could see your spine and the seperate layers of skin. It made Billy want to gag. The muscle pulsing as you went limp in his arms. Around him the room started to melt, Rawlin’s taunting voice echoing.
“She’ll never go for a mutt like you Russo”
He shot up out of the bed in a heavy sweat. Whipping around he looked at your sound figure, snoring lightly like a little puppy. A breath was let out that Billy didn’t know he was holding. You were safe, you were alive. You were here with him where you belonged. The words fake you spoke felt so real, almost as if he had become you. Is that really how you saw the world? He shuddered at the thought, he was reminded of Arthur. Billy couldn’t imagine his own father molesting him, he considered himself lucky that he didn’t know his paternal heritage. The scene felt so real, as if he had switched bodies with you for a brief moment. He’d never let anyone hurt you again. If he wanted to keep you alive he needed to recreate his dream in reality. Bring his imagination to life, except for the part of you dying in his arms. Billy needed you alive and safe. If you died now you’d be taking him with you.
#billy russo#billy russo imagine#billy russo x reader#ben barnes#the punisher imagine#the punisher#x reader#billy russo fluff#curtis hoyle
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I posted 88 times in 2022
That's 66 more posts than 2021!
33 posts created (38%)
55 posts reblogged (63%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@demondark81
@theworldofprompts
@seaside-writings
@frozenrose105
@freekymonstr
I tagged 55 of my posts in 2022
Only 38% of my posts had no tags
#writing - 21 posts
#fanfiction - 20 posts
#em writes - 20 posts
#iswm - 13 posts
#in space with markiplier - 12 posts
#save - 9 posts
#darkiplier - 7 posts
#egos - 7 posts
#god au - 6 posts
#request - 6 posts
Longest Tag: 87 characters
#i love that youre able to maintain the silence of the captain true to y/n in the series
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
How do feel of angst with mayor attorney [damien/darkiplier x y/n district attorney] ? “I can’t trust you” , “I can’t remember” , “ I can’t hold on much longer”
I feel like that's a brilliant combination.
======================
Dark never wanted to return to the manor. It held too many bad memories, outweighing all of the good that had happened there and a bittersweet nostalgia washed over him at the thought of it. Seeing it again, he thought about how glad he’d been to be reuniting with old friends. How he’d enjoyed the night of poker and partying. He thought about the dread seeing the Actor dead on the ground, and how the dread had since turned to rage at the thought of him.
He couldn’t forget the pain, either. It was his fault that the district attorney was now trapped in the mirror within the manor. Perhaps he could move past that, but Damien and Celine were both weighed with guilt the same. Maybe that’s why he had felt the need to come back despite his desires to stay away. Maybe that’s why he found himself standing outside the door and staring up at the grand estate.
Dark wasn’t one to put things off, but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move forward. His hand was frozen in place at his side, the door remaining closed in front of him. He could feel the all too familiar dread coursing through him. It was only there, where no one could see him, that he even allowed himself such hesitance. …But even that must come to an end. It was with that thought along with Celine’s incessant prodding that he finally opened the door and stepped inside.
The hinges made a terrible sound as he closed the door behind him, and the wooden floorboards creaked beneath his dress shoes. A scan of the place revealed it to be covered in dust and cobwebs. Some of the windows were broken and allowed cold air to pass through, but otherwise the building was just as they had left it all those years ago. Still he made his way slowly through all of the rooms as even more memories flooded through him.
Despite his reservations, it didn’t occur to Dark to turn back or to leave. No, now that he was there, he knew that this was something that he had to do. He felt a pull to the room that he knew the mirror was stored in, and almost subconsciously he made his way there. The only locked room in the manor was dark compared to the others, but it didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust. It was cleared out as many of the rooms there had been, but thick black curtains covered any windows in this one. A more elegant piece of black fabric covered the only visible furniture- the mirror.
When Dark approached it he ran his hand over the silk, more memories resurfacing. He had moved the mirror there and covered it himself after realizing what he’d done. He’d spent hours there pouring over Celine’s books, at the insistence of the twins to find a way to release the one inside. Eventually the Entity had shifted his focus, however, and he came to the manor less and less. But at that moment the Entity was silent, and Dark pulled the fabric away.
The mirror was elegant, and lacking the dust that had settled over everything else. Otherwise it looked relatively normal, and Dark could pretend it was so if not for-
“Hello?” The voice was tentative and had an echo to it akin to Dark’s. With it came the shadow of a hand pressing against the glass, and a figure leaning closer as if to see better. They had no physical form, but Dark had no doubt in his mind as to who resided within. “Damien?”
“...It’s me.” The blue of his aura became more prominent as he stepped closer, and his demeanor softened.
“I can’t remember the last time you came, I- was beginning to think you’d forgotten me,” the district attorney said. There was a question in the tone of their statement, as if asking for an explanation. Dark was content to let Damien give it.
“Of course not. Things grew… Complicated. But we have neither forgotten you nor given up.” He pressed a hand to the glass himself then, offering a rueful smile. It was bittersweet, seeing them in his own reflection yet being so unable to see them truly.
“...Damien. …Celine…” They spoke to the twins, rather than to Dark himself or the Entity. That was always the case, and though he knew that they were aware of what he was, he never corrected them. “...I can’t hold on much longer.”
His aura flared slightly at that, a swirling mix of red and blue lighting up the room before it settled back on the blue. “What are you saying?” As much as he tried to remain neutral, Damien’s worry was seeping into Dark with the words. They were safe there, he had made sure of it. The DA let out a weak laugh.
“...I can feel my mind slipping away. I don’t know if I’ve been here for weeks or for centuries, Damien, and I- could feel my memories of you fading the longer I went without seeing you. This realm is different, and I’m losing pieces of myself every day.”
Dark fell silent, lowering his hand to his side. He felt the twins’ panic, but more than that he could feel his rage building. He was angry. At the Actor, at Wilford, and at himself. He could feel the Entity shoving Damien and Celine to the back of his mind and urging him to leave the manor. He wanted vengeance for all that had happened. He needed to kill the man who was responsible for the district attorney’s fate, especially with what they were telling him.
“...And what makes it worse,” the DA began again, snapping Dark’s attention back to them despite the quietness of their voice. “Is that I can’t trust you. …I’m not a fool. I know you aren’t the Damien I once knew. I can see the rage blinding you, and I can see that you’re controlled by the very same thing that Mark was.”
His jaw clenched at that, as more emotion flooded through him. He couldn’t keep his aura still with all of the noise in his head- the twins trying desperately to regain control, hindered by their own pain, and the Entity fueling his anger. Before he could make sense of it all, and before he could think to respond, the shadowy hand withdrew from the mirror. The district attorney backed away without another word, and Dark was stuck staring at only his own reflection once more.
76 notes - Posted April 28, 2022
#4
118 notes - Posted May 4, 2022
#3
See the full post
181 notes - Posted May 4, 2022
#2
So that video huh
743 notes - Posted April 25, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
854 notes - Posted May 4, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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Long Distance Longing with the Brothers
Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷♀️
Warnings: Angst, implied starvation
Intro:
The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...
Lucifer
Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?
Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.
And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work.
He wanted a… "vacation."
Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.
Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…
His first vacation was sure to be paradise.
Mammon
Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…
Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.
Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?
It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.
Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?
He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.
He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.
The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….
But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...
Leviathan
He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…
Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.
Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…
For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...
After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…
The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.
When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.
To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...
In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.
Satan
Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.
Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…
But like that would stop him.
He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.
He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.
Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.
But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?
Asmodeus
If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.
He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!
This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...
When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…
The world is full of surprises, ain't it?
No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.
Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...
Beelzebub
Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...
So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.
It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.
A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.
Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...
Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.
His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.
Belphegor
Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.
Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.
It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...
There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged…
Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?
With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.
There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...
#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios
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heyy luuv, your last post was just perfect (like everything you write) <3 may I request something where sebastian michaelis face fucks a gn!reader? maybe the reader is lying in bed with the head out of the mattress and seb press their hands in the mattress so they stop squirming too much while praising the reader (saying how good the bulge in their throat looks like or how they are taking him well) and really enjoying the soft gagging sounds 🥺👉🏻👈🏻
🕯 character, fandom, type of reader: sebastian michaelis, kuroshitsuji / black butler, gender neutral reader
🕯 genre, rating: nsfw. 18+ only.
🕯 themes, triggers: oral ( m receiving ), dominant themes, slight degradation, explicit descriptions
🕯 author’s note: hey ! before i even say anything i want to apologize for how long this took, i hope it meets what you were looking for ! aside from that, thank you so much for your kind words. i appreciate it so, so much. also thank you, thank you for requesting sebastian. he’s my top tier anime boy and i’m so glad that i finally got a request for him ! ( p.s let’s not think too much about anatomy in this one, wink wink )
the room was dimly lit. only a few candles scattered across the massive bedroom had prevented you from being consumed in total darkness. it was a restless night in the phantomhive manor, only a butler kept you company. the same butler who grinned at you at dinner, he was being polite. he same butler who winked at you from across the foyer, he was just being coy.
the same butler who had you pressed firmly against an imported mattress with your legs kicking from underneath you. your breath muffled against the gloved hand pressed over your mouth. he was punishing you... because you were being too loud. you thought the punishment would end there. a firm choke, the inability for your vocal chords to express the intense pleasure you felt. but no, the butler wasn’t satisfied.
your mouth parted to speak but before a sound could escape your delicate lips, sebastian -- his name you only learned moments ago -- grabbed your cheeks. he held them firmly and his crimson eyes melted with yours. “what kind of butler what i be if i couldn’t provide those underneath my care a good nights rest?” you felt his fingers dig into the hollows of your cheeks. “i simply cannot bring myself to forgive you for those lewd noises you were littering the halls with.” it was a massive yet hollow room and the noises you made echoed throughout it. yet you doubted if the walls were thin enough for those lewd moans to escape the room. however, you didn’t dare to doubt sebastian --- with that look in his eye, you wouldn’t dare to question anything he told you.
“now,” his grip loosened and he stepped backward. his body was on full display and you assumed you were one of the only few who had seen the jet-black butler in such a state. sebastian was far from embarrassed, the well endowed gentleman surely didn’t lack in physique nor did he lack in performance. “lay on your back with your neck off the side of the bed.”
it didn’t take much time for you to assume your position. you laid flat on your back with your neck dangling off the side of the bed just as sebastian had instructed. you looked at him upside down and waited for his next command. he snickered in pleasure at the sight of you. he walked towards you knelt down to your eye level. sebastian held your head up for just a second. “you’ll be in that position for quite sometime, my dear ---” you felt his fingers massage your scalp. “you might want to make yourself comfortable.”
you inhaled and exhaled a breath or two and adjusted your body to lay comfortably on the bed. “are you ready?” he whispered into your ear. with a nod of your head sebastian rose to his feet. he took his hardened cock into his hand and gave himself a few strokes. he took his length and pressed it against your closed lips. “open.” ---- it was a demand and you followed.
your mouth opened slightly causing sebastian to click his tongue. “wider. do not make me upset, y/n.”
your mouth opened wider and the second his cock entered your mouth you unhinged your jaw. he had the courtesy of entering your mouth slowly allowing you to adjust to his size with ease. but even if sebastian gave you that courtesy his thick girth instantly caused your eyes to water. your eyes felt heavy and your throat burned but the sensation of his cock in your mouth was worth the pain.
“my, my y/n. your mouth feels wonderful.” sebastian praised you. the lewd act didn’t phase him, or so it seemed. it was then when he began to thrust inside your mouth, slowly and with rhythm. for the first time that night you heard the butler elicit a soft sound. it wasn’t a moan but a pleasurable groan. the sound felt like a reward so you thanked him by moving your mouth at the same rhythm as him. you hollowed your cheeks and sucked his hard cock as he continued to thrust inside you.
sebastian slowly removed his cock from your throat and in order to gasp for air you sat up right. you coughed, he laughed. your mouth was wet with your saliva and his pre-cum, sebastian prevented you from wiping it away. “we’re not done.” he said. “i wanted to see what you could handle. you were enjoying it as much as me, weren’t you?”
“oh, don’t act shy.” he leaned in close and rewarded you with a kiss. “it’s not cute to act shy after acting like such a whore.” he kissed you again but this time the kiss was fueled with much more passion. his tongue penetrated your mouth and you wrestled his tongue with yours. your legs were trembling just at this and sebastian was quick to slap your thigh when he noticed. “i’m not rewarding you. you’re rewarding me.” he reminded you. “tonight your body belongs to me. lay back once more.”
“yes, sir.” you nodded your head and returned to your position. sebastian snorted a chuckle, “sir? i quite like that --- now, let’s see how well you take my cock without any of my restraint.” his cock returned inside your mouth without warning. this time he didn’t allow you to adjust to his size and his thrusting was much more erratic than a smooth pace. instantly you began choking, gagging at the feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. involuntary your hands raised up to grab sebastian’s thighs.
sebastian grabbed your wrists and tore them away from his thighs. as he leaned forward onto the mattress he took your wrists with him; he pressed them firmly down onto the mattress preventing you from doing the same once more. “you’re doing just fine without doing that.” he told you. but his praises didn’t end there.
between his grunts and moans sebastian gleamed at the sound of your gagging noises. “y/n ---” he moaned. “those noises, ugh --- sound gorgeous.” he moaned once more this time much louder than the last. “and this ---” he began.
he returned to the position he began with, letting go of your wrists he trusted that you wouldn’t raise them once more. he traced his finger against your throat where the bulge of his cock was most prominent. “looks beautiful. it’s almost as if, your mouth was made to take this cock.” his thrusting turns slower. he’s admiring you, himself, and to witness how you were bringing sebastian utmost pleasure motivated you once more.
given that his thrusts were slow you took initiative by moving your mouth as you did previously. the sensation of his cock in your mouth was by no means comfortable but the pleasure outweighed everything else. you felt the tip of his cock graze against the back of your throat and you were so desperate for his cum to drench every inch of your mouth. you craved his cum and by the way your mouth moved, sebastian new.
“oya, oya?” he questioned with a smirk. “even when i’m not pleasuring you, you want my cum?” his slow thrusts grow slower. his punctuating his sentences with each thrust. “or maybe --- you are getting pleasure from this? huh, y/n?” he pouted. “hm. do you look my big cock inside your mouth? like the lewd whore you are.” following his degradation his hips began to pick up speed. the tip of your cock was hitting against the back of your throat and the gagging noises you made became much more frequent. the sweet sound you provided sebastian encouraged him to move faster and finally give you what you desired.
“ugh! how i love those noises, y/n. it’s proof that you’re a nasty.” thrust one. “lewd.” thrust two, three. “whore.” cum.
the sound that sebastian made when he came inside your mouth was just as rewarding as the sensation of his cock releasing inside you. he remained in your mouth for a few seconds before removing himself from your mouth. you laid there upside down. the feeling of his cum in your mouth, the tiredness of your jaw, and the blood rushing down your head caused you to experience some dizziness. as sebastian situated himself he noticed the state you were in.
with a soft chuckle he lifted your head gently and helped you adjusted your body to lay comfortably on the bed. with his thumb he traced the bottom of your lip and placed it inside your mouth. with that you cleaned up the last of his cum. “you did good, y/n.” he looked at you with a small smile. his thumb left your mouth and he gave you a kiss. “i hope that i’ve taught you a good lesson tonight.” with the last of his words your tired eyes can tell he’s headed for the door.
you reached your arm out towards him. in a tired voice you pleased for him not to go. sebastian turned to look at you. “as you wish.” he laid in bed beside you. his large frame was behind yours. he held you in his arms as you quickly drifted off to sleep.
#sebastian x reader#sebastian michaelis x reader#black butler x reader#black butler x y/n#sebastian x y/n#black butler smut#kuroshitsuji smut#sebastian michaelis smut#nsfw.#sm.#kuro.#tm.#Anonymous
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hello, hello, hello ! i’m rolling in fashionably late in true desirae style ! i am carra, 24 years old, goes by she / her, from the cst, and super stoked to be here ! i haven’t been in a group in so long, like literal years, but i seen kat [ fully just disclosing that i follow on main lmao ] post the teaser graphic and i was literal heart eyes. i almost didn’t submit my app bc i was scared that i wasn’t making the cut, but i pushed through and i’m so glad that i did and that we’re all going to be writing with each other ! my app is super long and i’m in the works of tidying things up and adding more depth bc i’m a perfectionist, but i’ll link my favorite little bits under the cut.
the full application if anyone’s curious, don’t want to limit you beauts.
the carrd for starters, it’s still under construction, but you can find her statistics and just some little blurbs i thought was cute.
her favorite colors are maroon and money green.
at one point of her childhood, around age 8 - 9, she actually yearned for a sibling. after spending so much time around the bouiette siblings, it was inevitable. the desire was cut short when she realized that she’d have to share everything she owned with said sibling if she ever got one, and when that thought popped into her head,�� she made sure to never comment on it again. looking up at her parents with those big doe eyes, snuggling up to them, and making sure they knew that she ‘had the best family ever,’ and that she was more than content.
she writes almost everything down as soon as it pops into her head ( not wanting to risk forgetting amid everyday activities ) on whatever is nearest to her at the time. whether it's her phone, a notebook, etc. she has various voice memos [ not entirely all just her voice displayed on them ], note entries labeled with the date, and sticky notes in her purse.
despite what people may think, desirae isn’t perfect. the young adult gets into her fair share of mess just like everyone else, she just knows how to clean it up properly. if she needs to point attention to her peers’ mistakes to sweep her own under the rug, she’ll manage just fine. most of the time, the tabloids that do make the cut are in her favor, and if they do catch her by surprise, she’s quick to swing it whichever direction she needs to.
constantly outweighs the pros and cons of the decisions she makes. sometimes the cons win out, but she’s game to test the odds, most of the time it turns out in her favor.
her instagram and stories are calculated from the content all the way down to the sappy captions. her recent feed consists of first class flights, dinner dates, outfits of the day, fashion tips, and throwbacks.
isn’t the type to flat out spill her drink on you, but somehow she’s magically there, settled in the background, and somehow uncharacteristically quiet when it happens?
has never had an actual romantic relationship, but has been coy enough to keep all of her entanglements out of the public eye which she believes puts her at an advantage when it comes to the love club. ironic to the name, the brunette doesn’t let distractions get in her way and keep her tied down to anything besides what’s truly important. or at least that’s what she believes.
has her belly button pierced, both standard and industrial lobes, and her grandmother’s birthday in roman numerals tattooed on her left wrist that she revealed in an exclusive video with elle, just after her nineteenth birthday.
has to often remind herself not to enjoy the love club’s commentary in the group chat too much, and often mutes it when they manage to get a genuine smile out of her. it never lasts for too long though, because she can’t miss out on any subtle hints.
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More Than Friends
Pairing: Frankie Morales x demisexual!reader
Word count: 1.9K
Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, discussions of sexuality
A/n: This isn’t my usual spiel and it wound up getting a whole lot angstier than intended but this fic means a lot to me and I would really appreciate it if you took the time to read it and let me know what you think because I am nErVoUs about posting it and in need of validation 😬😂
Just a wee disclaimer: Demisexuality is a pretty broad term and the way people experience it is all across the board so I’d like you to keep in mind that this draws heavily from my own experience with identifying this way (which I am very new to). If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious.
[ masterlist ]
It was a complicated thing to explain to people who didn’t understand- who didn’t want to understand. “That’s how it is for everyone.” “You just haven’t found the right person yet.” “I can change that”. You’d gotten tired of being told the experience that was very much real to you didn’t exist, that your identity didn’t exist, of being labelled a prude or being told you were just nervous. Feeling that desire and choosing not to act was one thing but it was another thing entirely not being able to.
When you found yourself in a position where you had to explain yourself to him, you needed him of all people to understand that the way you felt had absolutely nothing to do with him. You had tried. You thought there was a chance you might get there with him but the longer you waited for that connection to form, for that feeling to come, the more you realized you were wasting both of your time.
You were terrified as you walked into the cafe to tell him that just like all the other people you had tried to broach this topic with before he wouldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t get it. He’d shrug it off and tell you that you didn’t know what you were talking about. That he’d get offended and take your lack of attraction to him personally. That he’d overreact. That he’d blame you for stringing him along. But you had to rip the bandaid off. He’s a reasonable person right? He won’t do that. You were just psyching yourself out. It would be fine.
Or not.
You were distraught by the time you were supposed to meet the boys at the bar that night. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. Why did he have to look at you that way? Why did he have to say it like that? “Right, I thought as much.” He had frowned down at his coffee. What was that even supposed to mean? Why couldn’t he have taken your word for it? Why couldn’t you have faked it till you made it? Why couldn’t you feel something? You questioned yourself as you got in the door, shuffling around in your purse for your phone before dialling Frankies number. You couldn’t do this tonight, you couldn’t run around pretending everything was fine when you had been lonely for so goddamn long and this fell through too.
You got his voice mail and hoped it wasn’t because he was already on the road. Of all the times for him to decide to be early, you hoped it wasn’t this one. “Hey, Frankie, it’s me. I hope you’re not already on your way here, I just- I’m not feeling up for tonight. I think I might be coming down with something and don’t want to get everyone sick.” You say when you get his voice mail, sniffing back your onslaught of tears before concluding the call with a “Anyway say hi to everyone for me and I’ll see you later.” before hanging up, your voice finally breaks into a sob when you drop your phone onto the couch and collapse into the cushions next to it with an aggravated and teary-eyed sigh.
As though by some cruel joke the universe had decided to play on you today it's hardly five minutes later when a knock sounds at your door and you just about have to suppress an exasperated laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes with your shirt sleeve and go to get it.
“Hey, you ready to-” Frankie is cut off when his phone buzzes in his pocket and his brows furrow for a brief second when he goes to check it. “Oop, hang on I got a message.” He declares, “Hey look, it’s from you!” He says, throwing a wiggle of his eyebrows in your direction as you fold your arms in front of you and lean against the doorframe waiting for the penny to drop. It takes a second before you watch the grin slowly fall from his face and he finally takes in the puffiness around your eyes and the stray tear which had managed to escape your hurried attempts at wiping them away.
“You don’t look sick.” He notes solemnly after a brief pause and your gaze drops to your feet at the shame of being caught in a lie. Great, now he was looking at you all hurt too.
“That’s ‘cause I’m not.” You sniffle back, finding it even harder to withhold your emotions now that he’s standing right in front of you.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, trying to usher you inside despite the resistance you give him.
“Nothing really. You should go to the party. I’ll be fine.” You insist but he’s already managed to wiggle you both through the door and drag you back into the living room.
“And leave you here on your own? Not a chance!” He insists as he plops you down on the couch motioning for you to stay put with a warning hand gesture and glare as he dials into his phone. “Hey Pope, somethings come up, we won’t be able to make it tonight but be sure to give Will a punch in the arm from me and a ‘Happy birthday’ from (y/n) and we promise we’ll make up for it next week,” There’s a momentary pause before Frankie nods. “Yup, will do, Hermano. Bye,” he says as he hangs up shoving the phone back in his pocket before taking a seat next to you.
“Frankie, You shouldn’t have done that. I already told you I’m fine.” You sigh.
“And I already told you that I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” He replies stubbornly, he’s clearly been hanging out with Santiago too much lately.
“You didn’t, but it’s good to know what I’m in for.” You huff out through a laugh that comes off a lot more bitter than you had hoped.
“I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong, Hermosa,” He says, brushing his thumb up and down across the knuckles you hadn’t even realized he’d taken in his hand until now.
“This isn’t something you can fix Frankie! That’s exactly the problem!” You snap, tears threatening your waterline again.
“What is? What’s the problem?” He exclaims and you realize the situation you’ve placed yourself in for the second time today.
“I broke things off with Andrew today.” You say not expecting him to look quite as shocked as he did.
“Did something happen?” He asked. He could understand you being upset over a breakup but he had never seen you quite like this before.
“No, nothing happened he just- I couldn’t-” You cut yourself off trying to figure out how you can phrase this for it to make sense.
“I really liked him just not in the way he wanted me to.” You say, your gaze falling to where Frankie’s thumb had stopped rubbing circles on your knuckle as he tried to figure out what it was you were saying. “He was dropping some pretty heavy signs that he wanted to…” You sigh trying to decide if you really wanted to get into this with him. “I can’t feel sexually attracted to anyone unless I have a strong emotional connection with them first.” You say probably a bit too abruptly. With the way he’s looking at you now, this clearly wasn’t the direction he had expected this conversation to take and you’re already wondering if you’ve made a mistake by telling him. “And just because I have an emotional connection with them doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll ever get to that point with them.” There’s a beat before he responds and you’ve already braced yourself for the worst when instead-
“And you didn’t have that with him?” He asks. You feel your heart, which you hadn’t realized had been hammering in your chest, settle slightly. He was so understanding that for a second you thought he didn’t understand.
“I wanted to.” You say. “I thought maybe if I got to know him better it might develop- that I might be able to like him that way-” You shake your head hesitantly. “But it didn’t- I couldn’t.” You whispered, your head hung low in disappointment. “He didn’t take it very well.” You tried to say but you could already feel your throat tightening at the thought of the look on his face and the words echoing through your head. “I didn’t want to hurt him I just-“ More tears spilled down your cheeks and Frankie was quick to pull you into his chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you buried your face in his neck. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore and I thought-” A choked sob escapes you and Frankies grip on your waist grows just a little tighter.
“We don’t get to choose who we are and aren’t attracted to.” He whispers into the crown of your head, hating the look of shame he had seen on your face only moments ago. Hating the way you blamed yourself for something you clearly had no control over, hating that he didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry he didn’t understand.” He murmured with his lips still pressed to your hair line, his free hand smoothing up and down your arm gently, waiting for your breathing to even out.
There’s a long pause before he speaks again. He knows now probably isn’t the best time to ask this question but it won’t stop nagging at him and he doesn’t know when else he would ever have the courage to. “What about me?” He swallows heavily, after a while, not exactly sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. “Have you ever thought of me that way?” He pries and for a second you’re shocked that his mind even went there. Did he want you to think of him that way? Did he ever think of you that way?
You take a moment to mull over the question, your curiosity for where he was going with it managing to outweigh your fear of giving him an answer when your mind wanders back to the way your heart used to hammer in your chest when he walked into a room and how he was the only one who ever came to mind when you so much as considered the possibility of getting intimate with someone. “I’ve thought about you that way before, yeah.” You admit, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He asks, eyes softening as he wonders how many awful dates he could have saved you from if he had just known a little sooner that you thought of him as anything more than a friend.
“Because you were married when I realized it and by the time you weren’t I’d come to terms with it and I didn’t want to screw anything up between us.” You explain truthfully. The entire situation had been so complicated when it started that you wrote off the idea before you could even consider it fully and now he was asking you all these questions and you felt like a fool for not having seen it sooner.
“Do you still?...think of me that way?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Would you want to try giving me a chance?” He asks, wearily. “We can take it as slow as you want, there’s no pressure-”
“I’d like that.”
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one of the previous anons here (again)! :0
not to be an "UM ACTUALLY" kinda person, but I think the tinfoil anon was referring to the scene in the training room (where crosshair got stunned by hunter) insteada the scene at sea (rescuing omega and azi).
I'm.... *also* really curious about what he was thinking there, honestly? Like, all that setup to ask his brothers to join the empire with him -- but what did he expect them to say? And it even seemed like he was about to draw his rifle on Hunter, before Hunter stunned him, but the others also had their guns pointed at him? He couldn't have possibly thought he was going to walk away from that in one piece lmao, regardless of whether he outdrew Hunter or not
Anyway, yeah, apologies for cluttering your inbox with the digital equivalent of snail mail these past 48ish hours XD.... I just think these meta posts are neato
OH SHIT if that's the case so sorry other anon, that's my bad 😅
And omg, literally don't worry my inbox is already beyond saving. I've got hundreds of asks spanning back years at this point, stuff I just straight up don't have time to answer and, sadly, probably never will. Cluttered doesn't begin to cover it. If my ask box could embody physical space, it would probably smell like TBB's barracks lol
But YEAH okay, let's talk the stunning scene instead because I love being sad on a Sunday night. What's important for me is that building up to this it's Hunter who is gunning for Crosshair (pun not intended lol). Crosshair has already shown that he's not planning to hurt them by murdering his other team and he's only just started to think over Hunter's "We never were" — in response to his "don't become my enemy" accusation — when all the droids pop up. Yet instead of focusing on them, Hunter immediately jumps on Crosshair. I mean yeah, we as the audience (to a certain, complicated extent) understand why they're so wary of him, but also think about how bad that looks from Crosshair's perspective. You've just proven you're not out to hurt your team, Hunter claims you were never enemies... but the second a fight starts he attacks you. Like you're the enemy. So does Hunter believe what he's saying? So many of the problems here come down to claims vs. action. TBB is really good at saying things to Crosshair, but aren't very good at backing them up with action. Like claiming they wouldn't leave him behind vs. actually not coming back for him during this whole stretch, here we've got "We're not your enemy" vs. Hunter choosing to attack him instead of the droids.
So they tussle a bit and it's only when the droids become overwhelming that Hunter is forced to turn his attention towards them instead. When he does, we see Crosshair thinking for a moment and then we get a preview of that "Oh no, Crosshair is going to shoot Hunter!" scare out on the water: he lifts his rifle, aims in a way that appears to be at Hunter's back, but then shoots over his shoulder to hit the droids instead. We even get two reaction shots to this, Hunter's brief look of surprise and a more overt "Omg, Crosshair is helping" reaction from Tech and Wrecker.
When Wrecker pulls his helmet back down it's with a sense of new determination. The whole squad is back in action! This is (again) proof that Crosshair is not out to be their enemy. He just fought alongside them, protecting them rather than taking advantage of the situation to take them out.
... except that as soon as the battle is finished Hunter immediately has his weapon on Crosshair.
And everyone else follows his lead.
Crosshair had complete trust in them. He had his back turned right before this moment, head in his hand, not at all worried about what his allies were doing. Why would he? They're meant to be allies and the threat (the droids) is gone. Except then he turns around to find that Hunter has his weapon on him after Crosshair just killed for him, after Hunter attacked first, after Crosshair didn't attack when given the chance, and you can see him looking down at his weapon with this sense of resignation.
What was he thinking in this moment? Probably that fighting is inevitable. I don't think Crosshair believes he can make it out of this without being stunned (or shot. I mean, does he know their blasters are set to stun?), but rather that he's just going along with what the others insist is going to happen. Every time he does something to say "We're not enemies" they do something back that says, "We are."
Crosshair doesn't want to fight his team, but Omega releases droids to help them battle him.
Crosshair wants to fight the droids, but Hunter attacks him instead.
Crosshair does fight the droids when given the chance and thinks that's it, he's proven his trustworthiness, but Hunter has him at gunpoint the second it's over, as do the others.
Every time he tries to do something to show he's not their enemy — "Don't make me your enemy" he says. That's what he's trying not to be — they turn around and frame him as the enemy anyway, whether it's attacking him instead of a droid, Tech telling Wrecker he's beyond talking to, or all of them assuming he's out to shoot Hunter instead of save Omega. This is an ongoing trend that just snowballs the longer things go on. Have you watched Grisha? You know the Darkling's line, "Fine, make me your villain"? To my mind it's sorta like that only with Crosshair having better grounds to make that claim than the Darkling did lol. Raising his gun isn't about thinking he can win this fight. It's also not about wanting to fight — he's made it very clear that he doesn't want that at all. It's much more of a resigned, "Fine, if this is the road you insist on going down, I'll oblige you."
"This is who I am," Crosshair says and Hunter has made it clear, several times over, that "this" is TBB's enemy. Crosshair didn't want that, but it's what they're insisting on, so an enemy is going to defend themselves by shooting back. Which is when he's knocked out, wakes up drowning, is saved by Omega, learns the Empire tried to kill him, and is back to his half angry/half desperate, "Can you please not think of me as the enemy for two seconds and hear what I have to offer?"
As for what he thought his brothers would say in regards to joining the Empire, that offer he has... I think he thought they'd say yes. Whether that belief is born of his own, twisted reasoning, or if there is still something going on with the chip, Crosshair prioritizes their safety and their purpose over the ethics of working for the Empire. When Hunter goes, "We're loyal to each other, not some Empire" that's something Crosshair agrees with. When not forced to try and kill them via the chip, he is loyal to the squad, absolutely, even over what the Empire wants. That's why he kills the Empire's soldiers and disobeys orders to get rid of TBB, instead trying to orchestrate their move into the organization instead. That's not what the Empire wants, it's what Crosshair wants.
So they're both loyal to the team over who they work for, the only problem is a) Crosshair is struggling to believe that they ever considered him a true part of the team — "You weren't loyal to me" — and b) Hunter's loyalty, unlike Crosshair's, actually has a limit. For him, he's not willing to kill civilians to give his brothers a sense of purpose in the world. He's not willing to follow an evil Empire to ensure that they have food and aren't always on the run. For Hunter, his desire to keep the rest of the team safe and happy does not outweigh basic morality (which is a good thing!) They'll figure out a way to survive while also doing the morally correct thing. Crosshair, however, places nothing above his teammates. He'll betray the Empire's orders for them. He'll kill his new team for them. He'll murder whatever innocents it takes to give them a safe, fulfilling life in this new galaxy. The Empire wants him to kill other people's kids? What does he care if the tradeoff is getting a good home for Omega? Something, something, Jedi fear attachments. All of which makes this whole mess all the more tragic. He will do anything — literally, ethically anything — for his squad... and they didn't even come back for him. He'll do anything for them, but they're insisting on being enemies instead. The underlying problem is that Crosshair's way of expressing devotion and care — let me help you join the Empire that's definitely going to take over the galaxy so that you'll be under their all-powerful protection and can live save, happy lives — is something that TBB finds to be repugnant (with, you know, excellent reason). So Crosshair is just standing there, continually offering his heart to them, not understanding why these ethical questions are more important than the only thing he cares about: them. And, again, we don't currently know how much of that warped thinking stems from Crosshair himself, or something that was/is still up with the chip.
Plus, toss in everything else we've discussed about Crosshair's abandonment. He doesn't understand why they care about the Empire's crimes over the protection of their family and he's continually hurt by the knowledge that they won't go as far for him as he's willing to go for them, not realizing that going that far is morally reprehensible. If TBB had tried to rescue him and had approached him as a brother in need of rescue, rather than an enemy, he might be more receptive to their arguments about what's best for the team. Simply because he would have felt like he was still a part of that team. Right now, everything Hunter argues about the evils of the Empire, while 100% true, are filtered through this knowledge that Crosshair isn't a "real" brother anymore. Chip or not, he believes what he's saying and has no reason to think that he's wrong, just that others aren't listening to him. From Crosshair's POV, they wrote him off the second this all started and haven't made a single move to fix things. That's the easiest way to entrench the idea that his way of doing things is right, the only problem here are his brothers who refuse to see it, insisting on opposing him instead, just as they had from the get-go when they left and never came back. To Crosshair, he's reaching out despite (again, from his perspective) the others not deserving it, yet that extended hand is continually slapped away. Nothing in the situation is helping him realize that what he's offering is what's wrong because it's all framed to look like he himself is the problem (see: Tech's little speech to Wrecker). But that's also why Omega's reminder that he's still their brother is so important. He gets a reminder, but Crosshair needs to see that again too. He needs a reason to turn away from the Empire because, whether it's due to the chip or not, the simple argument "This is wrong" isn't doing it for him. I honestly think he'd have left with them if he felt like he could rejoin the squad because, as established, his squad means everything to him. That's the top priority. But so much happened to make Crosshair believe that his brothers don't want him, that they'll only accept him as an enemy, that any offers to join them are made only out of obligation... that all he has left is the Empire. He needs to believe that they accept him as his brother so he can toss the Empire to the curb for what he wanted this whole time: to go home.
tl;dr IT'S SUCH A HORRIBLE MESS lol and this is why I oh so hope season two tackles all this with something resembling respect and nuance. This is one hell of a tangled problem, with lots of justified and inaccurate anger on both sides, so to try and simplify it all into a, "Crosshair is just a bad guy who thinks bad things ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" would be... less than satisfying imo.
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if dreams were thunder, and lightning was desire
(read on AO3)
(read the whole series here)
SUMMARY: It's one thing to agree to get married for symbolic reasons in the name of political unity. It's another thing entirely to actually be married. [AKA - further adventures in that arranged marriage medieval fantasy AU of Rogue One]
A/N: Here I am, arriving three years late with proverbial Starbucks, to post my now once-yearly attempt at fic! I'm actually posting this as a birthday gift to my forever girl @firstelevens who is also responsible for helping me flesh out this idea in the first place.... [checks notes] uh, four years ago. Happy happy birthday and thank you for being the most supportive and wonderful friend in the multiverse, even though I’ve recently become terrible at replying to texts. Further notes are there if you want them if you follow the AO3 link above!
Cassian Andor wakes up to an empty bed, which is not, in and of itself, a startling thing. In fact, there was a time, only a few months ago, when it would have been a much greater surprise to find the other side of his bed occupied. Even now that he is married, waking to find his wife already up and gone is not an uncommon occurrence. The first few times he woke to find her gone, he had been confused, certainly, but he has adjusted to her habits and the sight of her side of the bed empty no longer inspires panic or concern as it had in the beginning.
However, this morning is different. Cassian’s wife is an early riser almost without exception, but she is not normally so far ahead of him that her side of the bed is as cold as it is now when Cassian runs his palm over the linens. Even more startling is the darkness that still lingers outside the window. It’s not yet dawn, then, and she is already awake and about the castle. That is highly unusual.
Perhaps, if Cassian had slept well, he might let these confusing details go. But he never sleeps well the night before he travels and tomorrow—or today, actually, given the hour—he leaves on a scouting mission to the southern provinces. He has slept fitfully most of the night and apparently only got enough actual sleep to let his wife slip out of their chambers unnoticed. He sighs and throws off the bedding, knowing he won’t get any more rest until he knows where Jyn has gone.
In little more than three months of marriage, Cassian cannot say he’s gotten to know his wife well. She is secretive and aloof, as a rule, and he has done all he can to give her the space she seems to yearn for, because he knows that, while she has accepted him as a husband, she did not choose him. Their union is a symbolic one, designed to mollify two disparate factions of the Rebellion as they struggle to rule together. He and Jyn are not royalty or even particularly important people, aside from that. No one is waiting on them for heirs or anything of that sort, and they can spend the rest of their lives as indifferent to each other as they please.
Still, Cassian cannot help that he has learned things about his wife, in spite of the careful distance that exists between them. He is a spy, after all. His job is to discover new information, even—or perhaps, especially—when the other party does not wish to give it to him. Jyn is adept at hiding things from others, but even she is not a complete mystery to him. No one is, for one thing, but she has the distinct disadvantage of sharing a bed with him.
What he knows does not amount to much, truly. Except that he had heard his wife complain more than once, in an undertone to her brother, of how restless and bored she feels cooped up in the stone walls of the castle. That, and the early hour where almost everyone else will still be in bed, suggests to Cassian that he would do well to get dressed and try to find his wife outside.
His instincts are correct in this case, as he finds her on the southern lawn outside the castle, standing alone and, he imagines, waiting for the sunrise that is beginning to tinge the sky with an orange glow just above the horizon. He takes the opportunity, before she hears him approach, to pause and take in the image of her, alone in the pretty half-light of the early morning.
She wears no overcoat, which irks him for reasons he does not fully understand. By midday, there is a good chance it will be a balmy spring day, but now, it is still chilly and damp without the sun to warm them. Jyn could catch a cold in this weather and Cassian has never known someone who can be so cautious and so careless at the same time.
On the other hand, she did go through the trouble of getting fully dressed before heading out, so perhaps Cassian should be thankful. He apparently also got more sleep than he realized, because he hadn’t heard any sound at all while she got her clothes on in the dark of their bedchamber. He half-expected her to still be in her dressing gown, given her lack of concern with convention.
He wishes he could say she looked tranquil as she surveys the forested land that borders the castle, but, for all he can only just make out her features in the minimal lighting, he can tell she is frowning. He thinks, absently, that she is beautiful nonetheless and then regrets it. He should not be distracted by her looks when he knows she is unhappy.
The distant call of a bird draws her attention in his direction and he sees the way her eyes widen in alarm when they land upon him before she thinks to hide her reaction. His opportunity to observe her unnoticed is gone, and he has no choice but to cross the distance between them, though he does try to appear unhurried.
“Good morning, Captain,” she greets him as he comes nearer and he almost stops short.
It always trips him up when she refers to him by his rank. It’s fine when others do so—that is protocol—but hearing it from his wife always strikes him as odd. He has told her as much, but there are moments when she defers to it still. He believes, though he has no proof of this, that she does it on purpose, that she only uses it when she is in a certain mood. Cassian has yet to ascertain what that mood is—if she is being sarcastic, if she is angry, if it might be her way of showing affection, even—but he knows there is some motive behind it that he does not understand. If he knew, he might be able to respond in some clever way, but as it is, he is at a loss for words.
“Good morning, my lady,” he says, and perhaps he is cleverer than he gives himself credit for, because Jyn’s frown deepens momentarily before she can stop herself. “You are up early today.”
“As are you,” she says, her tone suggesting that she heard the question hidden in his statement and she won’t be responding to it.
Cassian laughs, without meaning to. “I couldn’t find my wife this morning. It was an alarming way to wake up.”
He expects a terse response from her, saying that she is always awake before him. Instead, Jyn’s eyebrows raise in surprise and her frown eases, just a bit. “You were worried?” She asks, disbelieving.
“I—of course I was,” he replies. He is always worried, he doesn’t know how she hasn’t noticed yet.
“About me?”
“Yes,” he says, puzzled by her need for clarification. “We’re married. It is my duty to worry about you.”
Jyn tsks at that, whether in understanding or disappointment, he’s not sure. “And you are always dutiful,” she says, her tone unreadable still.
“I try to be,” Cassian says, feeling like he is stuck in a game of wits for which he is unprepared. He is capable and coherent around others, but his wife always has the upper hand on him. It never feels like he has the right answer for her. Even now, she nods before looking away, back at the horizon as it becomes rosier by the moment.
“Are you well?” He asks, when the silence starts to stretch out too long.
She blinks in confusion when she looks back at him, as if she had forgotten he was there. “I—yes, of course,” she says, and he realizes it was the question that confused her. “Do I not look well?”
Another question to which there is no right answer, he thinks. “It’s very early to be out of bed,” he says, instead of answering her question.
“I am always up early.”
“Not this early.”
“Have I done something wrong, Captain?”
“Jyn, I’m not chastising you,” he says, laughing. He’s not amused, not precisely, but if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll probably shout from frustration. This feels safer. “I’m asking if something is troubling you. I want to know that you are alright.”
His obvious frustration must outweigh her annoyance, because everything about her—her expression, her posture—immediately softens, the fight going out of her instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be defensive. I just couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you, not when you’re leaving this morning, but I see that I did anyway.”
“You didn’t. I...never sleep well before a journey.”
“Oh?”
He hesitates to say more, lest he seem like he sought her out just to drop his problems at her feet, but she is watching him with interest and, if he’s not mistaken, concern, so perhaps she would not mind. “All of the details, the logistics of the trip, I go over them, in my head, all night long. I’m practically frantic by morning, most of the time.”
“I—” Jyn cuts herself off, shaking her head, like she had something to say and thought the better of it. “I have a hard time imagining you in a frantic state,” she says, instead.
“Well, then,” he says, feeling some strange twinge of pride, “I suppose I am doing my job well.”
“As a spy, perhaps,” she replies, her tone unreadable.
“What other job do I have?” He asks, ignoring the fact that he’s not, officially speaking, a spy anymore. His actual title has something to do with “intelligence,” a distinction he’s meant to care about a lot more than he actually does. He’s not spying in the same way that he was during the war, but he’s not delusional enough to tell himself that those aren’t the skills the Republic has kept him around for.
Jyn gives him a long, searching look. “It hardly matters,” she says, finally, waving a hand and looking off at the horizon again. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’m a miserable excuse for a wife, though, not noticing that you couldn’t sleep.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Of course not,” she says, smiling, though the light of it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You are far too polite.”
“‘Polite’ is not the first word most people would use to describe me, my lady.”
“‘Careful,’ then,” she says, pointedly.
Cassian nods, feeling as if he has lost this round. “That is far more likely.” He pauses before he says anything more, weighing the risk of it, but ultimately decides it might be worth saying. “I did not want to trouble you. I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“I often am, at odd hours,” she says, and there’s something light and teasing about it now. “And you could stand to trouble me more, Captain. I’ve never heard of such an undemanding husband before.”
Unable to parse what she means when she suggests he “trouble” her when he cannot sleep—and unwilling to use his imagination, knowing where it will lead him—he decides to address a less mystifying part of her comment. “I’ve told you that you needn’t call me that,” he says.
“‘Husband?’” She asks, innocently, though he sees a bit of performance in it.
“No. ‘Captain.’”
“Well, you still call me ‘my lady.’ Only one of those honorifics is still worth anything, and it surely isn’t mine.”
“I only call you ‘my lady’ when…”
“Yes?” Jyn’s features take on the expression of an animal that has backed its prey into a corner, leaving it no options of retreat.
Cassian thinks it unwise to point this out, though. He also thinks it unwise to finish what he was about to say, which is that he only calls her ‘my lady’ when he wants to call her ‘my dear’ or something equally sentimental that he’s sure she would not approve of. It feels disingenuous to him, as well. He simply finds his vocabulary for expressing the intimacy of living so closely with another person without encroaching upon the territory of affection rather wanting. He cares for her, of course—why else would he be out of bed and out of doors on a freezing morning if he didn’t?—but there is hardly a chance of love or even affection in a marriage as young and unfamiliar as theirs.
“When I do not know what else to call you,” he says, instead of the truth. It’s barely even a lie, but it nags at him like one regardless. He has been trying to lie less around his wife, but it’s a difficult habit to break.
“My name would work well enough,” Jyn replies, her tone caught somewhere between amused and suspicious.
“So would mine.”
She hesitates before responding, looking shy, although it is a rare thing from her. “I thought you might like it, being called by your rank.”
“Not from you,” he says, immediately. “I am called that by enough people. When I’m home, when I’m with you, I am just your husband.”
He doesn’t realize the way this sounds—sentimental, the very thing he was avoiding—until the words are out of his mouth and Jyn’s face goes blank with astonishment. She recovers quickly, though, looking down at her feet.
“As you wish, husband,” she says, quietly.
“Well, you know now why I could not sleep. What has kept you awake?”
“Bad dreams,” she says, matter-of-factly. “As always.”
“Always?” Cassian repeats, concerned. He didn’t know she had nightmares. She shifts in her sleep often, he has noticed, always twisting herself into shapes that cannot possibly be comfortable, but he’s never known her to cry or panic enough to wake herself, the way he associates with nightmares.
“Most nights,” she confirms, looking away to avoid his gaze.
She crosses her arms over her chest, although he cannot tell if it’s a defensive gesture or simply because she is cold. He decides to proceed as though it is the latter and begins to slip his arms out of his coat’s sleeves. The rustling of the fabric draws her gaze back to him and her eyes widen with alarm when she realizes what he means to do.
“Oh, no,” she says, waving a hand to ward him off. “Don’t bother. You will freeze without it.”
“Is that so?” Cassian asks, ignoring her protests and pulling his jacket off completely.
“I know how cold you get,” she says, archly. There are things she has learned from sharing a bed with him, too, it appears.
He doesn’t take the bait to argue with her and instead steps forward until he’s only a single pace away from her and sweeps the jacket over her shoulders. She stands stiffly as he does so, as if she cannot figure out her part in this scene. Or perhaps she worries the slightest gesture will upset the moment they are sharing, though this idea might be romantic nonsense on Cassian’s part.
He draws the coat tighter around her body by the lapels and he fidgets with the collar so it will stand up and block the cold wind, since she has no scarf. He wants nothing more in the world than to take her hair that has gotten trapped in the collar and draw it out for her, if only for the excuse it would give him to run his hands through it without the risk of giving himself away. All the while, Jyn watches him with her chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed in obvious but neutral interest. Perhaps he has already given himself away.
“Do not worry on my account,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. He has finished arranging the coat around her shoulders, but his hands still linger on the lapels, holding it together, not wanting to let go and give up his excuse to be close to her. “If I am any good at my job, I will convince you to come inside before I even feel the cold.”
“Your job?” Jyn asks, warily. “As a spy?”
“Yes, and as a husband.”
“It is your duty as my husband to ensure I do not freeze to death?”
“Amongst other things.” He means it plainly enough, but in this close proximity, he sees the way Jyn bites her lip and look away at the implication of his words and he feels himself flush with embarrassment. He tries to steer the conversation elsewhere, no matter how artlessly. “I have nightmares too.”
Jyn’s head snaps up. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“About the war?”
Cassian swallows and words feel more difficult than he anticipated, so he simply nods. It’s probably important that his wife knows these things about him, especially if he wants her to tell him things too.
She watches him carefully, as if she’s waiting for a trap but Cassian just gazes steadily back at her, to see if she’ll trust him. After a moment, she sighs and says, more to his chest than to his face, “most of mine are from when I was young.”
“I have a few of those too.”
Jyn nods, closing her eyes. Cassian transfers the lapels of the coat into one hand, so that his other one is free to rub her shoulder. He wants her to say more, but he doesn’t want to pressure her. Without warning, she steps further into his embrace, close enough that she’s able to perch her chin on his shoulder. Though her face is turned away from him, the sweetness of the gesture nearly overwhelms him. He places his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, just so she doesn’t think to pull away.
“I think the trouble is not having much to occupy my time here,” she says, after a moment, and Cassian could collapse with relief at hearing her speak. “I’m not accustomed to idleness. And when I try to sleep, my mind is still awake and it gives me these vivid dreams.”
He can’t help himself any longer. He smooths a hand over the back of her head, brushing back some strands of hair that have come loose from where she’s tried to tie it at the nape of her neck. He thinks he feels her pull closer. “And what do you dream of?”
“My brother and I, when we were young, we were always out of doors. We’d have breakfast with my mother and then she’d send us away and we’d spend all day together, collecting rocks and shells from the beaches or scrambling over rocks. We never came home until dinner.”
“That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.”
“It was lovely,” she says, sounding pained, and he tightens his hold on her. “I had a very idyllic childhood, in most regards. Mostly because my parents didn’t tell me anything that was going on.”
Cassian laughs, lightly, at that. “That’s what parents are supposed to do.”
Jyn buries her face in his shoulder, hiding from his gaze. “A lot of good it did me,” she says, and even her tone sounds closed-off.
“What happens in your dreams?” He asks, quietly. He knows she probably wants to end this conversation and pretend it never happened, but he needs her to know that he’s here, that he’s willing to listen.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if to prepare herself. “It’s just me and Bodhi as children, running around wild like always. At first, it feels like a memory, but then it starts to feel…sinister. I don’t really know how to describe it, it’s just this inexplicable dread that washes over me. Sometimes, we can hear people coming, a great mass of them, and we get scared. Other times, there’s some terrible storm moving in, faster than we can run. But we try to get home, anyway. We’re always running to find my mother, to warn her. It always feels so important that we get to her. And the ground falls away beneath our feet. Sometimes, I lose Bodhi; he falls or gets hurt and he’s crying out for my help but I can’t stop, or sometimes, he just disappears and I can’t remember how to get home. And I’m completely alone.”
After a moment’s silence, Jyn pulls back in his embrace. He doesn’t let her go, but he does give her some space. “Foolish, isn’t it?” She asks, with a false smile. He can hear the unshed tears in her voice and knows she’s trying to make light of it so he doesn’t think her weak.
“No,” he says, firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “Not at all. But you and your brother survived the war, Jyn. And you’re together. It must be some comfort to you.”
“Yes, it is. Of course it is. But our parents didn’t survive. And that version of us, the children who used to play on the beach together, they didn’t survive the war, either. Our lives are so different now. I think that’s what the dream is about.”
“You wish to go home?”
“I wish to go back,” she says, bearing his personal question with grace. She thinks on it a moment, before sighing in frustration and shaking her head. “If only it was as simple as returning to Lah’mu. But I know that the place will not be the same now as it was then. And I am different too.”
“Perhaps that’s why something is always wrong in your dream,” Cassian muses. “You long to go back to that time in your life, but you know you don’t belong there anymore. Maybe that’s the source of the tension you feel in the dream.”
Jyn looks at him, appraisingly, and he worries that he overstepped somehow. However, when she finally speaks, she doesn’t seem offended. “What do you dream of, Captain?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You said you have nightmares too.”
“Oh, yes,” he replies, with considerable effort. He’d forgotten about that admission. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Of course,” Jyn says, and her expression shutters immediately. “You’re under no obligation to tell me.”
Cassian reaches for a stray piece of hair that’s brushing against her collarbone, twisting the errant strand around his finger loosely. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he says, quietly and more plaintively than he meant to. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about offending her by accident. “I’m not equivocating. I really do not know how to describe them.”
“Do you even wish to?” She asks, with a sharpness he deserves but is still unprepared for.
“No,” he answers honestly, which makes her blink in surprise. “I do not wish to tell you anything that will make you think less of me.”
“You should not worry about that.”
“Is your opinion of me already so low?” He asks, with every intention of making light of it but the question comes out unfortunately earnest.
Jyn, for her part, looks bewildered. “No,” she says, immediately. “Quite the opposite. I have a hard time imagining anything you could say that would make me think less of you.”
He takes a deep breath, looking away from her face and focusing instead on the strand of hair he’s still toying with. “I always dream of people I’ve…lost. People I’ve hurt or abandoned,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “It’s much like what you’ve described, I think. They feel like memories but I know they’re not quite right. And I know there’s nothing I can do to change what happens. So I just have to live through it again. And again. Until I wake up.”
As he’s speaking, Jyn reaches for him, closing her hand around his wrist where it’s resting against her shoulder. When he feels the weight of her thumb pressing into the space between the bones of his forearm, he releases the lock of her hair, letting it unspool from around his finger. He’d pull his hand back completely, but her grip on him tightens like she’s read his mind. She brings his hand close enough that she can press her lips to the spot where his pulse is now racing wildly.
“You ought to have told me sooner,” she says, and she must be able to feel his heartbeat against her lips. The thought makes him warm with both embarrassment and anticipation.
He swallows with considerable effort. “To what end?”
“There are things,” she says, against the soft skin of his inner wrist, “that a wife can do. To help her husband sleep. To take his mind off his worries. I could do those things for you, if you wanted. You need only ask.”
She makes it sound so simple, as if they had the sort of marriage where they stated their desires plainly to each other, where they asked for what they wanted and then got it. But the asking is the most difficult part, in Cassian’s experience, or maybe the wanting is. They’ve been intimate together in the way Jyn is implying only once, on their wedding night, and, while enjoyable, it hardly left him with a strong sense of what his wife wants or expects from him.
Now, though, Jyn is offering that to him again. There was no mistaking it. His own need startles him, thrumming in his veins so loudly that he can hardly think. He has weeks of travel ahead of him, weeks of sleeping on the hard ground with only young, raucous soldiers for company. It will be cold and lonely and it will not even occur to him to complain, to dislike it, since it’s all he knows. Or, rather, it was all he knew before he was married. Before Jyn. He would be wise to avail himself of his wife’s offer while he can, enjoy the softness of her before he leaves and knows no softness of any kind for weeks.
He takes too long considering it, though, for Jyn’s face falls and she pulls back from him, only a little but it feels like a great distance, when they are this close. “Of course, you should feel no obligation to—”
“I don’t,” he replies, hastily. “I don’t feel any obligation.”
“I merely thought I should offer,” she says, and her eyes lower to avoid his gaze.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Cassian says, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “What I meant to say is…what I feel for you is not obligation.”
He can feel her looking at him now, the scrutiny in her gaze obvious even with his eyes still closed. “And what do you feel for me, Captain?” She asks, carefully.
An overwhelming and terrible want , he thinks. A desire so deep he has yet to discover the bottom of it. A dangerous kind of possessiveness, like they belong to one another, even though they’re not the sort of people who belong to anyone, or the sort to hold onto anything they’re given too tightly, because they know the pain of having it taken away.
He doesn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking at her and the only logical conclusion to that action is to step forward and kiss her. His hand, the one she’s not still holding captive, curves around her cheek as his mouth covers hers. Her lips part for him without hesitation and their kiss deepens. It’s as good as their wedding night, but this time he’s sharp and clear headed, not hazy and tired from long hours of drinking and celebrating, and he intends to memorize every single detail. The way she wraps her arm around him and her fingers dig into his shoulder blade, desperate for purchase. The sound of surprise she made when their lips first met and how it mellows into a quiet hum of satisfaction, as if she’s been waiting for this.
When she pulls away from him after a few moments, it takes everything in his power not to whine in complaint. But they’re both breathing heavily and Jyn’s hair is even more disheveled than before, which might be his fault but could also be from the wind that’s doing its best to push them back to their warm bed. He’s beginning to think they should listen, and he’s about to say as much, when Jyn speaks first.
“You’re cold,” she says, and he’s about to take it the wrong way when she pulls his hand from her face and wraps it up in both of her own to warm it.
He laughs, more overwhelmed than anything else. “I don’t feel it,” he says, because he was too busy feeling everything else.
She levels an arch look at him, either because she’s not impressed with his effort to flatter her or because she’s actually worried he’s going to catch his death like this, kissing her on a hillside in the early morning. He’s going to die somehow, it might as well be like this, he thinks, but he doesn’t try to kiss her again. He has the sense that she has more to say.
“You can kiss me in our bedroom, you know,” she says, making it worth the wait.
His heartbeat races, caught somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “I can?” He asks, stupidly.
Jyn searches his face, looking for something. Reassurance, perhaps, or sincerity. Whatever she’s looking for, she must find it, because she nods, slowly, and a smile overtakes her face. “You can kiss me anywhere you like,” she says, and it does his heart rate no favors.
Cassian steps back, grabbing her hand so he can pull her with him in the direction of the castle. She follows him and, as they walk, he pulls her into his side, burying his face in her neck and planting a kiss there. When she squirms slightly and elbows him in the ribs, he laughs against her skin.
“You said anywhere ,” he says, and she laughs too.
***
The next morning, the castle bustles with activity as Cassian leaves his briefing with Draven. Using the former seat of the emperor’s power as the headquarters of the government of the New Republic has always struck him as a smart choice on the part of the rebels, from a symbolic standpoint and in a practical sense of needing the actual work of governing the country to happen somewhere. By its very nature, a castle is almost comically oversized for one person’s needs, even a ruler’s, and so the former rebels had made a much better use of the space than the emperor ever had.
However, on this particular morning, with his mind already running through logistics of the mission ahead and planning what to say to the soldiers he’s bringing along, Cassian finds the crowded halls and corridors more grating than he normally does. It hadn’t seemed possible to feel this way during the war, when the emperor’s excesses had seemed so absurd and villainous, but Cassian is beginning to wonder if maybe the castle is too small for their purposes. The new government will loathe the idea of expanding, will object to spending money on something so frivolous, but it may be necessary, he thinks, as he bumps into yet another person in the crush of people moving about as he makes his way to the courtyard. The small party of soldiers accompanying him on this mission are gathering there now and they’re meant to depart in less than an hour. It will not set a good tone for the next few weeks if their captain keeps them waiting.
Much like in the old days—and it is staggering to think of the rebellion as something of the past, he realizes with a lurch—these missions are to gather information on activity across the Republic. However, unlike in the old days, he’s not trying to find the one piece of intelligence he’s certain will win the war for the rebels, which is a welcome change. He’s also, generally speaking, not in constant mortal danger anymore, though there are some areas of the country that the war ravaged worse than others, leaving desperation and crime in its wake. That’s why Draven still sends Cassian on these scouting missions, to see what corners of the nation still need aid or resources. Peacetime has been far from perfect for everyone, but even with the things he’s seen, Cassian can’t deny most people, himself included, are better off.
He’s so lost in his thoughts of the mission as he makes his way to the rendezvous point he arranged with the party that Bodhi must have had to call his name a half a dozen times before Cassian finally heard him. By the time he turns around, Bodhi is practically at his elbow, which is both impressive and guilt-inducing, from the way Cassian can see him leaning heavily on his cane. He does his best not to wince, because Bodhi doesn’t enjoy being fretted over, and slows down so his brother-in-law can more easily keep pace with him instead.
“Captain,” Bodhi exclaims, managing to only sound slightly out of breath, “I’m glad I caught you!”
“Coming to see me off, Captain Rook?” Cassian asks, pointedly.
Bodhi looks properly chastened. “Sorry, Cassian. I’m still not used to it.”
“Calling me by my first name or being a captain yourself?”
“Either,” he says, and Cassian understands. Bodhi was only promoted to Captain after his heroics in the Battle of Eadu and it was only a few months later that the treaty was signed. He’s only ever been a captain in peacetime. “I just don’t fully think of you as my sister’s husband yet.”
That does make Cassian wince and he isn’t quick enough to hide it from Bodhi, whose eyes immediately widen in alarm. “Not like that!” he practically shouts. “I mean, it’s nothing to do with you! I just can’t believe Jyn has a husband at all. In my head, she’s still six years old and telling me what to do all the time.”
“To be fair, she does still tell you what to do,” Cassian replies. “No change in your rank will ever change that.”
Bodhi laughs. “You’re certainly right about that.” After a brief pause, he adds, “Where is my sister, anyway? Isn’t she coming to see you off?”
“Oh, well, she’s—no.” He clears his throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes.”
Bodhi nods absently, seemingly satisfied with this answer and mercifully doesn’t ask for any further details. Cassian is not sure his nonchalant facade would hold up under questioning and the exact nature of the goodbye he and his wife shared this morning would soon be extremely obvious to her brother. It’s better for everyone if they somehow avoid that outcome altogether.
His relief is short-lived, however, when Bodhi suddenly asks, “And did she…uh…did she get a chance to, well…?”
They arrive at the training yard before Bodhi arrives at his actual question. Cassian pauses in the archway that leads into the yard and turns to face him. “What is it?” He asks, dreading the answer.
“Well, I was just wondering if my sister got a chance to speak with you?”
“Bodhi, your sister and I are married. We speak with one another quite often as a result. You will need to be more specific.”
Bodhi makes a face that suggests he would much rather do anything else. “I thought she might have mentioned the incident with Senator Jebel?” he says, voice stuck between a statement and a question.
Cassian blinks, searching his memory for anything relevant. “Incident?” He finally asks, when nothing comes to mind. He doesn’t like the sound of that.
“‘Incident’ might be too strong a word,” Bodhi admits apologetically.
“Here’s an idea: why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll decide what the correct word for it is?”
“It’s just—if Jyn didn’t tell you about it, then it clearly didn’t bother her very much. I certainly don’t want to insert myself into the middle of your marriage!”
Cassian doesn’t point out that it’s a little late for that sentiment and instead asks, as calmly as he can manage, “What happened, Bodhi?”
“Well, it was just—” He pauses as a few people pass between them to exit into the yard, shifting his weight uncomfortably while trying to maintain his grip on his cane. When they’re gone, he continues, “Jyn and I were walking together the other day when we came across Lieutenant Tuesso walking with Senator Jebel. And, well, Kay was saying something to her about passing along some information for your upcoming scouting mission and—actually, Jyn told him to tell it to you himself because she’s not your secretary—”
Cassian smiles at that, able to picture it so clearly. Kay is perhaps his oldest friend and the person he trusts most in the field, but he and Jyn get along like oil and water. Still, if Kay had truly objected to Cassian’s marriage, he would have done everything in his power to stop it, but he’d only asked if Cassian was sure before giving his blessing. Well, it was more like his resignation, but coming from Kay, they’re basically the same thing. Cassian likes to imagine that Jyn’s fiery temper and sharp wit secretly amuse Kay but he’s simply too stubborn to admit it.
“But that’s not the point,” Bodhi says, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “The point is: Kay was talking about your trip and Senator Jebel asked why you were being sent off on a mission so close to your wedding, to which Jyn replied that it had been three months and that it wasn't terribly close. And then the Senator said she must have been very confident in…well, winning you over, if she was comfortable sending you off on your own so soon.”
“‘Winning me over’? What does that even mean?”
Bodhi looks uncomfortable. “You know, as a wife?” He says, sounding pained. When Cassian just stares at him blankly, he sighs and adds, begrudgingly, “Senator Jebel may have implied that a man of your rank might use a mission like this to…avail themselves of the sexual talents of women other than their wives, you know, during their travels. Unless, of course, the wife in question had already proved herself irreplaceable in that regard.”
Cassian knows that Bodhi has expressed himself clearly and put all of his words in the right order, and yet he still cannot comprehend a single thing he’s just heard. They stare at each other in silence—his baffled, Bodhi’s embarrassed—for a long time before anything clicks into place in Cassian’s mind.
“He said this to Jyn?” He asks, finally. It’s hard to speak around all of the dread pooling at the base of this throat.
Bodhi cringes. “Well, he really said it to me and Kay. He was talking over Jyn’s head, which sounds better but, as you can imagine, made it much worse.”
“And what did she have to say to all this?”
“I made sure to drag her away as quickly as possible and Kay distracted the Senator with just as much haste!”
“Bodhi,” Cassian says on an exhale. He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, feeling the early signs of a headache coming on. “What did Jyn say?”
His shoulders sag in defeat. “She only said that she had no concerns on that front,” Bodhi says, plainly unsure if he’s helping or hurting at this point. “And then I made our excuses and got her away from him as soon as I could, I promise!”
“I believe you,” Cassian replies, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your efforts to take care of your sister.”
“I thought perhaps her feelings had been hurt by Senator Jebel’s comments, but since she has not mentioned the incident to you, perhaps she dismissed them as quickly as they deserved.”
“Perhaps,” Cassian says, for Bodhi’s benefit, but his mind is on his wife’s behavior this morning; all of her talk of the ways a wife could comfort her husband, how solicitous of his troubles she’d been, how vulnerable she’d seemed herself, even the kisses they’d shared and the way she’d allowed him to take her to bed. How different it all looked in this new light. Of course she wouldn’t mention the conversation with the Senator to him—to do so would be, in Jyn’s mind, to admit to a weakness, that she cared at all what others thought of their marriage or, worse, that she cared what Cassian thought of her as a wife—but it wouldn’t stop her from taking it as advice.
So she’d seduced him, and quite adeptly at that. He hadn’t even realized it was happening. He might have known better, under other circumstances, but he’d naively thought that being married to someone meant that you didn’t have to concern yourself with seduction. If his wife wanted to sleep with him, it seemed to him that all she had to do was show interest in such a thing or, heaven forbid, simply say so, and she could have her way. To play such games about it seems counterproductive to him, but given how easily he was manipulated on this occasion, Cassian might not be the person to ask.
“I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn,” Bodhi says, anxiously, at which point Cassian realizes he has been staring off into space for a long moment.
“Of course not,” he says immediately. “I appreciate your telling me.”
“You won’t tell Jyn I mentioned it, will you?”
“No. Like you said, if it had bothered her, she would have told me herself.” It isn’t true, not in the slightest, but Cassian can see that Bodhi needs to hear it. “Besides, now I can use my spare time on this trip to plan my revenge on Senator Jebel.”
“Revenge?” Bodhi asks, wide-eyed with concern. It’s sometimes hard to believe someone as tenderhearted as he is fought in the war, let alone survived it.
Cassian waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not thinking of challenging him to a duel, Bodhi. Relax. But there are a great many ways a man of my position can make his life…uncomfortable and I shall enjoy thinking of as many of them as possible.”
“I am once again reminded how glad I am to be on your good side, Cassian,” Bodhi says, faintly. “And that you’re looking out for my sister.”
Cassian has never felt less capable of doing any such thing, not when Jyn is still keeping secrets from him and treating him as an opponent, but he nods anyway. His wife would likely roll her eyes at the sentiment, but he cannot stand by knowing that someone made her feel small even for a moment. He gets a savage sort of thrill out of the idea that she shall have his protection, whether she wants it or not.
“I am glad to be of service,” he says, vaguely. “But I’m afraid I must give the soldiers their orders now if we’re to be off on time.”
“Of course. Safe travels.” Bodhi offers his hand for Cassian to shake and then claps him on the shoulder as he takes his leave.
Cassian is certain that he relays Draven’s orders to the soldiers assembled in the yard as soon as he’s done speaking with Bodhi but he can’t actually remember a single thing he said by the time he’s securing the saddle on his own horse. His only excuse is that his mind is obviously elsewhere. Even though he knows he should focus on the mission ahead, he can’t stop thinking about Jyn.
As though he’s conjured her, she suddenly appears in the courtyard, with Kay and Senator Mothma in tow. The latter two are deep in conversation about something, while his wife doesn’t seem to be participating at all if the mild, far-off look on her face is any indication. It’s not surprising to see them all together; he’s sure that the Senator is the one who approved their scouting mission for General Draven and that he asked Kay to appraise her of the mission’s status because he’d rather not do it himself. And Jyn and Senator Mothma are often in each other’s company. Jyn often jokes that the Senator has claimed her as an unofficial assistant but Cassian suspects it’s just because she doesn’t want to admit that they are friends.
Before he can think better of it, Cassian calls out to Jyn, despite the fact that she’s on the other side of the courtyard still. It doesn’t occur to him until afterwards that shouting to get someone’s attention in a crowded area is probably bad manners, especially if that person is a lady. She looks startled to hear her name and the soldiers scattered throughout the area look up in shock at hearing him raise his voice at all. When her eyes meet his across the yard, Jyn’s neutral, distant expression shutters, turning into something more wary and focused. Cassian tilts his chin very slightly to beckon her over, not risking a bigger gesture lest the assembled soldiers think they’re about to witness something salacious. He’s determined they won’t, and Jyn catches his meaning anyway, even from a distance, and begins to make her way over.
He means to use the long moment it will take her to reach him to plan what he will say, how he will broach this delicate subject with her without implicating her brother in divulging the information to him, but he’s too distracted by the sight of her. She’s dressed plainly enough, not being one for embellishment, but her dress is a deep burgundy that suits and fits her well and she’s gingerly holding the skirt to keep the hem from dragging along the dirty ground. He only has to think on her clothing for a moment before his mind supplies the image of her this morning, as he was preparing to leave, just in her nightshirt, only deigning to get out of their bed to give him one last kiss goodbye. It was the only time he can remember being tempted to stay in bed rather than get on with his work. By the time she arrives, his face is warm with the sort of embarrassment he thought he’d grow out of once he was married.
“Yes, my lord?” She asks, and he’d tell her again to do away with such pointless formality if he couldn’t see the bright glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She’s trying to be funny.
He still has no idea what to say to her. His mind remains a complete blank, while his pulse is running wild. There is no way to tell her she should have trusted him enough to tell him about the incident with Senator Jebel, or that he knows the intimate moment they shared this morning was more inspired by that than by any genuine passion on her part, without giving away that he’s been listening to gossip. To admit that would only succeed in raising her defenses and causing an argument.
She didn’t trust him. That’s the heart of the matter and what is bothering him the most. Or perhaps it is that, for once in his life, he acted without suspicion or subterfuge and now he looks like a fool. Without realizing it, he’d begun to trust her but apparently the feeling is not mutual. It is only once this thought articulates itself in his mind that he catches himself; he’s embarrassed. She’s injured nothing but his sense of pride—that he always knows when someone is lying to him, that he’s always the man in the room with the most information.
But what, really, is the cost? So what if she outsmarted him? It’s not life or death, this. He wishes she had felt safe enough to be honest with him, but he can hardly blame her that she didn’t. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other and three months is not long enough to change a lifetime of mistrust in others, especially if one is accustomed to it as a means of survival. He still doesn’t know much about her past before they met, but if it was anything like his, he understands why opening up to him might prove difficult.
And maybe some of it was real—the dream she told him about, the reasons she has difficulty sleeping. Maybe she needed the ulterior motive of seducing him to make sure he doesn’t stray as an excuse to tell him the truth. And what does it tell her if he gets angry? How does it look if he holds it against her for being as secretive and wary as he always is himself? How can he ever expect her to trust him with anything if he lets his ego get in the way now? And perhaps more importantly, what does it really cost him to let her be right?
If she did what he thinks she did, it was an act of desperation, to ensure that she had some control over the life she was unceremoniously shoved into three months ago. She was afraid of the idea of him leaving on this trip and forgetting the vows he’d made as soon as she was out of sight. He can see now all the ways that her own ego is tied up in this—not wanting to be seen as an inadequate wife, wanting to prove Jebel wrong after he’d been so crass and unkind to her, and perhaps even worrying that Cassian felt the same way, that he had any complaints of their marriage—but he can also see further, to the core of the matter, where it’s just Jyn being afraid and alone. How can he punish her for that, when all he wants is for her to feel safe with him?
It costs him nothing to let her be right, then; to let her believe that he’s blissfully unaware of any hidden reason for her behavior or any conflict and just play the role of the devoted, smitten husband. It’s not as if he planned to be unfaithful to her while he was away, and giving her some assurance on that matter without revealing what he knows should be easy enough. Let her believe that her machinations paid off and she’s won her husband over with her feminine wiles. There’s no harm in that. When he thinks of it that way, it’s barely even a lie.
“Cassian,” she says now, eyes full of concern at his silently staring at her. “Is everything alright?”
He comes back to the present moment when her hand comes to rest on his arm. “Yes, everything is fine,” he says, weakly. “I apologize. There were probably less dramatic ways to get your attention.”
“No matter. I appreciate the efficiency of your method, I must say.”
“Still, I do not wish to embarrass you.” When he sees she means to shrug at that, he adds, “under any circumstances.”
She blinks at him, surprised, so some of his implied meaning must come through. “You do not embarrass me,” she replies, warily.
“I am glad to hear it.”
“Is that why you called me over?” She asks.
“No, I was—well, I realized I had forgotten to ask you if…well, if there was anything you needed.”
“Me?”
He nods, probably a touch too emphatically. He’s normally better at this, but Jyn has always caught him off guard. “Yes, I’m going to be traveling for the next few weeks and you can get almost anything from the markets in the southern provinces, so if there was anything you needed, I could bring it back for you.”
She stares at him as though he’s spoken in a language she’s never heard before. “I don’t believe I need anything at the present,” she says, finally, after considering her words for a long time.
“It doesn’t have to be something you need,” he says. “Something you want would suffice. Didn’t you lose your gloves recently?”
“No, I found them. I had left them in Senator Mothma’s chambers after she and I returned from a walk.”
“Still, I could get you nicer gloves.”
“It wouldn’t make much difference. I’d still forget them everywhere.”
“I could get you several pairs of gloves.”
“Cassian, what is this about?”
He covers her hand, still lingering on his arm, with his own, chafing her knuckles with his thumb. “Keeping your hands warm,” he says innocently.
She laughs incredulously. “You are not going away for the sole purpose of buying me presents. You will be busy with work. I imagine you will hardly have time to even think of me.”
“No, I’m afraid the real difficulty will be thinking of anything else,” Cassian says, his own pulse thundering behind his ears. It’s not the nerves of telling a lie and fearing getting caught, he realizes, but the panic of finally telling someone the long-guarded truth.
Jyn looks down at her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe back and forth in the gravel. “You don’t need to say such things. I do not require flattery to sustain me.”
“Well, whether you’re flattered or not is incidental. What matters is that it’s true.”
“Is that why you said it?”
“Yes. I know the truth and I have a complicated relationship, sometimes by necessity, but I try to be honest with you, as much as I can be. And I can only hope that I get a little better at it with each try. It’s not much, I know, but—”
“It’s worth more than you think,” she says carefully.
“I’m glad you feel that way.” He doesn’t say the rest of what he’s thinking— you can be honest with me too or I wish we could know each other better —because it feels like asking too much or risking betraying Bodhi’s confidence, so he leaves it at that.
Behind him, one of the lieutenants whistles for everyone’s attention. “Everyone is here and accounted for, Captain,” he adds, to Cassian. “We’re ready when you are.”
Cassian nods to him before looking back at Jyn just at the moment the wind picks up and loosens several strands of her hair from where it’s pulled back. He attempts to brush them back into place, while she watches him with amusement.
“It seems I must be going,” he says.
“So it does,” she replies. She appears to struggle with something, turning it over in her mind for a moment before she leans in and kisses him. His hand is still buried in her hair, trying to keep it from blowing about in the breeze again, and it helps him to keep her close. He’d normally be reticent to have such a display in front of his fellow soldiers—he doesn’t want to give them inspiration for gossip or a reason to tease him mercilessly if he has to spend the next several weeks in their company—but he’ll have to make an exception this time. It feels like a coded message from Jyn, that she trusts him, that he’s done well as her husband, at least in this moment. She’s not one to say so directly, and that’s fine. He’s willing to learn to speak her language, especially if it means kissing her like this more often.
However, common sense prevails eventually and he’s forced to pull back from her before they embarrass themselves in front of all the gathered soldiers. He runs his thumb over her cheek just once, feeling the chill of the morning there more than in his own body. “Goodbye, Jyn,” he says, quietly so only she can hear, and kisses her knuckles lightly for good measure.
“Take care of yourself,” she says, in a rush. Like she’s tried to keep it to herself but couldn’t manage it. “I expect you home in one piece or there will be hell to pay.”
“Of course, my dear,” he says as he steps up into the saddle.
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the lieutenant beside Cassian chimes in, looking amused. “We will make sure nothing happens to your husband. You have my word.”
Cassian shakes his head at the young man, who looks even more shamelessly delighted, but Jyn is pleased by this, he can tell.
“Good,” she replies, nodding at him. “You don’t know me very well, sir, but I will tell you this: you would not like to be on my bad side.”
The lieutenant laughs. “No, ma’am, I would not. I’ll lead the party out, if you’d like, sir,” he adds to Cassian.
“Thank you,” Cassian replies. When the group has started to move out from the courtyard, he turns his attention back to Jyn and reaches his hand out to her.
She takes it, and plants a kiss on his knuckles. “My thoughts go with you,” she says.
“And mine stay here with you.”
The answering smile he receives stays with him as he follows the rest of the party out of the courtyard, as he lies on the cold ground of their camp that night, even as the mission turns long and tedious. It lasts until he can replace it in his memory with the smile he gets when he returns home again and sweeps her into his arms once more.
#rogue one#rebelcaptain#jyn erso#cassian andor#bodhi rook#au#vaguely medieval fantasy au#my writing#my fic#one day i will title one of the fics in this series with actual graceland lyrics but today is not that day#i've been staring at this fic for three years basically just take it away from me please#anyway here's wonderwall#otp: built on hope#otp: your mother and i have been together ever since#HBD Zainab you elegant and industrious capybara
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So I know character analysis in relation to the evente of True Colors isn't quite in style anymore, but Ive been mentally checked out for a month now and off my game for longer, so now that I'm in the zone again I'm gonna make yall regret it.
By which I mean yeah it's time for me to endulge in overthinking things and talking about how miserable Marcy's life is on a daily basis.
So some of the stuff Ive been thinking about isn't exactly new, we've known Marcy is real into escapism, we know she'd rather stay exploring other worlds than go back and get separated from her friends. But like, Ive been thinking about the specific detail that has me approaching it from a flipside. As much as I know Marcy loves Amphibia I don't think I ever gave enough credit to how much she Hates earth.
The specific detail in question being that she considers the calamity box a perfect birthday present for anne. On a surface level that detail doesnt seem super important, but the more thought I put towards it the more it seems like one of the most important details in the whole thing.
While one could make the argument that Marcy just used it being her birthday present as an excuse to get her hands on it and get it open, I just dont think shes that cunning. Shes smart yeah, but shes not agressive or manipulative with it, I think she genuinely believes, even at that point, that randomly getting sent to another world without her consent would be a good birthday present, the implications of which are unsettling to say the least.
Sure by the time True Colors happens she's got the firsthand experience and view of what Anne has been doing and has seen how good its been for her, so she is able to freely do the "I gave you this" knowing it was good. But at the beginning, everything was completely different.
Marcy wanted to get off of Earth in order to stay together with her friends, but she also knows that they arent aware thats even a factor, and I would even make the argument she isnt comfident enough in herself to think theyd actually go along with it if they knew her reasoning, just so they wouldnt get split up from her. (Honestly I could make a whole nother post about that and how I think part of her reason for not telling them what the box would do was because she was afraid theyd tell her she wasnt worth putting up any resistance for).
So Marcy is standing there, knowing her own reasons why she wants to run to another world, but also knowing that those reasons dont directly apply to Anne. And while she does tend to lose track of peoples wants and desires when she gets caught up in her own head, she knows Anne has parents she loves and cares about that she would miss, and probably all the other stuff we know Anne misses about home. Regardless she calls the box a present for Anne anyway.
Marcy's desire to (literally) escape to a fantasy world makes sense to me. I get it. I cant pretend I wouldnt seriously consider it myself and Im happy here anyway. But even I have enough stuff and relationships here Id loose a lot by going. The fact that Marcy takes no time to think and immediately wants off of earth speaks volumes. For Marcy, the literal only things in the entire world she holds valuable are Anne and Sasha and thats serioisly it.
In the past Ive categorized this as Marcy not having anything really tieing her down to earth and meaning she just doesnt really care for anything or anyone there but I think theres more too it than that.
For Marcy, the thought of leaving Earth is not just a convienent escape from her immediate problem. She knows Anne doesnt have the same things pushing her away from earth and she knows Anne has people she loves there, but she still classifies sending Anne away from earth without her consent as a present. Marcy believes, without even knowing where it will send them, that the box will be so good it will outweigh any negative feelings from the people anne will miss, entirely because literally anywhere is better than home.
Even knowing Anne has people she loves Marcys feelings are so strong that the concept of being on earth as anything more than a tolerable misery Anne has to deal with to be happy with the few things she likes about it just. Doesnt even occur to her. No matter how much Anne holds valuable Marcy cant understand the idea that losing all of that would be worth it and more just to get off of earth, to anywhere else, no matter where, so much so that in her eyes its a wonderful gift to literally anyone, because earth is such an inherently miserable place why would anyone want to stay?
tldr Marcy you poor child what are you not telling us
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CQL Rewatch - Ep 27
Note: I will be critical of Jiang Cheng in these posts. If you can’t handle that, please feel free to scroll on.
It's really interesting here that Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji that he has to save Wen Ning. I wonder if he even understands that that is precisely how Lan Wangji feels about him. I mean, I suppose it's different. Wei Wuxian also feels like he's indebted to Wen Ning, which he is because of what happened at Lotus Pier, but I also think there is the secondary reason that Wen Ning and the other Wens are being treated unfairly, and Wei Wuxian won't stand for that.
A lot of people see this as a romantic moment: Wei Wuxian saying that he'd be honored to be killed by Lan Wangji. I think rather than being romantic, it's just really sad. Lan Wangji doesn't want to fight with Wei Wuxian, and he certainly doesn't want to kill him. He wants to take him home and hide him so that no one can hurt him, because he loves him. So there's that. It's also sad because it's as if Lan Wangji's feelings haven't gotten through to Wei Wuxian at all. He must be feeling like, "What did I do wrong? Wasn't I clear enough? Did I not do enough to show him how I feel?" Obviously Lan Wangji didn't confess or anything, but it must be disappointing to hear that Wei Wuxian is fine being killed by him. Like, don't you understand that I would never kill you? Doesn't he understand that Lan Wangji is willing to break the rules for Wei Wuxian? He'd certainly never do that for anyone else.
This is a defining moment for Lan Wangji. If he followed the rules, if he followed what the other cultivators want, he would have fought with Wei Wuxian right here. In fact, if Wei Wuxian's expression is any indication, Wei Wuxian expected him to fight with him. He seemed to think that Lan Wangji's devotion to orthodoxy and the rules of his clan would have compelled him to stand in Wei Wuxian's way. I guess he didn't understand their relationship, that Lan Wangji values Wei Wuxian more than any rules or orthodoxy, that he values him as a man--a friend, a lover if the two of them could ever get on the same page. But Lan Wangji chooses Wei Wuxian here. He chooses to protect him by letting him go. He chooses to love him from a distance, at least knowing that Wei Wuxian is safe. He chooses to break the rules because his devotion to Wei Wuxian is stronger than any devotion he has for the orthodoxy of the other clans. The most heartbreaking thing for me is that old adage: if you love something, set it free. He loves Wei Wuxian, so he has to let him go. Standing in his way won't make him happy, taking him back to Gusu won't make him happy. There is, really, nothing Lan Wangji can do for him anymore. He failed. He couldn't save him. And that's what's so sad.
So...this scene kind of sucks for Jiang Cheng: they're all dragging out his dirty laundry. Really hammering home Jiang Cheng didn't really do his job in keeping Wei Wuxian in line. You can see he's struggling with the fact that Wei Wuxian is so close to him and yet completely out of his control, which, as a control freak, he absolutely HATES. The only way their relationship works peacefully is if Jiang Cheng maintains control. And clearly, after the banquet, he's totally lost control. I mean, even before that, Wei Wuxian wouldn't listen to him. But what is a little annoying here is that Jiang Cheng doesn't try to understand where Wei Wuxian is coming from, at least not at this point. Lan Wangji goes out to stop him or reason with him after the banquet, but where's Jiang Cheng? That's right! He's crushing cups in his hand! My feeling has always been (whether I practice this or not) that if you didn't try to do anything about it, then why should you get to complain? Jiang Cheng hasn't been there for Wei Wuxian. He hasn't tried to understand him, he hasn't tried to listen to his side of the story. All he's really tried to do is get Wei Wuxian to act normally. And I think Lan Wangji is guilty of this as well, except for the fact that Lan Wangji's motivation is to save and protect Wei Wuxian (because he loves him). What's Jiang Cheng's motivation? Control and power. His desire to look better than Wei Wuxian outweighs any sense of filial bonds.
The only person in the damn room (outside of MianMian) who will stand up for Wei Wuxian. Jin Guangshan spreading actual lies about Wei Wuxian, and no one in this room disagrees until Lan Wangji speaks up. And if anyone would have heard Wei Wuxian say anything about Jiang Cheng, it would have been Lan Wangji. He was with him just about the entire time. I honestly love this scene for a lot of reasons, but it's so hard watching Lan Wangji just sit, his lips pressed together, trying to stop himself from shouting back at these people. He can't say anything, though. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are both there and he doesn't want to cause them trouble. But he's clearly incensed by what these people are saying about Wei Wuxian. And then they say, "Oh, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are close friends--he'll say anything to protect him." And I think that's true in this situation. Lan Wangji absolutely is on Wei Wuxian's side, even though what he did wronged the Jin Clan. So Lan Wangji can't refute that statement, and he knows that he can't argue against people who are just looking for a witch hunt. The Wens are all but gone, so now they need someone else to go after, someone else who isn't following the rules of the larger clans.
Poor MianMian, trying to use logic on a bunch of men who are just looking for a scapegoat. She's so right here, though, and I really don't think it's because she feels like she owes Wei Wuxian anything. I'm sure she's still grateful for what he did for her back in Xuanwu Cave, but I don't think that is what drives her to speak. She's one of the only female cultivators in this room right now, amongst a bunch of men who don't really know Wei Wuxian at all. Let's be honest, she barely knows him either. But even Jiang Cheng won't stand up for him! The only other person in the room who has defended Wei Wuxian was Lan Wangji. I think MianMian, like him, just wants to do what's right here. Wei Wuxian doesn't kill indiscriminately--he kills who is to blame for the atrocities against Wen Ning and the other Wens.
But the way they all attack her here is so disgusting. There aren't a lot of women in this show/novel, but the ones in it always make an impact. We get to see what it's like for a female cultivator in a seemingly male-dominated world. The immediately imply that she's only standing up for Wei Wuxian because she feels guilty about what happened to him in Xuanwu Cave. They make it about feelings, you know. They take the logic out of her argument and convince the room that it's her female emotions that are driving her statement. This is a character we haven't seen for quite some time, yet we all remember what happened to her, we all remember how he stood up for her, we all remember how she cried big tears for him. But here she is, several years later, a cultivator in her own right, and this room just sees her as that young girl who couldn't defend herself.
It sucks that Jiang Cheng is essentially being scolded here, in front of everyone, by Jin Guangshan. Seriously, it must be so humiliating. It's pretty clear what they are trying to do, though. They want him to tame Wei Wuxian or, if that's not possible, abandon him. They want to ostracize Wei Wuxian to the point that he's nothing with no power, whether that's as a member of the Jiang Clan or not. And Jiang Cheng just goes along with it. I mean, he has to, doesn't he? If he stands up to them and says that Wei Wuxian was right (if he believed that, which I don't think he does), then he'll be the one being ostracized. Obviously he can't have that. He's a new clan leader--he has to continue rebuilding to return his clan to its former glory. He really has no choice but to go along with Jin Guangshan and the other clan leaders here. That's not really correct--there is a choice. His clan or Wei Wuxian. And what would most clan leaders do in that situation? They aren't going to sacrifice their entire clan for one person, no matter who that person is.
His face throughout the whole thing: smirk. Seriously, it's like he's engineered this whole thing and he's just enjoying the evil villain-ness of it all. I just giggle every time they pan over to Jin Guangyao, because he always has this evil genius smirk on his face. Very entertaining.
On a side note, every time the Lans are shown, they look like they've just eaten something sour. They both look so uncomfortable with everything here. I'm sure they are the only ones who feel that these actions are questionable. But they also have taken some heat for what Lan Wangji did, likely, when he let Wei Wuxian go off with the Wen prisoners. Lan Qiren came out of seclusion for this meeting, but he says nothing. Lan Xichen seems mostly worried about Lan Wangji, who is obviously struggling.
Ugh, it's hard seeing Lan Wangji get scolded here. Obviously Lan Qiren is just worried about him! In CQL verse, he's raised Lan Wangji longer than his father ever did (well, in any verse, because even when his father was alive in the novel, he was in seclusion), so he's more of a son to Lan Qiren than a nephew. He's tried to be subtle, pushing the disciplines on Lan Wangji, making him recite and transcribe them over and over again--but that hasn't worked. He refuses to see that it doesn't matter what the rules are. Lan Wangji will break them because it's Wei Wuxian. It's a bit confusing in CQL, because I guess we're supposed to believe that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are just best friends and that nothing more is going on. I realize this is A Thing and that it's believable that Lan Wangji would give up his life for Wei Wuxian as just a good friend, but when the book is so centered around Lan Wangji having romantic feelings for Wei Wuxian, that's a hard pill to swallow. Lan Wangji isn't doing all this because they are friends-he's doing all this because he loves Wei Wuxian. And part of novel!Lan Qiren's issues are that he knows what the other cultivators are saying--that they are questioning what a strange relationship Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have. But of course, primarily, he just wants Lan Wangji to stick to the disciplines and not end up like his father. Actually, imagine if Lan Wangji had brought Wei Wuxian back and locked him in a house. Yikes. ::smirk::
I love how Jin Zixuan grabs her arm and tells her not to go, and it's so tropey, but I love it so much! Why do they make my heart flutter? I don't know, but they do!! Even though I know how it turns out, I still love watching them fall in love, or rather, realizing that they love each other.
He seems upset here. Did he not think that this whole thing with his sister and Jin Zixuan was going to work out? Did he hope that she would stay in Lotus Pier forever? How selfish is he? We know that Wei Wuxian is extremely selfish about his shijie and also doesn't like Jin Zixuan, but Jiang Cheng has always rolled his eyes about that. So it's odd now that he's upset about his sister. I guess this means that he'll be very much alone, unless he can convince Wei Wuxian to come back to Lotus Pier with him.
Stop it. This kid is too cute. And I love him and want to protect him forever and ever and ever. Also this part about planting a child and growing more children is adorable. I just can't.
Jiang Cheng is so upset when he arrives. He sees that these are women, children, and elderly people, and not some evil Wen warriors ready to destroy the rest of the cultivation world. I think Jiang Cheng wanted to show up and be self-righteous, and take Wei Wuxian out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. So when he sees that Wei Wuxian actually did a good thing by rescuing these people, he finds that extremely irritating and it just makes him angry.
Also he's a dick to A-Yuan, telling him to get off. I won't forget this, mister!! The next stranger that A-Yuan grabs onto is not mean to him--uncomfortable, yes, but he isn't mean to him. I'm going to have to gif these two bits, side by side, how Jiang Cheng sneers at him and how Lan Wangji smiles down at him. Ugh, my heart.
The way that he behaves here, he's like a jilted lover. He barely even glances at Wen Qing--but she doesn't owe him anything. There was never anything between them, yet he treats her like she wronged him, when, in fact, she did quite the opposite. She didn't accept him as a lover--does that give him the right to treat her this way? It's so annoying.
Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag
#wangxian#wei wuxian#lan wangji#cql#the untamed#jiang cheng#jin zixuan#jiang yanli#wen qing#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#ep 27#cql rewatch
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Skywalkers on the Run AU
Luke blows their cover part 1/2
Part 1/2 of the “Luke blows their cover” Skywalkers on the Run AU.
This was originally suppose to be a one-shot for my Skywalkers on the Run AU but it ended up being a lot more lengthy than I intended so I split it up. The second part will be posted shortly however, I’ve already written it and just need to finalize the draft!
Skywalkers on the Run ideology: Skywalkers on the Run is an AU that takes place following ROTS. In this AU Anakin flee’s with Padme and never has his confrontation with Obi-Wan. This story covers the time-line adventures of the Skywalker’s as they go on the run from the empire.
Summary: Eight years after the fall of the Republic, Anakin Skywalker finds himself hiding out on Jakku with his family. With a sick Leia at home, Padme sends Anakin and Luke out to run errands and buy medical herbs. Things are going rather smoothly until Anakin gets word that the empire is making a surprise visit to the planet, and Luke comes head-to-head with the empire itself.
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Hood up, head down. That was the first rule of how to go unnoticed when your a well-known fugitive on the run.
He'd bounced from planet-to-planet in the eight years that the republic had fallen. He'd been all across the galaxy. No matter where he went, no matter how far he ran, the empire always found him. In the beginning it'd been his own fault for their frequent run-ins. He'd never been a fugitive before, he didn't understand how careful you had to be to live life as a criminal.
He learned, eventually. Learned how to cover his tracks and blend into crowds. Before all of this, he was the type who's presence immediately demanded attention when he walked into a room. Now, he had learned to mask all of that.
Now their run-ins were mostly his wife's fault. She was helping to start a rebellion. Sometimes her ship got tracked. It worried him for her safety and the safety of their children, but he would never tell her to stop. She had given up everything to be with him. She lived a life on the run because of him. He could see that this rebellion brought that fire and passion that she held so strongly in her time in the senate. He could not take that from her too.
Where were they now anyways, another backwater planet in the outer rim? Jakku, maybe. It didn't matter much anymore. All these planets were the same in the only thing that mattered to him.
Lawlessness.
It wasn't so much that the empire had no control over planets like Jakku, they had the entire galaxy gridlocked. It was more that planets like Jakku were so insignificant to the empire that fugitives like him ran rampant here. Jakku had no resources or power that the empire saw beneficial. Outside of their periodic "wellness" checks, they basically left them alone.
"Dad, slow down!"
Anakin slowed his pace to a stop and turned to the boy behind him, watching as he ran to catch up. Lost in his own thoughts about the empire he'd nearly forgotten about the boy's presence entirely. He knew better than to let himself get distracted when he had his son with him. Though he was admittedly better at staying out of trouble than his sister, he was still just a child. The Skywalker's couldn't afford any type of trouble in this galaxy.
When Luke's small legs caught up to his father Anakin rustle's his shaggy blonde hair. Padmé had been begging Luke for an entire week to let her cut it. "You've got to keep up if you want to keep going on big-boy excursions with me, Luke."
"It's not my fault you have acklay-long legs, Dad!" Luke retorted back, grabbing hold of his father's hand so that he could keep up with him. Despite his father's slowed-pace Luke still struggled to keep up with him, having to give the occasional step-jog to maintain his pace. Luke didn't dare complain though, afraid his father would leave him out of the next big-boy excursion.
Anakin chuckled at his son. Though his legs might not have exactly been acklay-long, there was no denying the fact that their long length made it difficult for most others to keep up with. He had heard Padmé tell him enough to know its truth.
Anakin's grip tightened on his son's small hand as they made their way into the bustling Niima Outpost. It was especially packed today, and with the blazing sun baring down on him the extra body heat that the crowd provided was not welcomed.
Behind him he could hear Luke's feet shuffling after him. He could sense his frustration and stress everytime someone bumped into his small frame. Anakin could scoop the boy up and carry him, taking him out of what he was sure was an unpleasant situation to be in for someone who's head didn't reach past anyone's hips. He didn't see that as having long-term benefits to the boy, however.
Luke was eight now, only a year younger than himself when he was taken by the jedi. Five years older than he was when he was first sold into slavery. Part of their father/son big-boy excursions was teaching Luke how to be a big-boy, and part of being a big-boy was learning to maneuver through tight crowds filled with rude creatures.
It wasn't like Anakin had just cut him loose in the crowd either. He still had a tight hold on the boy to assure his safety.
"Finally," Anakin breathed when they came to a stop at the herbal booth he had been searching for. He gave Luke's hand a final squeeze before dropping it and looking towards the lasat on the opposite site of the herbal booth. "I'm looking for a batch of nysillin."
"Nysillin, eh? Quite the expensive medical herb you're in search of." The lasat's purple mouth curved upward as she coo'd at the former sith lord. Anakin caught sight of the slight twitch of her pointed ears as she no doubt was ready to swindle the hooded man that stood before her. "what's wrong honey, you comin' down with a nasty sickness?"
"Not me." He said.
It was then that he felt Luke tugging at his belt. He looked down at the blonde boy who resembled Anakin's own child-self in a striking manner. Anakin raised an eyebrow at his son. "Can I go play?"
"Play?" Anakin looked past Luke in confusion. In the distance he spotted a group of boys kicking ball in the sand-dunes. Anakin had to roll his eyes at the request. The last thing that he wanted was to carry a sand-covered Luke home after he wore himself out. Nevertheless, he replied with "Okay, but don't go far. I have a few more errands to run and then we're leaving."
Anakin didn't have to watch Luke run into the distance, he could feel him as easy as he could see him. As long as they stayed near enough he could sense his son's force presence to know exactly where to find him if they needed to leave at a moment's notice.
Anakin turned back to the lasat who was watching his son curiously. "The boy doesn't seem very sick either." She mused.
"It's for my daughter," He replied, a hint of annoyance lacing his tone as he fished through his pockets for credits. He tossed what was in his hand onto the table saying, "for the nysillin."
The lasat had the nerve to look offended by his actions. She individually picked up each credit and placed it into her palm, holding her hand out flat. "I don't remember discussing a price with you, young man."
Anakin scoffed, he hadn't been a young man in years. He had just broken into his thirties - far from young in his book. He hadn't even felt youthful in years, not since that first night that dreams of Padmé’s death began plaguing his sleep. He didn't know it then, but they were a result of Sidious' force manipulation on him. It would consequently be the downfall of the ever-so noble life that he led, as well as the fall of the entire civilization that he grew up in.
He couldn't say that it was the end of his life, however. That he had no positive's left. He might not have everything that he had when he was a jedi, or everything that he desired when he was a sith, but he did have his family. The only thing that had outweighed everything else in the galaxy to him. Even when he had been blinded by the dark side. Then it had been all about saving Padmé - now it was all about keeping his family together.
"I know the price that nysillin sells for." His voice was low when he spoke, dipping ever-so-slightly into that darkness he always held at bay. Anakin was in no mood to banter over the price of his daughter's medicine. "You won't get anymore out of me than what I've already given you."
The lasat tried to meet his gaze under the hood, peering up curiously as to see the face inside. "Very well." She stuff the credits into her pocket and began rummaging through the herbs. Anakin stood with hands behind his back as he waited. "say you're a family man, eh? What you doing out on Jakku? Hardly a place to raise children."
If it had been a different time Anakin's eye's would have gone yellow. If it had been in the beginning he would have reached his hand up and choked her for whatever disrespect she implied. Now he just stood there, entertaining the shopkeeper enough to get his herbs. "I see plenty of children here."
"Slaves, mostly." She frowned as she finished up her batch of nysillin, tying the bag that held it in a knot. He did not see any fault in her statement. "I hear the empire is making a surprise visit to the village tonight." Anakin's head jerked up fast enough to make his hood fall back on his head, resting now at the end of his forehead instead of covering his face. "They've got a hit that some hot-shot fugitive is hiding out somewhere on Jakku. Now I don't know who exactly they're looking for, but I do know that most people who end up on Jakku are hiding from something. I also know that I hate seeing families torn apart. You seem like you're an okay dad, I'd keep your family away from Niima if I was you."
#anidala#anidala fanfic#star wars#star wars fanfiction#luke skywalker#anakin skywalker#young luke skywalker#anakin x padme#leia skywalker#skywalker family#padme amidala#padme skywalker#anakin and padme#padme#darth sidious#palpatine#anakin fanfiction#luke skywalker fanfiction#fan fic writing#star wars au#leia organa#princess leia
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killing me softly with his song
3k post-mountain mutual pining fix it. read on ao3 here!
Geralt isn’t supposed to feel things. At least, that’s what Vesemir had purported after he had finished going through the mutations. Had sat him down and had a whole conversation about it, in fact, but at the moment, Geralt is feeling rather lied to. He’s felt things before, of course he has, he knows that being a Witcher doesn’t truly mean his emotions are gone. Muted, would be a more accurate word.
But now…
It all feels so overwhelming. He can’t seem to escape the swirling unsettledness deep in his gut, the despair that threatens to crash over his head every time he sees something that reminds him of Jaskier, twisting the knife even more in his gut. Back on the mountain, Geralt had regretted his words almost as soon as they had left his mouth, but they had tumbled out of him, and he was powerless to stop it.
Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s always you shovelling it? If life was to give me one blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands!
Jaskier had tried to protest, but Geralt didn’t want to hear it in the heat of the moment, he was more interested in lashing out at anyone who would dare to contest his low opinion of himself. Sure, he might kill monsters, but does that really outweigh everything else?
He’s shit, through and through. He knows that. He’s glad Jaskier finally realized it, too.
The only thing that Jaskier being present all those times when Geralt found himself in trouble meant was that he was always there for Geralt. And really, if Geralt thinks back, he always was.
Geralt’s not sure what he ever did to inspire that kind of loyalty, but he knows he didn’t deserve it. The words he had spat proved that.
Geralt shakes his head as he thinks about all the ways Jaskier has helped him over the years. Even if Jaskier was practically in the middle of sticking his cock some place it really shouldn’t be, if Geralt needed him, he was there.
Jaskier washed monster guts out of Geralt’s hair too many times to count, and if it weren’t for Jaskier turning his reputation around, Geralt probably wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an inn any time in the past decade without being cast out.
And despite all those things, Geralt had still yelled at him, still made one of the only unwavering constants in his life walk away and not look back. What had Jaskier ever gotten in return, anyway? Geralt knows he’s not exactly the best company.
Geralt curses, and Roach noses at his shoulder from where she’s tethered to the tree he’s leaning against.
Geralt strokes his fingers over the soft velvet of her nose and huffs when she snorts in his ear.
“Yes, all right,” he grumbles under his breath, standing up and rustling through her saddlebags to find a sugar cube.
Jaskier had always given Roach too many sugar cubes for her own good.
Fuck.
Geralt looks at the saddlebags, fighting with himself and failing when he fishes out the blanket Jaskier always rolled up to use as a pillow. It smells of Jaskier’s scent that Geralt had liked the best, not the sour and unhappy scent he was pouring off when Geralt shouted at him to go.
Geralt unfurls it and holds it to his nose, avoiding looking at Roach. He’s sure she’s judging him.
Geralt is judging himself a little, too. What was he thinking?
He supposes Witchers are meant to walk the Path alone, so it was for the best. Inevitable. Better to get it out of the way now than later, that’s for sure. Jaskier will get married and have children and won’t want to travel with Geralt anymore, so Geralt is glad he won’t have to suffer through that. He’s not sure he could take it to have to watch a courtship of Jaskier’s that actually lasted, that didn’t end with Jaskier coming back to him.
No, Geralt has feelings, all right, and he’s never hated them more than he does right now.
Roach snorts, pawing at the ground, and Geralt reaches up to pat her shoulder. She’s getting irritated, so Geralt should pack it in for the night, but he itches to keep moving, to keep putting more distance between him and what happened. Roach huffs again, nickering a bit. “Fine,” Geralt grumbles. “We’ll stop in the next town. Happy?”
Probably not, because Roach never seems entirely happy with him these days. Well, Roach can join the club. Geralt makes a mental note to buy more sugar cubes. At least one of them should be happy.
By the time they make it to civilization, it’s much later than Geralt had anticipated. He hands Roach off to a stable girl, wagging a finger at Roach and telling her to be good. Then he talks to the innkeeper and secures a room before walking over to the bar. He desperately needs an ale. His mind has been going nonstop ever since Jaskier left, and while it probably won’t do a whole lot for him, it might slow his thoughts down enough to fall asleep. Maybe he should go to the brothel and look for a distraction. If he could find a fight, even better.
The barmaid plunks a mug in front of him, but Geralt hardly notices after a familiar chord emanates from the corner. Geralt whips his head around to look, but it’s just someone else playing one of Jaskier’s songs. Geralt clenches his teeth. He hates this one. Jaskier had made him out to be entirely too heroic. Geralt’s never been a hero. He’s just in it for the coin.
He’d had this conversation with Jaskier until he was blue in the face, a rare amount of words for him, in his desire to get his point across, but Jaskier had refused to believe him. Just fixed Geralt with a look and said, “Hmm.”
That was Geralt’s line, dammit.
Geralt’s eyes catch on a man sitting at the bar, wearing shoes with hardly a speck of dirt on them. They look like they’d pinch his toes quite a bit, and Geralt can’t help but shake his head at the lack of practicality of it all. His gaze travels up the man, noting his opulent doublet, and Geralt quickly looks away, taking his drink to a corner table.
He thumps the mug down, and several of the other patrons shoot him concerned looks. Geralt clenches his teeth. He has only his own social skills to rely on, now. It’s not a situation he prefers, to say the least. Jaskier was always the best at making people see Geralt as better than he truly was, something they didn’t have to be frightened of, or feel the need to drive out of town.
Geralt heaves a deep sigh. He wishes Jaskier was here.
-
Jaskier has never been one to turn down an opportunity for good song writing material, but for the first time, he doesn’t want it. He’s always been told heartache makes for the best song fodder, but somewhere along the way, things have gotten muddled, and he’d be perfectly happy if his heart was never broken again.
It still seems like a nightmare that he’s going to wake up from any second; Geralt is going to look at him from where he’s dousing the fire and tell him, “Wake up, lazy bones,” and Jaskier will protest and lunge for his notes as a new song idea that doesn’t reek of melancholy overcomes him.
Jaskier has pinched himself too many times to keep holding out for that hope, though.
In line with what his teachers at Oxenfurt told him, these days, Jaskier has plenty of song ideas. The problem is none of them seem particularly noteworthy. He doesn’t want to make anyone else listen to him reminisce about better days—about the gentle curve of Geralt’s rare smile, the fondness he held for Roach, the way he looked when moonbeams caught on his hair and made him seem even more ethereal than normal.
Even when Geralt was at his most frightening-looking, covered in viscera and ichor from his latest monster kill, Jaskier never lost that sense of wonder. Geralt could probably kill Jaskier with his pinky, but he let Jaskier tag along with him anyway, for years.
Geralt might pretend to be jaded and cynical, but Jaskier knows the truth. Jaskier saw the way Geralt couldn’t resist helping others, the way he always gave a subtle wave to the children he passed in the streets who didn’t shrink away from him, and let them pet Roach until their parents noticed and ushered them away. Geralt’s mouth would settle into a hard line and his shoulders would square, but he never commented on it, so neither did Jaskier.
Jaskier strums a chord on his lute thoughtfully, but it doesn’t sound right. Nothing has sounded right for days, and Jaskier is teetering over the precipice of despair.
He needs a distraction.
He makes his way to an inn, figuring whatever he’s met with, be it adoration or angriness at someone he’s scorned, it’ll be able to settle the unease that’s lived beneath his skin since that terrible night.
He had stumbled down the mountainside, veering off trail and crashing through the scratchy underbrush in his haste to get away from Geralt. Away, before Geralt had the satisfaction to see the emotion pulling at his face, the tears pooling in his eyes. Geralt’s cruel words could only have been aimed to deliberately hurt, even after all the time they had spent together. Well, hell, because of it.
Geralt thought he brought nothing but bad luck, and looking at the shambles his life is in, he’s inclined to agree. No wonder Geralt hadn’t wanted to take him up on his offer of getting away for a while. He doesn’t know why he suggested it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The coast? What would someone like Geralt want to go there for, anyway? It certainly wouldn’t be for the pleasure of Jaskier’s company.
Too much, too soon. Jaskier snorts at himself. It wasn’t too soon. Geralt just never wanted to hear it.
No lasting relationships, no steady job, no place to lay his head and call his own? Jaskier could be doing better, that’s for sure.
Jaskier lets out a heavy sigh as he stops with his hand on the door to the inn, distracted by a nickering from the stables. He looks over and sees a mare that looks just like Roach. Jaskier pats his pockets for his sugar cubes until he remembers flinging them all into a lake on his way down the mountain. It wasn’t his finest hour.
He walks over to the bay horse and pets her, running his fingers over her wiry fur. She snorts just like Roach would have, and Jaskier can’t help but be overcome by a wave of dejectedness. He really misses Roach; she always let him tell her about all his problems. Namely, Geralt.
Jaskier sighs. He supposes he should cut his losses and try to move on, snip Geralt neatly from his life, but they’re too bound together for any kind of removal to go smoothly.
Jaskier pets the white nose the horse has, just like Roach, and snorts at the coincidence. There’s no way Geralt made it this far south already, so it can’t actually be Roach. Jaskier has been travelling as fast as he can, because if he stops, he’ll have to think, and he certainly doesn’t want that to happen. The horse nips at his sleeve, drawing Jaskier back to the present.
This is practically the longest he’s spent away from Geralt besides during the winters, and Jaskier’s not a fan, to put it lightly. He combs his fingers through the horse’s coarse mane and adjusts the strap of his lute before he walks inside the inn.
-
Geralt sighs, drumming his fingers on the scratched tabletop before noting the stares he’s receiving and pulling his hand back on his lap. He doesn’t need to draw any unwanted attention to himself. He drains his third mug of ale for the night and is getting ready to head to his room when the inn door creaks open.
Geralt jerks his head in the direction of the noise on instinct, and his stomach drops when he recognizes the familiar face. His pulse immediately speeds, pounding in his ears until that’s all he can hear.
Geralt ducks his head, but not before he sees Jaskier returning his shocked stare. Geralt tips his mug back again, even though it’s empty, just to try and look busy. It’s been a month, so he’s sure Jaskier has already moved on, and Geralt speaking to him would just open up wounds for both of them. On a day when he felt particularly ready to lie to himself, he would say he’s mostly over his best friend getting torn from his life.
It reminds Geralt of when healers would try to stitch up his skin when just a little too much flesh was missing. Tight and pinched, and it stung something awful anytime he jostled it. That’s about how neatly having Jaskier walk away has healed, as well. Geralt is still waiting for the wound to stop itching.
Jaskier, for his part, just blinks when he sees Geralt. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost. Geralt looks like he’s been running from something, too, and for a second, Jaskier allows himself to hope. It’s quickly dashed when Geralt looks away from him like he’s been burned. Jaskier turns to settle into the corner, only to see there’s already a bard at this inn. Well. That’s peachy. The other bard stares wide eyed, his gaze flitting back and forth from Jaskier to Geralt, before a look of understanding dawns across his face and he hastily gets up.
Jaskier raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t aware their reputation had spread quite this far. Nevertheless, he takes the man’s spot, adjusting the strings of his lute just a bit, stalling.
Geralt is still at his table.
Jaskier clears his throat and strums his lute.
The fairer sex, they often call it…
He stares at the side of Geralt’s face, but Geralt doesn’t look back at him. Jaskier notices the way his shoulders tense up, though, and he’s not sure what to make of it.
I'm weak my love, and I am wanting
If this is the path I must trudge
I welcome my sentence
Give to you my penance
Garrotter, jury and judge
At that, Geralt turns his head to look straight at Jaskier, and Jaskier tries to resist the shiver that creeps down his spine. When Jaskier finishes the song, he finds Geralt still staring at him. He slings his lute over his shoulder and draws upon his reserves of bravery. He finds they’re about empty, but he walks over to Geralt anyway.
Jaskier approaches him, and Geralt’s eyes widen. Geralt was under the impression they were going to just ignore each other, like any other sensible people who don’t like talking about their feelings.
Jaskier has always been a wordsmith, though, so maybe Geralt shouldn’t be surprised. And by the sound of his song, it seems like Jaskier already knows what he wants to say, even if Geralt shouldn’t let himself hope that it means what he wants.
“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier says weakly.
Geralt bites his lip, and takes a chance. “Care to join me?”
Jaskier’s eyes get round, and a peculiar look crosses his face. He sits.
Geralt smells the unease coming off of Jaskier in droves, and Geralt takes a moment to grimace at the realization that it’s because of him. Even the first day they met, when Jaskier knew nothing about him, Jaskier hadn’t been so unsettled. Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of his personality. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s not the easiest person to be around. He’s sure many people would say he’s the person to be around, and it seems like Jaskier is inclined to agree.
But.
Geralt wants to try and make this right.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” Geralt repeats, enunciating like Jaskier just didn’t hear him.
They stare at each other for a beat. “Interesting song,” Geralt says, casting Jaskier a sideways glance. “Did you find a new fancy?”
Jaskier smiles sadly. “I think you know.”
Picking up on conversational nuances has never been Geralt’s strong suit, but Jaskier’s song wasn’t exactly subtle, was it?
Geralt stands and Jaskier follows suit. Geralt tilts his head towards the stairs, and he can hear Jaskier’s hard swallows as he trails behind Geralt, to his room. Jaskier pulls the door shut behind him and looks at Geralt expectantly.
“Jask…” Geralt starts, and Jaskier tries very hard not to let himself be won over just by the soft tone Geralt’s taken. The one he reserves for the people he loves. Jaskier is sure Roach is the only one who gets to hear it often. “I missed you.”
Jaskier shuts his eyes briefly. It’d be easy to push Geralt away, tell him this is too little, too late, and it would certainly be less complicated than picking up the tattered ends of their relationship, but. Jaskier is weak, and he is wanting.
“I missed you, too.”
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PART ONE / NARCOS
Here’s some experts from the book: ‘Narcos: The Art and Making of the Show’ by Jeff Bond. I’m gonna start posting these because I have the book and it seems we’re not all entirely informed about this, so I wanna help
Here is the foreword by Eric Newman, Doug Miro, and Carlo Bernard about the creation of the show and their intentions with it:
“Though many disagree on how and why, it seems unanimous opinion that we are losing the war on drugs. Though we sought to look closely at what has quietly become American’s longest running and costliest undeclared war, we never took it upon ourselves to offer a conclusive analysis one way or another. We couldn’t do that even if we had wanted to as the tragedy of this conflict is outweighed only by its complexity. Sixty years of politics, money, colonialism, arrogance, ignorance, imperialism, violence, addiction, and horrible policy: all these concepts combining with the most powerful stimulant ever created to form a free-base cocktail of lethal potency and a body count well into the millions. Yeah, tackling that was never our objective. We were instead drawn to to the people, and personalities, on both sides of the drug war. It was our goal to depict them like they really were, and while much of what they did seems too strange to believe, one of the greatest strengths of Narcos is that the stories we tell are almost always the truth--particularly the really crazy shit. An article we read somewhere referred to us as ‘pulp non-fiction.’ That sounds about right. The pulp is sometimes the truest thing we do. But the non-fiction is what really blows you away. Authenticity is everything for us. And the crew we put together in Colombia and now in Mexico brought a reality to our storytelling that can’t be praised enough. The production design, costumes, locations share center stage with our actors and our story. We are proud of our directors and crew, almost entirely Latin American, and are grateful to Gaumont and Netflix for letting us make this show in the place where it happened: the only place where the story could be told.”
About the script:
The scripts were written in English and translated into Spanish, which meant that native speakers, especially Colombians, like Andrés Baiz (who become a producer/director and co-executive producer of the series in season two) were instrumental in preserving authenticity. ‘When the script was ready, I then added Colombian authenticity to the pages: the way we speak, behavior in the characters, cultural idiosyncrasies,’ Baiz explains. ‘Although most of the directors on the show are Latin-American, I’m the only Colombian director.’ One of Baiz’s many responsibilities was to try and balance the heroic elements of the DEA, so the Colombian authorities were portrayed in an honest, truthful light. ‘We didn’t want audiences to see the DEA as white saviors in Colombia, rescuing damsels in distress. Both the heroic deeds and unethical behavior of both the American and Colombian forces needed to be represented fairly.’”
About how they portrayed Pablo and how they desired it to be more than just a cop show:
The writers were determined to take a global view of the story, with the background of the Cold War, economic consideration, and geopolitics all playing a part. America’s position as a marketplace, and buyer of cocaine, and the source of money flowing into the trade added to the story’s complexity.
‘We knew we wanted to be able to integrate in the stories both on a very human, micro level, a story about a family, whether it was Escobar’s family or someone else’s,’ explains Bernard. The creators also wanted to talk about how America engages with the rest of the world and how Colombia’s own complex history was apart of the narrative.
Ultimately the driver of the show’s gripping drama in its first two season would still be the unforgettable figure of Pablo Escobar, a man who bullies and threatens his way to the heights of geopolitical power. ‘It’s a deeply human story and, undeniably, he destroyed thousands of lives and certainly had it coming,’ Bernard says. ‘But at the same time to be able to also see him in human terms hopefully illustrates how tragic it is. To us, trying to dramatize the humanity of it hopefully makes it more tragic and not romanticizing him, but making him relatable, you’re forced to reconcile the bad things this guy did, because you’re forced to see him as a human being.’
#important.#narcos#netflix#steve murphy#javier peña#colombia#the war on drugs#pedro pascal#boyd holbrook
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