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ranhaitanisgf · 4 months

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heyy congrats on 2k! can i request delinquent & class president + stuck together with baji? thanks and congrats again

—baji keisuke // delinquent & student council president // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ i went. soooo . overboard . this was too good though once i got going i couldn't stoppp omg. all this is lowk inspired by that one scene from the webtoon a reason to die, so iykyk :3 thank you for requesting anon, and i hope youre still around 2 years later to read this! enjoyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ warning! small references from the 'a letter from baji keisuke' prequel series!

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

the breeze of the early evening wind was doing wonders for you at the moment; it was nice to take a moment for yourself amongst all your responsibilities and just relax.

it was even nicer that you were able to enjoy a cold beverage after completing all your student council duties; the vending machine on the rooftop was a great investment, (you’d been against it when someone pitched the idea, but you’re so glad you approved it). all of this paired with your favorite music playing through your earbuds from your iPod?

yeah, this was a perfect moment.

you perked up a bit when you heard the door to the rooftop open, looking to see who was there.

“hm? oh, baji-kun!” the boy looked over to you at the call of his name, the corners of his lips turning up when he recognized you. “what’re you still doing here? i thought you would be home already.” you asked, pulling an earbud out of your ear.

“chifuyu and ryusei were helping me with some stuff after school and we just finished up. how ‘bout you? it’s getting pretty late.” you sighed at his query, the stress coming back to you just thinking about all the things you have left to do.

“there was a lot of club budgeting to finish because a lot of the clubs are requesting more budget. all the presidents are getting mad at me for choosing another club over them, but it’s like, maybe if you were more productive with your club, i would allot more budget, y’know? gah, just thinking about it gives me a headache…i haven’t even finished the revised budgeting for half of them…” you shook your head, sighing at the predicament. when you looked back up, you saw baji adjusting his glasses awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“sorry about that, baji-kun. i just came up here for a small break from it and ended up complaining about it to you.”

“nah, it’s fine. ‘m kinda like that with studying too.”

“oh, right! how has the studying been going for you-? wait, hm…” noticing that he was still standing, you paused, slipping your school blazer off and laying it down next to you, patting it. “here, come sit down! you don’t have to keep standing, y’know. i’m not gonna bite!” you teased, feeling satisfied when he came and sat down next to you.

“anyways! how has the studying been? have your test scores been alright lately?”

“yeah, they’ve been alright. enough to pass.”

“i’m glad to hear it! you’re improving so much, it’s so impressive! oh, you can also always ask me for a tutoring session or if you need anything. that’s what i’m here for!” you offered, smiling at him. “i admire your diligence, so i’m happy to help with anything!”

baji nodded at your words, a small smile on his lips. “yeah, thanks.”

after a few moments of silence, you offered one of your earbuds to baji, who accepted. you weren’t sure if the two of you had the same music taste, but you figured it was worth a try, and surprisingly, he didn’t seem to complain at all. in fact, he even complimented your song choice, which made you feel a very normal amount of happy. a very normal amount.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

you were scared awake by a sudden yell, jerking as you immediately sat up, wondering what was going on.

“hey!! open this door right now!!” the banging on the door drew your attention to baji, who was no longer by your side and was yelling at the door. “hello?! shit…” he walked away from it, sighing a bit.

now that you were a bit more awake and coherent, you realized that it was dark outside.

oh shit…

“ohhh my god, i’m gonna be in so much trouble, ohhhh my god…” you mumbled, scrambling for your phone to check what time it was. when you finally found it and flipped it open, the only thing that popped up on the screen was the dead battery symbol, making you groan.

“uh…” baji started, seeming a bit awkward. “the door…is locked.”

“what?!” you exclaimed, shooting up and walking towards the door. you tried the doorknob to no avail, proving baji’s words to be true. “oh my god…dude, i’m so dead. school administration might actually kill me if they find out about this…”

baji was running a hand through his hair, also seeming to be very stressed. “my mom’s gonna kick my ass…”

now that you were looking more closely, you realized that baji had ditched his glasses and that his ponytail was gone, making him seem almost unrecognizable. in fact, you might not have recognized him if you’d passed by him on the street looking this way.

in all honesty, he actually looked so much better without the thick lenses of his glasses blocking the view of his amber eyes, and you thought that his dark hair being free from a hair tie suits him a lot better. you’re curious to see how he dresses outside of school now; he would probably fit streetwear pretty good-

wait, you have to focus. there are more important things to be thinking about right now.

right, right.

focus.

“baji-kun, does your phone have any battery?”

“no…” he mumbled, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at the sky. you sighed, trying to think of something. in the midst of your thinking, a chilly breeze blew by, making you shiver a bit.

“ahh, i can’t believe this is happening.” you murmured, laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. “actually though, i’m sorry about this, baji-kun. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.” you said, feeling a bit guilty. after all, you had been the one who had offered for him to sit down with you, and from what you remember, you were the one who fell asleep.

“it’s fine, i fell asleep too.” he said, leaning down to grab your school blazer off of the floor. “here, put this back on. it’s cold.” he tossed it over to you and you gladly accepted it, brushing some of the dust off before slipping it on. it helped a bit against the cold, but you supposed you underestimated how chilly the nights get in the spring.

baji sat back down, taking his school blazer off and setting it beside him, loosening his lie. he leaned his head back against the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. he seemed to have given up in trying to get someone’s attention, instead accepting the situation. you were about to sit down again and do the same, but you suddenly got an idea, shuffling around in your pockets for some spare change.

“yes! 500 yen!” you whispered excitedly, walking up to the vending machine. “hey, baji-kun, do you like red bean?”

“huh? yeah, why?”

“one sec…” you answered, putting the coins in the machine. you picked out two red bean buns, watching as they slowly dispensed and fell into the bottom compartment. reaching into the bottom, you grabbed both of them, walking a few steps and sitting next to baji.

“i mean, it isn’t exactly dinner, but it’s something!” you said, offering one of the buns to baji. he accepted it, saying something about paying you back as he opened the wrapper, immediately taking a huge bite. you did the same, not realizing how hungry you were until you started eating it.

“i’m actually such a genius for this!” you exclaimed, continuing to munch on the bread. “it’s so lucky that i ended up approving the budget for this vending machine!” silence fell over the two of you as you continued eating, but you felt more content than awkward. you’re glad that you ended up stuck here with someone nice like baji.

speaking of baji, you were still a bit caught off guard by how different he looked without his glasses and ponytail. of course, you’d noticed how cute he was even before, but the word you would go with now is more like…attractive?

really attractive, but still cute.

“what?”

“huh?”

“you were lookin’ at me.” you felt your cheeks flush, a bit embarrassed at the fact that he caught you looking at him.

“oh, i was just thinking, you look a lot different without your glasses. do you actually need them?” baji seemed to think for a moment before he spoke again.

“nah, i jus’ don’t want people gettin’ the wrong idea about me.” he ended up saying. “i’m trying to get better with school, so if i go around lookin’ the way i do…”

“girls will be attracted to you?” baji sputtered at your words, almost spitting out the bread that was in his mouth.

“hah?! no!! it’s ‘cause i don’t want people knowing i’m in a gang!!” your jaw dropped at his words, and he subsequently smacked his hand over his face.

the information was a huge shock to you. of course, you’d heard the rumors, but you’d chalked them up to just that; rumors. after all, even though baji wasn’t someone with perfect grades, you always saw him trying his best to get his grades up, and you really admired that.

“you…pff…you’re in a gang?! riiight…” you managed to get out, giggles starting to overtake your words. “baji-kun, you literally dressed in a sailor school uniform to get extra tutoring-!”

“hey! that was one time!” he grumbled, his ears turning pink. you finished laughing, wiping some tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“okay okay, sorry. i mean, are you being serious though?” you asked, feeling a bit curious.

“yeah. only losers lie about stuff like that.”

“okay, which one then?”

“toman.” again, your mouth dropped at his answer, but you recovered quicker than before.

“t-toman, like tokyo manji gang…right. yes. wait, would you get arrested if people found out you were in a gang? why can’t anybody know?”

“it’s ‘cause then random dudes start showin’ up at school to fight, and then i get in trouble for fighting.”

“ohh, i guess that makes sense. why would they bother you at school though? school isn’t the place for that stuff…”

“dunno. it just gets annoying to deal with after a while, and my mom always kicked my ass when the school called her, so it was kinda crap.” you nodded thoughtfully at his words.

“well, your secret’s safe with me, baji-kun! pinky promise i won’t say a word to anyone!” you held your pinky out, but he just looked away from you.

“i believe you, you don’t have to-”

“c’mon!! it’s not a pinky promise if you don’t lock pinkies, y’know.”

“...fine.” you cheered as baji relented, gently wrapping his pinky around yours. you shook your crossed pinkies and let go, feeling satisfied, (why did that small contact with him make your heart skip a beat?)

“there! and you can beat me up or something if i break it.” you joked, leaning your head back against the wall.

“i’m not gonna beat you up.”

“eh? why not?”

“i don’t hit girls.” he said matter of factly, his tone quite serious. “only assholes hit girls.” you stared at him for a moment, seeing the dead serious look on his face before you smiled, closing your eyes.

“y’know, you’re a pretty stand up guy, baji-kun. i like that about you.” you hadn’t meant to say the last part, but you were hoping he would just ignore it.

“...thanks.” after that, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you, the only light source being the moon. you enjoyed living in tokyo, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was the fact that you couldn’t see the stars at all.

“this wall is so uncomfortable…” you muttered, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep again. you’d long since given up on trying to get off the rooftop, so you figured that you might as well get some sleep since you were sure tomorrow was going to be interesting, (you weren’t looking forward to having that conversation with the principal).

abruptly, you felt baji’s arm across your chest, pushing the side of your head to land on his shoulder.

“better?” he asked, seeming to have no reaction.

“uh, yeah…isn’t this uncomfortable for you though?”

“nah.”

“o-okay…” you said hesitantly. if you weren’t so tired, you probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep from how flustered you were right now; after all, you’ve never had a boy offer you his shoulder to sleep on, so why wouldn’t you be flustered?

it definitely wasn’t because it was baji.

definitely not….

it was definitely because it was baji.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

bonus:

chifuyu and ryusei both looked down at the sight in front of them, shock filling their bodies.

they’d been worried when baji had skipped the toman meeting yesterday evening, and they had been even more worried when his phone had been switched off, spending the rest of the night trying to find out what happened to him. however, now that they knew what had happened, they were about to burst their seams from laughter.

“pff…do, hah, do we wake them up?” chifuyu whispered, his cell phone out and snapping pictures.

“n-nah, haha, they look pretty cozy…pfff…” ryusei whispered back, his cell phone also out and snapping pictures from every angle.

in front of them was baji and you, your head resting on his shoulder and his head resting on top of your head, dozing off without a care in the world. he had draped his blazer over the both of you as a blanket, and if one didn’t know any better, they might think that the two of you were a couple.

“pff…this is some good blackmail stuff,” ryusei chuckled, exuding a proud aura. “look at toman’s little keisuke, all grown up now and sleeping with his crush! that’s what dreams are made.” chifuyu spluttered at ryusei’s words, a shocked expression on his face.

“baji-san has a crush on (y/n)-san?! isn’t she the student council president?!” he whisper-yelled. ryusei nodded and shrugged.

“the heart wants what the heart wants, or something.”

“both of you, shut the fuck up.”

“eek!”

“gah!”

baji glared at the two boys in front of him, holding up a finger to his lips, telling them to shush.

“what’re you still doin’ here? scram.” they both immediately made a beeline for the door, fearful of baji’s wrath after being woken up from sleep.

baji rubbed his eyes, yawning a bit as he looked around. he’s not sure what time it is, but he’s glad that it was only those two idiots who saw the two of you and nobody else.

we should probably get up and get to class before someone else comes up here.

he turned to the side to wake you up, but he stopped, looking at your sleeping form. he chuckled a bit when he saw your messed up hair, wondering how it got so messed up when the two of you were sleeping sitting up. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the clouds passing by.

just five more minutes.

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thequeerwizardcouncil · 30 days

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hiii so english isn't my first language and i'm learning more about gender and trans stuff and if i might be trans or something (i've been told i sound agender?? but that feels wrong), and something that confuses me, so i'm asking around abt it… "woman" used to simply denote afab, right? like a body type of ppl with a biological (not surgical) vagina & estrogen puberty. like a female dog. ppl say that it reduces women to their genitals, but what about with other animals? like female cat, female horse, etc, just bc we say "oh she's a girl" or "oh i have a male dog" doesn't mean we're saying they're only their genitals in that case, right…? a bitch is just a female dog, that's why it's a misogynistic word. misogyny is based on how ppl see someone without a penis as lesser, bc they don't have the power to forcibly penetrate and feel genital pleasure for it, they can't impregnate, they're "just a hole" etc. like so much of misogyny is just body-specific. the misogyny transfems experience seems terrible but also conditional? bc if they're found out to be amab they're treated as creepy men, so they then stop experiencing misogyny, they just face usually homophobia. meanwhile bio women (and transmascs who don't transition) have no exit door to the misogyny unless they transition and pass perfectly as male or something, and historically that wasn't an option. to me man & woman have always been neutral body types until i came across trans stuff, and i think the idea of gendered brains sounds sexist af. like gender seems like bullshit, i see me being a woman as just like being a female cat, i don't have ~womanly~ vibes in my brain, i was just born female and that's the least important thing about me, but male society made it weird. why should gender continue to be a thing? what does gender actually mean, if sexism was to be eradicated? is it bad if i view my womanhood as just a body type? most cis people i've talked to view their "gender" like this, as just a body type, like any other animal. they don't "feel" like one, they just have the body and aren't dysphoric about it. they might not always like it, but they don't have dysphoria about it, so they just… are. is that transphobic? i've heard mixed thoughts about it from trans ppl & activists, i'm just curious. feel free to ignore this lol ;;

Okay, the head of the council also has English as ser second language, so bare with us as we try to dissect this ask.

From what we can piece together, you're asking whether associating gender with a body type is transphobic? If yes, then yes. Gender is a strange thing, differs from being to being. A body can be an accessory to gender, affirming gender or causing dysphoria, but is not the gender itself.

There are many GNC beings who are what gender they say they are. It doesn't matter the body or presentation, your gender is valid.

You may inquire our transgender, xenogender, voidpunk, or intersex representatives on further queries

#wizardposting #wizard council #queer wizard council #qwc #wizardblr #council asks

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ctrlsznwrites · 2 years

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SECRETS go! make sure they're safe! summary. when erik makes his way back to wakanda to fight for his spot. and along the way he runs into a familiar face. pairing. erik 'killmonger' stevens x black!reader word count. 3.19k

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Wakanda 2018 Finally, months after being on a strenuous mission in Europe [Your Name] was home in Wakanda. She smiled as she flew into the city, an overwhelming feeling of happiness washed over her. Soon, she would be able to see her family after debriefing with her superiors about her mission.

Unbuckling herself she made her way to the front of the carrier sitting next to Xoliswa, she smiled at the Dora before looking onto Wakanda once again.

“As many times as I’ve seen this view, I never tire of it.”

“I feel the exact same way, [Your Name]. Especially the sunset, it’s truly breathtaking.” Xoliswa responded.

An uneasy feeling settled upon [Your Name] as the sunset was mentioned. Nodding agreeing with Xoliswa, as the carrier started to land. The two made small talk as they gathered their items making their way off the aircraft, where they were met with another member of the Dora and [Your Name]’s older brother. As they made their way onto the runway she noticed a worried expression on the faces of her the Dora and her brother.

“Is everything alright? Did something happen to the kids while I was gone?” [Your Name] questioned becoming a distressed, thing that something happened to her children.

Her brother brought her into a hug. “No, nothing happened to them, but there was an attack at the United Nations summit in Vienna-”

“Is the T’Challa okay?” [Your Name] queried interrupting her brother.

“Yes, the new King is fine but King T’Chaka didn’t make it.” Her brother scanned her face for any sense of grief, which thankfully for [Your Name] being the amazing actress she is her features did show a form of grief.

But not for the King losing his life, but for Queen Mother losing her husband and for T’challa and Shuri losing their father. [Your Name] knew too much about what the King had done to ever feel sorry for him, not after what he had done.

Removing herself from her brother she looked up at him, clearing her throat. “Can we go to my mother’s? I just need to hold my children.”

He nodded grabbing the rest of his sister’s luggage taking it to his vehicle. While she made her way over to the two Dora’s to explain how she was feeling. Waiting a moment for them to finish their conversation she interjected starting a conversation with Xoliswa.

“Xoliswa, can you ask Okoye if I can report to her tomorrow. I need a little time to spend with my family.”

“Sure, I’ll ask Okoye to make sure. She’ll probably ask you to come to the council meeting later in the afternoon to report to her afterward.”

“Perfect, I just want to be home when the kids go to bed to make them feel a little bit more secure knowing what happened recently”

The two talked for a few more minutes until she made her way to the vehicle, getting in quickly he started to the car and they made their way to their mothers. After a few moments, the two siblings caught up on how the family was doing, her brother unlocked his phone showing her videos and pictures of their children playing together.

“Oh, Nia has gotten so big. It feels like the last time I saw her she could barely crawl!” She exclaimed looking at her niece chasing after her two children in their grandmother’s garden.

The ride continued as her brother told her the story of how her son N’Jobi pushed their great aunt after he heard her talking down on his mother. And the kicker of the story was that his Grandmother did nothing about it but ‘scold’ him, but in turn, when the aunt left gave him a few extra treats.

“I promise you; mother was so happy when she left! He is truly something else, and every time he sees her he doesn’t even want to speak to her.”

Laughing, [Your Name] shook her head as she thought about his actions. It reminded her a lot about their father. How when someone used to be rude how quick he was to put them in their place. Even though they never met their father they were so much like him, in the best ways.

“What can I say, they get it from their father.” She mentioned watching a few houses pass by, noting to herself that they were close to their destination.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you ever mention him to the rest of us. We don’t even know his name, where he was from. Hell, where you even met him.” This made her mood turn slightly sour.

“Here, we go!” She mumbled under her breath. “Because it’s honestly no one’s business. He didn’t want to be in their lives, so he’s not. It’s that simple and it happened while I was on a mission and I would’ve had to tell him why I was there. So, it worked out for the best so let’s leave it at that!”

No matter how many times he was brought up, she always shut down the topic of the children’s father. It was essential that no one knew who he was, especially when King T’Chaka was alive.

The last few moments of the car ride was slightly awkward for the siblings. As they pulled into the driveway of their mother’s home, her brother Abel locked the car door turning towards her.

“Look, I know he’s a touchy subject for you. I try to empathize with you on that, but your children need to know at least a little bit about him.”

Sighing she turned towards her brother with a small smile on her face. “I completely understand why you guys worry about them not knowing about him. And they do, I tell them stories about him all the time but no one else besides mom knows who he is. I mean who really he is, where he’s from and we keep it that way for a reason. I wish, I could tell you right now I really do, and I will eventually after I tell them who he is. But that’s not going to be for a while, and you have to be okay with that.”

He agreed to try to understand where she’s coming from, soon unlocking the car. The two made their way to the trunk of the car getting her luggage, they soon made their way into the house. And without warning [Your Name] was being tackled with hugs from her younger sister Kali.

The two greeted each other making their way further into the house, she eventually put her luggage in the guest room towards the back of the house before making her way into the kitchen. She took notice that her children didn’t even know she was back since they were making brownies with their grandmother.

“Well, well, well I’m pretty sure I have no sugar after 8 rule. But I see grandma chose to ignore that!” She announced playfully.

A chorus of word excitement was heard throughout the kitchen as her children ran towards her as she bent down to catch them in her arms. Kissing their heads, she hugged them tighter, not wanting to let them go.

“Oh, how I have missed the two of you!” She kissed all over each of their faces causing them to giggle and in return the kissed her all over her face.

Soon enough the trio broke up, [Your Name] made her way over to her mother with a child on each him and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. Her mother smiled at her giving her a hug, which ended up being a hug between the four of them.

Amala -her mother- smiled pulling away from the hug, place a hand softly along her child’s cheek.

“Honey, you look so tired. Go, lay down I have the kids for the rest of the night.” This made the children whine about wanting to spend time with their mom after not seeing her for so long.

This went on for a few moments, which caused a chuckle from [Your Name] and her siblings as their mother had a playful argument with her grandchildren.

“Hey, hey no arguing with your grandmother. Now, mother, I’ll take your advice and go rest but all of us are going to have a family day in the Golden City tomorrow. We’ll leave here around 10 and from there we will decide on what to do.”

The family agreed to this but not without the mother saying she had a meeting sometime in the afternoon so she would most likely have to slip away for a bit. Which they all understood since she is the tribe elder. The group of six talked while [Your Name] ate leftovers from dinner, she mostly paid attention to her children talk about their school projects. How they had a musical performance coming up soon, which thankfully [Your Name] would be able to make it to.

After about an hour of hanging out, she made her way to the guest room. Doing her night routine, she climbed into bed getting comfortable for sleep. She checked her phone quickly seeing the Okoye agreed to the debriefing for tomorrow since she was away on a last-minute mission. Responding quickly, she felt her bed dip, she turned around to see her children getting comfortable. Putting her phone down, she pulled Nayla closer to her left while N’Jobi moved to her right and soon the three of them fell asleep.

NEXT DAY After having breakfast and getting ready the family was off to the golden city to the local park. For the kids to have a little fun before they went shopping, since [Your Name] has been looking for a new place closer to her family. Once, they got to the park the kids went off to play on the playscape, while the adults sat at a table not too far away from the play area.

They watched the kids play for about thirty minutes before [Your Name] and Abel joined the children. Kali and Amala sat at the table chatting about Kali’s school life. How college was going when everyone ran up to the table. Abel went into the cooler handing the kid’s juice boxes while he got everyone else a water bottle.

“So [Your Name] are you gonna have any missions anytime soon? Or are you gonna take a break?” Kali asked catching her sister off guard.

“I think I’m gonna retire from being a spy soon to help Abel with his business also, to be around more since the kids are getting older. And since he declined to be next in line as a council member for the tribe. Mom will probably have me start preparing for that.”

“I keep forgetting he turned down the council. But-” Before Kali could finish their mother got a call on her Kimyo beads from the princess.

“Hello, Princess Shuri what do I owe this pleasure?” Amala asked walking away from the table to take the call.

The two sisters looked at each other confused before shrugging continuing to watch the kids play and talking. It had been a good fifteen minutes before their mother came back tapping her eldest daughter’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry to do this honey, but we have an emergency meeting. And you being the next in line, you have to come.” [Your Name] sighed looking at her mother before running her hands over her face.

“Alright give me a minute to talk to Nai and Jobi.” Her mother nodded making her wat to her car.

Making her way towards the two children running around with their cousins, she calls out their names to which they run over towards her.

“Mommy has to go to a meeting with Grandma but to make up for me having to leave we can have a movie night. Just the three of us and then the next day we can do whatever you guys want, and I mean anything.”

N’Jobi smacked his lips playfully. “You really mean anything?”

This made his mother and sister giggle before responding. “Yes, anything now gives mama a hug so I can get this meeting over with to be able to hang out with my babies.”

Sighing heavily Nayla gave her a tight hug, kissing her cheek and N’Jobi soon followed. Standing up again she shooed them off to go play, making her way to her mother’s car. Getting into the car, she buckled up as her mother drove off.

“Did she say anything as to why this Emergency meeting was called?”

“No, not really just said T’Challa thinks this country needs a bit of change.” Turning to her mother with a surprised face.

“Oh, really now! I wonder what caused this change of heart, it’s not like we’ve been saying this since Prince N’Jobu died mysteriously!” This caused her mother to smack her leg.

“Hush! We will not speak of that, especially so close to the palace. You know he has an excellent hearing with the strength of de black pantha!” [Your Name] cackled at her mothers’ antics as they pulled onto the palace grounds.

Before the two knew it they were leaving the car making their way to the room where the meeting will be held. After arriving the meeting started and T’Challa suggested that Wakanda open up their resources to the rest of the world, [Your Name] was surprised by this as an argument started between the council. That was until the doors to the room opened and in walked Wakabi with a man she knew all too well.

Diverting her attention away from him, she looked at the Queen Mother as Wakabi brought forth Erik. As he explained that Erik was the son of the late Prince N’Jobu, she felt her stomach drop as they made eye contact. A lump formed into her throat as he argued with her mother along with the royal family.

As he made his declaration that he wanted to fight for the throne his eyes shift to [Your Name]. He continues looking at her before being escorted out of the room to prepare for the combat ceremony. As he left her eyes followed him, the last time she saw him he looked the same way. Sweaty, eyes and breathing erratic as he screams his argument to anyone that will hear.

Massachusetts 2014 Erik sat in his car waiting for [Your Name] to show up to her apartment. It had been about a week since she told him she was pregnant, they hadn’t talked. She tended to avoid him whenever they were around their friends, he wanted to try and at least leave things on a better note and to see what she planned on doing with the child.

He let out a deep breath getting out of his car once he noticed her parking her car. She got out of her car quickly making her way to her apartment. He followed behind her calling her name.

“[Your Name]! I know you hear me talking to you!” He yelled after her jogging to catch up to her.

Turning around she stopped walking to look at him. “What the fuck could you possibly want Erik?”

“Woah, Woah watch the attitude I just came here to talk.” This caused her face to turn up in annoyance.

“Nigga fuck you! The fuck you mean watch my attitude? You’re the one-” His hand covered her mouth as he stared her down.

“Shut the fuck up and open the door so we can talk about this. I don’t want your nosey ass neighbors all in our business.” Rolling her eyes at the pure aggressiveness of Erik’s tone, she snatched his hand off of her mouth.

Moving away from him she unlocked her apartment, walking into her apartment she put her bags down on the kitchen counter. Erik closed the door making his way towards her.

“So, what do you want? I thought the last time we talked we were done.” She stated impatiently, getting water from the fridge.

“So, that’s it we’re broken up? You’re just gonna leave me because we’re not ready for a kid!” She looked at Erik like he was crazy for raising his voice at her, in her damn apartment.

“Yes, that’s a good enough reason you jackass! Now if you don’t mind please, get the fuck out!”

“Nah, I’m not leaving until we fix this, baby. Look, I love you-“ [Your Name] scuffed at him once again.

“Erik, if you loved me you would’ve acted completely different when I told you. It’s not the fact that you don’t want this child, because guess what I can’t afford one right now either. I’m really hurt that-” Her voice broke as she thought about how little he made her feel.

“It’s the fact that you treated me like some random you fucked and turned up at your door pregnant. I know more about you than any other bitch ever will, and the fact that you talked to me like I was some random bitch off the street. It is exactly why I’m done with you E.” Wiping the tears away from her face, she studied his expression.

Which happened to mirror hers, his eyes were lined with tears.

Present Day Snapping out of her haze, [Your Name] saw that her mother was watching her in concern. But, be it as it may her mother wasn’t the only one who notices, Queen Ramonda had also noticed the exchange of looks between [Your Name] and her nephew. Taking note of the events that had just happened Ramonda walked over to the two women, telling them that they should start heading to the waterfall for the ceremony.

“I’ll join you two in a moment I need to make a quick call to check up on the kids.” Excusing herself [Your Name] quickly made her way into a secluded part of the palace to call her sister. Waiting impatiently for her sister to answer the phone, she needed to make sure her children were far, far away from this. She knows how determined Erik is when he wants something, and in this case, he won’t stop until he or T’Challa is dead. Finally, after calling multiple times Kali answered.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t-”

“There’s no time for formalities, I need you to take the children up to the Jabari and ask for M’Baku to watch them.”

This took Kali back as she heard the sheer fear and worry in her sisters’ voice. “Wait, why, what’s going on?”

“To say the least their father is back and it’s not for the better. Now please take them to him, I’ll catch you up on this later, just please get them to the Jabari as soon as possible.” Kali agreed

Hanging up the call, [Your Name] took a deep breath before making her way to the waterfalls. As she made her way through the grounds she had a feeling this wasn’t going to end in a way that the elders or even the rest of the kingdom hopped.

#sznwrites #sznwrites:series #sznseries:secrets #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger x black!reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #erik stevens x black!reader

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owkse · 2 years

Text

Little Kyber

Chapter 2

‘Always Master Qui Gon, goodbye Obi, I hope to see you soon’ you waved goodbye before wondering back into the temple, unaware that would be the last time you would see the older Master before they departed for Naboo.

…………………………………………………………………………….

10 Years Later

…………………………………………………………………………….

‘Ah Y/N, how did your first assignment go?’ asked Plo Koon as he found you signing the paperwork for you returned ship in the hanger.

‘It went well Master, I was able to come to a non-violent resolution, there was only so much I could do, so I simply helped them make their own choices’ you said bowing quick to your now former Master.

‘Excellent, now I need you to come with me to the council meeting I’m heading to’ said Plo Koon, smirking as you groaned.

‘Master I was really hoping I could just go and freshen up, not be thrown into another assignment after six weeks’ you whined slightly as you trailed after Plo Koon.

‘Come along’ chuckled Plo Koon, leading you up to the council room.

‘Wait here, you’ll be joined by two others’ said Plo Koon.

With a sigh you leant against the side wall, closing your eyes drifting into the force lightly just so you could rest up even just a little bit.

‘Anakin, Senator Amidala will be just fine, be mindful of your thoughts, we will take guidance from the council before anything else’ came a voice you hadn’t heard in so long.

‘I know Master, it’s just that’s two attempts in twelve hours alone, I just want to know who is behind this and why’ came a frustrated reply.

‘Anakin, be careful of your anger’ warned the familiar voice.

‘Yes Master’

‘Oh hello, I didn’t realise we had company’

‘Hello Obi’ you spoke softly opening your eyes taking in the now young man before you.

‘Y/N, oh my, look at you, a knight now I see’ grinned Obi Wan at you, strolling to you and embracing you making you giggle.

‘I passed my trials three months ago, I’ve missed you, I was sorry to hear about Master Qui Gon’ you said breaking the embrace.

‘No need to be sorry, he is with the force now, I’m just sorry we lost contact… who took you as a Padawan in the end?’ queried Obi Wan.

‘Master Plo Koon, I didn’t know he was looking for another to teach so soon’ you shrugged beaming still to have been reunited with your old friend.

‘I can’t believe you’re a knight already, I’m so proud of you’ grinned Obi Wan ruffling your hair.

‘Obi’ you grumbled good naturally.

Glancing over Obi Wan’s shoulder for the first time you studied the person whose force signature that originally been filled with anger was now projecting frustration.

‘Oh where are my manners, Anakin Skywalker, meet Y/N Y/L/N, I’ve known her since she was a Youngling’ beamed Obi Wan.

‘Oh hi, you must be the one Master Qui Gon found… it’s nice to meet you’ you said reaching your hand out to shake.

‘You to, how long have you been a Knight for?’ Asked Anakin shaking your hand.

‘Oh only around three months now, so tell me Anakin have you been keeping Obi out of trouble? He has a knack for finding it’ you said smirking as Obi Wan rolled his eyes.

‘I try, he doesn’t make it very easy’ smirked Anakin.

‘Yes thank you Y/N’ huffed Obi Wan making you giggle.

‘I want all the stories Anakin’ you said ignoring the man.

‘Oh I’m only…’ started Anakin.

‘Not another word Anakin’ huffed Obi Wan, making you laugh joyfully.

‘They are ready for you now’ said the announcement stood before any more teasing could befall the older Jedi.

Stepping back, Obi Wan waved you ahead of himself and Anakin. Entering the room, you gave your customary bow to the Grand Masters, then stood respectfully in the centre along with Anakin and Obi Wan who mimicked your movements.

‘Disturbing this is, not feeling the attack we did not’ said Yoda.

‘Y/N you will help Master Kenobi in finding out who is behind this plot’ said Plo Koon.

‘Yes Master, I sense the darkness is shrouding this though’ you said shivering slightly when you reached out, the council members feeling it also when you projected to them.

‘It is much stronger than we first thought’ said Windu, if it effected him, it didn’t show.

‘You will have to be careful, unsure of where this will lead the force is’ said Yoda.

‘And what of the Senator she will still need protecting’ said Obi Wan, shooting you curious glances out the corner of his eye.

‘Anakin, you will escort the the Senator back to Naboo’ said Windu.

‘Yes Master, however as leader of the opposition it will be very hard to get the Senator to leave voluntarily’ said Anakin.

‘Speak with the chancellor, she won’t ignore a direct order’ said Plo Koon.

‘Yes Master’ said Anakin with a bow of his head.

‘Good, go to the chancellor now, then we can get you off the planet as refugees’ said Windu.

‘Yes Master’ said Anakin bowing then leaving.

‘Start you should with the dart’ said Yoda.

‘Yes Master’ nodded Obi Wan, with that you and Obi Wan began to make your way towards the analysis station.

‘What dart did you recover Obi?’ You asked as you walked.

‘This, I’ve never come across one before’ said Obi Wan.

‘It’s… it’s surrounded by greyness in the force, it’s sinister almost’ you said stopping as you walked floating the dart in front of your eyes, as you slipped into the force.

‘What do you mean? Can you use the force to analyse objects?’ asked Obi Wan curiously.

‘And lifeforms, I thought you knew, it was how I always knew what you were feeling when I was little, only I didn’t realise that was what I was doing’ you shrugged, holding your hand out, letting the dart fall into your palm.

‘Can you show me? I mean about the dart’ asked Obi Wan making you beam nodding.

‘Sure, come with me, we can do it in the room while they look at the dart’ you smiled leading the way this time to the analysis droids.

Handing the dart through the slot, watching the dart in the window, you and Obi Wan sat side by side, carefully you projected what you felt surrounding the dart.

‘That feeling…’ said Obi Wan.

‘Makes you shudder’ you whispered watching the dart turn slowly in front of the glass.

‘We’ll figure it out little kyber’ said Obi Wan, branching out his signature to yours letting you entwine with it.

Little did you know, the bond that had started to bloom when you were little, began to fuse together like the perfect pieces of a kyber crystal.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan #star wars #jedi #star wars imagine #jedi temple #jedi council

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sessa23 · 1 year

Text

Revelations: Part 3 (13th Doctor x Dhawan!master x reader)

(Summary: As the doctor and the fam travel to their destination, the master arrives at Xanadu looking for answers, will he get the answers that he seeks and what does he intend to do with you if he finds out?)

(Author's notes: Hey guys, sorry it's taken me a while to do this part. As this fic goes on, more will be revealed. Please be advised that this fic will contain cannon divergence. I hope you enjoy it.)

The master looked at the guards, he went to pull out his TCE but before he could do anything, the guards had taken it off him. "Come with us, you'll find some of the answers you seek." The master begrudgingly followed the guards, soon they came to a throne room. When they arrived in the throne room the guards took the master and stood him infront of a throne the identity of the figure masked by the white curtains.

"My lady, the Master has arrived." The guard announced. At that moment the curtains were pulled back. There was woman was sitting on the throne she was wearing a white Stola with a Golden Halo crown on her head. she turned to face the Master. "I've been expecting you, Koschei. You've changed since your last visit." She spoke, the Master was silent. He hadn't heard that name in a long time but when he realised that the woman infront of him mentioned a previous visit, he was confused.

The woman saw the master's confusion "You don't remember me do you?" She asked, the master shook his head. The woman sighed "Of course you don't. My name is Elini but you can call me Oracle. I have overseen everything since the beginning of the universe."

The master looked into Elini's eyes, attempting to read her thoughts. Elini chuckled softly as she stood up "Im afraid that your time lord telepathy doesn't effect me, my thoughts are not available to you. No matter how hard The High Council or The Division tried but I must say, it's nice to see you bring back the classics."

Elini walked down the steps of the throne "Anyway I know that you have come here to seek answers about Y/N." The master's eyes widened, Elini smiled "im telepathic as well." She responded before she continued "Now i cannot tell you much about Y/N's future, all i can say is that...they play an important part in a future event."

"What future event?" The Master queried. Elini looked up to the ceiling, a view of the stars above was what she saw. "There will be a time in the not so distant future where you will work with the Doctor, and The Professor to battle a common enemy. It will take "The power of Three" to stop them." The master's eyes widened at the mention of the Professor, "the professor?" Queryed the master. An Oracle sighed "You and the Doctor knew them quite well, they are your childhood friend."

Elini looked back at the master as she came closer to him "If the professor is not unveiled, you will fail" Elini repeated, the master looked away "They died on Gallifrey a long time ago, I remember when it happened." Elini shook her head "No, you and the Doctor have been decieved. they are alive but they need to be unveiled, if they are not unveiled. You will fail."

Elini put her fingers on the master's temple "You'll find the Truth by finding the answers you seek." She whispered, The Master closed his eyes, when he opened them again, he was back in his TARDIS. He rummaged though his pockets, the TCE was back in his pocket but he was confused and he now wondered where you fit in all of this?

Back on the doctor's TARDIS you continued to sleep, dreaming. You turned and saw that you were on a planet which you did not recognise. The stars of the night sky flying over the moon. The planet was beautiful but something was wrong. The planet was quiet, in the distance was a building, this building had smoke coming from it. Something inside you told you to go towards it and so you did, little did you know that as you walked, a giant puddle formed in your path. As soon as you stepped on it, you fell into the puddle and came out though a mirror and landed on the floor of the interior of a building. "What the hell?" You muttered, as you got to your feet and walked. "Y/N..." A voice trailed

You turned and saw a figure in white, "hello Y/N" you stepped back "who are you? What is this place." The figure came closer but their face was obscured "This place...it's my planet. But you...I've seen your future. You are very important." The figure whispered as they came closer to you.

It was then when other voices were heard "You have been sentenced to imprisonment for the infinite duration of the universe. Do you have any final words?" A voice questioned. "YOU'LL SEE, I WON'T FORGET WHAT YOU DID, WHAT ALL OF YOU DID!! ESPECIALLY YOU!" Another voice screamed

You turned back to the figure and they had put their fingers on your temple. "What are you..." you trailed, a blue alien with partially deformed face appeared before your world went dark. Suddenly you eyes shot open, you looked around and saw the Doctor and the rest of the fam around you "Y/N, are you alright?" The Doctor asked, you had strange dreams all your life but you had never had a dream with that alien. You didn't want to worry the fam. You then sat up "im okay, I just had a strange dream, nothing to worry about. How much longer till we get to our destination?"

Meanwhile in an unknown part of the universe, in a prison cell there was a prisoner who looked exactly like alien in your dream. Their eyes shot open as a smirk formed on their face. "I have awakened, I'm coming for you all, especially you, Professor."

#doctor who #bbc doctor who #the master #dhawan!master #13th doctor #thirteenth doctor #dhawan!masterxreader #thirteenth doctor x dhawan!master x reader #13th doctor x dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master x 13th doctor x reader #dhawan!master x thirteenth doctor x reader #sessa20 fics #cannon divergence #doctor who fic

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fanfictasia · 2 years

Text

Swoon June Day 9

Senses

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Card of Hearts

What Ahsoka really wants to do right now is talk to Anakin, but she doesn’t think she’ll even get the chance until much later. He’s busy with Council work – namely their order for him to commit treason and spy on Palpatine. No wonder he’s been shadowing the Chancellor so much. It’s as disturbing as it is infuriating, though, that they would demand something like this from him. Before she might have trusted them, but she can’t anymore. Not after what they did to her, how they turned their backs on her without a second thought the moment it pleased the Senate.

They would do the same to Anakin in a heartbeat, probably even more eagerly since they don’t seem to consider him one of theirs in the first place. So no, she does not trust their reasoning behind why they had to pick him for this this mission. (If something goes wrong, are they planning to just let him take the fall for it? Somehow, she can’t shake the feeling that that’s exactly what they have in mind, even if it’s just… unconsciously. They would anyway, even if that isn’t their plan right now.)

She would very much like to talk to Anakin and flatly inform him that there’s no way he needs to put himself in so much danger for them, but…. That will have to wait until when he’s not at the Senate building. She just needs to talk to someone though, so she finally gives in and heads for the office of the one person she’s been… ignoring a little too much as of late. It wasn’t intentional, but there was so much going on with both of them that she just hasn’t taken the time.

“Ahsoka?” Lux asks in surprise as she enters the room.

“Are you busy, or do you have time?” she queries.

“Yes, I do,” he confirms, standing up, rounding the table and pulling her into a hug, “It’s been awhile since we talked.” Only two days, but she agrees with him.

“There’s been a lot going on,” Ahsoka replies.

“You mean with your master getting back? he asks, “Because you seem… a less cheerful than I would’ve expected.”

Again, she wishes that she could tell him about Padme and Anakin, but that will have to wait until… a few weeks from now, probably. Then she can explain everything. Another rush of fear crashes through her at the thought. They’re running out of time to stop Padme’s possible death.

“The Council is being…” She wants to say ‘idiots’, but the life-long respect she’s always had for them, except for the past year or so, stops her. “…unreasonable and… frustrating.”

“I haven’t heard that in a while,” Lux replies. “What happened?”

“They’re just..” She sighs. “I can’t really tell you everything, but..”

“That’s okay,” he assures, “I don’t suppose there’s much I can do either way, but if you want to rant about it, I’ll always be willing to listen.”

“I know. Thanks,” she replies, moving a little closer, kissing him.

They pull apart after a few moments, and Ahsoka finds herself feeling the tiniest bit better after talking to him, even if it still changes nothing. She wishes she could tell him what’s bothering her the most – about Padme. “How are things with your work?” she asks, finally.

Lux’s expression promptly grows grim. “There’s… a lot going on, as I’m sure you know from Padme too. I don’t like the way the Republic is going.”

Ahsoka frowns. “What do you mean?” She doesn’t know why she suddenly feels a prickle of… something. It feels like he’s right, and it’s not just a feeling, it’s a fact she senses in the Force, and that leaves her feeling extremely uneasy.

“It’s just… I know it’s war time, the Senate has to little power now, all things considered. It’s not the kind of democracy I expected to join, but I guess we’ll see how things are when the war ends. There’s so much corruption to deal with.”

Ahsoka doesn’t know why she gets the feeling there’s something he wants to tell her, but won’t for some reason. “Yeah,” she murmurs. She doesn’t know why the words send a prickle of uneasiness through her; she doesn't know if the feeling has anything to do with what he said.

They run out of time at that, though, because Lux is called away to another meeting, and so Ahsoka goes in search of Anakin, to see if she’ll be able to find a chance to talk to him.

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drjohndisco · 2 years

Text

Binding Ties (02)

Warnings: sickness, mentions of animal death.

Ao3 Link || Masterlist

'You're sure that the parents aren't wesen?' Monroe questioned.

'I'm not sure of anything.' Nick said. 'I just haven't seen any indication that they are. And this is different than anything I've ever seen.'

'You mean he didn't woge?' Rosalee asked.

'No, this is more like a battle within.' Nick replied.

'It's classic devil worship as far as I'm concerned. But we're hoping you have another explanation.' Hank added.

At this Basil (a person with short red hair, green eyes and freckles all over their face. They worked at the shop as the delivery person. Nick and Hank had met them the day before) Monroe, and Rosalee looked at each other, causing Nick to sigh.

'What?' He queried.

'I kinda thought--' Monroe started. 'I mean, they're myths, right?'

'Yeah, well that's what people thought about me.' Basil mumbled, taking a book off the shelf and handing it to Rosalee, who then walked around the table to stand next to Monroe.

'You're not thinking--' Rosalee asked.

'Grausens, right?' Monroe said, finishing her sentence.

'Yeah, that's what it sounds like.' Rosalee replied.

'Is that a wesen?' Hank asked.

'Not really....' Monroe said.

'Every generation has heard stories about Grausen. They go way back.' Rosalee said.

'They used to think they were a wesen spirit, that would invade a child.'

'But never a wesen child.' Rosalee added.

'Keheresite kids only.'

'But the thinking has changed since medicine and science have advanced. Now some believe it's a mutation.' Rosalee continued.

'So, which is it?' Nick asked.

'Nick, they're incredibly rare. I mean--' Monroe said.

'It doesn't matter, because they've always been dealt with the same way.' Rosalee stated.

'How?'

'They would disappear. The wesen council was responsible for dealing with them. Sometime in the, uh, 1600s the council communicated for the first time with the royals and the grimms. They forged and alliance, for the safety of all of them.' Rosalee explained.

'Supposedly grausens, if left to maturity, grow into some of the worst people the world has ever seen. The world's most notorious psychopaths, wreaking havoc on like whole continents sometimes.'

'Wesen wer often to blame for what Grausen have done, that's why the council have stepped in.'

'Who is this council, anyway?' Hank asked.

'They enforce wesen law.' Belle answered.

'You guys have your own laws?' Hank said, incredulously.

'Oh, baby.' Monroe muttered.

'If this is indeed a Grausen we have no choice but to inform the council.' Rosalee stated.

'And inform them means what?' Hank queried. 'Daniel disappears?'

'Yeah, it's like a death sentence for the kid.' Monroe replied.

'It's a death sentence for us if we don't tell them.' Basil and Rosalee said at the same time.

'How do we even know that he is Grausen?' Nick asked.

'The law is clear. Even if it a possibility we have to inform them.'

'That's why we shouldn't even be talking about this!' Monroe whispered. 'We shouldn't even be having this conversation.'

'Now, you tell us?' Nick said, exhausted.

'Look, if we'd known that you were going to talk about Grausen we would have said don't talk about Grausen!' Monroe yelled.

'You worry about the council, we'll worry about the kid.' Hank said.

'No. We get to worry about both.' Nick stated. 'Thanks.' Nick and Hank then left the shop, bell jangling behind them.

'Can't we just let Nick run with this?' Monroe questioned.

'But if they found out that we didn't report it, plus that we'd been working with a hybrid and a Grimm behind their backs?' Rosalee replied. There was a pause in which Monroe exhaled.

'Then, I guess it's just a matter of who goes to whose funeral first.' Monroe sighed.

'Well, I am not going to your funeral - or anybody else's.' Rosalee said. 'I have to tell them.'

'Yeah, that was their theory, their myth, their belief.' Nick explained, placing the book onto Juliette and Briar's laps. 'There's something going on inside this kid and I just can't figure it out.

'Listen to this,' Juliette said. '1920, after my encounter with what I now conclude to be a grausen I'm left with one undeniable certainty. Grausens aren't the province of Grimms; as they're not wesen. I have therefore informed the council as my ancestors have done in the past.' Next to Juliette Briar sighed. 'But I am left with a nagging question,' Juliette continued - not phased by their partners' interruption. 'I don't believe that this is possession by any sort of devil or demon, I believe that it is a disease; of what manner I know not, 'nor how it is transmitted. Does this make sense, based on what you've seen?'

'Well, at the hospital they said that his white blood cell count was high.' Nick responded. 'And that his immune system was stressed.'

'Which suggests infectious disease.' Juliette replied. 'How long did the parents say that this has been going on for?'

'About a year.' Nick said.

'What happened a year ago?' Juliette asked.

'I don't know.'

'Well, maybe you should ask.' Briar snarked, under their breath.

'Maybe it could have been transmitted sometime before that - depending on the incubation period.' Juliette said.

'Well, what disease would cause this kind of behaviour?' Nick questioned.

'There are all kinds of pathogens, viral and bacterial, that could interact with the central nervous system or older portions of the brain that control behaviour.' Juliette said. Next to her Briar screwed up their face in mock disgust. 'And new pathways are discovered all the time.'

'But this is a long history....' Nick trailed off.

'Yeah, but it's not very common. Which could explain why it isn't well understood. You need to talk to the parents, and figure out exactly what happened a year ago.' Juliette said.

'I'm supposed to talk to the parents about pathogens and incubation periods?' Nick asked.

'No, I will go get my coat.' Juliette laughed, placing the book back onto Briar's lap. Nick then placed his arm on the back of the couch, and Briar scooted closer to him.

'I take it that you're not coming with us on this one?' Nick queried.

'Nope! I don't think I'll be needed; you two have your hands full with this one. Besides I'll make sure to tell her I think her science talk is sexy when you get back.' Briar replied, winking.

'Well, that's a weird place to put your shoes.' Nick said, looking over at Juliette from the doorway.

'Oh.' Juliette mumbled, taking her shoes from the bed. Nick walked past her and stood next to Briar, who was in bed reading a book.

'Hi.' Nick whispered, kissing the top of their head.

'Nick, I don't really think that Daniel's behaviour is viral or bacterial. It had to have a more direct impact on his behaviour.' Juliette said, then paused. 'You know a colleague of mine did a case study when I was in vet school about a group of thoroughbreds.' She then took her earrings out and placed them on the bedside table. 'They were flown to Dubai to race and there was a storm that forced their transport plane to lay over in Jordan. By the time the horses returned to the US they were exhibiting signs of extremely aggressive behaviour.'

Nick sat down on the bed, causing Briar to pull the sheets back for him.

'Jordan. That's where Daniel and his parents were.' Nick said.

'She argued that the horses should be saved. That their behaviour was caused by a protozoa, similar to toxoplasmosis. And that if she could just kill the parasite then the horses would return to normal.' Juliette continued.

'Did it work?' Nick asked, pulling off his shoes.

'No, they destroyed the horses before anything could be done.' Juliette sighed.

'Yeah, well that seems to be the standard treatment for anything they can't explain.' Nick said sadly.

'That's very depressing. I hope you're planning on changing that.' Briar replied.

'Oh, don't worry. I will be.'

'People wouldn't have necessarily understood the concept of a parasite living within the body hundreds of years ago.' Juliette explained. 'And if it manifested itself physically and was interpreted as possession by the devil, then yeah you can kinda understand their rush to judgement.'

'So you're saying that there's a way to get the protozoa out of Daniel?' Nick questioned.

'No, I'm saying that we have to kill the protozoa in Daniel.'

'Well then, how the hell are we going to do that?' Juliette only shrugged in response. 'Without knowing what it needs to survive, I don't know.' Nick hit his head against the headboard in exasperation, and took his phone from Briar who had it in their hands.

'It's Monroe.' Briar said.

'What are you still doin' up?' Nick asked, absentmindedly hitting Briar in the arm.

'Ow.' Briar muttered, sliding back under the covers. Important phone conversations be damned, they hated being cold. A few moments then passed and Nick's call was finished.

'What was that all about?' Juliette asked.

'The council. They sent a man called Alexander to check on Daniel; and Monroe and Rosalee don't think he's there to help.'

'We're sorry to bother you, Mr. Keery.' Nick said, as the man opened the door. Nick was standing on the doorstep next to Annabelle, Juliette, Basil and Hank.

'We, uh, we think that we may have figured out what's wrong with Daniel.' Juliette explained.

'What?' Mr Keery said in disbelief.

'It's possible that when you went to Jordan on vacation and Daniel became ill, it wasn't the flu.' Juliette replied.

'No, it was the flu. He had flu symptoms and everything, the doctor examined him and you didn't. And now you're here saying that, that what?' Mr. Keery argued.

'We think it could be a very rare protozoa, like a parasite, and it could have been living in the water when Daniel went swimming.' Juliette said, keeping her tone level.

'Where's Daniel now?' Nick asked.

'He's in his bedroom, sleeping.' Mrs. Keery said. 'If what you're thinking is true, can it be treated?'

'Hopefully. But first we'll need to identify the parasite. That can be done by testing for antibodies.' Juliette replied.

'Do you mind if we look in on 'im?' Nick questioned. 'Then we can talk about possibly getting him reevaluated.'

'What do we know about this council guy?' Hank asked.

'Well, I know nothing. Basil said that they knew him, but so far I haven't been able to get them to tell me exactly how or why. I think it's a sore subject.' Nick replied quietly.

'He's right. It is.' Basil said, entering the room; glass of cold water in their hands. 'You'll get there, eventually. Also, next time, please talk about me when I'm actually in the room. Now, Nick, have you checked the airlines?'

But before he could answer their question there was a crash from upstairs. Something was wrong.

'He's freezing.' Mr. Keery lamented. Juliette then placed a hand under Daniel's head and began to lift him. 'Wait, you have got to be careful when you wake him up.'

'He's really cold. I think he's hypothermic.' Juliette said, turning back to Briar, Nick and Daniel's mother. Daniel's skin then shifted, and everyone moved back, aghast.

'It's happening again.' Mr. Keery said.

'We have to get him back to the house and warmed up.' Juliette ordered. Nick then put his arms out in front of her, stopping her from doing anything else.

'If this thing needs a human body to survive, isn't that dependent on the temperature of the body?' Nick asked.

'Yeah...' Juliette replied.

'Well, what if the body gets too cold to support it?' Nick suggested.

'It would die!' Juliette said.

'Wait, what are you two talking about?' Mr. Keery and Briar questioned together.

'Certain organisms can only survive within a narrow temperature range. The drop in his body could kill what's inside of him.' Juliette explained.

'Well, how do we know that it isn't going to kill Daniel to?' Mr. Keery rebutted.

'If his body temperature were to drop to far, to fast,' Juliette said, looking back at Nick - begging to say something, to stop the potential murder of this boy. Instead, he shook his head and she knew that they had to go along with this plan.

'How do we know that that hasn't happened already?' Briar asked.

'Nick, we can't do this!' Juliette cried.

'No! This could be Daniel's only chance!' Nick yelled.

'He's my son!' Mr. Keery shouted.

'Then it is our decision.' Nick replied. Mr. Keery then looked to Nick and Juliette and then back to Daniel, placing a hand on his neck. Then, much to everyone's surprise, Daniel started to leak green mucus from his nostrils.

'Gross.' Briar murmured.

'What's happening? What is that?' Mr. Keery asked frantically.

'It's the parasite - it's dying. We need to get him back to the house now!' Juliette ordered. 'Nick, get a sample.' Nick did so, and Daniel's father picked him up and began to carry him back to their house.

'Daniel's going to be okay, right?' Briar questioned.

'Yeah, I think so.' Juliette replied.

'As Daniel Keery's body grew so cold and slipped into hypothermia the Grausen could no longer survive.' Nick narrated. 'Subsequent tests on the boy proved that I've got what--'

'Proved that the unicellular eukaryotic organism, identified as damionia esbetzia, was responsible for the behavioural changes in the boy.' Juliette replied, finishing Nick's sentence for him. She then leaned over and kissed him by his right eye. 'It's not always easy knowing what to believe in.'

'How do you spell eukaryotic?' Nick asked.

'E-U-K-A-R-Y-O-T-I-C.' Juliette spelt.

Nick smiled again then, he was so happy that this was the woman he was planning on marrying.

#my writing*#binding ties (gri.mm au)#[ot3] blood leads me back to you #self ship

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obae-me · 4 years

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Recently found your blog and I absolutely love your writing!! Could I request head cannons of the brothers reacting to an MC who suddenly cries in front of them but is over it in a minute and acts as if nothing happened?

Thank you for your request, and I’m so flattered you like my writing!

So...I’ll admit got a little carried away with Lucifer’s part, and I always do my best to try to make each brother’s part of somewhat equal length, but if I did that...there would be about 21 pages of words in one post, so, to make it easier for me to post and everyone to read, I will be doing your request in parts. I hope that’s okay!

Part 2 (Mammon) Part 3 (Levi)

The Demons Inside- Part 1

Word Count: 2070

He had requested MC’s presence in his study while he finished up his work for the night. The day had been particularly tedious, and while he wouldn’t mention it offhand, their presence calmed him and motivated him to always be at the peak of his performance.

MC happily came down to give him some support, a sweet smile on their face, dressed up in comfortable clothes, ready for bed. Their eyes were bright as they talked about their day and gave him praise as well as compliments to drive him towards his lofty goal. He took them gladly, although he wouldn’t say it. But despite the attention, these last few worksheets and reports were giving him a migraine. So, he kindly asked if MC could bring him one of his special bottles of Demonus.

MC didn’t quite approve of him drinking to help his problems, but he tended to be aware of how much he was taking. As long as he was responsible--which he always was--MC didn’t mind. They got up from their chair, one of the luxurious red ones in the middle of the room. They chose the seat closest to where Lucifer’s desk was, but they didn’t dare move it any closer, he liked to have everything neatly in its place after all. Like his furniture, all his bottles and glasses were neatly organized, each one sleek and pristine, much like the demon himself.

“Which one would you like?” They asked him, scouring the many labels, many of them written in a language MC couldn’t even begin to identify.

Lucifer sat hunched over his desk, so focused on his report that he almost missed MC’s query. “Whatever catches your eye, I’m not going to be picky about it tonight.” He bit his lip and almost cursed as he made a small mistake on his report. He questioned why he always wrote in pen, fixing mistakes in ink was such a hassle. “But make it quick,” he grumbled.

He wasn’t ready for the sound of shattering glass, almost jumping in his seat. He immediately straightened, his instinct ready to yell and scold whoever dared to be so careless. The name ‘Mammon’ almost formed on his lips, but then he affixed his gaze to his invited company. MC had accidentally lost their grip on the bottle, shards and alcohol scattered on the floor. One look at their face showed silent tears flowing down their cheeks, unable to peel their eyes away from the ground where the mess pooled around their feet.

He had never really seen them cry before, they had always kept their guard up, refusing to show signs of vulnerability. He had thought it was an endearing trait, one he often had himself. So, having them cry before him now filled him with panic. He was worried their sudden emotion was due to the fact that they were hurt. After all, they weren’t wearing any shoes at this hour, what if they had been pierced with the glass?

He rushed to his feet, sweeping them up into his arms, placing them in a chair away from the hazard. Tears still fell from their eyes, and now MC covered up their face with their hands to cover their small sobs. He got on one knee and quickly checked their feet and legs for any signs of cuts, not having the heart tonight to tell them how klutzy they were.

There were no apparent signs of injury, and he allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. When he looked back up at MC, ready to comfort and calm them, they now appeared fine. Their eyes were dry, albeit a bit red, and they gently shooed Lucifer away from their body.

“I’m so so sorry, it was a complete accident.” MC refused to look into his eyes.

He got back onto his own two feet, lips pursed together in a thin line of worry. He was aware it was an accident, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why MC would cry over something like that. Perhaps, they were scared of getting yelled by him? Or was there something deeper, the accident causing their emotional wall to crack poetically alongside the glass bottle. He opened his mouth to address the issue, but barely managed to let a syllable out before MC interrupted him.

“I’ll go get something to clean it up,” they assured him, preparing to make a run for it. He hesitated for a moment too long, his mind running on fumes from being overworked. His reactions dulled, distracted by the lingering pain in his chest as the image of MC’s tears refused to leave his eyes. By the time he called out their name, they were already gone.

He sighed, almost falling into the chair he had placed MC in, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “This human…” He sighed. He tilted his head back, his eyelids shutting. The heaviness of them refused to open back up till he heard the sound of glass pieces clinking together as they collided and scraped across his polished floor.

He raised himself out of his seat, his body groaning, gravity working against him as his very being ached to continue resting. But he couldn’t just idly stand by as MC swept up the glass by themselves. He only needed to take a few long steps over to them, grabbing the broom handle with one hand. It wouldn’t budge in his tight grip.

“MC, allow me, with all the glass around I fear for your safety. You forgot to bring proper footwear.” Both he and MC glanced down at their bare feet. MC worked on tugging the broom back to their possession.

“No- I mean thank you, but, it’s my mess, I need to clean it up regardless.”

“MC-”

“Please!” Their loud tone stunned him. It was a plea of desperation, their voice cracking. His hold on the item loosened, and they tore the broom away from him without giving him the opportunity to fully let go. They immediately went back to work, brushing shards across the floor as they glinted, the light from the fireplace shining off of them. He was again reminded of their shimmering tears, but the expression of budding despair had left MC’s face a while ago. Now they just appeared as exhausted as he was.

“Very well…” He couldn’t afford to spend the last of his energy pushing them any longer. Sitting back behind his desk, Lucifer forced himself to finish the last of his work. More often than not, he kept looking back up at MC. Their eyelids were low over their eyes as they focused on clearing away the mess. Never once did they look back at him. Their usual smiling mouth now waned. He watched them sweep away the big chunks of glass into a pan, pulling out a clean rag as they got to their hands and knees to wipe away the excess liquid. “MC?” The sound of his own voice almost sounded distant to him.

“Hm?” They hummed, turning more in his direction but keeping their gaze from him.

“Has anything been bothering you as of late?” He rested his chin in his hand as he leaned forward, his arm crooked on the surface of his desk. They turned their head away from him, resuming the cleaning. Their nose crinkled a little as the strong scent of his Demonus filled their nose.

“No, I’ve been fine.”

“And the crying earlier?” He found himself asking, unable to ease his own worries. “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” He found MC staring at the soaked rag, losing themselves in the sight of it. But it wasn’t the fabric they were paying attention to.

“It was nothing.” They had said it so quietly, he almost didn’t hear their answer. Lying always rubbed him the wrong way, it always insulted him. Yet, this lie didn’t quite seem to be directed towards him, he was getting the impression that they were mostly trying to lie to themselves. As if to further encourage this idea of his, MC repeated themselves. “It was nothing…”

Lucifer examined the last of his work. There was still a bit left to finish, and he couldn’t remember the last time he brushed off his duties, no matter how minimal. Tonight, just for tonight, he thought. Maybe it would be alright. The papers on his desk he put aside, at the same time MC disposed of the trash, the floor as pristine as it had been a few moments before.

“It is one of my duties as a member of the student council to make sure your needs are met.” He wasn’t wrong, this was true. It was a known job of everyone looking after MC to make sure their stay was as comfortable as possible. It would reflect positively towards the program. MC had heard the line before, and while he truly meant it, the words almost sounded empty to their ears. Lucifer had to swallow some of his pride, it tasted like his own personal poison. “So, you can talk to me about anything. I am...here for you.”

For the first time since they descended down here, Lucifer finally got a glimpse of their protective walls falling completely. Their eyes threatened to start crying again, but Lucifer saw as their throat strained to push it back.

“That’s part of the problem,” they croaked.

He blinked in confusion, caught off guard by the answer. “P-pardon?” He was unaware his support and protection could be undesirable.

“You and everyone else is always there for me, always strong, always helping me. And-” Their voice broke again as a single tear broke free from the struggle and rolled down their cheek. They only blinked once and he was right in front of them. The papers on his desk rustled and fluttered from the speed of his movement. His hand raised from his side for a second only to lower in disappointment as MC brushed their own tear away. “And I hate being a--being a burden. A weak and powerless human.”

His mouth parted, open in mild shock as he processed slowly the words they were telling him. “MC…”

“How...how am I supposed to make you proud when I can’t even hold a bottle correctly?” With the last words, the dam conjured of pure will that had been holding the river of tears at bay, broke, and once more they were crying in front of him.

No more hesitation, no more prideful priorities, he held MC’s face with both hands, guiding them close to his body as he gave them a hug. They felt so small in his arms. He almost let out a laugh, but kept it to just a puff in his chest. He had no idea that the reason why they were so flustered was because their pride was wounded. He should’ve been one to know. He would’ve been upset too were he to be in their shoes.

He found himself stroking their head, enveloping them in his embrace as he looked absentmindedly at the clean spot where all this had started in the first place. How much longer would MC have kept this from him had they not accidentally lost their grip? How much longer would he have unknowingly put pressure on their shoulders?

“I am proud,” he told them, and MC’s shuddering shoulders started to halt. “Proud of your strength. Proud of your patience to deal with my...eccentric siblings. Proud of your stubbornness...even if it does sometimes drive me mad.” He swore he almost felt them laugh against his body, it brought a small smile to his face that he was thankful MC couldn't see. “You are not a burden,” he assured them sternly. “There are things that, even without magic, you’ve been able to accomplish where no other living being has.” He took them by the shoulders and moved them back so he could look at their face. “Be prideful of the things you’ve done, of the person you are. And if you cannot…” He lifted their chin with one hand, and then pressed his lips to their forehead. His lips were warm, almost even warmer than the words that spilled from them. It left MC’s mind fluttering. They couldn’t remember why they thought he was ever so cold. He parted from them, but the touch from his lips still felt like it lingered. “At least know I forever will be.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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vultures-and-scavengers · 2 years

Text

“Can I offer you a pizza party in this trying time?”

Their flatbread joint is off the beaten path, to say the least. They survive by word of mouth, and have a plentiful roster of regulars, but with the holos streaming incoming images of Republic troops on Korriban, they don’t expect business.

And they don’t get any- not for a few hours at least.

The bell at the door chimes, and everyone in the kitchen, clustered around the half-broken holoterminal that has to be angled just so to catch a good signal, jumps.

Glances are exchanged, silent queries to check if everyone else had heard that, and finally, it’s the newest hire who stands up to head to the front counter. The new hire is a 16 year old togruta kid who has a sibling making their way up the ranks in the military, and they’re eager to do a good job.

It’s not one of their regulars waiting for them. It’s a twi’lek woman with black tattoos, and armor with intricate gold accents. There’s a lightsaber at her hip, and the new hire, who rabidly follows tabloids, knows exactly who this is.

A Dark Council member is standing at their counter, looking equal parts impatient and frazzled.

The manager, listening distantly from the kitchen, nearly sprints out when he hears the new hire’s voice stutter and crack as they say, “Welcome to Dominious Flatbreads, my Lord.”

She explains she needs about 5 dozen flatbreads, with cheese, meat, and vegetable offerings, and look: they’re 2 hours to close, and from any other customer, they would have thrown them out. That’s not an option for Sith customers.

She waves her hand, and adds that she doesn’t care about the cost and she knows this is extremely last minute, but she’s happy to pay whatever service fee is necessary. The Dark Lord winces, and adds that she’d like to add a recurring daily order for the next two weeks, on top of it, starting tomorrow.

The manager has recovered their equanimity in the face of the credit signs floating in his eyes, and is tallying up the order, getting the numbers for which types, sorting out catering drinks as well, but everything comes to a screeching halt when the 16 year old asks the Dark Lord of the Council if they know who’s alive or not at Korriban.

The manager thinks he’s going to need a new hire, but the Dark Lord sees the real question the kid wants answered. There’s sympathy in her eyes: not an emotion one associates with Sith. “Family?” she asks politely.

The new kid nods, and they recite their sibling’s name, rank and unit, and the Dark Lord pulls out a datapad. The managers eyes bounce back and forth between the Sith and the hire as the sounds of cursing and ingredients being prepped drift faintly from the kitchen.

He holds the bill in his hands, not wanting to interrupt her skimming, but her shoulders loosen just a hair, and she looks up, putting the datapad back on her belt. “Your sibling’s squad was sent to the Tomb of Marka Ragnos when the first alarms sounded, to ensure there was no pillaging. They got nicked by a tuk’ata, but the medical unit has them and they should recover just fine.”

The new hire bursts into tears of relief, and scampers back to the kitchen to hide, and the manager surreptitiously lowers the service fee by 5%. Only 5% though. He’d still like to make a profit.

Delivery directions are added (to Imperial Intelligence, chaos take him), bills are paid, and the Dark Lord sweeps out the door as quickly as she’d arrived. The manager takes a deep breath, because it’s fine, it’s all fine, but then- no it isn’t.

Now he has to tell the owner about this.

#swtor #swtor ocs #imperial intelligence #oc: darth calumnia #in which upper management takes a poll on where to get their pizza #desperately trying to keep people in the office and less miserable

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empatheticxangel · 8 months

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hollow-port asked:

[ @pcrfumebcttles ]: "If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy."

Liam scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he looked over the guy before them. Generally, Liam found himself sympathetic towards the injured and usually tried to help them and even heal them if needed. But now? No, he didn't particularly care and it was evident by the look of disdain that fell over his face as he lightly nudged the guy's arm with his foot. If they were unfortunate enough to look like this after meeting what he thought was a very wonderful woman, then perhaps they had it coming.

"I think I'll pass on seeing that. Though I see you've done quick work with them, I'm impressed."

#The Council Has Heard Your Queries || Asks #The General Has Flown In || In Character #Main Verse - { v: refined sentiment }#pcrfumebcttles

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empatheticxangel-archive · 2 years

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@royalreef asked:

She places his gift right into his hands! So sweet of Miranda, really. So kind. She does like to give out gifts so much, and this one seems to have had extra effort put into it! She's so proud, look at how she smiles and thumps her tail against the ground.

It's a perfect model of Liam's teeth.

Down to every last detail on every last tooth, it is perfect, to an uncanny degree. Where did Miranda get this? When did she have it made? Much more to the point, how did she get it made? It's hand carved and hard, with a hinge at the back for him to open it up, but he hasn't exactly modeled his mouth for her. Let alone to this kind of exacting detail, leaving no hints about who this could have come from.

Miranda's not explaining either. She's just smiling still.

Oh the way she smiled as she presented the gift was enough to put a smile on the Angel's face, the markings on his body turning a lovely shade of orange. It took him a moment for it to register in his mind and he tilted his head curiously as he looked over it but the colors didn’t. He lightly ran his fingers over the model, careful to not let his sharp nails scratch the material. It seemed so perfect, it was almost unnatural.

Did it unnerve him? Not particularly, at least not because she gave him such an item, no he was more perplexed by the quality. Even as he opened it up and carefully touched the fake teeth to test if the sharpness matched, Liam found himself bemused that even that detail was accurate.

When had she had the time to have his mouth so intricately studied and replicated? Had he forgotten a time in the times he had spent with her? As Liam pondered this he couldn’t helped but be completely enamored with the gift, opening and closing it and turning it around like a child who had just received a strange new toy. At the end of the day it was a gift and he did not receive such things often, so he would cherish it.

“Its so detailed, Wuhdvxuh, I think I will keep it on display in my room!”

#The Council Has Heard Your Queries || Asks #royalreef #A Treasure No Matter How Bloodied and Deep || royalreef #Teen verse- { v: pubescent heart [MAIN] }#Feathered Beauty || Angel Form #Gleefully Flying || Orange { Happiness }#The Spoken Language of Angels || { Translation } :#Treasure

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avengershumanresources · 3 years

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blood 4 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 3 - part 5

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

4 - a reign

It was the middle of the night by the time Stephen returned to the observatory. He’d only meant to stop for a few minutes to grab a book Wong had asked for, before retreating to his quarters for some much needed sleep.

That was, until he saw you sleeping soundly, sprawled over the cot he kept in the corner for those late nights he spent tinkering with spells and potions. A book on the mystic properties of herbs was open on your chest, lifting and falling with each gentle breath you took.

By Vishanti, you looked so peaceful, a far cry from how you’d held yourself since the funeral. His chest gave a throb when you shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into the pillow under your head, a small shiver that made him wish more than anything to crawl in next to you and cradle your form in his arms.

It was almost unbearable sometimes.

He had his vows and duties, his status as a council to the king, your tutor, and a protector of the castle, while you were the eldest princess of this important kingdom.

Though he’d been born of decent lineage, there wasn’t a world where he could feasibly see a long term future by your side.

Instead, he settled on what he could have for now. Stephen would cherish these moments until some prince (probably Loki, as much as the thought disgusted him), whisked you out of his reach.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” you voiced, opening your eyes and shifting the book off of your chest with a sleepy blink.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he explained, lifting the book he’d come for off a nearby table. “Wong needed a reference for shields at the border.”

You stretched your shoulders, slowly rising and sitting at the edge of the cot. You were still wearing your gown from dinner, suggesting you’d been reading there for quite some time.

“How was the council meeting?” you asked.

He made a noise of disgust, crossing his arms and dropping into a nearby seat by the fire.

“Dreadful,” he confided in her. “I’m not sure where I can draw the line at my ethics as a sorcerer and stating clearly that this man is a maniac.”

Your expression darkened at his words.

“What is he proposing?”

“He wants to invite Rumlow to the castle to discuss a peace treaty during the coronation celebrations,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his noise. “No matter how many times Steve, Wong, and myself went over why that was a dangerous and reckless idea, he would remind us who is king. I thought perhaps he’d be more amendable to reason, but I was wrong.”

Listening intently, you looked down at your lap. Something else was on your mind and Stephen was afraid his words had confirmed some unspoken fear within you.

“Peter was right not to trust him then,” you stated with a glance up at him. “Why would he bring that monster within these walls? To stand him where our father once stood?”

That was the question Stephen kept asking himself while the other councilors and the king argued around in circles. What benefit did Obadiah get from such a conversation with King Brock? Perhaps it would yield some answers, but not any they couldn’t get from a more secluded, neutral location.

“Was a final decision made?” you pressed when he fell silent.

“Not yet,” he heard you let out a breath of relief. “We’re adjourned until tomorrow afternoon.”

“The ball is tomorrow night,” you jumped on the same point he’d made when Obadiah had dismissed the councilors.

“Rumlow has a new Master Sorcerer at his castle,” Stephen grunted. “A lot of changes for a kingdom that pleaded innocence during our first inquiry into your father’s death.”

“What happened to Mordo?”

“No one knows,” Stephen sighed. It was the very reason he’d returned to Kamar-Taj. After news of Master Mordo’s replacement with the Enchantress from Asgard, rumors had circulated and a number of masters had approached him confessing they were nervous about what that meant.

It wasn’t unusual to change Masters within a castle. Your father had done it enough after quite a few had resigned or been scared off by your ferocity before he’d arrived.

The problem was that the Enchantress had a reputation of her own, having been exiled of her homeland and banished from Kamar-Taj for abusing dark magic. Appointing her to such an important and influential role within a kingdom was beyond concerning, it was downright dangerous.

It would be impossible to tell where Rumlow’s own ideas converged with Amora’s mystic control. He knew Mordo, while flawed, still had the good sense to provide sound council. From the beginning, Stephen had a feeling that the sorcerer hadn’t been involved in the invasion and attack on the kingdom that killed your father.

“Now what?” you queried softly.

“We stand on the defensive,” he admitted, taking your hand when he saw it shaking in your lap. Running a thumb over your palm, he met your gaze. You still looked uneasy and he didn’t blame you. This wasn’t a usual transition of power and he feared more deception was hidden under the layers. “This kingdom is resilient, and Peter is strong. Whatever arises, I’m more than confident we can stand against it.”

You pursed your lips, probably about to argue against him, but a quick sweep of his face and you let the issue die. He must have looked terrible to silence you so abruptly.

“I should probably get back to my quarters,” you reasoned with a murmur, letting him guide you to your feet, hands still connected. The two of you stood silently, his hand wrapped around yours, waiting for the other to make the first move.

And Gods if he wasn’t so exhausted, he would have stood there an eternity.

“I can-,” he cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand and drew up a portal to your room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you flex the hand he’d touched before you stepped through, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Sweetest dreams, Stephen,” you hummed with a small wave goodbye.

“You too, princess.”

The portal closed and he froze, his heart beating ferociously against his sternum.

In another life, you could have been his.

Hell, if your father had returned from battle, there could have been a tiny flicker of hope.

Tony had trusted him after all, requested him to the castle personally after you’d scared off the previous few Masters.

There could have been a chance.

Now? Peter would eventually need to marry you off to secure the future of the kingdom. It was your duty after all, your birth obligation as a female royal.

You’d carry some other man’s child and, maybe, he would see you from a distance at a ball or royal visit.

And Stephen would live the rest of his days in solitude.

His heart aching for the princess just at his fingertips but never allowed to touch.

(—)

Natalia Romanov reasoned herself a fair woman. Sure, she killed for money and ran illicit goods across borders, but she considered herself just and never acted with true malice against the innocent.

She had a personal set of rules that she held above any amount of gold, and those rules included keeping your name off of her or anyone else’s list of targets.

Since the two of you had been young girls, only a little older than Princess Morgan now, you’d proven time and again that you were not only a trusted ally, but a dear friend.

From the first time you caught her trying to steal some apples from the kitchens, you’d ensured her safety until she had been old enough to take care of herself. Even then, you were always more than happy to share your coin, a meal, or a jug of wine with the infamous assassin.

So, when a threat on your life had been attempted, Natalia had taken that personally.

The lead from the cook at the pub had been more than enough for her and James to work off of. Within a day they were on the mystery assailant’s trail and by nightfall on the second day, they’d traced him to an inn at the border of your kingdom and Asgard.

She’d detailed the plan carefully with James earlier in the day. Wait for him to settle into his room for the night, bribe the innkeeper, and steal him away before anyone was the wiser. She had a cottage a few miles into the woods where they could interrogate him and dispose of a body, if needed.

It was a nearly perfect plan, and Natalia was quite proud of it, until certain unpredictable circumstances had stepped in their way.

Those circumstances being the younger Asgardian prince, Loki.

“I thought they’d closed the border,” James had grumbled, hood pulled over his face while they surveyed the inn from the street. “What is he doing here?”

“Maybe he fancied a drink?” Natalia joked dryly, watching the dark haired prince try to blend in with the crowd. To the untrained eye, he did quite well, slipping between the villagers as they fussed about, readying themselves for the evening.

Natalia and James, however, spotted him almost immediately.

“I’ve never been fond of ale,” a voice noted casually over their shoulders.

James instinctively threw a protective arm over Natalia, a knife spinning up from his fingers menacingly. As if that would be a threat against someone as powerful as the prince.

“I come as a friend,” Loki held up his hands, amusement at their reaction clear on his face. “Though I have to say, the more friends of the princess I meet, the better insight I’ve gained. Did you know she befriended a bard two towns over? How she does that will always be a mystery to me.”

“Scott?” James quirked a brow. “He’s great.”

“Quite the entertainer,” Loki agreed with a nod. “Shall we retreat to somewhere more private?”

Natalia bobbed her chin toward the inn, and the men followed in suit, taking a seat in the back of the pub inside. She made a point of positioning herself in such a manner that she had full sight of the entrance and exit, ready to intercept the cook if need be.

“This man you’re after, what do you know of him?” Loki asked, waving a hand and muffling the sounds of the crowd around them. Natalia was sure it was some kind of sound cloaking spell to the surrounding patrons.

“How do you know we are after him?” Natalia challenged.

“I’ve been following you over the last few days,” he admitted casually. “When I heard of the attack on the princess and saw the sorcerer at the pub, I put two and two together. It wasn’t particularly difficult.”

“You’re supposed to be in Asgard,” James pointed out. “They’ve sealed the borders. It’s been hell trying to move anything around.”

“I am-,” his eyes glowing green. “In a way. The incident with the king was far too intriguing to ignore. Not to mention, there’s now this situation you two have stumbled your way into.”

“We don’t stumble into anything,” James countered sharply, leaning on the table with a glare.

“You stumbled into the princess’ life and became attached,” he clarified, waving over a barmaid and ordering a jug of wine. “Don’t blame yourselves, it’s nearly impossible to avoid.”

“What do you want?” Natalia cut straight to the point. The man hadn’t come down from his room or tried to leave the inn just yet, but she wasn’t going to miss him because the trickster decided this was how he wanted to amuse himself.

“To help of course,” he threw a charming smile in her direction. “This man isn’t a mere commoner.”

“Is he also a barkeep?” James guessed sarcastically, but Loki ignored him and continued.

“He possesses significant magical energy within him,” he explained. “He has hidden it well, it was no wonder the sorcerer couldn’t detect him before. Fortunately, he’s lowering his guard now that he’s further away.”

That was certainly a challenge. Natalia and James had experience bringing in or even killing magic users in the past, but they’d been warned ahead of time. Without being able to prepare the necessary potions and restraints, capturing the elusive assassin would prove difficult.

The barmaid placed the jug on the table and lit up when Loki pressed a gold coin in her hand. Her words were muffled to Natalia, but Loki seemed to have no trouble communicating with her until she stepped away.

“As far as anyone is concerned, I’m drinking alone,” he explained. “The assailant has a meeting with someone this evening, I assume regarding the failed attempt on the princess’ life. I propose we follow him and find out who is behind this plot.”

“You think there’s someone else?” Natalia questioned.

“He’s trying to break up his trail,” Loki stated. “Otherwise his route makes no sense. You did hear a magic user tried to kill the prince as well?”

“No, we hadn’t,” James exchanged a look with Natalia.

Another complication.

“I’m not a betting man, but I would wager it’s the same man. The timing between the attacks aligns perfectly.”

“How do you know about the attack on the prince?” Nat asked suspiciously.

“Now Natalia, would you so willingly divulge your own secrets?” he smirked up at her. “Rest assured, my information is reliable.”

Despite this, Natalia was still suspicious of his intentions. Loki had a reputation for not only acting in his own self interest, but also toying with those in his association for the fun of it. The offer to help almost seemed too good to be true.

“What do you gain from this?” she asked directly, narrowing her gaze.

“You were too young to know during the last major war,” he replied quietly. “My people have long lives, and I saw the devastation and misery that brought upon the kingdoms. It is to everyone’s benefit that Prince Peter secures the throne and the royal family remains safe.”

“So you can marry the princess?” James asked stubbornly.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t see you at the last ball-,” he started but Natalia held up a hand to quiet him.

“You truly think this will lead to war?” she questioned seriously.

“My queen mother has foreseen a number of possibilities,” Loki’s expression fell from its usual amusement to something far more somber. “Some happy, but far too many end in grief. It is an added benefit that I can help someone I consider a dear companion.”

“How noble,” James rolled his eyes.

Natalia considered his explanation. They didn’t have much of a choice, especially if the man was a magic user. If she and James charged in like they’d planned, it would have ended badly.

Loki, from the stories you’d told her, was a formidable magic wielder himself, having been trained by his mother and studied throughout the realm under the best magic teachers.

Aside from the concern of betrayal, an issue they could address after they secured the man or his employer, she could see no downside to the alliance.

“Fine,” she stated with a nod. “We will work together until we have a better idea of what this man is capable of.”

(—)

For a kingdom nearing war, Obadiah had made sure his coronation was the grandest event in all the land.

While it had been planned in haste, the ceremonies had been well decorated, the feasts extravagant and the ball- it was like you’d been transported to another world.

The ballroom was draped in fresh spring florals, the table dressings matching in freshly pressed and cleaned pastel linens. The entire royal court had apparently found time to go to the seamstresses as almost everyone within sight was sporting some new dress or tunic in matching pastels.

And the masks.

In the spirit of revelry, renewal, and spring, the ball had ended up being a masquerade. The challenge to the guests had been to come up with clever interpretations of the theme. Many ladies and lords sported masks covered in fresh blooms, others used bright colors or exorbitant feathers that shot up in the air.

Your own outfit had been something relatively conservative compared to the finest dressed of the ladies. You’d elected to pull out a lavender dress that had belonged to your mother and with the help of your maid, Violet (the irony was not lost), sewn violets, springs of lavender, and other color appropriate flowers through a simple silk mask.

All in all, it was a sunning event, even if it was in terrible taste. Though it seemed the esteemed of the land didn’t seem to care that there were villages that didn’t have a crop to prepare that season as they grazed the massive offerings.

You found Peter toward the edge of the ballroom, his hands folded behind his back and speaking with Lady Michelle.

“Has he been behaving?” you asked the lady, appearing from behind your younger brother.

“A perfect gentleman, your highness,” she curtsied with a light laugh. “We were just discussing the intricacies of poisons versus venoms. The prince seems to think they’re the same thing.”

“Are they not?” he exclaimed, looking to you for support. “They both kill. A snake can poison you.”

“A snake injects venom, not poison,” you clarified, earning a smirk of approval from the young lady. “You ingest poison, you inject venom.”

“You hang out too much with the sorcerers,” he complained with a scowl. “No normal person knows that.”

“Why, Lady Michelle knew that, is she not normal?” you asked playfully, watching in amusement while the prince tried to apologize profusely to the sniggering woman between you.

It was almost as if you could look up at the front of the room and expect to see your father whispering something into the queen’s ear to make her blush.

Instead, Obadiah sat on that throne, laughing at something a visiting Kree ambassador had said, guzzling at a massive goblet of wine.

“I’ve never seen someone look so miserable at a ball,” Stephen commented, approaching from a conversation with Wong.

You glanced around you, noticing that Peter and Michelle had stolen off out of sight, leaving you standing and staring around the room, alone.

“That’s not true,” you chimed back. “Remember the first night we met? I was equally, if not more, miserable then.”

“Was that before or after Thor had trampled on your feet?” he asked, amusement in his eyes.

“That was well before,” you stated with a chuckle. “I was expecting some stuffy old man. Low and behold I find a sorcerer who actually knew a thing or two about what he was teaching.”

“But am I a stuffy old man?” he challenged wit ha quirked brow.

“Oh, definitely you are now,” you grinned back, noting the apparel he had chosen for the evening.

Instead of his usual worn robes, he’d changed into the maroon colors of your house. The robes looked newer, seldom used, an he clearly taken time in picking his belts and other accessories, though his mask looked like it’d been selected at the last minute.

As if reading your thoughts, he thoughtfully touched the simple black mask around his eyes.

“I borrowed it from Wanda,” he confessed quietly. “I’d nearly forgotten it was a masquerade and by the time I realized, the shops had all closed for the festivities.”

“I think it looks nice,” you assured him, the dark material making the icy blue of his eyes even more impressive in the glowing candle light of the ballroom.

“I’m amazed you found time to craft your own,” he commented, reaching and tussling one of the dangling strands of wisteria. “You do look lovely, by the way.”

Your voice caught in your throat, his expression was so earnest with the compliment. And you didn’t miss the way his hand lingered just close enough to cradle your cheek if you so inclined.

Heart racing you did you best to regain your composure from the momentary brain hiccup.

“You look very gallant yourself, are those new robes?” you asked. His hand dropped and he flattened out one of the folds in his clothes proudly.

“New in that they’ve barely been used,” he explained. “I wore them… once at Kamar-Taj and another occasion before coming here.”

“And here I thought you picked our colors on purpose,” you smirked up at him, tugging at his sleeve.

“Maybe I did? Someone has to show a little loyalty around here,” he huffed, catching your hand and pulling you out of the way of a drunken lord stumbling around the room.

Pressed against him in the corner, your heart raced even faster (a feat you would have thought impossible). Eyes meeting, hands intertwined, his expression softened as he looked down at you.

There was something about it all; the music, the lighting, the masks and intrigue, that made you want to fill the small gap between you. To see if his lips were truly as soft as they looked.

“Get a room,” Wong complained, breaking the spell.

You ripped yourself away, remembering you were in public and being caught in such a vulnerable position would have been a scandal in its own.

“Wong,” Stephen greeted, voice tense from the interruption.

“The king wishes to see the princess,” the Master reported, obviously annoyed that he’d been reduced to the level of a lowly messenger.

Exchanging identical looks of confusion, you bowed your head to the men and exceed yourself, moving toward where Obadiah waited at the far end of the room. He was in the middle of eating a massive leg of turkey when he spied you and dropped the food, opening his arms for an embrace.

“My dear, I feel we haven’t had an opportunity to speak since my arrival,” he stood up and pulled you in, his breath smelling of wine and mead. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He lifted your hand and made you give a small twirl, the way his eyes searched up and down your body made your stomach churn.

“You’ve grown,” he stated when you returned to face him. “How old are you now? Twenty and five?”

“Twenty and seven,” you clarified.

“And still unmarried?” he looked positively bewildered at the thought. “My late wife, gods bless her, was betrothed to me at her first blood.”

“My father didn’t feel the need to secure alliances with marriage contracts,” you stated, your adrenaline suddenly picking up at the direction of the conversation. “In that, I was able to make my own decisions regarding marriage.”

“And no suitors then?” he continued, reaching for his goblet and taking another large swallow. “What about the Asgardian prince?”

“Thor is betrothed to Lady Sif,” you explained patiently.

“No, the other one, Loki,” he asked, watching you for a reaction.

Fortunately your mask hid any negative emotions that may have arisen from the suggestion. The idea had been tossed around between Odin and your father, especially given you’d practically shared a childhood between the two kingdoms.

Unfortunately, despite the closeness between you and the prince, it wasn’t a love match and the kings had ultimately respected the decision. It was a fortunate outcome, given the power the two men had maintained respectively, even you could recognize and heir of a Stark and an Odinson would yield favorable means.

“It was decided we would focus on other endeavors,” you answered firmly. He nodded his head, considering your words.

“Then there is no one waiting for your hand? No secret rendezvous in the moonlight?” he laughed but you did not miss the way his eyes trailed to the back of the room where you knew Wong and Stephen to be standing.

“Why do you ask?” you questioned before giving a firm answer.

“A proposal has come up that I was considering on your behalf,” he explained briskly. “I wanted to see if it would be an issue. I wasn’t certain of arrangements your father may have made, so I figured I would ask you directly.”

A proposal?

Your head spun at the idea.

Right now? Just after your father’s death?

You couldn’t imagine leaving your home, leaving behind your family, your siblings and your mother… and in this tumultuous time?

“Is a wedding in the best interest of the kingdom, your majesty?” you asked sheepishly, all nerve and confidence draining quickly from your body as you realized that your fate rested in the easily agitated man before you.

“I think that’s for me to decide,” he replied, throwing on a smile and laughing at your reaction. “I believe it’d be a wonderful match.”

“Do I know him?” you tried a different approach. Perhaps, if you were familiar with the gentlemen in question, you could offer reason as to why it would be a bad idea.

“You know of him,” Obadiah replied, keeping his answers vague. “He’s agreed to meet with you in the morning, so enjoy your evening and we can discuss this more in the morrow.”

He returned to his conversation with the ambassador, ignoring your existence as quietly as he’d destroyed it.

Your whole body felt like it was drifting along a churning sea as you walked back toward your companions. Laughing partygoers danced and twirled around you. What had felt like a warm spell had fallen into a devastating curse.

Sensing something amiss, Wong excused himself, leaving you and Stephen alone, the latter suggesting you step outside to get some fresh air.

Part of you felt foolish. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to spend your life as a spinster, not when you had been born into such a role of privilege and importance. Perhaps you should have married Loki when you had the opportunity. You knew him, he was safe and familiar.

There was no lust there, and to that, you didn’t mind. He could have had his mistresses. You…

“Your highness?”

Stephen.

He looked to you with genuine concern, waiting for something- an explanation, a reassurance of your well being, and you had nothing. Your heart felt like it had shattered in your chest, the emotions so overwhelming and consuming all at once.

“I’m betrothed,” you finally choked out after leaning on the balcony for support. You watched him for a reaction. Anything. If he could give you a reason, convince you that this was something you should fight for yourself or even for him.

“To who?” he barked out the question, his voice strained.

“I don’t know, Obadiah arranged it,” you explained with a frustrated wave of your hand. Taking a breath you shook your head, ripping your mask off and holding your head up in an attempt to blink back the hot tears that threatened to spill over. Stephen moved to your side, his own mask coming off.

“Fight it,” he stated, taking your hands. “If you don’t want to wed, then push back against this madness.”

“He’s the king Stephen,” you reminded him in a harsh whisper. It went unspoken the fate that could await you if you went against Obadiah’s wishes. His grip tightened and he bowed his head into your knuckles. He was shaking.

Please, you mentally begged. This was it. This was his last chance.

You’d known.

Gods you’d known for so long and had done your best to push your own feelings aside. You’d hoped, deep down, that if the right time came your father would have given his blessing. It was the reason why you’d stepped away from Loki, and why he’d backed away.

It’d been this unspoken affection you’d shared for one another that had seemed so innocent until now. Until you had to stare him in the eye and tell him that you belonged to a stranger.

“Regardless of who it is,” he started, looking up at you desperately. “Would you-? Would you marry willingly?”

“Say it,” you challenged instead. Say you don’t can’t lose me. Say you oppose this.

“Is that what you want?” he searched your face for direction, but the decision was with him.

Dropping his hands in frustration, you grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him toward you in a frantic kiss. If that didn’t make your intentions clear, you didn’t know what else would.

He returned in a fervor, hands moving to pull you closer, taking the moment to taste fully what the two of you had danced around for nearly a decade. He took his time and you relished every moment of it, your soul wishing it could be bound in his embrace forever.

When he pulled away, his hand lingered on the back of your neck and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Then we stop this.”

And even if the promise fell through, or the world crumbled around you, in that moment- that perfect moment- you didn’t care so long as he remained by your side.

(—)

5 - a gift for the princess

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing @im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Hi Sophie! I’m an aspiring writer and I had a question for you!! How did you go on about finding an agent? Also how does one find job postings related to writing? (Tv, etc.) I’m very inspired by you and how talented you are!!!

Hi, anon! Thank you for your kind words, and it’s so exciting that you’re an aspiring writer! I think knowing that you want to write really is the first step on a pretty incredible journey, and it’s one that it helps have to have tools on. Knowing how to ask questions, like you did, is a great way to start building that toolkit too.

Especially because your writing toolkit will be something you build, because there’s not really one answer to either of your questions. I really mean it when I say writing and publishing is a journey, and as a part of that, the pathways people choose to take (and the pathways available to them) often vary a lot, and are impacted by so many things, from where you live to the genre and medium you write in to the networks you have access to.

I’m going to try to answer that for you as well as I can here which I hope will be a useful starting point for you, but I will be contextualizing it a bit with the fact that a) I’m in Australia, which has a bit of a different industry to many parts of the world (in no small part because we have a very small population), and b) that I worked in the industry before I started having my work published, which did give me a jump start and a pretty good network of professional and personal support.

Okay!

So let’s jump in.

Behind a cut because this got a bit long.

How did I get an agent?

Well! I was rejected by four agents before I got one, haha, so that in itself was a bit of an adventure. It meant that I was effectively my own agent for quite a while (something that’s quite normal in Australia for reasons I’ll talk about later), which meant doing everything from pitching works to teaching myself enough legal vocabulary to negotiate contracts (not my strong suit honestly, haha).

The first two agents I ever spoke to were both agents that weren’t open for unsolicited submissions. This is an important term in the industry, because what that means is that they’re not reading any new writers who:

they didn’t invite to submit (usually this would be after you’d won a prize, or they’d read your short story or essay in a journal or magazine, loved it and got in touch)

didn’t come recommended by colleagues; or

didn’t come through their existing networks.

Does that mean you can’t get your work in front of them? It doesn’t actually. Usually when agents aren’t open for unsolicited submissions, they’ll still be interested in work. It just usually means they don’t have the time for a massive slush pile. What they frequently do in these instances instead is that they’ll attend conferences, festivals, workshops or events and do pitching sessions a couple of times a year. That usually looks like you booking a five, ten or fifteen minute window, generally for free (be cautious if they’re charging extra on top of your event ticket) and doing a verbal pitch of your project.

I’ve done a lot of these at various events in various contexts (it’s always hell, haha), but only twice to agents. Once was at the CYA Conference in Brisbane (which is a charged pitch but the money’s a donation towards the Children’s Book Council), where I pitched a YA manuscript I’ve since put in my bottom-drawer, and Emerging Writers Festival in Melbourne, where I pitched The Rabbits, which is my novel which came out in July with Penguin Australia.

Those pitching sessions went just okay. Both liked my pitches, but the agent at CYA had a full stable of YA authors and was more looking for middle-grade fiction, which meant my story skewed too old. She gave me her card if I ever wrote for a younger audience, but otherwise declined to invite me to submit. Again, this is frequently actually why an agent might be closed to submissions or they might reject your work even if they like it – they're just at capacity with what you're pitching.

The one at EWF went better and I was invited to submit my complete manuscript, but she told me that while she thought I was a good writer, she didn’t personally like my writing style and therefore didn’t think she could sell it. She did actually invite me to submit something else if I had something more commercial, but I really figured that if she didn’t like my writing style, she probably wasn’t going to like whatever else I sent her, so I ended up declining because I thought it would be a waste of both our time.

The other two agents I submit to were both open for unsolicited submissions so I didn’t have to go through events. In both cases, I did cold submissions, which just means we’d never spoken before, so when you do that you need to put together a query packet because - - well. They don’t know who you are, haha. All publishers and agents have different requirements for their query packet and these should be listed on their website (if they’re not, feel really empowered to email and ask – in all of my industry experience, they have always infinitely preferred you doing that to guessing. It shows you know the etiquette and want to get it right).

Generally speaking though, what you're looking at pulling together for a packet is usually:

A cover letter explaining who you are, why you’re interested in them being your agent (being familiar with who else they represent is a good thing to highlight), and what story you’re selling them on.

A one-page synopsis of your manuscript.

A writing CV if you have one, or another relevant CV (i.e. if you're pitching a non-fiction book on being a nurse in the pandemic, attaching your nursing CV so they can see you're legitimate is important).

And usually either the first 50 pages or the first three chapters of your novel.

You generally email that to them, it goes into a slush pile, and they’ll read through it when they get the chance. I got a personalized rejection from one, which is pretty lovely (getting a personal rejection instead of one that’s clearly an email template from agents, editors and publishers might sound silly, but they’re actually pretty significant. These are people who get thousands of manuscripts a year, and taking the time to write a reply usually means your work resonated enough that they want to give you that encouragement even if the answer’s still no), and the other, I never heard back from, and my follow up email was ignored. Less lovely, haha, but unfortunately not uncommon.

So yeah, I took a bit of a break from seeking out an agent then, which I could do in Australia. One of the benefits of having a small industry here is that there’s a very limited number of agents (we’re talking literally about 25), which means submissions outside of agents and agencies are pretty normal. My understanding in the US and the UK is that you’re not really going to get a look-in without an agent, but in Australia you can submit direct, having an agent just makes it a lot easier.

So I didn’t have an agent when I actually got offered my book deal. I’d submit The Rabbits to a few different publishers, it had been rejected already by a couple and was still in the slush pile at one when I submit it to the Penguin Literary Prize. It won (yay!), Penguin offered me a book deal, and when the news broke in industry news, I was approached by six different agents, including, hilariously, the agent who said she didn’t like my writing style, haha.

I ended up talking to a few of them, but I went with a fairly new agent who I’d known through industry work, and I went with her because she had a really strong legal background which is what I was personally interested in.

Because that’s an important thing to consider too.

Why do you want an agent?

I actually knew that I didn’t really need an agent to sell my work. I’d been doing that for ten years already, I have over twenty short stories and a novella published, I’d sold my book, and I’d sold the rights to a screenplay already on my own, so the ability for an agent to sell work wasn’t so important to me. What was important to me was having someone who had a background in publishing law (my agent actually worked in the rights team in-house at a top five publisher before she became an agent), and understood rights management particularly in digital rights and international rights, because it makes my head spin, haha.

So that’s why I went with her!

But how do you find agents?

You didn’t ask this question exactly, but I think this is a very relevant question. There are databases of agents and publishers out there – Duotrope is probably the best known and I know people rave about it. One of the things that’s useful about it is that it’ll do a bit of a breakdown listing what genres the agent reads, if they’re currently open to unsolicited submissions, and their requirements. Take a look at Ginger Clark’s page for example (she’s not my agent – she’s American for starters, haha – but I have worked with her before and she’s a gem. Her most famous client is probably Ursula K. Le Guin, but she reps tons of other people too).

So yeah! Duotrope’s really useful. It has free info but also a paywall for certain things, and I personally find it kinda difficult to navigate?

I'd actually instead just recommend you take a look at writers you like and admire, especially ones who write similar genres to you, and just Google who their agent is. They all have websites, so they’re a lot easier to find these days than they were. 😊

How do you find job postings related to writing?

This is a tricky one, anon, as it depends on what sort of jobs you’re looking at. If you’re looking for copywriting opportunities, outlets for articles, short stories, poetry or essays, publishers who are posting open calls for manuscripts, or even cultural production jobs, those are all pretty different things. SO! I’m going to answer this one a little more broadly.

Writers Centres are your friends. Full disclaimer, I worked at one for five and a half years, and have been a member of Writers Victoria since I moved to Melbourne. They’re incredible resources for not only opportunities, but workshops, pitching, professional and creative development, community, networking and advice. They literally exist to help you achieve your goals.

- Writers Victoria maintains a free calendar of Opportunities and Competitions, but publishes more in their quarterly magazine which is a member perk. They’ll also often share job opportunities through their social media channels. I also still get the free e-news for Queensland Writers Centre and Writing NSW too because sometimes they share different stuff.

- I’ve heard Gotham Writers in New York is good too if you’re in America, but really I’d just suggest googling where you live and writers centre and seeing what comes up!

- Similarly festivals. I’ve worked at Brisbane Writers Festival and National Young Writers Festival here in Australia (the latter’s on online right now if you want to check out their free program!) Sign up to your local festival’s e-news, follow them on social media, they’ll usually share stuff.

- Speaking of! Social media! Haha. Twitter is often good for sharing jobs, competitions and opportunities, but I find it can be a bit of a cesspool too where people bombard the hashtags with self-promotion, so approach with caution. I find Facebook groups are way better for it personally, especially as there are a lot of specialized groups that are focused in certain or on certain writers. I know there’s lots for BIPOC writers for instance, I’m personally in a few and recommend:

Binders Full of WRITING JOBS

Binger Full of Copywriters

Style Binders – Writers in Fashion, Lifestyle and Beauty

Binder Full of Editors Seeking their Freelance Writers and Vice Versa

If you’re in Australia though, I’d especially recommend:

Women in Arts Management Collective (particularly if you’re interested in cultural production work)

Film and TV Networking Australia

Melbourne Women in Film

Writers Victoria Members

Australian Binder Full of Women Writers

Australian Arts Amidst COVID-19

Young Australian Writers

I think most of these are searchable, so just have a look, but also google your city or state + writer and see what pops up.

Otherwise, as much as it sucks to say it, a lot of the industry is who you know, so try and find ways to connect and meet with people and forge your own little community. Go to events – festivals, book launches, book clubs, join Facebook groups and in particular, if there are journals or magazines that are made in your local area, go to their launches and the events they run, no matter how big or small, and just chat to people there. As you get more established, you can be more discerning about what you go to, but when you're starting out, these are powderkegs of community and connection, and they breed suppport and, if you find the right people, you'll grow and develop together too.

Being a writer can often be pretty lonely, but being a part of supportive industry really makes all the difference, and as an old mentor of mine said – creative karma is real. You support the people coming up around you, and you’ll not only be creating a better, more inclusive and welcoming industry, but an industry that supports you right back. 😊

#i hope this is a help anon!#let me know if you have any other questions #learn from my gruelling experience haha #writing advice #writing #welcome to my ama

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haru-sen · 3 years

Text

IAL: Mandalorians 2

Thanks, 3-D Render Anon, with your adorable voodoo dolls. That was the serotonin I needed.

I should be working, but I’m posting this. The Mando’a phrases and cultural dishes are from Wookieepedia. I’ll post the actual translations in the fic, but I don’t have time right now.

You woke up in a tent, your entire body aching. You were tucked under some blankets, a bedroll under your head. Your sabers were still on your belt.

“Query: are you done yet?” HK-53 asked, from overhead. “Also, are you sure I can’t kill these Mandalorians?”

“I am going to track down that pacifist module and shove it right up your accessory port,” you muttered. “Just you wait-”

“Shock: Master, how could you threaten your loyal droid this way? When did Master get so cruel? I am very proud of you!”

Laughing, you held your head for a moment. “What happened?”

“Recollection: You collapsed. The blue-armored meatbag injected you with kolto, and carried you here. The black-armored meatbag kept his gun on me, and I made sure neither of them did strange things to your person while you were inconveniently indisposed. It has been a little over a standardized hour since you lost consciousness.”

You sat up slowly. The sun was still up. “Where are we?”

“The witch is alive.”

You blinked, the black-armored Mandalorian standing in front of you. He was not wearing his helmet. Tall, with dark skin and clawmark scars across his cheeks, he loomed over you. He was well-groomed, his beard neatly trimmed, his black hair was immaculately styled. How did he not have helmet hair?

Blue scrambled over, also with his helmet off, also younger than you expected. He was blonde, hair gelled and styled. What the hell? Did Mandalorians discover the secret to preventing helmet hair? He smiled at you, with eyes as blue as his armor, his cheeks flushed. “You’re recovering much faster than I expected. How are you feeling?”

“Like I drank Delta Squad under the table again…” You said, rubbing your forehead. You had overdone it back there. Between the terentatek corruption, the Ataru form, and the subsequent wounds, you had pushed yourself too hard too quickly.

“Jedi drink?” Blue raised a brow.

“No, we just absorb dew through our pores,” you scowled.

“This Jedi witch is about to get dunked in a lake if she keeps giving me that attitude,” Skull said coolly.

“Well, I am thirsty,” you said.

To your surprise, Blue offered his canteen, looked thoughtful for a moment, took a drink, and then offered it again. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Disgust: Not poisoned, but definitely contaminated,” HK-53 said.

You hesitantly accepted the canteen, drinking down some of the metallic-tasting water. “Thanks.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “What do I call you?”

“Reaper,” Skull said. “76.” He pointed at Blue. “You?”

“Strike,” you said, climbing to your feet. The world wobbled, but did not tilt too far on its axis. You looked around. This encampment was small, but there was a cold firepit and vehicle tracks. They had not set this up in a couple hours. They had been in this area for awhile.

“Strike,” Reaper said, expression grim. “I think we need to talk.”

“No, I need to get to Nar Shaddaa,” you said.

The men looked at each other. “So do we.”

“That’s what we need to talk about,” 76 said, crossing his arms.

You stood there for a moment, a little intuitive nudge already sending your thoughts into overdrive. This was about to get even more complicated. “Because you really like casinos? Right?” You asked, with a sigh.

“Because we need to get one of those kids back,” Reaper said.

“...Of course, you do,” you said, staring up at the sky. You were glad someone had survived to hire mercs to rescue their kid. And you didn’t really care if the child chose to avoid training on Tython. But you did not need battle-happy Mandalorians ruining your operation. “Which one?”

“Xenya Itera, human female.” Reaper held out a holo of a little girl with a tiny spherical droid floating over her outstretched hands. She was dark skinned, her hair in several long tiny braids. She was smiling. “You can rescue the others, but we are obligated to retrieve her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to go with you?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Then she doesn’t have to,” Reaper said with a shrug, surprisingly unbothered by the question.

“Your bounty?”

“Not your problem,” Reaper said coolly. “We just need to get the kid away from the Cartels. Simple enough. Easier too if we go after them together.”

...Two sensible, non-volatile suggestions from Mandalorian mercs in one day? Was the world coming to an end? ...Or was it a trap? There was a long history of bad blood between Jedi and the Mandalorian clans.

“What clan?” You asked suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Reaper said.

“What clan are you?”

The men looked at you for a moment, like they hadn’t expected that question. “Clan Ordo.”

You nodded. You didn’t have any standing grudges with Clan Ordo. Hell, you hadn’t really ever dealt with them. But they weren’t Clan Lok, Rook, Varad, or Viszla, so you were probably good for the moment. “I can work with that.”

“You should be fine with Ordo,” Rogun said, over the comm-link. “They were one of the clans that backed the Crusader’s Schism, several years back – wanted to side with the Republic instead of the Empire. Whole thing got crushed by Mandalore the Vindicated, and Ordo was eventually welcomed back into the fold, with honor. So they likely don’t have the grudge that Lok and Viszla do. I can’t speak for the individuals though.”

“Good to know,” you said, sitting cross legged in the tent. “And Talon?”

“...I guess you’re right, Strike. There are no coincidences. He’s been spotted on Nar Shaddaa, near the slave markets with an entourage.” An entourage? Did that mean…? Rogun gave a rough laugh. “The Force moves in mysterious ways.”

“No, the Force is a mean bitch with an axe to grind, usually in my face,” you scowled.

Rogun guffawed, the lethorns on the side of his head shaking. “You’re never going to make Master with that kind of talk.”

You rolled your eyes upward, like that was the only thing keeping you from obtaining the rank of Master. Ha! “Just so you know, I got quizzed by the Council on our association.”

“I’m sure you said nice things about me,” he said, his grin mean.

“I said, your sandwiches suck.”

Rogun scowled back at you. “It was the best I could do during an active bombardment!”

You knew adult Chagrians often lost their sense of taste due to environmental factors, and maybe that was the reason the food had been awful, but it was rude to point that part out. “Yeah, well, I talked you up a little too. Made sure they knew that despite your questionable occupation, you’re a friend of the Republic.”

“Great, so when they come knocking at my door for favors or charitable handouts, I know who to blame.”

“Just give them one of those sandwiches, that’ll send them on their way.”

Rogun squinted at you. “It’s a good thing you’re useful, Strike.”

You laughed. “Thanks, Rogun. Keep me updated on Lord Talon’s movements. I’ll make you a delicious sandwich in gratitude.”

“Go kiss a sarlaac,” he scowled, and hung up.

“You certainly have a way with people,” Reaper said, hovering by the entrance.

You had not noticed his approach. How much had he heard? “That’s me, making friends wherever I go,” you said with a shrug.

Reaper gave a low chuckle. “You and that mouthy droid.”

You glanced around, realizing HK-53 had not been over your shoulder for your conversation with Rogun. You got up, a little concerned.

“Relax, he’s shooting bogstalkers with 76. They were attacking the comms equipment. I’ve already updated my people. I’m going to finish breaking down the camp, and then we can go.”

You started to disassemble the tent, watching as HK and 76 sniped at the leathery reptilians that fluttered in the sky.

“What are you flying?” Reaper asked, packing several weapons into crates.

“The usual – Rendili Defender-class light corvette. It’ll get us where we need to go.”

“And you think your credentials will be enough to get us through Olaris?” He asked, because the Republic-held city wasn’t too friendly toward Mandalorians.

“I can, but it might be easier if you leave off the helmets. I know that’s culturally insensitive, but we’ll move faster if I don’t have to pull rank on a bunch of terrified soldiers and customs agents,” You shrugged, bundling the tent tightly.

“Sensible,” was all Reaper said.

“So what’s it like, traveling with a Jedi Knight?” 76 asked, lowering his rifle.

“Declaration: That is a broad question, meatbag. Be more specific,” HK-53 said, rifle aimed at a ferrazid hound, the mutated creature already tearing apart a broke receiver.

76 laughed. “Do you get in a lot of fights?”

“Bragging: We get in so many fights. The number of people who want to kill Master is very high. And it doesn’t seem to get lower, despite how many people we do kill. If I wasn’t so busy killing her enemies, I would want to fight her one day.” HK-53 paused, its head twitching.

76 frowned. “Why does she attract such enmity? Just who are you killing?”

“Aggravation: Master has killed many things, usually enemies of the Republic, but she has also made many rules about what I am not allowed to kill. It is unnecessarily complicated. For example, Master generally prefers to let the enemy make the first move of aggression, to ensure that it is adhering to her archaic rules of “moral” combat. Sometimes she even talks people out of fighting her. Can you believe it? She knows they’re her enemies and she lets them walk away! She should just kill them ahead of time, not spare them. What is she thinking?” HK-53 gunned down the mutated hound-beast. “But Master is a Jedi, and Jedi have to follow silly rules,” the droid muttered petulantly.

“How did a...violent murder-happy droid like yourself end up with a Jedi then?” 76 asked.

HK-53 tilted its head, giving 76 a very skeptical look. “Suspicion: Such flattery. Why are you asking so many questions, meatbag?”

“I’m just curious about the people I’m traveling with,” 76 said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not every day I meet a Jedi Knight or such an...enthusiastic battle droid. It leaves an impression. There’s a story there.”

HK-53 stared at him, those eyes glowing. “Satisfaction: We are impressive. You don’t need to know more.” Turning back to the swamps, HK-53 surveyed the area. “Observation: Oh, it looks like Master and the other meatbag want us to return.”

76 just laughed awkwardly.

“Concern: Master, that meatbag was asking a lot of questions about us.” HK-53 was secured to speeder on the seat behind you. The Mandalorians were on the other. You were technically using their equipment, but you didn’t exactly trust a bunch of battle-happy maniacs in the driver’s seat. That included your droid.

You zoomed over marshlands and fields, the Mandalorians riding parallel to you.

“What kind of questions?”

To your surprise, HK-53 just replayed the recording of the conversation. Normally, he was all too happy to summarize an interaction, and intersperse his own commentary, but he let it play out without interruption.

“Query: There is subtext that I do not understand, Master. Is he probing for weakness? What angle is he coming from? What does he hope to learn?”

You sighed. “It could be socially-motivated, but I’m sure he’s also trying to gather intel. People often let a lot of things slip in friendly conversation.”

“Query: What did he let slip?”

“Not a lot,” you said, thoughtfully. “But he’s trying to be diplomatic, and he seems to have a personal interest in Jedi.”

“Query: How can you tell?”

“The enthusiasm,” you said. “He’s not just asking for intelligence purposes. He’s interested in the topic, and he wants to make a good impression on you. I’m not exactly sure why – Mandalorian mercs aren’t really known for their diplomatic skills, but I think if we talk to him more, we’ll figure it out.”

“Statement: These Mandalorians are not what I expected. Normally, we just fight them, and it’s a little difficult, but it’s done. This change in behavior is...disconcerting.”

“Yeah, I know. Nothing about this mission is what we expected,” you muttered.

“Clean, sturdy, and fast,” Reaper said, looking over your ship. “Not bad.”

“Spacious,” 76 said, with a nod.

Given the fact that it was just you and HK-53, the ship was almost too big. “You guys can make yourselves comfortable in the crew quarters,” you said, gesturing to the rooms. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m going to make some calls before we reach Nar Shaddaa.”

But first you needed to change into an intact top, and check your wounds. Your robe was ruined, and there were three parallel gashes across your low back. They nearly spanned the entire width of your back, and were each a couple inches wide, and thankfully not too deep. But they would take a while to heal. 76 was right, you would scar. Your healing skills just weren’t up good enough. Still.

The auto-navigation was engaged, cockpit locked. You wouldn’t have to take the helm till you reached Nar Shaddaa. You didn’t exactly trust the Mandalorians on your ship, but you could feel them settling down, sharing one of the two sleeping rooms - there were multiple berths on your ship, but they holed up in one together. And they were behaving. To your surprise, when you reached Olaris, the Mandalorians had tucked their helmets into their bags, and quietly followed you through the spaceport. HK-53 attracted more attention with his running commentary, but boarding had gone smoothly.

You put HK-53 outside the comm room and shut the door.

You first called Master Amari, to give her the update for the Council. Yes, you were going to Nar Shaddaa. Also, Orgo the Hutt had a terentatek and had tried to feed you to it. You did not have time to finish the beast – but you would return to take care of it, after you rescued the children. You had picked up some Mandalorians – they were also tracking one of the children and on their best behavior.

Master Amari had been interested to learn they were Clan Ordo, but seemed satisfied with your progress. You did not mention Lord Talon.

The next call was less staid.

“A terentatek, Theron,” you snarled. “How did you manage to leave out that detail?”

“I don’t keep an inventory of every crime lord’s dungeon!”

“It’s a goddamn terentatek, not a monkey lizard! How did he even get one?”

“Did you try asking him?” The spy asked snidely. He lounged on the comm unit, looking nothing like the sickly boy you’d met on Haashimut. “I was too busy trying not to die!”

“Sounds like a “you problem,” he shrugged. “And stop whining, you didn’t die.” He grinned at you.

“No, thanks to you!”

“You didn’t invite me. You could still invite me,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes bright and too eager.

“Pfft, since when did you care about a dozen potential padawans?” You asked, even though you knew the answer, just like you knew why you had not invited Theron along. It would get too complicated for a variety of reasons. “This is barely even Jedi business. It’s a criminal venture that happens to have Imperial ties – not really relevant to the SIS or your career.”

“...I heard you saw the Grandmaster,” he said, suddenly subdued.

And that was exactly why you had not invited him. Theron was a shady son of a bitch on the best of days. That said “bitch” happened to be Grandmaster Satele Shan was just another level of complicated. There were so many reasons the situation was screwed: she had given him up immediately, his father was “unknown,” and he didn’t have enough force sensitivity to blow out a candle. His solution? He’d gotten some kind of high end cybernetic implant and gone off to play spymaster for the Republic, instead of working through his feelings.

But there was always an underlying layer of bitter regrets that accompanied his dealings with the Jedi Order.

“Yes, she looks healthy,” you said, playing it off like it was not a big deal. “It was going to be a disciplinary hearing, but that changed, because I’m just a pawn in some greater philosophical argument. Or maybe because they needed me to do a job,” you scowled. “I still annoy her, don’t worry.”

“Wanna wager which one of us is the greater disappointment?” Theron asked, his smile deceptively cheerful. You knew better than to answer that question. “Just kidding, Strike. It’s obviously you.” He made finger guns. “She hasn’t given me a second thought.”

You shrugged, pretending like you didn’t hear the open wound in that statement. “I doubt it’s anything so important. I just get a lot of lectures from the Council. You can probably guess what they think about strong emotion and any activity that isn’t meditating in front of a fountain.” You paused. “Look, do you want to be there when I report back to them? Like as an SIS adjutant or something?”

Theron let out a harsh laugh. “Are you trying to get kicked out, Strike? You show up to a High Council meeting with the Grandmaster’s bastard offspring in tow? How’s that going to look?”

“...You’re the one asking to come along,” you scowled. “Make up your own mind, Theron. I don’t offer to drag you into stupid Order business, you complain. I do offer to bring you into stupid Order business, after you ask, and you decline and point out why it’s a dumb idea. This is why you don’t have friends.”

“You’re one to talk, unable to make real connections because the Order stunted you for the first half of your life. Now here you are, running around with that psychotic defective HK unit, like it will replace what you lost on Corellia, chasing after Lord Talon like he’s the one you’re mad at, instead of-”

The world narrowed to a single point. Red light flashed across your field of vision.

“You need to stop talking,” you said, your voice going cold.

Theron blinked, his eyes widening. “...Druk. Strike, I didn’t mean-”

You cut the connection, the room blurring around you for a moment. It took a couple seconds for your vision to adjust. To realize how angry you were. Sure, Theron was an asshole, but he’d only peeled back the scab on a still-festering wound. You tilted your head back.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Hold. Repeat till the darkness recedes.

Gradually, your control steadied. But you sat with that cloud of anger, not letting it go, nor letting it take ascendance. It was there, a pulsing reminder of your humanity.

You were going to kill Lord Talon and maybe his apprentice. Not because you hated him, though you did. Not because it was the right thing to do, though it was. You were going to kill him for personal reasons, and unlike the rest of the Order, you were not going to lie to yourself about it. And if that brought you down, if that decision made you fall, well, you were prepared. You had taken the appropriate precautions. There would be no Sith Lord Strike.

There was a ping as you received an incoming message. It was from Theron. It was only five words.

I’m an ass. I’m sorry.

You shook your head, not ready to respond just yet, and left the comm room.

“Is that the best you can do?” 76 laughed, and then there was whumpf, before you heard a body hit the floor.

You peeked into the bunks, to see the Mandalorians stripped down to their shorts, wrestling on the ground. Both men were muscular, with noticeable scars from blasters, vibroblades, and even some teeth and clawmarks. But the tattoos were interesting… Reaper had a full left sleeve, and 76 had some very colorful creatures etched on his back. Was that a varactyl?

“See something you like?” 76 asked, glancing over at you.

Reaper looked up at you, narrowing his eyes. “Or are we being too loud?”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on, just making sure it wasn’t a murder,” you said. “Carry on then.” You abruptly turned around, shoulders taut. You would not stare. And you certainly would not get caught staring.

“Hey, you seem kind of stressed. Do you want to spar or something?” 76 asked.

“That’s not a good idea right now,” you said, tensing.

“Why, because you’re still weak from getting your ass handed to you by a Sithspawn freak?” Reaper asked, casually. “Don’t worry, witch. I’ll go easy on you, if you ask me nicely.” His grin was savage.

You turned back to face him, feeling the anger pour off you in waves. “...Mandalorian, do you need someone to humble you that badly?” You asked, your voice low and harsh.

Reaper laughed. “You don’t scare me, witch. Choose your weapons. And if you need to hide behind your fancy light swords-”

“Practice blades will do,” you said. “Come on then.”

Reaper squinted at you.

“You don’t think I’m going to tear up this room, do you? The sparring mats are on the lower decks,” you said, already heading down.

You picked up two blades off the rack, choosing a full blade and a half-length blade. The cargo hold was equipped for exercise, as you did not normally transport a lot of goods. You stretched, ignoring the whispered conversation between the Mandalorians.

“Oh good, the medbay is across the hall-” 76 said.

“Whose side are you on?” Reaper growled.

“You’re out of armor, cyar’ika,” 76 murmured. “She’s a Jedi. The outcome is obvious.”

“Hut’uun,” Reaper spat. “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.”

“Don’t be salty because I’m telling the truth, mir’osik.” 76 laughed.

Maybe you should have called HK down here. He could have translated the Mando’a for you. Except he’d be calling for real bloodsport instead of just sparring. And you didn’t need that temptation right now.

You took a few practice swings, reviewing your forms. Niman would be the most sensible. This was just a sparring match. It was an all-around style, and Reaper had a lot more muscle mass than you did. You did not need to go all out. You swung the longer blade, feeling the air part in front of you.

Reaper glowered at 76, then stalked over to the weapon rack.

“Don’t worry, Mandalorian,” you said, your mouth curving in a mockery of a smile. “I won’t use my witchcraft to beat you. I’ll do it with my own two hands.”

“You don’t sound much like a Jedi right now,” Reaper said as he stepped on the mat, holding a single vibrosword.

“What do I sound like then?” You asked, as you began to circle each other.

“A real soldier,” Reaper said. “Which is impossible, because everyone knows that the Jedi like to hide in their fancy temples praying for peace, while their soldiers die.”

You just smiled, the insult gliding right by your ear. You had made that argument too many times to be offended by it. Especially when it was from a Mandalorian braggart trying to get under your skin. But it said everything that this was how an outsider viewed your order.

You spun your swords, the heavier one in your dominant hand, feeling just right. The anger boiling under your skin seemed to evaporate. It was just energy now, ready to power you through another fight. Your mind slid back into its seat of balance.

Reaper charged you, lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air in a horizontal arc. You sidestepped, ninety degrees to the right, just out of his reach. And while his blade was extended, you slipped around his guard, and dragged your short sword across his back, a thin line of blood appearing seconds later.

He whirled, swinging the sword at you. You parried with your left hand, and glided forward, under his guard, so close you couldn’t swing your other blade. Instead, you grinned up at him, and rammed the hilt into his stomach.

Coughing, Reaper doubled over, glared at you, and then his leg snapped up. You slid backward, but a half-second to slow. He kicked you in the chest, and you had to catch yourself in a spin. It was suddenly hard to breathe.

He charged you again, blade raised overhead.

You instinctively raised your swords to parry, catching his blade between both of yours. You twisted, and the vibrosword flew out of his hands, and landed on the floor of the cargohold with a clatter.

“Do you yield?” You asked, spinning your swords. “Or would you like a moment to go retrieve your weapon, Mandalorian? That’s fine. I’ll wait.” You grinned. “Because I can do this all night long.”

Reaper stared at you, eyes dark, nostrils flared. He was bleeding, breathing hard, and sweat glistened on his velvety skin, but he didn’t look like he was done.

“Maybe you’d like to try both of us then?” 76 asked, his eyes narrowed. He picked up Reaper’s sword and then a stave for himself. He placed the sword in Reaper’s outstretched hand, and took up a stance beside his comrade. “Tion'ad hukaat'kama?”

You tilted your head back, moving your head from side to side. 76 held the staff like he knew how to use it. You closed your eyes, feeling the currents of the force flow through you, a picture of the field forming in your head. They stood side by side, but they would attempt to box you in. They both had excellent range, but 76 would have the advantage of reach. You could see the range and motion of their attacks before they made them, and while it would be difficult, you were good at this. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

76 lunged first, sweeping the staff at knee-height.

You leapt over the attack, even as Reaper slid to your right swung the vibrosword in a downward arc. Elbow bent, wrist pressed to your head, you blocked the strike.

76 struck again, thrusting the staff like a polearm.

You jumped backward out of his range, disengaging from Reaper’s sword lock. You spun around toward Reaper, blades outstretched.

76 swung the staff around, blocking the area across Reaper’s torso.

You struck the staff with a clang, and had to swing your right blade to block Reaper’s counterattack. You disengaged again, dancing to the side, putting Reaper between you and 76. He tried to swing his sword, but you parried the blow again, and whipped your other blade across his cheek with a little flourish.

The skin split and instead of countering, he stared at you, with an intensity that made you hesitate.

From behind Reaper, 76 thrust again, striking you in the side with the staff. You hissed, and kicked Reaper backward into 76. The blonde man steadied his friend, and together they stayed on their feet.

You touched your side, knowing that the area would need extra healing later. But it wasn’t enough to bring you down now. Breathing hard, you took a deep breath and whirled toward them, blades spinning in your hands.

Still leaning on 76, Reaper didn’t have a chance to take a strong defensive stance. You caught his vibrosword between yours, and scissored them, sending his weapon flying once more. You couldn’t quite kick him aside, so you circled around to 76. You got close, too close for him to use the staff properly. He could block your blows, but he didn’t have the space to maneuver. Your blades slid off the staff, but still scraped against his chest, slicing a long gash through the pink skin, the tip of the short sword catching on a gold ring.

“Haar'chak!” He yowled.

“Ke'pare!” Reaper shouted. “Wait!”

You froze, having not noticed the little gold rings on his nipples. “Disengaging,” you said, dropping your vibrosword, and very carefully freeing the short blade from the piercing. “Why the hell would you leave those in for a sparring match?” You asked, backing up.

Wincing, 76 held a hand over the right nipple ring. “I...forgot,” he mumbled.

“Showoff,” Reaper said, shaking his head.

“I’ll get the kolto,” you sighed, setting the blades back in the rack, before you went across the hall to the medbay. You grabbed the first aid kit and headed back.

76 sat in the middle of the mats, rubbing his chest sheepishly. Reaper sat next to him, shaking his head.

“Hold still,” you said, crouching down in front of him to examine the cuts on his chest. You cleaned the wounds with a sanitizing wipe and then applied a layer of kolto over the cuts. You glanced at the nipple. It was pink and a lot more swollen than the other one, but still intact. You hadn’t torn the piercing or cut anything off. It wasn't even bleeding. Squeezing a little more kolto onto your thumb, you rubbed it lightly against his nipple.

76 stiffened, inhaling sharply as you put the healing gel on him. He was breathing hard now, chest and face flushed from the exertion. He watched you with hooded eyes, teeth clenched. “Do you patch up all your conquests?”

“No, normally there isn’t enough left to fix,” you said, meeting his gaze.

He studied your face for a moment. You could feel the heat pouring off him. He leaned closer. “So I’m one of the lucky ones?”

“Very, you almost lost that piercing and more.” You said, your mouth suddenly dry.

“It’s still sore, maybe you could put some more kolto on it,” he purred, a very knowing smile on his face.

“No, I think you deserve to suffer a little for your stupidity,” you said, backing up. You glanced at Reaper. “Do you need kolto?”

“Go on then,” Reaper said coolly, sitting up straight.

You crouched back down in front of Reaper, keeping him partially between you and 76. You worked quickly, your fingers lightly tracing the scar on his face. He watched you sullenly, as you quickly applied the gel. And then he turned around, silently giving you his back. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you tried to seal the wound quickly, very conscious of 76’s hungry gaze. You slapped a bandage on it, and he turned back around, plucking the kolto out of your hands.

“Let’s see those ribs,” Reaper told you calmly. “76 hit you pretty hard.”

“I can take care of it myself,” you said.

“No one’s going to pounce on you,” Reaper said. “And even if they did, you could handle them.” He did not look at 76. “Now don’t be stubborn and try going up that ladder with your ribs cracked. That’s just foolish.” There wasn’t any of the previous malice in his voice, just a gentle chiding that reminded you a little of Master Amari.

Sighing, you unfastened your sash, and peeled back your robes, wincing as you touched your left side.

His head tilted to the side, Reaper applied the healing gel to your bare skin, his warm hands gently massaging it into your left side. You bit your lip, placing a hand near there as you tried to convince the bones to knit back together correctly.

Between the kolto and the little bit of force healing you could manage, the pain began to subside.

“Better?” Reaper asked, his palm still pressed to your side, close to your hand.

“Yes,” you said, swallowing roughly. “I should be good.”

Reaper bowed his head. “You won, Jedi. I am...humbled by your prowess.” He nodded to you, giving you a slight smile. “But I would like to try against you again later. Perhaps barehanded next time.”

You remembered seeing them rolling around on the ground, wrestling. Your breath caught. “You’re welcome to use the sparring mats,” you said, pulling away, closing your robes and tying off your sash. “But I need to go meditate.”

“Will you join us later?” Reaper asked.

“...We’ll see,” you said, glancing at 76, who lounged on his side, one hand cupping his sore pectoral.

76 winked at you. “Feel better?”

You blinked, having already forgotten why you’d agreed to spar in the first place. “Yes, thank you, but I really need to go meditate.”

“I can think of some other things that would help you out,” 76 said, looking you up and down with a smile.

“I really should go,” you said, already halfway out the door.

“I need to go meditate?” Really? That was your best excuse? It worked, but still…

Grumbling you, shut yourself in your quarters, limping to the fresher for a shower. It was quick, and you changed into another clean robe – today had been hard on clothes – and then settled on your floor cushion, still feeling the force run through you.

You did not contemplate the temple fountains, nor the forests of Tython, nor any Jedi object. You stared out the window, into the void of space, the stars twinkling in the distance. You fully expected flashes of red light, or even that dark haze that settled over your mind when you really got to thinking about the past.

But the force continued to move through you in strong currents. It was like sitting up to your shoulders in a warm ocean. The world took on a soft gray glow, and you let yourself drift.

It was the most peaceful you had felt since Corellia.

“Knight Strike, are you occupied?” 76 asked over the intercom.

You opened one eye, focus settling back into your body. “Do you need something?”

“We took the liberty of making a meal, and thought you might be hungry,” he said.

You blinked. “Oh, I’ll be down in a minute.” The offer took you by surprise. HK-53 had said nothing about them moving around the ship. You rose, tightening your robe, and left your quarters.

A warm savory scent hit you as you opened the door. The entire deck smelled of rich spices and sauteed aromatics. It was coming from the conference room – the one you used as a makeshift dining room back when… Back when there had been more people on your ship.

The Mandalorians were inside and had set up hotplates and a kettle on the table. Reaper was back in his polished black armor, sans helmet, stirring a pot. He did not look up when you came in. He just lifted a battered spoon to his lips and tasted the stew or maybe it was a casserole? If so, it was heavily sauced.

76 stood over his own battered iron skillet, an amber colored cake within. He cautiously poured some syrup over the cake. Then he cracked open a bottle and poured an even more generous amount of dark liquor over it. “It’s almost done!”

“If you want to cook, I have a small kitchen setup in my quarters-” You paused, realizing that maybe you did not want them traipsing in and out of your bedroom.

“Oh? Really? I would like to see that,” Reaper said, looking up and smiling at you, heat in his gaze. He lifted the spoon from the pot, offering you a taste of the bright orange stew. It had chunks of mystery meat, vegetables, and what looked like beans. It smelled like fire, smoke, and peppers, clearing whatever spacedust might have been clogging your sinuses. You hesitantly took a bite. It was savory and hot. The layers of earthy and smoky spices blended well together and even though you were still chewing, you wanted another bite almost immediately.

Even if you had never tasted this dish before, there was something immediately comforting about it. The meat was smoked. The vegetables had likely been dried and reconstituted in the sauce. The “beans” were actually some kind of grains, soft and fluffy with just the right amount of chewiness. “That’s very good,” you said. “What is it?”

“Tiingilar,” Reaper said, watching your face. “It doesn’t burn too much, I hope.”

“The seasoning is excellent. I’m very fond of peppers,” you said, raising a brow. Was he hoping that it was too much for you? That seemed a possibility. You had beaten him in combat, so he was going to compete with you in other ways. Still, if it meant that he cooked a nice dinner, you wouldn’t take too much offense.

Reaper just smiled at you. “You are full of surprises. The last non-Mandalorian I fed this to accused me of poisoning her. It was...too hot for her delicate mouth.”

“She wasn’t as well-traveled as Knight Strike,” 76 said, flipping his skillet and dumping the cake onto a battered metal plate. “Uj'alayi. It’s a traditional dessert,” he told you, pulling out a combat knife and slicing it into six pieces. “It can be made in our helmets. Reaper insisted that I use a pan this time.” He winked. “But I think the helmet adds to the flavor.”

“Interesting,” you said, glancing at Reaper, who just chuckled. “Should I get-”

“No need! We have tiingilar, uj’alayi, and behot tea. Plenty of food to go around,” 76 said proudly. He paused, gesturing to the table.

“And I have a few extra bottles of kri’gee and narcolethe, if you’re interested,” Reaper said, a little too innocently. “Now I think he is trying to poison me,” you said, because you weren’t an idiot. Those liquors were very potent.

“I have some extra ne’tra gal,” 76 said, gesturing to the bottle he had. “It’s a much nicer ale.”

“It would go well with the uj’alayi,” Reaper said, setting a bowl of his spicy stew in front of you. He poured you a mug of tea. Then he began doling out portions for himself and 76.

76 put a slice of cake in front of you, along with the open bottle of ne’tra gal.

You took a sip of the sticky sweet ale. It was more potent than you were expecting, but it was Mandalorian alcohol. You then took a small bite of the dense cake. It was rich and sticky, filled with dried fruit, nuts, and some kind of sweet syrup. The syrup had carmelized a little on the outside of the cake, but the inside was almost too sweet, except for the ale that soaked in. You washed it down with more of the ale.

76 watched you eagerly. “What do you think?”

“It’s rich,” you said. “But the ne’tra gal does go well with it.”

“It was originally army rations – lots of calories for a march,” Reaper said. “We thought you might enjoy some traditional Mandalorian food.”

“That was very kind,” you said. “It’s delicious.”

“Do Jedi have tasty traditional food?” 76 asked.

You sat with that for a moment. “...It’s actually kind of bland,” you sighed. “Nutritious, but not fancy. They don’t want us to be “distracted” by such things.” Back in the day, Theron had smuggled you candies, snack foods, and even alcohol. You felt a twinge of annoyance. Back in the day, Theron hadn’t been such an asshole. “I like trying new things though. I had to sneak around in Coruscant – make it look like I was only stopping because I needed “sustenance.” Not because the food stall smelled delicious.”

“We are not encouraged to be easily distracted by food,” Reaper said with a frown. “But there is no harm in enjoying it.”

“...Jedi aren’t supposed to “enjoy” things,” you muttered. “Well, they can, just not…too much.”

“What counts as “too much?” 76 asked, taking a big bite of cake.

You shrugged. “That’s a philosopher’s debate. But we’re meant to focus on denying most temptations. Want and attachment lead to other negative emotions, which lead to hate, which leads to the Dark Side. Let me summarize it for you: everything fun leads to the Dark Side.” You rolled your eyes and took another swig of ale. “Depending on who catches you, that lecture can go on for hours.”

“Enjoying cake leads to becoming a Sith Lord?” 76 chuckled. “I want to eat more. Will that get me my own lightsaber?”

You laughed.

“Your Order has a real fear of this Dark Side,” Reaper said, sipping his tea. “It seems a little convenient, like a method of control.”

“The fear is legitimate, but the safeguards are controversial.” You took another bite of his spicy stew. “It’s complicated.”

“So what happens when a Jedi goes to the Dark Side, becomes dar’jetii? Why is this so dreaded? I have met the dar’jetii of the Empire. Some are reasonable. Many are not. But they are not Jedi, and they are not so much more fearsome.” Reaper’s brows furrowed.

“We’ve fought dar’jetii,” 76 said, chest puffed out. “And we’ve won. Didn’t get to keep the lightsaber though. Captain got it.” He gave you a rueful smile.

“I assume dar’jetii means “Sith.” And that’s part of the problem.” You took another sip of tea, staring at the wall. “There are two different understandings of the terms. The political difference is that Jedi are force-sensitives who work for the Republic. Sith work for the Empire. It is an overly-simple explanation.” You held the mug between your hands, its warmth comforting.

“That is how we understand it,” Reaper said.

“Then you have the philosophical definitions. There are two sides to the Force, Light and Dark. The choices you make in life determine your alignment. There are Imperial Sith, who are fair-minded and compassionate. Even if they may not follow the Jedi Code, they are of the Light, though it would be unwise of them to advertise that.”

“And there are Jedi who are cruel and bloodthirsty, and they are of the Dark?” Reaper asked. “Your Order allows this?”

“No, they do not. In fact, they are dismissed from the Order, and sometimes they are imprisoned. Sometimes it is...worse.” You did not look at them.

“That seems like a tactical disadvantage,” 76 said.

“...It’s more than that.” You switched back to the ne’tra gal. “Sometimes singular choices can swing a Light-side Jedi to the opposite end of the spectrum. They go from honorable, kind, and patient to violent, cruel, and despotic in seconds. Falling is a sudden kind of madness. Often they turn on their friends and allies, killing the people they swore to protect. Sometimes they recover who they were and regret what was done. Sometimes they just become monsters.”

“What causes it? I haven’t heard of Sith having such experiences often.” Reaper asked. “Do they fear an inverse effect?”

You laughed, imagining that for a moment. “No, I guess I haven’t heard of a Sith suddenly being filled with an uncontrollable sense of altruism. At least, not to the same degree. They may switch sides or work to seek redemption, but these are conscious choices.”

“So what makes Jedi so much easier to influence?” 76 asked.

“Well, the Sith Code does encourage a certain amount of violence and backstabbing, but that’s the question, isn’t it? The Jedi Order thinks if we, as individuals, keep our distance from the world, do not get attached to others, and live like ascetics, we can avoid falling. If we just follow their rules, and live in our cloisters, we will be safe.” The bitterness of your words surprised you.

“Is there no middle ground?”

You took another bite of the stew. “That’s also complicated. Allegedly, there is.” You thought of the Gray Jedi. “But it is not an explanation accepted within our Order. I have witnessed people falling. It is...horrible to see someone you have known your entire life changing into the antithesis of themselves.”

“So if...attachment makes them fall, what brings them back? Do you appeal to their honor?” 76 asked.

“Maybe,” you said, because you would give a lot to find the answer to that question. “I think...reminding them what they found to be so important can help.” You thought of Nomen Karr. “But sometimes they are just in denial. They think they are infallible, they think that excuses whatever actions they take, and that accumulation of corruption combined with their own hubris destroys them.” You sighed.

“What causes this madness? The revelation of their own hypocrisies?” Reaper pressed.

“Force users are...vessels. The Force runs through us, it is like a constant stream of energy. That energy can manifest in different ways. Light Side users have certain powers, Dark Side users have others. And then there are some abilities that are so rare, it’s hard to say where they come from. Those are the extremely talented few: I have a friend who can heal broken minds. But I have no idea how to do such things. I am just a better-than-average fighter.” You smiled wryly. “But one of my teachers has a theory. Jedi spend so long keeping out the Dark, that sometimes, if we lower our guards, if we make an emotional choice toward the Dark, suddenly we have opened ourselves up to an outpouring from it. Some of us do not know how to cope and that system shock is too much too quickly, and then we swing to the opposite side.”

“So maybe you should do a few bad things, to keep your mind safe,” Reaper said with a shrug. “Easy enough.”

You laughed. “...maybe. Or maybe that slow acceptance of corruption just makes it easier to fall. That’s a high-risk theory for me to try to prove.”

“So what is an example of how a Jedi falls?” Reaper asked.

You sat there, knowing it wasn’t any of his business, and that you were drinking too much. But it was not a secret. And he wasn’t actually asking about your past. “Say you go into battle, and you really hate the person you are fighting. You have thought long and hard about how they need to die. You know that it is against everything that your Order has taught you, and you don’t care. They might want him as a useful prisoner, but even if he surrenders, you are going to kill him. Or perhaps, you are going to disobey orders – you will pursue him off the battlefield, even if it means leaving your comrades or charges behind. There are many ways. But I think it comes down to, you will look at your choices, you will know that what you choose is wrong, and you will do it anyway.”

Reaper snorted. “That doesn’t sound evil: foolish and undisciplined maybe. But killing certain enemies is sensible.”

“But if it throws off your sense of self…” 76 rubbed his chin.

“That is a problem we do not have to deal with,” Reaper said, brow furrowed. “Perhaps the cost of sorcery is too high. Or perhaps Jedi are weak-minded. Their strictures are too rigid; the conditions they set are unreasonable.”

“This fear of attachment and strong emotion,” 76 mused. “How are they as parents?”

“...Jedi are good caretakers, but not good parents. Because Jedi are not supposed to marry or have kids, so we usually recruit externally,” you said, trying not to think of Theron.

Both men blinked. “What?!”

“We’re warrior monks,” you muttered. “Or supposed to be. There are exceptions, but in general, marriage and other romantic attachments are not encouraged.”

76 and Reaper exchanged meaningful glances.

You could feel the judgment. You finished your ale, suddenly wishing for more.

“So no sex?” 76 asked, his eyes wide.

“...We’re not supposed to,” you said, looking at the table, suddenly embarrassed.

There was a long moment of silence.

“But you don’t always do what you’re supposed to, do you?” Reaper asked, his voice warm and amused.

You bit your lip. “That’s really not your business.”

Reaper gave a low laugh. “I didn’t think so.” He tilted his head to the side, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “There’s no shame in indulging or abstaining. But something tells me that you’re not the type to shrink away from a challenge.”

You crossed your arms, staring hard at him. Did he need another lesson in humility? “What are you trying to say, Reaper?”

“I’m saying, if you choose to indulge, we’re both interested,” he said plainly, and took another bite of his tiingilar. “And if you don’t, we respect that too.”

You nearly choked on air.

“But we’re a package deal,” 76 said, his expression uncharacteristically somber.

“...Wait, are you married?” You asked, because it was easier than processing what Reaper had just offered.

“Promised,” Reaper said, giving 76 an appreciative smile. “But this one has fought at my side for years, and that matters more than any words spoken.”

76’s cheeks burned pink. He gave Reaper a warm look. “Traditionally, we can just say the vows whenever: in person, over comlink, through letters, and it’s done. But our clan wants to be there to witness it and throw a big party, which isn’t exactly traditional – they usually can wait till afterward.”

“But certain clan-members are insisting that they should attend,” Reaper said.

“And if we didn’t make the allowance our sisters and the Captain would never forgive us,” 76 said with a sigh. “You don’t cross the Captain.”

“And our sisters are unreasonable and very good with their flamethrowers,” Reaper said.

“Oh,” you said, like it all made perfect sense. They were about to be married, but they wanted to invite you to their beds? How did that make any sense? You groped for words. “That’s lovely.”

“You could come too,” 76 said. “There will be plenty of food.”

“...Uh…” You blinked, not sure how to process the proposition, the wedding invitation, and the entire situation.

“76 and I take pride in performing well, be it fighting, cooking, or other recreational activities,” Reaper said smoothly. “If you’re concerned, we’d be happy to give a demonstration.” He leaned over, one arm around 76’s shoulder.

76 nodded happily. “You can think of it as exercise or stress relief.”

“Or you can just watch, if you like, we don’t mind,” Reaper purred, stroking 76’s hair. Those thick metal gauntlets tightened into a fist, pulling 76 closer. Reaper leaned over, pressing a hard kiss to 76’s neck.

The blonde man moaned.

But Reaper was watching you, those dark eyes glittering.

“...I should go meditate,” you said, abruptly standing up and retreating from the room.

#SWTOR #IAL #Crackfic #Reader-Insert #overwatch fanfiction #In Alio Loco AU #In Alio Loco

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