#hera's dawning truth

[softpadawan]

Every time I see Kanan Jarrus described as "brash" and "cocky"

His character summaries in published media are hilariously inaccurate.

The Rebellion Begins (Kogge, 2014):

Kanan: The Last Padawan (Weisman, Larraz, Camagni, 2015):

No. No. No.

Kanan Jarrus isn't Han Solo version 2.0. All of the above adjectives are more fitting to a man like Han. If anything, Kanan is Han's foil, his complete opposite. His description in The Last Padawan makes it seem as if he's the one who's hellbent on fighting the Empire, the gung-ho commander of the team, when in truth it's all Hera. She's the one responsible for pushing Kanan into the Rebellion. She owns and pilots the Ghost; she's the founder and the leader of the crew.

Hera is the true Spectre-01. Kanan is actually Spectre-02, and that's why his pauldron bears the number "02". It's not a romantic gesture, like some fans believe.

From Wookieepedia, emphasis mine:

Although various sources have identified Kanan Jarrus as the leader of the Spectres, Star Wars Super Graphic: A Visual Guide to a Galaxy Far, Far Away states that Jarrus' Spectre-1 code name was given to him so that Imperials will incorrectly assume he is the group's leader, and states of Hera Syndulla, "Even though she is Spectre-2, this Twi'lek is the pilot and leader of the rebels."

Kanan is not the leader, or even a leader. Hera is. She always was. Initially, Kanan didn't want anything to do with the Rebellion, and in the second season of Rebels (The Siege of Lothal, S2 E01), he voiced his reluctance to work alongside other rebel cells, showing that even after seven years allied with Hera, he was still hesitant about taking on greater responsibilities. Hera was always the one pushing for more involvement. Kanan supported her, but only so far. He wasn't, in his own words, "ready to start another [war]."

Which brings me to the next section:

The Adjectives

Kanan isn't any definition of brash. He's cautious and controlled, always aware of danger, and not keen on taking risks, especially where the Force is concerned.

Above excerpt from The Rebellion Begins—ironically from the same book that described him as "brash"—where Hera tries to press Kanan into using the Force shortly before the events in Spark of Rebellion.

Kanan's acknowledgement of the necessity of taking risks didn't truly come into play until after he met Ezra. He actually tried to talk Hera out of recruiting him (and was right to do so).

Kanan isn't a "maverick".

Kanan's life from Order 66 until 5 BBY was nothing but him trying to blend in with the crowd and remain as inconspicuous as possible. His very survival depended on it (see also: A New Dawn; further supported by Cal Kestis's prescription for survival in Jedi: Fallen Order, below, emphasis mine):

"[T]here are three rules to survive. Don't stand out. Accept the past. Trust no one. The galaxy's changed. Whatever you do, don't reach within. Don't stand out. Accept the past. Trust no one. Trust only in the Force."

Sound advice. The last thing Kanan wanted was to draw attention, especially Imperial attention, and he did everything he could to prevent that.

Kanan is not cocky.

The man is the antithesis of self-confidence. So much of Kanan's journey in Rebels is the reclamation of his confidence and courage, coming out of the shell he'd built around himself for the last 15 years. He didn't approach Ezra with the attitude of "alright, kid, I'm gonna teach you to be a kickass Jedi!" He was reluctant to teach Ezra, wary of making mistakes, fearful of failing him, literally wracked with doubt and worry, as we see here in S1 E10, Path of the Jedi:

The only descriptor that is somewhat accurate to Kanan is "sarcastic", but he only does that occasionally, usually directed at enemies or when in situations he'd rather not be in. He doesn't make sarcasm his entire identity, unlike Han Solo, whose every other line of dialogue is a sardonic comment or quip. Even Obi-Wan is cattier than Kanan.

So why is Kanan marketed as a brash, cocky, sarcastic, arrogant maverick?

In my opinion, it's because the entertainment industry incorrectly believes a male character is only interesting if he's 1) a borderline asshole, 2) completely able-bodied and hypercompetent, 3) in possession of a great power, or 4) any combination of the previous three.

A cautious, traumatized, insecure male character who suppresses his abilities, goes with the crowd, and doesn't stand out, who is naturally tender and kindhearted toward people, isn't going to be as marketable—especially in a male-dominated arena like comics—even though it's a more accurate description of Kanan's character. He isn't the classic, charismatic hero archetype that boys can project themselves onto... unless they spin him that way to sell merch.

But the trend of the Arrogant Asshole Lead Male is declining in recent years, I've noticed. Major characters like Cassian Andor and Cal Kestis and sad desert hermit Obi-Wan Kenobi, men who are still dealing with the mental fallout of Order 66 and/or suffering under the soul-crushing oppression of the Empire, men who are haunted and traumatized and disempowered, are becoming more prevalent. Their stories are being told. That's fantastic. I'm personally bored with the same old cocky-witty-genius-talented-billionaire-playboy male stereotype (who always has a perfect comeback) that has dominated the entertainment industry for half a century. Broken, imperfect characters are a thousand times more interesting to me, and so are their stories and character development. It's difficult to develop an already-perfect character, or one who never changes.

I think I've excised all my aggravation now. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Support your local Traumatized Jedi™

#star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #meta #character analysis #a new dawn #hera syndulla #kanan and hera #cassian andor #cal kestis #obi-wan kenobi #hjbendergifs #star wars #jedi #fandom #swedit #rebelsedit #long post #ableism #toxic masculinity #male stereotypes #traumatized men #order 66

[lollahazadi]

Zeb x Y/N (Your Name)

It's been days since you were on a mission with Sabine in search of clues in favor of the rebellion at the request of Hera. Days eating portion, days not seeing the others on the team and especially not seeing Zeb. Your lasat friend who you cherish and you wonder if he's okay, if he's on truce with Ezra and Chopper (you made the humanoid swear not to get into friction with the two in your absence and that he needed to channel his anger with other things).

On the planet where you and your Mandalorian friend were, it was dawn, around 2:35 am. You were the only one awake on that starry night, you rolled on your inflatable mattress from right to left, you played a trick on your body, closing your eyes and no sleep came. With his insomnia and his holocommunicator, he decided to give his favorite lasat a call (at least as far as you know, he was the only one in the galaxy as that living species).

***

In the room where there was a fifteen-year-old blue-haired boy sleeping peacefully with ear plugs, without it, it would be humanly impossible for Ezra to resist the nocturnal snoring and grunts of his chubby and purple friend. Zeb slept like a giant baby. Until his holocommunicator dances to the touch on top of the bedside table, forcing him to wake up from his pleasant sleep, his eyes opened very unwillingly and he stretched in the bunk, looked up and realized that the boy did not seem to be bothered by the call from the device and soon he could see why. "Karabast…" he mumbled cracking his back feeling flustered "It's 2:37am, who's gonna want anything at that time???" When he dragged himself over to the dresser he saw that the call belonged to none other than you. Without delay he answered quickly and eager to listen, since it had been a while since they had looked at each other's faces. her small body casts a bluish tint in the transmission, leaving Zeb with what looked like a frown, now turned into a smile.

"Hi Zeb! Goodnight, did I… wake you up?" you wanted to know shy. Zeb responds promptly avoiding embarrassment. " Hello Y/n ! Karabast, Good to see you! "Garazeb say with happiness notorius, make you look him and smiles and roll your eyes " Don't worry about it Y/n, actually I wasn't even sleeping" . You knew it was a lie and you stare at him pretending to be serious. "Garazeb…?". you stare at him wanting the unvarnished truth. Zeb is nervous with her gaze that looked deep into him, he found her eyes beautiful and inviting, like a sweet one-way dive, but they weren't so attractive when the purpose was to extract the truth.

"Don't look at me like that…please" Zeb begged with his ears drooping and teeth grinding. "If you really haven't slept, why is there drool in the corner of your mouth, is your beard wrinkled and your eyes are droopy?" You asked denouncing him, he awkwardly wiped spittle with the back of his hand and quickly straightened his beard. "Okay, okay, I guess I really was sleeping" he scratched his head confessing. "and I was sleeping well by the way, I needed it for a while, you know. A lot on my mind, you know how it is, me here, you there, wondering if you're okay, if you're happy or if you need something, hungry or …" He says with a short laugh. You are moved and laugh: "Oooown Zeb, you miss me do you?" you question. Embarrassed Zeb tries to formulate: "uh..eh… also, bu-but… Ah, you know that, don't you? you're one of us, you're part of the family and…you're missed, it's normal."

" Oh Zeb, I'm very happy that you think so, but you forgot that Sabine is with me" you laugh " You mean that I miss her more? that I'm more important ?" You play with Zeb's head, the poor guy takes it seriously and still responds "No! I'm not disrespecting Sabine, you're twisting my words…" "So tell me what I didn't understand" you were curious "Explain it to me" you laugh, Zeb says: "You are different, I can talk to all of you, but you in particular, I feel that I can trust you deeply, we can talk nonsense together, share secrets, do you understand me?" you kindly answer "Of course I understand Zeb, I know that you don't discredit any of us and I also feel that I can trust you with whatever I need" You smile at each other as Zeb stares at your silhouette from head to toe remembering how beautiful you are and always missed giving you a hug or your shoulder, touching you in any way.

You look back at him and remember that you always felt protected with Zeb's size, when he used his body as a shield to save you from gunfire, or explosions or even his own hug was enough. Do you want to know the good news: "So Zeb? Is everything okay out there? Are you managing to manage without two less?" "Oh, so far so good Y/n. Nothing unusual, Chopper is the same insufferable trash can, Hera and Kanan are taking care of everything as usual and Ezra, Ah, Y/n, believes he bought ear plugs with Vizago? Said I snored like a Bantha and that I was keeping him awake, I almost choked him…" "Zeb… what did I say about not messing with Ezra?" "I know I know, it's because sometimes he ask to have a missing skull or a one-way ticket to the other side, if you know what I mean?" You laugh: "Zeb, killing Ezra won't help anything, you know. Just let him go and stay calm and do your things, okay?" Zeb groans and agrees "Okay, I'll try not to squash him in a thousand. How about you guys, are you okay there?" "Okay, we're at full steam around here, or we were since it's dawn and Sabine is sleeping, nothing unusual here" You finish with a yawn, indicating that it's time to rest." Well, I'm going Zeb, I could stay here all night with you, but I'd fall asleep on the floor."

"All right, you need to sleep, I need to sleep hehe" Zeb says and says goodbye to you "Good night, sleep well and any insomnia, you may be calling me" "Thanks Zeb, if you need me I'll be here too" You smile "Goodnight, see you all soon and especially see you Garazeb soon." You blink before hanging up.

Zeb lets out a smile as he puts the holocommunicator on top of the bedside table, he lies back down until he gets into a comfortable position to sleep the rest of his night. He finds that Ezra is still sound asleep, not even the light from the device bothers him. Then Zeb closes his eyes and naturally his desire to sleep appears and he could take advantage of the remaining hours to rest.

#star wars rebels #garazeb orrelios fanfic #rebels fanfiction #sw rebels #zeb orrelios #animation #rebels fanart #garazeb orrelios #garazeb orrelios x reader

[nectaric]

—    basics.

▸     is    your    muse    tall    /    short    /    average ?

hades is 6'3 so he's definitely quite tall!

▸      are    they    okay    with    their    height ?

i think hades n hera were the same height for quite some time and hades was insecure about that, but as he came into his own he became a lot taller and he's more than pleased.

▸     do    they    spend    a    lot    of    time    on    their    hair     /    grooming ?

hades is quite particular about his appearance, and while i wouldn't say he puts a ton of effort in, he is very insistent on showering regularly, and smelling good / looking put together. it doesn't take him long to do his hair or put himself together, but he will make sure he is put together.

▸      does   your   muse   care   about   their   appearance   /   what    others    think ?

yes, absolutely. for a long time, his appearance was the one thing he could change to make his issues seem less dramatic. if he spent some time making sure there wasn't a hair out of place or that his clothes were freshly pressed, then it would be easier to hide how much he was struggling. prim and proper hades was a cover-up for i'm an alcoholic with cripping anxiety hades. as he's gotten sober, hades has taken less of an interest in his appearance. he hasn't let go, necessarily, but he allows himself to dress in a way that's comfortable and not just in a way that's presentable.

—    preferences.

▸     indoors    or    outdoors ?   indoors.

▸      rain    or    sunshine ?    sunshine.

▸   forest    or    beach ?      forest.

▸     precious    metals    or    gems ?    gems.

▸     flowers    or    perfumes ?    flowers.

▸     personality    or    appearance ?     personality.

▸      being    alone    or    being    in    a    crowd ?     being alone.

▸      order    or    anarchy ?  order.

▸      painful    truths ��  or    white    lies ?    painful truths.

▸    science    or    magic ?     magic.

▸      peace    or    conflict ?     peace.

▸     night    or    day ?     night.

▸      dusk    or    dawn ?   dawn.

▸     warmth    or    cold ?   warmth.

▸      many   acquaintances    or    a    few    close    friends ?      a few close friends.

▸    reading    or    playing    a    game ?    reading.

—    questionnaire.

▸      what    are    some    of    your    muse’s    bad    habits ?

there are simple answers, and there are complicated answers. hades has engaged in a lot of s/elf har/m in his life, which includes his drinking and drug use. but these are habits he has been able to curb / found healthier outlets for. other bad habits include isolation when he's feeling overwhelmed, smoking cigarettes, driving too fast (lmao), and self-doubt of all kinds.

▸      has    your    muse    lost    anyone    close    to    them ?      how    has    it    affected    them ?

the death of his son completely changed the trajectory of hades' life and his ability to function in life. he struggled with very poor mental health, closed himself off to his other children, and made him turn to really poor coping mechanisms that incapacitated him for centuries. he didn't know how to grieve, almost wouldn't let himself really grieve, and it took a serious toll on his life and the lives of those who mattered most to him.

▸      what    are    some    fond    memories    your    muse    has ?

there are so many moments from when his children were growing up that hades looks on with so much fondness. those years were some of the best of his life! there were also moments, in the early days after the titanomachy where he and his siblings were free and still close that hades remembers with so much love.

▸     is    it    easy    for    your    muse    to    kill ?

i don't think its necessarily easy for hades to do, but it is such a muscle memory thing that he's able to do it without much hesitation. he's not ever thrilled at the thought of doing it, but he will do it if necessary. he's not particularly violent in the way some other gods are, so he does try to avoid it if possible.

▸      what’s    it    like    when    your    muse    breaks    down ?

panic attacks, drinking, self harm, isolation, self-loathing, bitterness, angst angst angst. he's always on the verge of a breakdown it seems lmao, but he's got some pretty unhealthy coping mechanisms and when he falls apart its catastrophic, even if its not something that anyone else can see. he takes it all out on himself, and becomes a bit of a wreck. but he's working on being better <3

▸     is    your    muse    capable    of    trusting    someone    with    their    life ?

very few people, but yes. he would trust any of his children, his wife, or his siblings with his life. he would trust someone like thanatos. but i think hades is the kind of person who would do everything in his power not to put anyone in that situation. he will be responsible for his own life, damn it.

▸     what’s    your    muse    like    when    they’re    in    love ?

lowkey kinda stupid, ngl. hades is a very logical, intelligent person, and while he cares deeply about people he doesn't feel love very often / experience it very strongly until it hits him like a train. he becomes more irrational, willing to do anything for the person he cares for. he's not very affectionate physically or with words, but he will shower the person he loves in gifts and attention of any kind. he's willing to sink to levels he wouldn't normally because his ability to reason is just. always skewed lmao

#hades. #I LOVE HIM AHHH #self harm / #alcoholism / #death /

[ireneswanyu]

Yuzuru's costumes as Greek Mythological Figures.

White Legend as Άγγελος/Angelos. Daughter of Zeus & Hera who became an underworld goddess. {Άγγελος means angel}

POTO as Αθηνά/Athena. Goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare, battle strategy, and handicrafts.

The Last Time Traveler as Αιθήρ/Aether. The god of light & the upper atmosphere. Aether was one of the primordial deities & the personification of the "upper sky".

Masquerade as Αλήθεια/Aletheia. The spirit of truth, truthfulness & sincerity. Αλήθεια can be translated as "disclosure" or "truth". The literal meaning of the word "αλήθεια" is: "the state of not being hidden // the state of being evident."

Origin 1.0 as Αρχή/Arche. The muse of origins & beginnings. {Αρχή can be translated as beginning/start or authority/principle}

Origin 2.0 as Απόλλωνας/Apollo. Olympian God of archery, music & dance, truth & prophecy, healing & manly beauty, the Sun & light, poetry & more.

Seimei as Άρης/Ares. God of courage and war. One of the Twelve Olympians.

Notte Stellata as Αστερία/Asteria. A Titaness & Goddess of nocturnal oracles & falling stars. {Αστερία means the starry one}

Ten to Chi to as Γαία/Gaea. Personification of the Earth &one of the Greek primordial deities. {Γαία means "earth", sometimes also "land"}

H&L as Ελπίς/Elpis. The spirit of hope and expectation. Elpis was perhaps a child of Nyx & mother of Pheme, the goddess of fame, renown and rumor. {Ελπίς means hope}

Hana wa saku as the Εσπερίδες/Hesperides Nymphs of evening & golden light of sunsets. AKA Atlantides & Nymphs of the West. {Their name means originating from Hesperos: evening}

A Fleeting Dream as Καλλείς/Calleis. One of the Charites. Goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity, goodwill, and fertility. {Καλλείς means "beauty"}

Roncapu as Κοῖος/Coeus. God-Titan of intellect & the axis of heaven around which the constellations revolved. Related to Uranus (Sky) & Gaia (Earth).

LGC 1.0 as Ηδυλόγος/Hedylogos. God of sweet-talk & flattery & one of the winged love gods called the Erotes. {Ηδύς (sweet) + Λόγος (talk) = Ηδυλόγος: the one who talks sweetly to you}

LGC 2.0 as Ηδονή/Hedone. Hedone, daughter of Eros (personification of love) & Psyche (personification of the soul), is personified as a goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight. {Ηδονή means "pleasure."}

Raison as Ηώς/Eos. Goddess personification of the Dawn.

Otonal 1.0 as Θεία/Thea. {means divine} A Titaness of sight & by extension the goddess who endowed gold, silver and gems with their brilliance & intrinsic value, Hyperion's sister.

Otonal 2.0 as Yπερίων/Hyperion. {means the one who flies beyond} A Titan & God of the sun.

Requiem as Μνημοσύνη/Mnemosyne. Titaness goddess of memory & remembrance & the mother of the 9 Muses. {The term Mnemosyne is derived from the word mnēmē, which means "remembrance, memory}

PW 1.0 as Νεφέλη/Nephele. Cloud Goddess. {Νεφέλη: from the word "νέφος" which means "cloud"}

PW 2.0 as Αύρα / Aura. Goddess of the breeze & the fresh, cool air of early morning {Αύρα means "breeze"}

Wind of words as Νυξ/Nyx. Primordial goddess (or personification) of the night. {Νυξ means 'Night'}

HYK as Περσεφόνη/Persephone. Queen of the Underworld. Goddess of death, life, grain, and destruction. According to the myth of her abduction, she is the embodiment of spring & the personification of vegetation.

Crystal Memories as Σελήνη/Selene. Personification of the Moon. {Σελήνη: moon}

LMEY 1.0 as Τερψιχόρη/Terpsichore. One of the 9 Muses & goddess of dance & chorus. {Τερψιχόρη: τέρπω "delight" and χορός "dance"= the one who is delight in dancing.}

LMEY 2.0 as Εὐφροσύνη/Euphrosyne. Goddess of good cheer, joy and mirth. Euphrosyne was one of the Charites. Her name means: someone who is in high spirits ((merriment)).

Change as the river Φλεγέθων/Phlegethon. One of the 5 rivers of the underworld. {Φλεγέθων means "flaming"} {Other names: Πυριφλεγέθων/Pyriphlegethon, which means "fire-flaming"}

HNN 1.0 as Χλωρίς/Chloris. A nymph of spring, flowers & new growth. {Her name is derived from "χλωρός": fresh}

HNN 2.0 as Aνθεία/Anthea. Goddess of vegetation, gardens, blossoms, especially worshipped in spring. {Her name is derived from "άνθος": "flower" or "blossom".}

Etude as Ωκεανός/Oceanos or Oceanus. Titan god of the river. {Oceanos means ocean obviously}

-transferred twitter thread-

-original thread linked below-

#YuzuruHanyu #羽生結弦 #greek mythology

[kflixnet]

PART I | PART II | PART III | PART IV

• athena, [ soobisms ] ↳ she/her | aespa, en-, txt “ttyl! omw to kwangya w soobs!”

• ari, [ aakomii ] ↳ she/her | skz, en-, txt, atz “i can talk about beomgyu for hours.”

• elle, [ hvcmixtape ] ↳ she/they | svt “we’re at a space of infinite possibility, take my hand and let’s ride.”

• emmy, [ andkisses + blushgyu ] ↳ she/they | txt, tbz, en- “if taehyun is antartica, i'm the face of the sun.”

• felix, [ yourfatherlucifer ] ↳ he/him | atz “i have too many wips, oh no i made another one.”

• hera, [ svnoofy ] ↳ she/her | nct, svt, atz, exo, skz, txt “the universe is against me writing smaus.”

• honee, [ yeonjstxr ] ↳ she/her | txt “i think we should all tax bad things. like racism, and yeonjun’s thirst traps.”

• honour, [ drmflm​ ] ↳ they/them | cravity, en-, svt, txt “what even is a bias anymore :’).”

• irina, [ woosluv ] ↳ she/her | atz  “my delusion-ship with mingi keeps me going.”

• isabella, [ lveclouds ] ↳ she/her | bts, atz, svt “i just spend three hours staring at a blank word document, i call that progress.”

• jelli, [ awooghan ] ↳ she/her | skz “day [???] of missing han jisung.”

• jen, [ ayayiiie ] ↳ she/her | en- “writing is an art we can feel without the need of speaking.”

• jey, [ jeysamores ] ↳ she/her | en- “all of nct dream noticed me at their concert because i was the loudest person there. mark complimented how loud my scream was and they all pointed me out (we're married btw).”

• jia, [ ilynaevis ] ↳ any pronouns | aespa, en-, nct, skz “part time cereal fan full-time chenle appreciator.”

• lav, [ tinysushimark ] ↳ she/her | nct, skz “24 to 25 babe... just stay with me.”

• leo, [ seung-scrittore ] ↳ any pronouns | skz, trsr, txt, tbz, nct dream, en-, dkb, the rose, atz, mx, eric nam, jackson wang, eaj, jessi, dpr, kai, amber liu, hyuna & dawn, demian “unironically cries over hwang hyunjin on a daily basis <3.”

• mae/julia, [ sureogi ] ↳ she/her | cravity, tbz, stayc, txt “loving ham wonjin 25/8.”

• mai, [ maiverie ] ↳ she/her | en- “who needs birth control when u have ur face.”

• mallow, [ miyseung ] “I don’t search for eternal truth, I search for motivation.” ↳ she/her | (g)i-dle, skz, en-, ive

• mango, [ mangocustard16 ] “hoshi is mine *fight me*” ↳ she/her | en-, svt, txt

• mari, [ ynsvnte ] “crocheting gets me tired, but sunghoon doesn’t for sure. ” ↳ she/her | en-

• maria, [ bambisgirl ] ↳ she/her | en- “i have two addictions, caffeine and lee heeseung.”

• michi, [ cybrsan ] ↳ she/her | atz “99% of my process is thinking about my wips, the other 1% is actually writing them.”

• miso, [ misojunnie ] ↳ she/her | en-, txt, nct, svt, bts “𝐞𝐧- ♡ #jxnglvr cherrywonie !! 明华 ming hua, she/they, writer, engene.”

• mirai, [ nyanggk ] ↳ she/her | en-, txt “people say nothing is impossible, but i do nothing everyday (definitely did not just took that off of google bcs i have no originality).”

• mofy, [ bless-311​ ] ↳ they/them | tbz “mofy duck enthusiast!”

• moni, [ zzoguri​ ] ↳ they/them | tbz “i rest easy knowing kim sunwoo is more delusional than i could ever be 🙏🏼.”

• monica, [ softsan ] ↳ she/her; atz, bts, txt, nct, en-, skz “i don't meow for men, i meow for poetry; we are not the same.”

• moon, [ beautifulchris​ + fylithia ] ↳ she/them | skz, txt “be a little more you and a lot less them.”

• moon, [ meiideryz ] ↳ she/her | nct (all) “wayv comeback season is near! (in my imagination).”

• morgan, [ heonijs ] ↳ she/her | en-, tempest, txt “storm in her eyes, peace in her smile.”

• nat, [ nateezfics ] ↳ she/her | atz “no thoughts, head empty. just existing.″

• niwa, [ haechanhues ] ↳ she/her | atz, en-, nct, skz, svt, tbz, trsr, txt, victon “love that for me.”

• nix, [ njmverse ] ↳ she/they | nct “rip my wips i never finished.”

• noa, [ hqrana ] ↳ she/her | skz, svt, cravity, en- “when life gets you down... raaaaaah 🦅❗️.”

• noelle, [ icyminghao​ ] ↳ she/her | svt, boynextdoor “if you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. all the stars are a-bloom with flowers.”

• nynx, [ meowrinz ] ↳ she/mew | nct, le sserafim, en-, nmixx “happy lesbian visibility year.”

• pearl, [ milkyruins + euphoriaatrash ] ↳ she/her | en-, skz, svt “delivering love one draft at a time <3”

• rania, [ wheeboo ] ↳ she/they | svt “imma just “hehe” my way through life.″

• red, [ shining-red-diamond ] ↳ she/her | astro, atz, block b, bts, day6, exo, ghost9, got7, mx, nct (all), nex7/9%, oneus, pentagon, romeo, svt, shinee, skz, tbz, txt, vixx, wei, xeno-t, z-boys “oh, where is my hairbrush?”

• ren, [ mygnolia ] ↳ any pronouns | bts, en-, skz, txt “student by day sunghoon simp by night.”

• ria, [ monatice ] ↳ she/her | mx, victon, atz, svt, astro, en-, kingdom, tbz, skz, txt, bae173, gncd, omega x, cravity “you can make anything by writing.”

• riel, [ linonyang ] ↳ she/they | skz “dubidubidapdap, dubidubidipdip.”

• rin, [ svhnflwr + milktyama ] ↳ she/they | atz, nct, tbz, en- “you cracked my cookie d:”

• rose, [ yangsrose ] ↳ she/her | nct, atz, txt  “your efforts will never betray you. all your efforts will pay off.”

• sage, [ seo--changbin + seoberrybins ] ↳ she/her | skz "editing your drafts include just staring at them for a while before closing them again and calling it a day."

• salty, [ sxcret-garden + starry-nights-garden ] ↳ she/her | atz, got7, nct (all), oneus, p1h, txt “too many fic ideas, not enough brain juice.”

• saph, [ zeawoo​ ] ↳ she/they | en-, trsr, txt, nct dream “madame, monsieur jourdain is very knowledgeable.”

• sara, [ wongyuuu ] ↳ she/her | svt “i have 100 ideas but only ever write one of them.”

• saya, [ lluringli ] ↳ she/her | en- “love is a timeless melody that echoes in souls and resonates through the corridors of eternity.”

• savannah, [ ox1-lovesick ] ↳ any pronouns | txt “it’s so sweet, but i should find my name.”

• sei, [ seungstarss ] ↳ she/her | en- “🗑← home sweet home.”

• sharmi, [ day6andetcetera ] ↳ she/her | day6, txt, skz, bts, itzy, got7 “ur mom.”

• sia, [ wonieleles ] ↳ she/her | en-, bts “writing to procrastinate is my favorite activity.”

• sierra, [ silvermistcosmos ] ↳ she/her | en-, nct dream “student by day, writer by night.” 

• skar, [ reverbtunes ] ↳ she/her | skz, txt “je mange le croissant.”

• skits, [ hotteoki​ ] ↳ she/her | atz, skz, txt, en- “beomgyu.”

• sky(ven), [ lheewonz ] ↳ any pronouns | en-, txt “i have a terrible case of 'i start everything i write with dialogue'-itis and writing my story backwards.”

• smiles, [ boba-beom ] ↳ she/her | txt, en- “good things take time :)”

• smt, [ songmingisthighs + smt-here ] “i'm not a writer, i just have mental illness and too much to say.” ↳ she/her | atz

• sof, [ txt-yaomi ] “tomorrow x todoro.” ↳ she/her | txt

• sol, [ myjisung ] “i'll try over and over again if i must.” ↳ they/she | skz

• solar, [ hyunestrella​ ] “um...slay?″ ↳ she/they | skz

• star, [ like-a-diamondinthesky ] “if i spent as much time on academics as i did on tumbr, i'd be the top student. yet, here we are...” ↳ they/them; skz

• sue, [ soobnny ] “whoever prayed for my downfall, you won.” ↳ she/her | en-, txt

• sumi, [ 02chois ] “lower your expectation so you’ll always reach them.″ ↳ she/they | txt

• sun, [ halaboyz ] “the f in sun stands for funny.” ↳ she/her | atz, en-, tbz

• sunny, [ daegall + niskoo + namistangerinee ] “eugene belcher kin.” ↳ she/her | nct, en-

• ti, [ sulfurcosmos ] “you ever wonder if julius caesar would enjoy a good caesar salad? maybe he should take a stab at it.” ↳ she/her | skz, nct dream

• tia, [ fae-renjun + https-dandelion ] “head empty, only huang renjun.” ↳ she/they | nct, tbz

• val(erie), [ kyrjnie ] “delulu is the solulu.” ↳ she/her | en-, skz, txt

• vee, [ skazoo ] “writer (derogatory)” ↳ she/her | bts, skz, en-, atz

• via, [ hyungjunnie ] “studying law in the day but also daydreaming about leehan, maybe that’s why im failing…” ↳ she/her | bnd, riize, svt, xdh, zb1

• whitney, [ mikrokcsmos ] “more than a memory, less than reality.” ↳ they/them | bts

• xia, [ carpexiem ] “mentally deranged, but beautifully wine aged.” ↳ they/them | en-, txt, p1h

• xin, [ prettywon ] “chamber 5? more like chamber of deez nuts.” ↳ they/them | en-, txt

• yena, [ in2fly ] “decisions? never heard of her.” ↳ she/her | &team, en-

• yomi, [ yeokii ] “i’m in a romantic relationship with myself in my head.” ↳ she/her | txt, en-, zb1

• ynn, [ rsmura ] “writing fics over essays? yes.” ↳ she/her; en-

• ysa, [ neoaevis ] “ooooooopss i did it again, i guess?” ↳ she/her | nct

• yumi, [ cupidjyu ] “hyunjae is the love of my life !!!” ↳ any pronouns | tbz

• yun, [ amakumos ] “i don’t care if i’m failing math. where’s jungwon?” ↳ she/her | en-

• zainab, [ missmadwoman ] “f*** the patriarchy keychain on the ground <3.” ↳ she/her | en-

• zanna, [ slytherinshua ] “ppl are talking abt the law💀 but what abt eunwoo i have my priorities okay.” ↳ she/her | txt, svt, bnd, &team, skz, en-, bts, lucy, verivery, victon, astro, onf, sf9, tbz, tws, park jihoon, hwang minhyun, kim woojin

• zoe, [ badwithten ] “there’s already two zoes in this network, multiverse of zoes.” ↳ she/her | skz

#kfn: memberlist

[airsoftaction]

[the-ephemeral-ethereal]

There are truths, and there are legends touched with truth, and all can teach you something.

from Star Wars: A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller

#star wars #a new dawn #john jackson miller #jj miller #dave filoni #rebels #star wars rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #caleb dume #truths #legends #canon #truth #teach #learn #listen #pay attention #signs #symbols

[hardoncaulfield]

Speech Time, Hera Lindsay Bird

Transcript under cut

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. That's how Abraham Lincoln started the Gettysburg address and he got murdered in a theatre. That's also how I have started my speech but I won't be murdered in a theatre When I die, it will be an old-time injury, like falling into a threshing machine.

I am always making speeches, but speeches are a waste of time The only useful speech is one where you enumerate someone's many failures until they burst into tears But if anyone is bursting into tears today it will be me I just want to lie naked on a deckchair, fanning myself with divorce papers

I have called this speech 'speech time' so you will know it's time for speeches. Anything can be a speech if you say it out loud for long enough This is not freedom of speech, this is just extreme oratorial leeway It's hot piss, melting the toilet ice

Speeches exist for the purpose of making other people think what you think But I don't want just anyone to be able to think what I think It's like if paisley were a natural resource, and people had to mine for it You have to be stupid enough to want to

I've been making a lot of speeches recently because I published a book And more than a book people like to hear you talk about your book People don't like books they like speeches But not this speech .......

People don't want to hear poetry, they want to hear people talking about poetry People don't want to hear poetry, they want to go home and not read poetry and so do I The only reason for poetry is to have a meadow in which to burn yourself alive in A picturesque meadow, with bonus violets

I am bored of making speeches I have to say so many things I don't care about It reminds me of life It reminds me of when you are a cowboy and your hat gets too heavy

There is nothing in this world really worth saying Being clever is a waste of time I just want to sit around in Swarovski earrings and let old men debate my literary merits ...but I don't even have my ears pierced

A speech is the opposite of a poem A speech is telling people what to think, but I don't know what should be thought Sometimes it seems to me like other people aren't even trying to tell the truth Like, when I watch porn I like it to be the retro kind when you can't see the dick go in

Forget this speech, I'm changing the title The new title of this speech is 'poem time' because this is poem time not speech time It's like when it's your first day as a soldier and you show up to the wrong war Or like sexily cleaning the coliseum with a black feather duster

It's like panicking because your castle is too beautiful Or an advent calendar for atheists full of empty windows It's like pouring cold champagne all over your thighs Or an evil piano that can only be played at midnight

A poem should never be a tourniquet You have to let the blood goes where it wants It's like trying to log into your email account but your password makes you too sad It's like Shakespeare ...................................... etc

I love writing poetry because it gives me casket pleasure I can feel my death somewhere far off It's like doing a shot of semen after sex and calling it a chaser Or when you're a ghost and can feel the wind blow in through your sheetholes

Poetry is like a tuxedo that zips off at the knee It's my pet boredom...... I sit in my room with the rain coming down And I start to wonder about my life

Poetry is like pushing a pram through the dawn But the pram is on fire, because the fire is your baby It's like having an orgasm every time you hear middle C on a piano Mozart is just elaborate foreplay to you

It's like upgrading your horse drawn carriage to a better, more technologically advanced horse drawn carriage Or squeezing your mop into a tropical fish tank It's like being the Monet of blow jobs .................... and losing your boyfriend to the Toulouse-Lautrec of blowjobs Or a bedside drawer packed with snow

Poetry is a luxury behaviour Like crying because you're too clever and nobody understands you It's like cutting your hand at a party and referring to your blood as 'party blood' It 's like: welcome to good behaviour town, population 0

#poetry #hera lindsay bird #this is why i hate those dismembered poetry-quotes so much #the snippet from this i saw earlier today bears as much relation to the whole poem as does a lost eyelash to a whole body

[morizoras-cave]

Little Coworker (Request)

MCU cast members x gn!child!co-star!reader

Genre: fluff

Request Description: Please may you do a headcanon where the readers a new actress in the mcu movies and plays as Bucky’s daughter and when the director’s introduce her Chris E, Chris P, Sebastian S, Tom Hidd & Robert D are super proud because she’s worked on numerous movies with them before and they’re super protective of her. (About age 8) and the other cast members are super surprised of how talented she is but she’s also super shy and modest please? 😊

Warnings: language

(A/N): im doing another request babyyyyy, i really wanna narrow down the amount of requests i have D;

Right, so

You always knew you wanted to be an actor

And your parents were somehow super supportive right out of the gate

So you’d been in several movies before

And then you were cast as part of the Avengers: Endgame cast as Tony Stark’s child

(shhhhh lets just pretend here)

The directors brought you onto set one day to introduce you

and you were ecstatic!

because you immediately recognized Chris

The goofy one

Pratt!

You had been in a movie together very recently

And the moment he saw you he was like

“holy mother of jesus!”

“y/n!”

And guess what you hugged

And then you rode on his shoulders (very fun)

As you were soaring through the sky atop Chris Pratt’s shoulders you run into Robert and Chris (the other one, Evans)

And they both gasped

Then looked at each other bc

“why are YOU gasping?” 

And there was a moment of epiphany as it dawned on them that they had ALL been in movies with you before

Chris Evans was mad because HE wanted to be the one giving you a shoulder ride

because you laugh and he thinks your laugh is very cute and its by far the number one thing he misses from filming with you

Robert and Chris P immediately falls into conversation about how you’re so talented considering your age

and then, from across the room 

you see Tom Hiddleston

and he doesn’t gasp but rather gives you a look, a look that makes you giggle

now, he had been in a movie with you and sebastian when you were six

so he calls sebastian over (from where he and anthony mackie were undoubtedly doing something they were not allowed to)

and sebastian sees you and hes like “oh!”

and then theres another moment of realization when they come over and start talking to you

and all the actors are like “wtf how does this kid have more jobs than me?”

anyway whenever you are on set, you are never walking

always on someones shoulders

YOU AND TOM HAVE TEA TOGETHER IN THE BREAK ROOM

AND HE TEACHES YOU TO STICK YOUR PINKY OUT LIKE A “PROPER LADY”

ugh we stan tom and you having tea parties every day

Tom thinks it’s so funny that you talk about the news

“I heard it’s gonna be raining this friday.. How disappointing” - you, an eight year old

sebastian immediately loops you into him and anthony’s shit

and you’re always the one opposing

“we can’t do that, that’s against the rules!”

but you always end up doing it because they promise you candy

your parents are not pleased

but anyway you get a lot of candy

this is gonna sound weird but Chris E and RDJ really love watching you try to read the signs on set when you think you’re alone

because there are a lot of big words

you’re just looking up at these random signs going

“r- r- re- restrict- restricted area”

i mean COME ON

you’re ADORABLE

and chris is the one introducing you to everyone

which makes you very shy

but everyone

and i mean EVERYONE

is impressed with your acting skills

Scarlett, Elizabeth and Danai are always complimenting you when you’re done with a scene

“that was so good!”

so you warm up to them fairly quickly

you can tell that the guys you’ve worked with have told others how impressed they are with you

because people like mark ruffalo, benedict cumberbatch, brie larson and chadwick boseman are coming up to you and going like

“i heard you’re really good!” 

to which you shyly nod, because

bitch please, you know you’re great

but you gotta stay humble

which, in truth, is hard when everyone around you loves you so much 

you can hardly walk from one end of set to the other without someone picking you up, spinning you around and yelling “wee!” and then putting you down again

which you’ve just come to accept

but its bc it truly is so refreshing and uplifting to have such a young, talented and sweet actor on set

and they just wanna let you know how much they appreciate you

and are proud of you

because they are

so proud of their little coworker :D

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun​ @deephideoutmilkshake​ @tamayakii​

#chris evans x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #robert downey jr x reader #chris pratt x reader #sebastian stan x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark x reader #loki x reader #star-lord x reader #peter quill x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #avengers x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers x child!reader #avengers cast x child!reader #mcu cast x reader #marvel cast x reader

[superspookyjanelle]

OC MOODBOARD; Dawn Sienna, daughter of Zeus and Leto, triplet of Apollo and Artemis.

❝ Dawn Sienna was supposed to represent balance. She was the orange pink sky as sun set and the moon raised. She was supposed to be fair, reasonable, unattached, and in full control of her abilities. But, all those things couldn’t be further from the truth. Dawn is a goddess who is mess and lost. She is disorder draped in the most elegant sunlight and decorated with simmering sliver stars. The goddess’s life drastically changes when she pushed out of Olympus by Hera. Her life will only get messier as she must now help a bunch of teenage supernatural creatures and mortals…❞

TAGGING; @witchofinterest @fiercefray @sweetenemyfire @eddysocs @perfectlystiles @hughstheforcelou

#dawn sienna #teen wolf fic #teen wolf oc #my oc stuff #we stan #my babies #ocappreciation #aesthetic #edits #fanfic #fanfic aesthetic #oc community #moodboard #goddess aesthetic #sun aesthetic #moon aesthetic #greek mythology inspo

[nimata-beroya]

MASTERLIST

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: crush injuries, blood, earthquake, trapped under debris 

Fandom: Rebels

Characters: Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Captain Rex

Days: 14 & 31

Prompts: Crushing injuries & Disaster Zone & Trauma (@whumptober-archive)

Whumpee: Ezra Bridger

Words: 1.579

Chapter: 1/2

Summary: Ezra had imagined many times that he'd die in the heat of a battle against the Empire; he's had several close calls already. But never in his wildest dreams, he foresaw that his death would come when a temple fell on top of him. 

GIF by @spectre-six

Help, I'm Alive

Chapter 1: Under Pressure

It starts as a normal day; well, as normal as it can be for a Jedi Padawan living in a rebel base with a motley crew of beings that became his family. Ezra reluctantly drags himself out of bed at dawn for daily meditation and training with his master. After Kanan puts him through his mental and physical paces for an hour and a half, leaving him simultaneously exhausted and energized, they go to the mess hall for a hearty meal. Ezra’s hungry enough to eat three banthas all by himself. 

He doesn’t get the whole banthas, but there are bantha biscuits with blue sauce for breakfast. He also goes for some jellied canron, two nutmeat and jelly sandwiches, a mug of caff with a splash of blue milk, and a meiloorun. 

“Hungry?” Hera asks with a fond smile on her lips when Ezra approaches the table where his family is with his tray full of food. Kanan slides onto the bench next to her with a more reasonable amount of food on his tray.

“Starving!” Ezra grouses before sitting and shoveling food into his mouth.

Hera grimaces. “Slow down, Ezra. You’re going to get yourself sick.”

“Can’. Peop’e ‘o si, an empi’e ‘o bea’” he says around the piece of canron in his mouth. Hera gives him a motherly don’t-talk-with-your-mouth-full glare, which makes him wince. Looking sheepishly at her, he stops talking and concentrates on eating slower. 

“What was that?” Sabine asks Ezra.

Kanan tilts his head toward her as if looking with his eyes when, in truth, he’s using the Force to sense her presence. “According to him, Ezra has people to see, an empire to beat,” he translates.

Sabine rolls her eyes, but the ghost of a smile makes her lips twitch. 

“Ah, what is to be a young lad with a healthy appetite for food and battle,” Rex says in a nostalgic tone. “I remember how my brothers would raid the mess in Kamino like ravenous anoobas.”

Wolffe arches an eyebrow. “Your brothers? Like you weren’t the same.”

Laughter rings out across the table as everyone continues to tease each other while they eat. When the people in the cafeteria start thinning out, going to do their daily tasks, a Rodian kid that joined the rebellion a month or two ago named Grexi comes asking for Captain Orrelios.

“He’s not here. He’s on, ahem, a mission,” Hera says.

“More like on a sexcapade.”

Everyone at the table laughs, except for Hera.

“Ezra!”

“What?!” He looks at Hera with the most innocent expression on his face. “It’s not a secret. The entire base knows that’s why he went with Kallus. They’re not as subtle as they think they are. And honestly, I’m glad they went away for a bit. I’m tired of having to find a place to sleep when they get handsy with each other.”

Kanan clears his throat, drawing the Rodian’s attention to him and away from the Ghost crew members’ love life. “What did you need Zeb for?”

“I’m with the construction staff working on the temple that is southwest of here, and we need more hands to clear out a pile of rubble. Lieutenant Cthonall said that Captain Orrelios could help.”

“I can help,” Rex offers.

“Ezra, why don’t you go, too?” Kanan suggests.

The padawan freezes, the meiloorun that he’s eating halfway toward his mouth. His face crumbles. “You want me to do cleaning duty, Kanan? Seriously? I’ll be carrying rocks all day!”

“You can use the Force. Think of it as practice for levitating heavy objects.”

Ezra takes a deep breath and releases it sharply. “Yes, Master,” he says through his clenched teeth. With the meiloorun clenched between his teeth, he leaves the table. He returns his tray to the kitchen staff before walking out of the mess hall in the company of Rex and Grexi.

Continue on Ao3

Tags list below the cut

(PS: if anyone wants to be added to/taken out of the tag list, let me know)

@bad-batch-supremacy @razena88 @fantasyproductions @photogirl894 @thecoffeelorian

#whumptober2021 #no.14 #no.31 #crush injuries #disaster zone #trauma #star wars #sw rebels #fic #blood #serious injuries #earthquake #trapped under debris #help i'm alive #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #whump #star wars xtober extravaganza 2k21 #swxt 2k21 #mare writes star wars

[sxnyarostova]

who’re you?

trans!orpheus brainrot got too much and i had to write orph meeting hermes, tw for deadnaming and misgendering 

Hermes is the god of messages and messenging and all that jazz.

 (He's also the god of a gazillion other things, but no one quite remembers all of his titles.)

 That automatically promotes him to the role of Olympus' mailman; he delivers everything from letters to wives to parcels.

 It's quite a tiring job.

 When Calliope sends him a letter with an address and her signature, Hermes already knows what he'll be picking up this time. He skims through the letter; the contents are interesting. Calliope's daughter has driven her mother to her wit's end, it seems, and Calliope doesn't want her anymore.

 She's a lost cause, the letter reads. She's nothing like the successor I want. Her name is Ophelia. Tell her that I love her and that I'm sorry.

 "Well, if that ain't something," Hermes whistles. He'll relay the entire message to Calliope's daughter; the kid deserves to know the truth.

 Hermes may be the god of trickery, but he hates lying to people.

 (He does lie to Zeus, though.

 And Hera.)

 He reads the address and readies his train; looks like he's got some travelling to do.

-

Orpheus wakes from his nap to find his mother missing. She's not curled up next to him on their double like she usually is when he wakes from his naps; there is nothing but empty space next to Orpheus, and he hates how uneasy it makes me feel.

 "Ma?" he calls, wandering out of his mother’s bed. "Ma? Are you here?"

 Dread settles to the bottom of his stomach. He's heard the stories of mothers and fathers and parents disappearing without a trace and consequently abandoning their children. "Mom?" Orpheus yells again, checking the living room. Everything is as he left it, but there’s no sign of his mother.

 He checks every room in the house, every little nook and cranny, but his mother isn't anywhere. "Maybe she's gone out to get groceries," Orpheus wonders aloud. "Yeah, that's it. We were out of cereal this morning."

 Orpheus sits down on the old, crumbling couch, and waits.

 Seconds, minutes, and hours pass by. There is still no sign of his mother.

 "Long line at the grocery store," Orpheus mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest. He ties his hair back with a rubber band; his mama won't let him cut it, says that he needs to look ladylike.

 He's not a girl. Orpheus hates his hair, hates the dresses that his mama insists that he wear, hates the colour of his room-

 Something dawns on Orpheus all of a sudden.

 "She left," Orpheus says, to no one in particular. "Cause I'm not a girl. Mama likes girly girls, but I'm a boy."

 He feels tears snake down his cheeks. Orpheus hastily brushes them away, because he has to be brave, like Jason from next door. Said boy had skinned his knee the other day and he hadn't cried.

 (Your mother abandoning you is much more painful than a skinned knee, though, a voice whispers.

 Orpheus pushes that thought all the way to the very back of his mind.)

 Suddenly possessed with determination, Orpheus goes to his room and gets the pair of scissors his mama had given him.

 (She'd told him to make crafts; Orpheus had crafted guitars and lyres with paper and crayon, and his mother had been overjoyed. "You'll be a great musician, Ophelia," his mother had said. "You take after me, don't you?"

 Orpheus had never bothered to correct his mother's constant misnaming. She'd just throw a fit and scream at him.)

 Orpheus pads into the bathroom and hops onto the stepstool. He pulls his hair free and slowly begins cutting it, lock by lock.

 Soon, the bathroom floor is littered with stray locks of brown hair. Orpheus smiles when he catches a glimpse of his new reflection; he looks like himself, not the girl his ma had wanted him to be.

 Another idea springs into his mind. He quickly leaps off the stepstool and dashes out the house, running over to Jason's.

 He knocks frantically on his friend's window; it's a blessing that the other boy lives on the first floor. Jason pads over and pries his window open. "Hey Phe," Jason says. "You need anything?"

 "Can you lend me a pair of pants?" Orpheus asks.

 Jason frowns. "Won't your mama be mad? You're not s'posed to wear pants. My mom told me."

 "She changed her mind," Orpheus lies. "She even let me cut my hair." Orpheus flaunts his new hairstyle, and Jason grins. "Neat," Jason says. "You want my khakis? I'm sure my mom won't mind."

 "Yes please!" Orpheus exclaims, and he waits eagerly by Jason's window. His friend quickly returns with the pants, which Orpheus grabs. "Thanks, Jase!" Orpheus says. "Do you wanna play in the garden?" Jason asks.

 "Can't," Orpheus says. "Uh, gotta help with dinner."

 "Girl things, right?" Jason says, to which Orpheus cringes. Even his best friend is confused sometimes; Orpheus hates it.

 "Yeah," Orpheus says, lying through his teeth. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

 "I'll see ya," Jason says, and shuts the window. Orpheus waves and runs back to his house, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get home.

 Orpheus quickly pulls out his favorite red shirt from the dresser and throws it on, shucking his yellow dress and cramming it under his bed. He puts the shorts on, and it feels like he has entered a new world.

 A knock on the door stops him in his tracks. He freezes; it can't possibly be his mother. If it is, Orpheus will very likely never see the light of day again.

 He timidly approaches the door. "Ma?" he calls. "That you?"

 There's a click, and the lock on the front door pops. The door swings opens to reveal a man wearing a silver suit; Orpheus notes that there are lots and lots of feathers on the man's feet. He has a whistle attached to his belt.

 "You Ophelia?" the man asks, leaning against the doorframe.

 Orpheus swallows; it's now or never.

 "No," he says. "I'm Orpheus."

 "Your ma says that your name's Ophelia," the man says, and he holds up a letter; Orpheus' heart skips a beat. "So you best stop lying to me, girl, if you want this to work out for both of us."

 "I'm a boy," Orpheus says stubbornly. "My name is Orpheus."

 The man eyes him curiously. Orpheus stands his ground, refusing to break away from the man's intense stare.

 "A'ight," the man says resolutely. "You're a boy."

 Orpheus smiles, and it's brighter than sunlight.

(Hermes feels something warm inside of his chest at the sight of Orpheus.)

 "Why're you here?" Orpheus asks. "And who are you?"

 "I'm here because your ma's run off," the man says, unsure how to break the news. Orpheus must visibly slump, because the man looks like he regrets his wording. "I'm Mr. Hermes, and I'm your caretaker from here on out."

 "I'm Orpheus," he says. "You just told me," Mr. Hermes replies.

 "I know," Orpheus says. "Just tryin' it out on my tongue."

 He's said it a million times in his head, but it sounds so much better when vocalised.

 "Well, boy," Mr. Hermes says, giving Orpheus a pat on the shoulder. "You got anything you need to pack?"

 Orpheus thinks of his bright-pink room and the dresses and the person he is leaving behind. "No," Orpheus says.

 Hermes raises an eyebrow. "You sure?" he asks. The man pushes past Orpheus and wanders into the house; Orpheus immediately runs to his room and slams the door shut. "Yeah, I'm sure," Orpheus says, a little winded.

 "Look, kid, I know that your ma used to treat you like a girl," Hermes says, sighing a little. "But you're a boy through and through; it's just your body's that not properly caught up, huh?"

 Orpheus' stoic façade wavers. "Yeah," he mumbles softly. "That's why ma left. She-she wants a girl and I ain't a girl."

 Hermes pulls Orpheus into a hug; boy looks like he needs one. "Well, I need a boy," Hermes says casually. "What'd you need a boy for?" Orpheus asks, his voice muffled by the fabric of Hermes' clothes.

 "To help around the train station," Hermes says.

 "You run a station?!" Orpheus exclaims, breaking from the embrace.

 "Mhm," Hermes nods. 

Orpheus looks enthused. "Can ya take me there?" Orpheus pleads.

 "After I see what you can still use from your old room," Hermes bargains. Orpheus pulls a face and nods rather reluctantly. "I'll wait outside," Orpheus mumbles, and shuffles to the living room.

 Hermes finds a few gender-neutral t-shirts and an old teddy lying on Orpheus' bed. He stuffs those into a backpack and hunts down a toothbrush and other sanitary items in the washroom. Hermes ignores the long strands of hair on the bathroom tiles and the pair of safety scissors perched precariously on the sink.

 Hermes then finds something interesting; a paper lyre, tucked under the bed. He packs that too, just in case.

 Hermes reemerges from Orpheus' old room to find the boy already waiting eagerly by the door. "Can we go now, Mr. Hermes?" Orpheus demands. "I wanna see the station!"

 "A'ight, we're goin', boy" Hermes says, ruffling Orpheus' hair. "Stick close to me, okay?"

Orpheus nods, and the two of them head off. Orpheus is glued to Hermes’ side the entire time, the older man’s arm slung over his shoulder.

Hermes looks at the boy, and makes a mental promise to protect him no matter what.

(This whole custody situation will be interesting to explain to Persephone when she comes back up top.)

#hadestown #orpheus #hermes #trans!orpheus #amity writes

[megatraven]

okay so here’s the alex headcanon i’ve been thinking about today :)

the biggest reason for why Alex almost always wakes up before MC is that they want to have more time with her. she’s human, and she won’t always be around, that’s the sad truth for awhile. sure, they don’t need as much sleep as a demigod, and they’re a workaholic so they get by on little sleep a lot anyways, but when they start dating her?

they don’t wake up early to get to HERA, they don’t do it because they’re fully rested.

they do it to steal another moment with her.

even if she’s asleep, they take the time to memorize her features, to brush the hair from her face and kiss the crown of her head, to fall in love with her again, over and over.

it helps them, over time, to come to terms with the fact that they’re an immortal in love with someone who isn’t.

that’s why they’re so easily able to tell her, when she asks why they’re so happy to wake up, that it’s because they wake up next to her everyday. 

they need those moments

and then, when mc is no longer mortal, when she has the powers of a goddess in her veins, when she’s like them-

there’s so much relief that they realize they don’t need to steal away those moments in the dawn anymore. their routine doesn’t change right away, but as time passes, they start sleeping longer and longer, until it’s normal for the both of them to wake up to their alarms, together.

there’s no need to rush, or try shoving centuries worth of love into 80 years, if that. that worry that’s always lingered in the back of their mind, the unspoken knowledge that their forevers were different for so long- the weight of it has lifted off of their shoulders.

they have all the time in the world, now, to love her.

#meg speaks #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck #alex cyprin #alex x mc #alex #afk mc #astoria

[regicidal-defenestration]

Mechtober Days 7-9: Ulysses Dies at Dawn

@mechanismszine

In which Hades and Persephone attend a ball

The ball was the talk of the City. Anyone who thought anything of themselves would be there, from the lowliest satyr to the Olympians themselves.

Ostensibly, the ball was being held to celebrate Zeus and Hera's 100 year wedding anniversary, the two of them just as devoted to each other now as they were when they first met. In practise, that meant their distaste for each other was still buried under a thin veneer of politeness, that Zeus still had bastard children popping up all over the City, that Hera's status as the benevolent wife was a still just as much of a carefully crafted persona.

If there's one thing every PR person in the City learns quickly, it's that telling the complete, unedited truth rarely does wonders for either your job prospects or your continued state of aliveness.

The ball was held in the grandest room of the grandest tower in the City. The walls were painted with scenes of forests, mountains, fields - landscapes that no longer existed in this world, but had been painstakingly recreated by the best artists money could buy. The ceiling arched high overhead, painted to resemble the night sky, a billion billion false stars shining down upon the dancefloor.

A band, arrayed neatly in matching blue and gold uniforms, were playing in the corner - an upbeat tune that would, with any luck, get the guests dancing rather than squabbling, especially as the night wore on and the free-flowing drink lowered their inhibitions

The guests themselves - the great and the not-so-good of the City - entered through a pair of large oak doors. Real oak, from some of the last trees that grew here. Each entrant was announced by a finely-dressed mortal servant, and each announcement was met by a round of polite, if muted, applause.

"The Lady Artemis!"

“The Lord Eros and the Lady Psyche!”

The servant hesitated at the next names, only briefly.

“The Nobles Hades and Persephone!”

The room fell silent. A visit from Hades was rare enough as it was, with them usually preferring to stay near the Acheron, but to have Persephone at an event like this was unheard of.

They walked in, arm in arm, seeming unbothered by the silence, impervious to the stares of the assembled guests.

And what a pair they made.

Hades was dressed in all black - a black suit with a black shirt and tie, a black hat with a black satin band. 

But then their jacket caught the light, and all a sudden it wasn’t just solid black.

Fine silver thread traced intricate embroidered designs across the black fabric; vines curled up their front and back, flowering across their shoulders and dropping petals down their sleeves.

Hades held themselves with the self-assured posture of one who knew exactly the effect the shimmering designs were having on the crowd. They didn't smirk, because that would be behaviour unbefitting someone of their standing, but no-one would have blamed them if they had.

As for Persephone…

Well, no-one could remember the last time they’d seen Persephone. Did they look the same as they always did? The seasons still changed, even here in the City, so surely they must do too.

And yet they looked like they'd just arrived in the City, like they'd just stepped off the train coming from some sunny field, from the fresh air, from somewhere untouched by this place or by the Olympians.

They wore an ankle-length dress that brushed the top of their combat boots, a dress that was a green the colour of fresh spring grass, green the colour of sunlight shining through leaves. Flowers were woven through their hair and beard - real flowers too, daisies and forget-me-nots and poppies and buttercups.

Hades clapped their hands once, and the band changed tune to something quieter, slower, gentler. They lifted an arm, twirling Persephone beneath it, their dress spinning out with the motion.

The other guests reacted quickly, forming pairs and joining the dance, but Hades and Persephone spared no thought to them.

As the two came together, Persephone leaned in close to Hades' ear, whispering softly.

"You never told me there'd be actual dancing, Ashes you bastard."

Hades grinned, dodging out the way as Persephone tried to stamp on their foot.

"Thing is, Tim," they murmured back. "You never asked."

#persephone!tim's dress is heavily inspired by hadestown!persephone's dress #the mechanisms #mechtober #writing

[generallynerdy]

Maybe it does all add up to a single hush (Kanan Jarrus/Cal Kestis)

Summary: 15 years after the Fall, 10 years after the death of Caleb Dume, Kanan Jarrus and Cal Kestis find each other again.

Warnings: Jedi: Fallen Order Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, cursing, brief suicidal ideation/thoughts Word Count: 5,143

Author’s Note: the effort I had to put in not to make this another series...I had to stage an intervention for myself. Anyway, I love Cal and Kanan’s dynamic, whether as partners or as friends, and an Idea struck me that wouldn’t leave. Also, idk how old most people think Cal was when the war ended based on JFO clips, but I always just kind of went with him being the same age as Kanan at the end of the war bc I love them and I need them to know each other. The title is from the poem “So They Say— They Finally Nailed— The Proton’s Size— & Hope— Dies—” by Rosebud Ben-Oni.

Read On AO3

*

When the hard part is over, Cal returns to Bracca, his new lightsaber tucked under Cere’s old robe that still smells like the Temple, with the intention of burning Prauf’s body.

Caleb still had his own robe. He kept it in the deepest part of their shared closet, bringing it out only on the worst days. If Prauf saw it, he never mentioned it, and both boys were grateful for it. There was a lot he didn’t mention.

Cal thinks, sometimes, that Prauf knew who they were before. After all, it’s hard to look at two abandoned kids in the wake of the Clone Wars that can survive being riggers and not think of the thousands of Jedi younglings that died on Empire Day. It’s even harder to ignore two lightsabers and one ratty, brown robe.

Maybe Prauf wasn’t sure.

But he had to be, on that last day, when they found that fighter. When Cal caught him with the Force. He knew then, maybe before. But he still took care of them.

Maybe he knew when the Empire showed up, when Caleb heard the roar of a TIE Fighter and looked instantly to the redheaded boy beside him like he was about to die before his eyes. Maybe that was the moment he put it all together. Or was it his last moment? When the world began to go dark and both Cal and Caleb lashed out in fury at his killers with matching, bright blue blades—did he know? Did he know that he died for the children of an already dying Order?

Standing over the bonfire, Cal holds the Holocron in shaky hands.

Did Prauf know his sacrifice would save the life of every child just like them?

Cal moves away from the flames to the gap in the ground that they’d held Caleb over, his calloused hands clawing at the Ninth Sister, who clutched his throat.

Deep in Cal’s heart, he knows half the reason he beat her was for his best friend. He’d almost given in to rage but stopped himself at the memory of him. Revenge is not the way of the Jedi. But justice is. And so is survival, these days.

Caleb’s lightsaber fell long before he did. When he did fall, he went screaming bloody murder, the noise echoing in the silence that rang in Cal’s ears.

Standing at the edge now, Cal almost considers simply...stepping off.

He can survive it. He has before. And what’s to say that Caleb isn’t waiting at the bottom?

Caleb...used to like animals, he remembers. He preferred them to plants, which are unreadable if you don’t have practise with them. Animals, like people, are complex but tell you in simple terms what they want and what they don’t want. Cal has always been better with plants. They’re simple, grounding, natural. Caleb used to tease him for it.

The only plant he ever managed to grow on this place was a seedling in a boot filled with dirt he kept in their room. It had been making good progress in their last weeks, enough that he’d actually felt some semblance of hope.

And then...and then he’d lost everything. Again.

The Holocron burns in his hand, reminding him that there is more in store for him than an endless chasm. Hundreds of thousands of Force-sensitive children are depending on him now, him and the Mantis crew.

Cal lets out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispers to the wind. “But maybe I can save them.”

On the way back to the Mantis, he turns around to go find the robe and the plant in its boot. The robe smells like blaster fire and the plant is wilting but both are comforting: one because it’s familiar and the other because it’s not quite gone yet.

*

Kanan changes his name.

It doesn’t feel right, hearing his given name from anyone that isn’t Cal or Prauf. The first and only time it happens, nausea sinks in and he quickly makes the change.

Some days, he wants to go back to Bracca. Some part of him still hopes Cal survived the Inquisitors, that he’s waiting for him back at what used to be home, but the logical part of him knows that he’s not. Kanan surviving was a miracle, a fluke, and those don’t happen twice. Sometimes he wishes it had never happened at all.

He managed to save his lightsaber, as broken to bits as it was. It and the necklace Cal gave him are all he has now.

Kanan doesn’t let himself grieve, as much as he knows he needs to. He hardly did it before, on Bracca, but now he won’t allow even a tear. Surviving is the only thing on his mind, though for what he doesn’t know.

When he almost loses that little piece of metal on a string, though, he breaks down sobbing.

It’s the stupidest thing, really. All those lessons on attachment are lost on him now, as he cries over the rusted symbol of the Jedi Order on a piece of scrap metal that Cal had put on a cord for him. He keeps it close to his heart, hanging off his neck every hour of every day if he can help it, and getting that close to losing it is the last straw.

He knows now, why he’s surviving. Because Cal would want him to.

Meeting Hera is a relief. She’s kind but curious, which is more of a bane than it should be.

(Painfully, he’s reminded of himself as a youngling. His Master always said his frequent questions were what drew her to him.)

She’s the first to know about his past, both as a Jedi and a rigger on Bracca. He doesn’t think to mention Caleb, doesn’t think it would matter to anyone, not until after a mission gone bad.

Hera is putting bacta on his wounds and graciously ignoring his constant wincing when she sees it.

She points to the cord after examining what hangs on it for a minute. “For someone who’s trying to be discreet, you wear a lot of Jedi stuff.”

Kanan snorts. “Yeah, well, I won’t get rid of this one.”

“It’s important to you,” she points out. “Can I ask why?”

He hesitates, swallowing roughly. “My best friend gave it to me...on Bracca, befo-before the Inquisitors caught up to us,” he admits. “He didn’t make it.”

Her eyes are full of empathy, something she never lacks. “What was his name?”

“Cal,” he says, voice quiet. “Cal Kestis.”

“If you remember his name,” she promises, “he’ll always be with you.”

It’s not so much a Twi’lek belief as it is her own but it reminds Kanan of Grey more than anyone else. His buir. The clones subscribed to many Mandalorian beliefs, including the echoing of remembrances for the dead. Before the abrupt end of the war, little Caleb used to say his every morning with his Master and buir.

So, he decides to start again. It’s difficult, at first, to even get through the first names, his oldest names.

“Depa Billaba,” he says through tears in the quiet of pre-dawn, “Grey, Styles, Prauf...”

He stops.

It’s hard to think, even harder to say, but he knows he needs to. He needs to tell himself the truth, needs to accept the truth.

“Cal—”

He sobs, shaky and painful. His throat burns just like it did when he fell down the chasm on Bracca, screaming his head off, part out of fear for himself but mostly for fear of what was happening to Cal above him. It hurts to speak it into the world, into the Force and those marching on. Cal is among them now, he knows. He just...has to admit it.

“Cal Kestis,” he finally says, the admission wobbly and half-hearted.

He never loses the necklace again.

*

They’ve finally settled on Bogano, after wiping every trace of it from Imperial data servers. The Holocron is safely locked away in the Vault, guarded by their crew and the Binog, fondly called ‘the big guy,’ mostly by fault of Greez.

Though mostly self-sufficient, occasionally some of them will leave the planet for supplies they can’t make themselves. While off on supply runs, well, they can’t help it if some Imperials just look like easy pickings. Apparently, slavers get the same treatment because Merrin ends up a figure in some sort of oral tradition of a Tatooine family, which Cal finds hilarious. Cere is not so amused and grounds them—literally, in that they can’t leave Bogano—for over a month.

Cal spends most of it repairing old platforms and ziplines, not to mention entertaining the Boglings.

They’re fond of him, for some reason, and BD-1, who loves to run around with them while Cal works. One in particular, named Rabid by Merrin after she stole her entire plate of food, is especially loveable.

Cal snickers as he pulls Rabid off his shoulder. “I have to finish this, then I can play.”

Rabid is not pleased with his answer, nibbling at his trousers.

“Rabid,” he chides, ignoring her in favour of his work. He laughs again. “I used to know somebody who would’ve loved you, annoying as you are.”

BD, who has taken Rabid’s place, beeps curiously.

Cal’s face falls a little. He pauses in his work. “Oh. I guess I’ve never told you about Caleb, huh?”

The little droid shakes his head.

Cal never intended to talk about Caleb to anyone, really, but it all comes pouring out. He tells BD and Rabid all about his old best friend, his confidant. The story is a long one, reaching from the creche all the way to Bracca and its bitter end. By the time he’s finished, his voice is quiet and hesitant, his grief echoing through.

Rabid curls up in his lap, nudging his hand, while BD sits in front of them, tilting his head.

A little light on the side of his scope says that he’s recording. He does that a lot, Cal knows, for prosperity, just like he was programmed to. Cal doesn’t mind, really.

When he finishes, BD gets his attention by chirping.

“Huh? You have something to show me?”

BD’s projector whirrs to life and a blue image appears. It’s Cordova, again, but not a video this time. It’s only a holo, of him and another Jedi—Master Jocasta Nu, Cal realises. Master Cordova is dead asleep on her shoulder and she’s leaned over to kiss his brow.

“Oh,” Cal breathes out, something jarring in his chest.

BD-1 thinks that he and Caleb were—well, were like that.

“I—” he pauses. “I dunno, buddy. I never asked him if...but I think…”

Well. It’d be a stretch to say Cal loved him, but he certainly cared for him more than he ever did anyone else. When they were thirteen and stupid, he might’ve said he had a crush on him. After the Fall, on Bracca, he just...didn't think of it. Caleb was all he had and he clung but he never...thought about what it was, thought about what they were.

It hurts to think of now, all that he missed.

“I don’t know if I did,” Cal tells BD quietly. “But I think I- I think I could have.”

BD asks about Caleb a lot, after that. Maybe he can tell that talking about him makes Cal happy. The others know about the one he lost but they don’t ask. They all have their demons and Cal’s are just...just too great to pile on another person. BD, though, is a little easier. All he wants is to see Cal smile again.

*

“What’s this?”

Kanan doesn’t think to look up at whatever Ezra—the newest addition to the Ghost crew—has swiped from him, until he notices a weight missing from his neck. His head snaps up to where a cord hangs from Ezra’s hand.

“Give that back,” Kanan growls, not meaning to be so aggressive.

Ezra’s eyes widen. He holds it out immediately, dropping it into Kanan’s open hand. “Sorry,” he mutters, watching curiously as Kanan puts it back on.

Almost by instinct, Kanan tucks the piece of scrap metal back under his shirt and breathes out a sigh of relief. He goes back to his datapad. Then, a moment later, when he notices the entire room is still silent, he looks up. Sabine and Zeb have joined Ezra in staring incredulously.

“What?” Kanan asks, his voice back to normal.

“I’ve never seen you that mad before,” Sabine admits with a half-shrug, though her eyes betray her concern.

Zeb nods, arms crossed. “And I’ve never seen you without that thing on your neck.”

“Yeah, you even sleep with it!” Ezra adds. “What’s up with that?”

“I—” He goes to make an excuse but stops, his hand fidgeting with the necklace.

“You don’t have to…” Sabine starts to say, but he shakes his head.

He sighs. To be honest, he’s surprised Zeb and Sabine haven’t asked before. “My best friend gave it to me.”

Ezra immediately sits down across from him, eyes wide. “Another Jedi?”

Admittedly, the kid is a lot like he used to be: always asking questions, always pushing. It’s going to get him in trouble someday but for now, it just gets him more stories out of Kanan, stories about the Jedi.

“Yeah. Yeah, another Padawan. We grew up in the Temple together.” He smiles, a fickle and fleeting thing. “He was picked by a Master before me, so we were separated...at the end. But I found him again, on the planet he was last assigned. He gave me this.”

Ezra’s face is bright, curious. Sabine, on the other hand, looks prepared for a gut-punch.

“What happened to him?” she asks quietly.

Kanan exhales sharply, ruefully. “Inquisitors. After 5 years of nothing, they came out of nowhere. I never saw what happened to him. For all I know, they still have him.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, his face falling.

“You know, Zeb,” Kanan begins, not wanting to make things any sadder, “his Master was a Lasat.”

He scoffs. “No way.”

“He was, swear it on my life!” he claims, raising a hand. “First time I saw you, I thought Master Tapal came back to haunt me for being a bad influence.”

Zeb snickers. “Bad influence? You?”

“Eh, a nudge here and there. We were not good kids.”

He tells them a few stories before Sabine and Zeb are called away by Hera and Chopper, leaving Ezra and Kanan alone. Ezra makes to follow them but stops, his expression cautiously blank.

“What is it, Ezra?” Kanan asks, already knowing that he’s brimming with curiosity.

“You said he was...your best friend?”

He frowns. “Yeah, ever since we were kids. Why?”

“I dunno. The way you talked about him just reminded me of my parents,” Ezra admits hesitantly. “Sappy. Did you—?”

Kanan sighs, touching his necklace again.

He had always been more reckless than Cal, back then. He threw himself into everything, into every situation. No matter the problem or the person, he was all-in. No matter what. And that included Cal. Once he took that step, he was karked. Before he knew it, he was hanging onto the redhead’s every word.

Cal was...different. Kanan had known that for a long time but the war only brought it out.

Kanan had a stupid crush, that was all. But on Bracca, it was everything and more.

He’d known then, known for a long time. Cal had never seen it but he didn’t have to. Kanan was fine the way things were. It didn’t feel right, bringing things up after...well, after. So Cal never knew.

(Sure, he could see the past of things with a single touch of his hands but he’d always been pretty oblivious.)

“Love him?” Kanan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ezra nods.

It’s without hesitation that he answers. “I did.”

When they go in search of Master Luminara, Kanan’s kids buy him a precious few minutes to search for a Cal Kestis in the prisoner logs. He’s not there, of course, but Kanan thinks he prefers that to a death certificate.

*

“Ho-oly shit,” Greez says over comms one day. “You guys better get up here.”

Cal shares a look with Cere, following her out of the workshop with BD on his shoulder. Merrin has already teleported to Greez’s side when they arrive, lightsabers in hand. Greez passes the young man—not so young anymore, Cere has commented teasingly as he desperately shaves away any trace of his age—a pair of electrobinoculars.

Squinting through the scope, he spies a trail of smoke on the horizon attached to a ship.

“Kriffing hells,” Cere says after she gets a look.

In all their 10 years here, no one has ever landed—or crashed, for that matter—on the planet. The few ships that have come into orbit were Imperial and always quickly dealt with before word could get out. This one, however, isn’t exactly your standard Imperial cruiser. And it’s wrecked.

“Looks like a modified VCX-100 light freighter to me,” Greez says. “It’s a nice ship.”

Merrin rolls her eyes. “Are we waiting for them to come to us?”

“Looks like we don’t have to,” Cere declares, still looking through the binocs. “They’re headed this way, six hostiles. Three humans, a Lasat, a Twi’lek, and a droid.”

Greez laughs. “A Lasat? We’re kriffed.”

“Says you,” Merrin snorts.

“I’m with her,” Cal agrees, a cocky smile on his face. “Merrin and I will take the Vault. Cere, Greez, take home. BD will lure the big ones our way.”

“You got it, kid.”

Cere puts a hand on his shoulder before he can follow Merrin—more or less, seeing as she just teleports everywhere. “Be careful.”

The worst part of intruders is that even the hypothetical good ones can’t know Bogano is here. They’ll have to knock them out hard enough for their memories to be spotty and dump them in a nearby system if they’re smart—and they are.

Cal slips on his robe, a gift from Cere, and flips the hood up, making for the Vault.

If these visitors think they can take the Holocron, they have another thing coming.

*

“Are you sure we can find help here?” Ezra asks for the third time as they approach the massive building in the distance. “It looks...deserted.”

Hera sighs for the third time. “Scanners said there were signs of life here in a higher concentration than the rest of the planet. It’s worth checking out.”

Sabine gestures through the mild fog. “There’s buildings up ahead.”

“Good, let’s head there,” Kanan says, a cautious hand on his lightsaber.

Hopping across platforms is a pain, but they all manage to make their way to what looks like a residential area. A small path digs into the ground, leading deeper inside the planet’s crust. With a look at her second in command, Hera starts toward it. However, she stops when Kanan freezes.

“Do you feel that?” he asks suddenly, squinting as he looks into the distance.

Something is...tugging at him. Something in the Force is insistent that he go...that way. The feeling of incompleteness settles inside his chest.

“No…” Ezra replies uneasily. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” After a moment, he decides. “I think I should go this way. You guys go on ahead.”

Zeb scoffs. “I’ll go with you. We don’t know who lived here. Could be Inquisitors for all we know.”

“They generally prefer places with lava,” Ezra counters.

The group splits, with Hera leading Sabine, Chopper, and Ezra into the abode. She and Sabine have their blasters raised, while Ezra keeps a hand on his lightsaber. Chopper is always ready to give someone a nasty shock.

“Anyone home?” Sabine calls.

There’s no answer.

They come across a small kitchen and dining room, where two chairs are pulled out. Over one hangs a small, ratty brown robe with multiple blaster burns.

Ezra plucks it off the back of the seat. “Woah, cool,” he breathes. “Very Jedi-like, huh?”

“Leave it, Ezra,” Hera chides fondly.

“You’d best,” says another voice.

All three of them jump as a lightsaber hums to life. Double-bladed, the weapon burns bright white throughout the room, illuminating its bearer, a woman with dark skin and hair, and her companion.

“Inquisitor!” Ezra cries, lighting his own.

The lightsaber wielder’s friend fires off a blaster right at Hera, who’s shoved out of the way by Sabine. Chopper shrieks, his head spinning.

“Look out!”

On the surface, Zeb follows Kanan to the edge of the platform. There, they find a zip line, which they intend to brave before a series of chirps stops them.

Zeb yelps and lifts his rifle when a droid appears, only stopped by Kanan’s raised hand.

It’s...a buddy droid.

“Hey, little guy,” Kanan greets cautiously. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He beeps excitedly and backs away, indicating that they should follow. With a single leap, he attaches himself to the zipline and whirrs as he zooms all the way down.

“Don’t tell me we’re following the droid,” Zeb groans.

Kanan just smiles. “We’re following the droid.”

Using the Force to balance himself, he leaps atop the zipline and begins to tiptoe his way down. Behind him, Zeb sighs but reaches up to grab the line, following right after him. They land on a platform a good distance away, where a small slope is guarded by two statues; the beings depicted are of an unknown species, one lost to time.

“I don’t like this,” Zeb says as soon as he hops onto the grass. “It’s like the start of a bad horror holo.”

Kanan snorts. “If that were true, it would be raining tookas and massiffs.”

The buddy droid whirrs loudly to get their attention and bounces his way up the sloping path, on top of which sits a fluffy native creature. Kanan doesn’t know what they’re called, but this one is adorable. She chirps at them, much like the droid did.

“Oh, you’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Kanan coos, moving to meet the creature and let her sniff his hand.

She makes a happy noise and nudges him.

“Ugh,” Zeb mutters, “more things.”

The droid and the creature lead them to the entrance of the massive, ancient building that had caught Kanan’s eye from the crash site. He steps in front of Zeb, placing his hand on the runes in the rock as the Force sings. This isn’t what’s calling him, but…

“Something is here,” Kanan whispers.

“I hope it’s not something that wants to eat us,” Zeb says long-sufferingly.

The slab of rock retreats into the space above, leaving an open tunnel of sorts.

“Karabast,” the Lasat curses, “I hate Jedi stuff.”

Kanan rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

It’s a tight fit, but the two squeeze their way through, Kanan leading the way. They exit into a large cavern filled with a few inches of water, just enough to be annoying. Standing in the midst of the cave is a figure in a brown robe. The moment Kanan spots him, he draws his lightsaber and stands in front of Zeb until he can ready his rifle, too.

“You are not meant to be here.”

Kanan frowns. “The Force says otherwise. Who are you?”

“The guardian of this vault. You need to leave,” the figure says.

From underneath their robe, they draw a very familiar weapon. With a snap and a hiss, two blades of yellow light appear. Kanan lights his own lightsaber in response but it’s too little too late.

A green smoke encompasses Zeb, who yelps as he’s flung across the room by a pissed off Nightsister—which makes zero sense because they’re all supposed to be dead.

Kanan makes for his friend, interrupted only by the mysterious guardian rushing at him.

“Where did you get that lightsaber?” the faceless figure hisses.

And, well, Kanan doesn’t know how to answer that question except with another question. “Where did you get yours? ”

Back in the residential platform, Hera leaps in between Ezra and the lightsaber-wielder. “Wait!” she cries.

Both stop, staring at her like she’s crazy.

“That’s a healed kyber crystal, isn’t it?” Hera asks, pointing to her white blade. “You’re not an Inquisitor. You’re a Jedi.”

The woman lowers her lightsaber just slightly. “I was.”

“I’m one, too!” Ezra chirps, popping out from behind Hera. “Er. I’m training to be one!”

Her eyes widen. “A Padawan? Who’s your Master?”

Before he can answer, Hera speaks for him. “Kanan Jarrus. But his name used to be Caleb Dume.”

“Caleb?” she asks, her voice hushed in awe. “Depa Billaba’s Padawan?”

She nods.

Abruptly, the woman turns sharply on her heel, raising her comm unit to her lips and rushing out the door. “Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

“What!?” Ezra and Sabine cry at the same time, the former’s voice cracking.

Without another word, they follow her and her friend outside.

*

Merrin has the Lasat out of the Vault long before Cal gets his opponent to the entrance, admittedly. Lightsaber to lightsaber combat is significantly more balanced than Nightsister magick against a bo-rifle, poor guy.

Still, Cal pushes the intruder to the top of the Vault’s slope, the man just on the edge of slipping.

That’s when Cere’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

Hand grasping the intruder’s shirt, holding him above the edge, Cal freezes. He meets brown eyes and suddenly can’t breathe, gaze drifting to the cord around the taller man’s neck. His gloveless fingers just barely skim the material, Force signatures exploding in front of his eyes.

And suddenly, he can see it. He can see himself, painstakingly painting that symbol onto the metal and bartering for a cord. He sees an older Caleb sobbing in the quiet of an unfamiliar room, clutching that necklaces like a lifeline.

“Did you—?”

“Love him? I did.”

A shaky breath passes his lips.

“Caleb?” he asks, voice breaking on the name that’s so unfamiliar on his tongue.

The grip on his wrist loosens.

Kanan hears the woman’s voice, clear as day, but he almost doesn’t believe it at first. He almost doesn’t believe when he hears that whispered question. Caleb. It’s the name of a stranger and yet—yet when that robe’s hood slips off to reveal red hair and bright green eyes, he feels like he’s never known any other name.

“Cal?”

The Force wasn’t calling him to the Vault. It was calling him to its guardian.

Silence falls, the rest of the world fading away. All they’ve been through, all they’ve seen, and it all stops in this moment. It all adds up to this.

Cal lets go of his shirt, letting him balance precariously at the top of the muddy slope down from the Vault. Neither of them speaks—neither of them knows what to feel, except bright, unparalleled joy.

Cal doesn’t let himself flinch when Caleb reaches, his fingers just barely skimming his cheek.

He doesn’t get much further. Green smoke encompasses his body and before Cal knows it, his best friend is being flung from the Vault entrance to the platform beyond, screaming as he goes. The platform beyond, where the Oggdo used to reside, is covered in flowers. It was there that Cal planted his little sapling in a boot and there that the plant spread, covering almost every inch of land with budding blue and yellow flowers.

Cal whirls around to see Merrin, her eyes glowing green.

“Merrin, no!” he protests, eyes wide with desperation. “That’s Caleb!”

Merrin’s glowing fades as she glances at the nearby Lasat and her friend’s horrified face. “My mistake,” she says in that tone that says she knows exactly who he is.

(They were taking too long to speak, in her opinion.)

Cal huffs at her before getting a running start toward the entrance, using the Force to balance himself as he slides down that muddied slope, sailing right toward Caleb. Near the end, he leaps into the air, propelling himself a mere few feet from his collapsed companion.

“Caleb!” he cries, stumbling the last few steps and falling to his knees, where Caleb is face-down in the damp grass, his hair-tie mysteriously missing.

Caleb is—well, he’s okay. He’s just...wheezing with laughter.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and flips over just as Cal makes it to him, his chest heaving with the effort. And still, he laughs, a half-mad sound.

“Are you o—?” Cal is cut off by his own yelp when Caleb flings himself up from the ground and pulls Cal with him.

He embraces the redhead, dragging them both to their feet so he can swing Cal around. Cal shrieks and hitches his legs up on his hips, as difficult as that is with the man’s height—the bastard, he grew. He reaches desperately for Caleb’s shoulders to hold onto when they spin, completely unaware of Cere and the rest of Caleb’s group appearing on the platform.

Finally, Caleb stops, looking up at Cal with shining eyes and a smile that could kill a man. Cal leans forward, letting his forehead fall against his and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I thought the Inquisitors had you,” Caleb whispers, a thousand more words in the back of his mind, too many to count.

Cal’s eyes well with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

Caleb has always been more reckless than Cal but the latter was the one to hear his words echo through that necklace, an admission years too late. It’s because of that little echo that Cal buries a hand in the hair that falls to his shoulders and pushes his head upward, meeting him in a searing kiss.

Out of shock, Caleb both squeaks—adorable, Cal thinks—and clutches the back of Cal’s shirt for a moment before dropping him. Luckily, his instinct has him landing on his feet.

The drop pulls him away and, looking up, he sees Caleb looking shell-shocked.

He just grins, grabs the taller man’s shirt, and pulls him in for another kiss, this one saying much more than the first. Caleb plants his feet and buries a hand in Cal’s hair for good measure.

They both ignore Greez cackling in the distance and Sabine’s whispered: “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck —”

Because in that moment, all is right with the galaxy. Cal’s flowers are fully grown and blossoming beneath their feet, Caleb’s robe is waiting for him in the other room, and they have each other again.

And that’s all they’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#kanan jarrus x cal kestis #kanan jarrus #cal kestis #kanan jarrus/cal kestis #cal kestis x kanan jarrus #cal kestis/kanan jarrus #sw #star wars #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #jedi fallen order #jfo #star wars rebels #sw: rebels #river #rivika #generallynerdy