#i feel like i've answered asks about children with the healer before

[bookwormally]

(I've been trying to get a feel for character voices and everyone wanted a scene like this, right?)

After breakfast, after retelling arguably the hardest week of his life, Will only wants one thing. Maybe two things. He wants to lie down in his bed and try not to dream. He'd also like to hold Nico in a place that's not trying to kill them, but that can wait. Nico had set off for the Hades cabin with the face of one going to do something important. He'll hardly begrudge Will for closing his eyes while he waits.

But cabin seven isn't empty when he pushes the door open.

For a moment it's like he's trapped in Epiales' nightmares again. Lester is standing in the center of the cabin, an empty quiver on his back. He turns and Will braces for anger, for a god's wrath. 'Heal him! My children are supposed to be the best.' Old blue eyes meet his and widen.

Then the sunlight brightens and Lester wavers like a mirage. He seems taller, older, brighter, and then he steadies. Apollo's eyes are the same ancient blue, but he's a proper adult now. Though his curls are thicker than they used to be, with brown undertones he never would have allowed before. "Will!" He's swept into the warmest hug he's ever known, though it's not the perfect fit his mom always finds. That doesn't matter now, not when Will can wrap his arms around his dad and pretend his throat isn't locked tight.

The moment stretches and Will manages to take a breath and then another. He’s aware of a shake and tries not to feel like a baby. The feeling drops away quickly, however, when he realizes his dad is shaking him and not the other way around. He pats Apollo’s back and has to ask, “Are you crying?”

“Yes,” Apollo answers immediately, unrepentant. “I’m delighted that you’re back from that awful place intact.”

“Somehow,” Will says with a touch of false bravado. He likes to think he’s better at it than his dad. “Nico and I did it together.”

Apollo squeezes him and then leans back. His hands rest on Will’s shoulders. It’s still hard to reconcile Lester, his age and what seemed like constant terror, and Apollo, the literal god of the sun whose old self-confidence was beyond planet earth in size. He glances at his dad’s hair again; he’s probably not the only one still trying to figure it out. At least right now his dad is here and looks like someone old enough to be so. His gaze feels the same no matter the form: heavy, old, and so brightly blue.

Will meets his eyes and tries not to cringe by how wet Apollo’s are. They’re alone; it’s not that bad. “I really am okay,” he tries to reassure. Part of him wishes he could stop being the one who has to.

“I still needed to check, best healer of Camp Halfblood or not.” Apollo touches a finger to the tip of Will’s nose and warmth sweeps through him, banishing the remaining ache. “You still need to rest.”

“I know that.” Will makes a face at him and the advice that falls near constantly out of his own mouth. “If you were going to come anyway, couldn’t you have come to breakfast? Mr. D and Chiron wouldn’t care.” Other gods might, but his dad has earned some rule bending in his opinion.

Apollo makes a face back, nose wrinkling. “I knew they could better handle you two after all that. I also do not need more commentary from Dionysus about my behavior. Younger siblings,” he ends with a scoff. But it quickly turns back into a small smile. “Plus, I wanted to check on you without you suffering me with an audience.” It’s a joke at his expense and Will smiles back.

“Thanks, dad.”

Unsurprisingly, this gets him swallowed in another hug. He doesn’t mind too much, letting the light and warmth that’s in his makeup surge in the embrace of their source. He doesn’t need to fear the shadows like he has for so long, but it’s nice to soak in the light again.

#tsats #trials of apollo #Apollo #Will Solace #the sun and the star #my writing

[filipinfodump]

I was able to get the story from the woman who works for us who I will call Ka-J. and I had some interesting things come up from similar aswang stories I had read before. Here's some of the highlights of the story while I try to work on the transcript maybe for the next few days:

Aswangs could possess people and would often do so for selfish and even petty reasons. The possessed person was possessed for such a petty and miniscule reason that I'm honestly so perplexed. She possessed the woman because she... smelled good???? Like girl WHAT???? Just ask for her perfume brand or her laundry detergent brand holy shit

They fear holy items like crosses and rosaries. The possessed person from the story was cutting up rosaries and that's what primarily gave the aswang away.

The aswang could make the person's voice change. The possessed person was speaking at a strange tone extremely unfamiliar to her children.

The aswang may speak different languages, maybe unintelligible to the average person. I asked if it was in Latin or whatever stereotypical thing, but Ka-J said she could not determine that.

When the aswang was asked "Where did you come from? Above or below?", the aswang answered that she was "From below." implying that aswang do come from hell at least from this one incident.

The aswang exorcism didn't fully work the first time around so they had to do it twice. After the first instance, she was apparently worse.

They dislike calamansi which is something I've seen in some sources. This was done as an emergency way to freak out the aswang.

Folk healers could exorcise the aswang out of the person. Sometimes they may need the assistance of multiple healers. Ka-J. had told me that there were up to 7 to 8 healers during the final exorcism.

Some other interesting bits from the story that was told to me after or are things that seem just a little interesting to not add in but didn't fit the rest of the list:

The folk healers used an item she called "saway" (Note that Ka-J. is Bisaya but considering this takes place locally here, they probably call it a different name in the Tagalog region). She describes it as a brown (stick?) thing with a thorn attached. She says that there's a bit of gold on the item and when it pricks the aswang, the wound doesn't heal. I don't know what this item is, but it's similar to some stories I read where they would use certain tree branches or the buntot pagi (stingray tail) to injure the aswang.

The aswang was apprently a 50-year-old aswang woman. Very specific thing to have come from the exorcism. Besides that, she also gave her name and her "earth address" but Ka-J has forgotten what these were but it's probably pretty local.

One of the folk healers have a YouTube channel where he uploads the cases he handles. I had the displeasure of finding one of the videos and it is genuinely disturbing. It was just a woman crying but there was something eerie about it. I may not investigate further and I'm not going to link it here not only because of its disturbing nature, but this would essentially probably doxx me and I don't want these poor people's faces floating around because of my post.

I will try to get to actually transcribing + translating the short interview from the recording in maybe a couple of days. I think I may need to take a short break though since I feel a little uneasy after hearing and watching all that.

#filipinfodump #philippines #filipino #aswang #filipino folklore #filipino folk monsters #filipino monsters #filipino witchcraft #filipino aswang #folk healers #folk healing #folk monsters #witchcraft #exorcism #albularyo #possession tw #demon tw #mod maya

[high-dragon-bait]

Tell us about your Solavellan's kids

Hello it's been awhile since you've sent this ask BUT I've finally got the energy to answer it

Their names are Faelan and Calla, they are twins and I call them the Dread Pups

My Lavellan, Ruwth, found out she was pregnant after Solas left her, but before he disappeared altogether. She did not reveal this to him and there's a couple reasons for that:

She was planning on waiting until after Corypheus was dead and they could discuss everything like Solas had promised her. She thought bringing it up now would only cause more pain and she wanted to avoid that

She hadn't decided if she was even going to continue the pregnancy, with her and Solas' relationship in tatters and the Inquisition's reputation on the line, she didn't want to needlessly complicate things and strongly considered ending the pregnancy for those reasons

Ultimately, she does decide to have the babies (though she didn't know it was babies until well into the pregnancy, possibly even birth, medieval times!) after Solas left she had lost everything, her clan, her calling as a keeper, her identity as Dalish, and now her lover. She saw her children as a chance to start something new, and something that was hers

Solas of course does find out, he's devastated, obviously, and hand picks a healer from his ranks to go to her and deliver the children. Ruwth has no idea, to her the woman was just a normal, well-educated elven mage

Her daughter Calla was born first, her son Faelan came seven minutes after. I'm considering writing a whole fic about her pregnancy and such like I'm doing for my FenHawke kid. I love my fankids okay.

Ruwth loves them with all her heart, they're her world, and Solas protects them all from afar

As for the twins' personalities they're kind of going through a rehash. They're old OCs, I was 16 when I first came up with them, because of that they're not. The best. In terms of their writing. So I'm rebooting them, but here's what I've got

They're kind of meant to be emblematic of the "two sides" of Solas. Calla taking after his younger, rebellious side, and Faelan taking after his older, sage-like melancholy side. They're still their own characters first, but that is an idea I'm playing with.

They're... pretty normal, honestly, for essentially demigods. So normal in fact that I like to imagine when Sera first meets them she says something like "You sure they're Solas'? I thought they'd be... weirder." But they are born with inherent magic, their magic manifesting from more or less the moment they could walk, and they're very good at old "forgotten" magic.

Calla is wild. Like I said she's rebellion personified, so she's. A handful. She always seems angry but she never knows what exactly she's angry at. She just IS. She just feels this need to go against the grind like it's her purpose. Like it's what she's made for. Ruwth is one of the only people in the world that can calm her.

She's proven exceptionally gifted at shapeshifting. Which, when you've got a kid that's always mad, her being able to turn into any animal whenever does not make it easier. She's not as good as hiding as she thinks. Her eyes never change (and she has her father's eyes), no matter what form she's in. Beyond that... no real cat could ever look so much like a person sulking in the corner

Faelan is calm. Kind of distressingly so sometimes. He's very quiet, and very curious. This means that he's really really good at wandering off completely unnoticed. He likes to explore! It's what he does! He doesn't really seem to grasp why it's so unnerving to find him staring at people going about their daily business, totally silent and unnoticed, from the roof over the garden. How did he even get up there? Best not to ask.

His gift is in dreaming. Genuinely some believe he "dreamed in the womb" that's how natural it is to him. Some people even think he seems so detached and uncaring of the world because he doesn't belong in it. This is the dream to him, the Fade is where he truly belongs. He doesn't honestly seem to understand the difference between the waking world and the Fade, it's kind of like asking the difference between day and night. Maybe it looks different, maybe one is a little more frightening, but you're just as alive, and everything is still just as there. Why does everyone seem to think of them as so separate?

So maybe they're not so normal. But listen Ruwth's live has been so weird at this point that raising two somewhat odd children is NOTHING. She is a great mother, who loves her kids for who they are.

As for Solas... the Pups are aware of him. Ruwth's told them about their father, but they don't really see him as much to them. He's not there, after all, for awhile he was almost a bedtime story. This mysterious, but kind and wise presence that is always watching over them. Like a benevolent ghost. As they got older that faded, and he became a real ghost. Their father is dead, and they never knew him.

(Or so it'll be if Dreadwolf doesn't change anything................)

#Dragon Age #My Dragon Age #Solavellan #DAI #dragon age inquisition

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Nice, very creative! I loved your next generation hc although isn't it a bit odd that both James and Albus are taller than Harry considering that Harry is tall-ish but not very tall in canon and Ginny is super short and small like a Prewett. Lmao I mean I don't really understand biology much but I feel like J and A would have to be suuper lucky to end up with those genes . Yeah but anyway I REALLY loved Auror Lily and Pediatric healer Teddy 🥰❣️

[for who hasn't read it, this question references this post]

I have a million old asks to answer but God, I'm fangirling over this question. I've never thought I'd actually have the opportunity to talk about biology of all things in an HP-centric blog!

To avoid sounding obnoxious I won't get into details but I am a biology nerd.

Ok, now I'm going to answer. I'm going to try to stay away from excessive technicalities. Before we start, I'm sorry but I refuse to use the imperial system, the metric system is the only acceptable thing.

Statistically, a good way to determine height is to take the parents' heights, find the middle and then add 13 cm if it's a guy, or take them away if it's a girl. And I imagine Harry and Ginny having a height difference that is somewhere between 20 and 25 cm. This would bring James and Albus around Harry's height, but it's a statistic, so it's done with the assumption that the parents have a height that can be considered average in their families.

Now, Ginny is short, sure, but all her brothers are very tall, so the possibility of Ginny having recessive "tall genes" is very high. Stupid example: my father and his brother are a lot taller than the other men in their family, they just took after one great-grandfather that was really really tall and their cousins didn't. My grandfather wasn't that tall either but he clearly had that recessive gene that he passed on to his sons (in my grandma's family they aren't tall either). My brother is even taller and I can assure you that my mum is not tall. Now imagine that you are the only short one of seven children, the possibility of carrying "tall genes" is super high.

Another thing to take into consideration is that while height is determined at 80% by genetic factors, there's still a solid 20% of free game. This is why people keep getting taller than the previous generations even in a society where height is not as relevant as it was when you had to daily fight for your life. There are environmental and nutritional factors to consider. So boys are usually slightly taller than their fathers and that would be especially true with the Potter boys considering that Harry spent ten years of his childhood (the more impactful time in terms of external influences on the body) suffering malnutrition. That Harry still managed to become objectively tall means that he probably had some serious tall genes in him.

This said, I just wanted James and Albus to be tall. If we need to find a lucky one with the genetic pool is actually Teddy. I know that no one remembers this, but at the end of the books, Harry is taller than Remus.

Also, I'm so happy that you liked pediatric healer Teddy and especially auror Lily! Lily was always an Auror in my head! Just like Ginny for the Weasleys, Lily is the first girl born in the Potter family for several generations it seems, she needs to be a badass with a cool job! Making her a Quidditch player like Ginny was too obvious. And having Harry's little girl doing his dangerous job is definitely the universal payback against Harry for all the heart attacks he gives to the people that love him over the years.

As for Teddy, he's a softie. He needs to have an adorable job but he's also Head Boy, so you know he was good at school and he would be interested in healing because of Remus. A pediatric healer seemed the perfect compromise. I've also always been fascinated by the whole idea of children being bitten and becoming werewolves at such a young age, like how do you deal with that? So I thought it would be something cool and personally important for Teddy to explore in his career.

#james sirius potter #albus severus potter #harry potter #hinny #ginny weasley #teddy lupin #lily luna potter

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

All right. I’ll throw you another bone. =) So…Do you think that Dr. Strange and Beauty will ever get engaged and such? Does she want kids or no? What inspired you to create her specifically? I have several different characters for various plots and purposes. Though I also test out new ones periodically to see what sticks. Do you have other characters?

I'm so grateful for these questions, although I think a couple of the answers will surprise you. Going to put them under the cut, so only people really interested will take a gander.

Doctor Strange and Beauty? *sighs* At this point I can't even imagine it.🥺You may have noticed we've been far less active for some time now. Partly due to Stephen Mun pursuing their career path as a doctor, taking their boards, etc. But coinciding with that, we seem to have lost some vital magic between our characters since something happened back in October with a third blogger. The incident prompted Stephen Mun to announce that they would be open to other romance threads, and to completely isolate ours. And in all honestly, I'm starting to feel like Beauty barely exists in 'his' world anymore.💔Frankly, I'm rather blue about this--and this chance to speak of it aloud helps, so thank you.

I can say the Beauty feels like he's her Soulmate, and if they were to stay together, she hasn't given up hope of convincing him that he'd be an amazing father. She comes from a big family, she's naturally a nurturer due in part to that, and she wants to have children some day. In her mind and heart, Stephen is the first man she's ever dreamed of making a family with. Poor dear.

I started roleplaying with doctorstrangeaskblog well before covid, and Beauty's motivations then are consistent with now. She saw this amazing, wise, essentially lonely and sad, but good man (who happened to be a Hero), who simply couldn't see for himself all the good that he brings to the world. Who was skittish and truly didn't believe he was worthy of unconditional love. Her mission became to convince him otherwise, and to love him and support him however he would (very gradually) allow.

I've had two other roleplay characters. A Healer from Kamar-Taj named Tess, with a sad backstory (isn't that how everyone comes there? in her case, her fiance died in a plane crash when The Blip happened, and soon after, she had a miscarriage and spiraled into depression). She found new purpose in the Mystic Arts, and observing the Sorcerer Supreme (a different Stephen) from afar, she developed quite a crush. That RP eventually petered out (my disappointment).

I was also involved in an RP with someone who created a completely fictional character, with Benedict Cumberbatch as the face claim. That one didn't last very long, and that blogger is now inactive. However, their relationship is the basis of my (stalled) romantic, erotic WIP Scarlett and the Professor (available on my sideblog, @wide-eyedscottishlass), so that I'm forever grateful for the inspiration that roleplay provided.

Going forward, I would adore a chance to RP with a Defender Stephen, and would likely adapt my Tess to fit in such a storyline.

Thank you so much for asking about these things. It feels really good--and catharic--to talk about them!

ANONYMOUSLY ASK THE MUN SOMETHING YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THEM, THEIR PORTRAYAL, OR WHAT THEY WILL/WON’T WRITE.

#Munday #Beauty Lincoln #once upon a time #BeautifullyStrange

[jinxed-games]

How would the ROs react to a Fire Emblem situation? (Their kid with MC somehow travels back to the past and they get to meet them) both crushing stage and before crushing stage 👀

For this we are skipping the 'aaaaa magic' part of the non!etrean ROs

Before Crushing -- Pt 1

The Mage: I mean they really don't have a before-crushing stage... but let's say before they realize MC is crushing too. Panic? Panic would 100% be their first reaction. They, on account of the way magic and genetics work, would be able to confirm that the child was theirs. (They would pointedly ignore the MC side of the parentage, no matter how much their child insisted on it.) The Mage would be the only one (out of the ROs) with the ability to send their child back to their proper time.

The Royal: I can't describe the confusion that would come from this situation. While they certainly expect that someday they would have children, they wouldn't know what to do with the knowledge that someday they have a child with the MC. Definitely would make them consider their feeling for the MC a little bit deeper

Alistair: He would ask so many questions. Alistair would actually annoy his child back to their time. I don't see him being too phased about the fact that it's the MC's child too. If anything it would just click into place feelings for the MC that he didn't recognize before. Kind of like, 'Oh! Having a future with them is what I want!' He would wait until the child is gone though, before having any conversation about it.

Maeve: tbh after the shock wears off she'd scold them for going back in time? Maeve would absolutely refuse to know anything about the future. Unless the MC prompted a discussion about the fact that the child is theirs she wouldn't bring it up. But I can see the whole process of the relationship going a little bit faster than it would normally.

The Healer: They wouldn't ever acknowledge the child. Would also put a significant halt on their flirting with the MC.

Dorin: So if it's before he and the MC start actually getting along, then he will not acknowledge the child in the MC's presence. Depending on how much or little the child is like him it could get incredibly comedic. After that period though he would be awkward about it, but willing to accept the idea. Really the worst thing about the experience for him is how Theven would tease him about it.

#All ROs #The Mage #The Royal #Alistair #Maeve #The Healer #Dorin #asks #love how its just a cute little ask until the healer #i feel like i've answered asks about children with the healer before #which is why i'm not excluding them entirely #pt. 2 soon

[arrowflier]

oh my god your xmen au!! i've just recently thought about them having powers and ian should def be a healer ❤️

it's so good, i'd love for you to continue or like... do another mutant au (same setting but later? im not picky haha)

as always, your writing is truly amazing!

Yeeesss thank you thank you thank you. I've been wanting to so bad but I'm already neglecting all my WIPs so I needed this excuse.

For everyone else, original here. I'm also tagging this for A.U.gust (hosted by the amazing @gallavichthings) because their professions are inspired by prompts 7 and 19.

---

Ian was crouched over a client, hands flat on a wrinkled and twisted back, when Mickey fell through the door.

Ian stiffened, and not just because his gift was working on the man stretched out on the table in front of him. Mickey attempted to straighten himself on the coat rack by the door, but only succeeded in knocking it over, hands slick with blood.

Not his own, by the looks of it, and that was the only reason Ian kept working.

“What’s that racket?” his client croaked, trying to lift his head, but Ian pressed harder and pushed his gift deeper into the man’s muscles, forcing his neck to relax.

Ian winced as his own neck tensed further, but forced his head straight so he could watch as Mickey stumbled through the room before finally collapsing onto a chair. His head was down, but Ian could see faint streaks of red at his hairline, glistening in his dark hair when he ran a shaky hand through it. The spikes on his shoulders, exposed by a tear in his black shirt, lay flat and weak and similarly wet against his pale skin.

Ian swallowed hard, and removed his hands from the body in front of him.

“You’re done,” Ian rasped, waiting for the usual weariness and weakness to fade. He rubbed his eyes with a hand that felt more gnarled than it was, and grimaced. His eyelids felt like sandpaper.

“That’s it?” his client asked. They weren’t one of his usuals, just someone that heard about him from a friend. Ian tried to accept new clients where he could, especially those that found him by word of mouth—there wasn’t much else he could do in the way of advertising without a license or registration for his unorthodox mutation.

“That’s it,” Ian confirmed, and tapped the edge of the table impatiently, waiting for the man to get up and leave. He should be perfectly capable of that sort of movement for at least a few days, if he didn’t do anything too stupid with his newfound physical freedom.

“I heard you offer…other services,” the old man said slyly, twisting to look at Ian as he sat up and swung his legs toward the floor. “For a price, of course,” he added, smiling like he knew something.

Clearly, he did not.

“No anymore,” Ian answered shortly. “And never for patrons of your type.”

“Of my type?” the man repeated, voice now rising with suppressed anger. “And what does that mean, you mutant scum?”

“Means he don’t like wrinkly old man balls no more,” Mickey called out from across the room, and Ian had never been so grateful to hear his rough voice, despite what it was saying.

“It doesn’t,” he assured his client. “I mean, I don’t, but—”

“No need to explain, boy,” his client stated—probably ex-client now, and Ian should really feel worse about watching him leave.

Instead, he held his breath until the door slammed behind that narrow, weak back, and then immediately darted over to throw the bolt.

Room secured, Ian took a moment to breathe, in and out, as the last of the other man’s fatigue finally left him.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Mickey asked, somewhat quieter, behind him. “Or are you gonna come patch me up, doc?”

Ian turned to see Mickey struggling to rise from his seat, and was there in a few long strides to push him down again with a firm hand on his shoulder. Mickey hissed as Ian rubbed his spikes the wrong way, but let himself be secured.

Without thinking about it, Ian stroked his hand down, following those dangerous barbs along the length of Mickey’s bare arm. He wasn’t worried about them; he had seen firsthand the danger they could do, throughout the years, but never had Mickey harmed him.

Well, at least not without reason.

And he had clearly come to Ian for a different reason, this time. It had been a few weeks since they’d seen each other, and in that time Mickey had apparently found someone new to piss off, judging by the blood on his spikes. Someone that didn’t already know all his tricks.

“You have to stop doing this,” Ian said accusingly, gesturing at Mickey in general, and the other man snorted, then winced when it opened a cut on his face.

“Define ‘this’,” he challenged, and Ian shrugged.

“Picking fights, I guess,” he answered. “I know you have that new gig at the bar, security or whatever—”

“Bodyguard, doc, it’s a little more impressive—”

“But you don’t always have to jump straight to violence.”

“Why” Mickey asked, quirking a bleeding eyebrow. “I’m paid to be a badass, Gallagher, and you always fix me up just fine.”

Ian shook his head, eyes scanning for the worst of Mickey’s injuries. Thankfully, they were few—a slowly seeping gash at his hairline, the source of the blood about to drip into his blue eyes; an oddly bent finger; a patch of quills at the base of his neck that looked nearly torn out, like someone had gotten hold before Mickey flexed them.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Ian insisted absently, trailing his fingers from Mickey’s shoulder to his neck, to his face, heedless of the red trail they left on pale skin.

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, bending his head obediently when Ian pushed it back for better light. “The principle is that you like havin’ an excuse to get your hands on me.”

“Could get my hands on you anyway,” Ian mused, digging his fingers roughly into Mickey’s hair as if to prove a point.

Mickey hissed, but smirked through it.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned lightly. “Think I'm that easy, huh?”

“Know you’re that easy,” Ian murmured, leaning in closer than he strictly needed to to finish surveying the damage.

Mickey blinked, eyes only inches away from Ian’s own.

“Get those healin’ hands on me then,” he breathed, and Ian didn’t bother to point out that they already were.

Instead, he moved one hand over the scratch on Mickey’s scalp, one hand to the damaged quills on his neck, and his mouth to Mickey’s bottom lip.

And he reached inside himself for his power, and pushed.

They both gasped, deepening the sudden kiss almost by accident as Ian’s power coursed through them, between them. Mickey’s cuts started to heal even as they opened on Ian’s skin, quills bristling and growing strong again as tiny pinpricks of red showed on Ian’s own neck.

Let go of her, Ian heard in his mind, Mickey’s voice ordering some creep to release the girl he was trying to carry from the club.

I’m just gettin her home, man

Thin fingers reach for Mickey’s jacket, Ian’s jacket, their jacket. Grasp the hem, tug faintly, fall again on a limp arm.

I don’t fuckin’ think so

Pain in his fists, then pain on his back as someone else joins the fight, someone Ian can’t see. Sharp fingernails in his hair, on his neck, gripping, twisting.

A flare. Quills puffing from their sleek layer against warm skin, finding their target. The slippery wet feeling of blood on his shoulders, wetting them down again.

Okay, it’s okay now as frail hands grasp at him again to stand straight. Come on, it’s okay.

Ian’s hands fell from Mickey’s wounds as the last ones finally closed. He ignored the wetness in his eyes, the wetness on Mickey’s face, pretended they were blood and not tears.

“You did good,” he whispered against Mickey’s searching lips. “So good, Mickey.”

“Shut up, doc,” Mickey murmured back. “Give me something different to feel good about.”

So Ian did.

He kissed him again. Bit his lip, licked it clean. Ran a finger over the indentation, felt the bite on his own mouth as he soothed it. He scratched at Mickey’s back, didn’t recall when it was bared, felt hot lines down his own and couldn’t tell if they came from Mickey’s dirty hands or his own neatly trimmed nails.

It was always like this, when it happened. A feedback loop, not knowing where he stopped and Mickey began as they hurt and healed and hurt again. Hurt in good ways rather than bad, ways they had been hurting and helping each other since they were just children in a schoolyard chasing bullies. Ian lost himself in it, lost himself in Mickey’s mouth and eyes and skin and his own touches upon it, a constant blooming sensation deep in the reserves of his power.

He wondered what it felt like for Mickey, but then he didn’t have to. He never had to. He could feel that too: the tug of quills pushed the wrong way, the press of them into skin at both point and base, the prickling sensation when they settled, flared, settled again within sensitive skin and muscle.

But they never stabbed on purpose. They never hurt more than he could take; than they could take. And as he let Mickey stand, let him walk Ian back toward the bedroom on newly strengthened legs, Ian embraced all the feelings it invoked in the both of them.

Tomorrow, Mickey would most likely leave again, possibly even before breakfast. He would go back to his job, the one Ian didn’t like, and work and live and thrive until he needed Ian again.

It would feel worse, that separation, if Ian couldn’t feel the truth in every movement they made against each other in the night.

Mickey didn’t need Ian to fix him up; he never had. He had been doing fine on his own long before they met.

No, Mickey didn’t come to Ian because he liked to pick fights. He picked fights because he liked to come to Ian, and for now, that was enough.

#daily speedwrite #x-men au #A.U.gust #gallavich #ian gallagher #healer ian #mickey milkovich #bodyguard mickey #tw: mentions of violence #tw: blood #injured mickey #fanfic

[mystery-salad]

OC Interview: Matthias

Tagged by @just-eyris-things 💖 and I'm late to the party but here we are!

INTRODUCTION

1. Can you introduce yourself?

He offers a charming smile, "Matthias , Commander of the Pact."

2. What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

"I'm a bisexual man, and very much a free bachelor still." He gives a wink

3. Where and when were you born?

"Right here in Divinity's Reach twenty five years ago. Wonderful city to grow up in, made a lot of connections that got me to where I am today."

4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

"While the standard sword and shield are the usual for soldiers like me, I prefer dual swords. I'm not one to take a defensive stance when I can charge right in against danger. It's good to take charge on and off the field of battle."

5. Lastly, are you happy?

He lets out a soft, charming chuckle before answering. "If I wasn't happy I surely would've moved on to other job propositions by now, my parents surely would prefer I took a safer role after my time in the Seraph. But there's something fulfilling about being able to travel and help people in a way I couldn't if I'd remained here."

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

"Oh they're wonderful, despite their status they love to keep a low profile though, so I'll avoid dragging this question out too long. We get along well and I try to write or visit when the opportunity arises."

2. Have you ever ran away from home?

"Never even had the thought to, there wasn't much to regret or bemoan of my childhood." He smiles fondly as he recalls, "There were night sneaking out with friends of course, boys will be boys, but I'd always come back by morning. Hopefully to parents none the wiser I'd even left, though I was not as stealthy as I'd thought."

3. Would you consider marriage or having children?

"While I'm in such a dangerous line of work I wouldn't dream of raising a family. I'd hate to be one of those absent fathers off to war. But perhaps, when retirement inevitably comes knocking and it's time to pass the torch on, I may settle down and find The One."

4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

"Of course not! I've had nothing but the most trustworthy and kind friends here. And while I know rumors spread that I and my co-Commander, Aildyn (@ascalonianpicnic), had a rocky start to our partnership, I can assure that the two of us work wonderfully together. Just a small cultural conventions bump was all."

5. Which friend knows everything about you?

"Oh, telling any friend everything leaves little to still keep each other on your toes does it? We all have our stories and dalliances we save for more private moments." His smile softens a little, as if fondly thinking of someone. "Nevertheless there is someone who knows the most about me, I'll keep her name secret to avoid any unwanted attention it may garner for her."

ASKED BY FANS

1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?

He feigns insult before offering a smile softening any potential misunderstanding on the action, "Me, illiterate? Id never hear the end of it from my family if I was, with how expensive the schooling I received was. And I highly doubt Logan would have put forth someone lacking in the ability to hold up the more tedious side of running an organization."

2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

"I'm not one for predictions really, I prefer to live in the moment and enjoy what surprises may come."

3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

"Hmm, I like to pride myself on being observant, so this isn't a particularly easy one to recall. But as a child, it took me quite a few years to realize that not all 'bite sized food was actually bite sized. Had some hilarious moments at dinner parties my parents hosted, not that they'd agree with the results."

4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?

"I'm quite proud to say I'm in tip top shape, physically and mentally. The safety of the world is in very stable hands." He holds his hands out slightly for flourishing emphasis before settling back for the next question.

5. What is your current main goal?

"While we are between dragon threats at the moment, a wonderfully relaxing place to be, we do in fact have some behind the scenes research going on in a few various matters. I'm not at public liberty to talk about then yet, but rest assured when the Pact makes another move you'll be the first to know the scoop."

CHOICES

1. Drink or food?

"Drink of course, a nice drink with friends can happen anywhere at any time. And I'm quite the amicable socialite if I say so myself."

2. Cats or dogs?

"I enjoy both, though I prefer the independence of cats. They know what they want at all times, and I'm afraid I'm far too busy for the training a dog would require of me."

3. Early bird or night owl?

"I'm an early riser by nature, nothing like getting a solid mourning routine and breakfast in before starting the day!"

4. Optimist or pessimist?

"I fancy myself an optimist, this job would get oppressively depressing otherwise wouldn't it? You've got to be able to focus on the bright side as you look forward."

5. Sassy or sarcastic?

"I enjoy some sarcasm here and there, sass has little use in mature conversation aside from hindering the mood. Sarcasm meanwhile, can still let things roll forward with intent thrown in."

HAVE YOU EVER

1. Been caught sneaking out?

He laughs, "While I'd underestimate the count of how many times my parents caught me either sneaking out or back in after a fun night with friends, I'm sure they'd overestimate it. But yes, they've caught me at least once."

2. Broke a bone?

"I've broken an arm or leg here and there, sometimes you just slip up or fall the wrong way of course. Especially when your enemies would like to cause far worse harm. But thankfully we have access to wonderful healers, and I've never been down for long."

3. Received flowers?

The admirers of the Pact and the hard work we do are very kind, they certainly make their adoration and appreciation known. I've received more flowers than I'd have room for even if I filled my office with vases."

4. Ghosted someone?

"Of course not, I'd hate to leave someone hanging and wondering what happened. Anything I enter into, I intend to see through to however it ends."

5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

"We all have moments of polite convention, and not every joke appeals to every sense of humor. I try to be discerning when necessary, but I've laughed at a fare number of jokes I simply didnt get."

He stands up, giving a polite bow to the interviewer. "Thank you for extending this invitation to me, it's always wonderful knowing how admirers feel and being able to share with the general public that we heroes are just like everyone else."

It's important to know that 99% of this interview is a bold faced lie

I think pretty much everyone's been tagged by now! At least those who want to do it! So I simply extend the invitation to say I tagged you, and mention me if you do this too! I'd love to see others who haven't gotten to this yet either 💜

#matthias reyes #long post #he is lying through his teeth for this entire interview✨ #theres hardly even any half truths in there #the only commander i have who would readily do interviews and its all LIES

[ariparri]

This drawing was inspired by a story my friend cursedautumn wrote for me as her part of our usual story for art trade.

It's been so long since I've drawn something in this style, I was scared I was going to give up half way through the entire thing. But nope, I was quite ambitious and pulled through 9 hours to finish this piece!

Look at that! It's absolutely beautiful 😭 I can stare at this and be so damn proud of it all day!

Speaking of the story, you can read it here under the cut. Flowers may be my absolute favorite from autumn's stories, but this was just too cute. I just adore the father/daughter dynamic Veruca and Elroy have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His Princess

"Alrighty, I'm leaving." Wilhelmina kissed Elroy on the cheek and took the bag. “I'll be there in the evening, don't wait for me early. I left a list of products that Vera needs to be fed. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"You underestimate me," Elroy growled, jokingly offended. "Veruca will be fine, I'm a fully capable father, Wil. Go and have a good rest, you'll see when you come back, the house will shine, and the child will have the tenth dream." Wilhelmina smiled dryly and rolled her eyes. "You're the same as always. Well, I'm off."

With that, she opened the door and went out. Elroy watched her go for a while until she disappeared behind the fence, then closed the door and took a deep breath. Elroy McQuaid was a father of two children, but, frankly, he had already forgotten what it was like to stay all day with a small child. Coby had grown up a long time ago, now he was at Hogwarts (where, by the way, he recently received an indignant letter from Minerva McGonagall about his son's behavior), and little Veruca did not want to sit still and quickly came up with entertainment for herself: she rolled away from her father, turning over from her back to her stomach, then, on the contrary, crawled up to him and began pulling his hair or stubble. Elroy didn't mind, but he couldn't let his daughter roll around on the floor all day and pinch him! He had to think of something to do. So he picked up Veruca in his arms and spoke,  "What should we do? We're going to play with toys, aren't we, baby?"

"Yes!" Veruca said glibly. She didn't know how to speak yet, but she already knew words like "yes", "not", "ma", "pa" and "Co-i" (that is, Coby). Elroy was infinitely proud of his daughter; Wilhelmina took it much more calmly and even laughed at his constant delight. Elroy was slightly offended: "How can you, Wil? She talks great for her age!", but there were no big quarrels because of this, and he understood that his wife showed love for her daughter in a slightly different way.

As soon as she was in her room, Veruca clung tightly to a wooden box filled to the brim with toys. There were dolls, plush toys, a plastic tea set, with which the baby sometimes gently beat her older brother, several suits with bat wings and many other means of entertainment. Elroy watched in silence as she turned over the wooden box, and sighed to himself: later he would have to take a long and painstaking time to clean up the mess that his daughter had made. But he obediently waited until all the contents of the box were on the floor, and smiled, "Come on, Vera, choose what we will play."

Veruca thought for a while and a soft bat colored so bright it was slowly eating out Elroy's eyes. This bat was given to the McQuaid family by friends a few years ago, and at first Coby played with it, and then it was taken away from him by his younger sister. Veruca took it out at every opportunity and forced the first family member she met to entertain her, holding her in their hands and "butting" the girl with a toy. Elroy didn't have much choice right now. He asked, "Are we going to play this?"

"Yes!" Veruca nodded. She had the same light green eyes as Elroy, like clear, transparent water.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll butt you. Come on…" Suddenly, he quickly grabbed the toy and began to gently poke his daughter in the face. Veruca burst into a ringing childish laugh, trying to grab a bat, and randomly waved her plump hands in the air. Elroy poked the toy first on her cheek, then in her stomach, then in her shoulder, and she laughed and made futile attempts to outwit dad and catch her pet. At that moment, Veruca strangely reminded Elroy of a young Wilhelmina, just as cheerful, laughing happily, not yet so strict and upset by the behavior of her growing son. Actually, Veruca was much more like her father, but there was already something about her that made her obviously the daughter of Wilhelmina McQuaid.

After playing with the bat, Veruca lost interest in it and took up a book of fairy tales written by the bard Beadle. Of course, it was still too early for her to read them, but the bright pictures on the glossy paper attracted the eye, and the baby ran her finger along the pages with genuine interest, looking questioningly at Elroy, as if asking what was depicted here. Most of all, she was interested in pictures of beautiful queens, princesses and sorceresses, women with long hair, dressed in dresses, robes and heavy jewelry. The girl especially liked the drawing of Morgan Le Fay, a tall red-haired woman with light green eyes, in a white dress. Veruca poked at it with her finger and hooted. 

"This, baby, is Morgan Le Fay. She was a very outstanding sorceress, healer and fortune-teller. The sorcerers bewitched people, Vera, they are also wizards, it's just that their magic was different. And Morgan was both a sorceress and a witch. It's complicated, isn't it?" Elroy explained, to which Veruca frowned and turned away, indicating that she was not interested in this topic. She always did this when she did not understand what was being said to her, but she did not want to show her ignorance — it hurts her pride so much!

And even though Veruca was still a very little girl, she had pride. This pleased Elroy: if self-confidence and healthy pride are inherent in a person from childhood, nothing will knock them out of there. So let his daughter be proud. It was better to have pride than not to have it, his sister had once told him, and Elroy completely agreed with her.

Suddenly, his daughter turned over on her stomach and, starting to turn over slowly, rolled in the opposite direction from him. Elroy was so surprised that he didn't even understand what was happening, and he stared at Veruсa with his mouth open for a few seconds, and then he realized that the typical willfulness of the McQuaids had awakened in her, and she decided to try to move herself. Attempts to "escape" have occurred before, but Wilhelmina, with the air of a connoisseur, assured that this is normal and there is no need to interfere with the child's self-development.

"Veruca!" Elroy called out to his daughter.

"Ah!" she answered him and giggled, once again turning over on her stomach. "Vera," the man said more quietly. "Where are you going?" Veruca smiled with an almost toothless mouth and giggled louder. Elroy sighed loudly and got to his feet to put the mischievous girl back in her place.

Suddenly, Veruca reached out with a tiny hand and grabbed the leg of a chair. She tensed, slightly lifting the body and pulling her legs under her.

And then she began to get up — in the literal sense, to get to her feet, holding tightly to the leg of the chair, as if for a handrail, and finally straightened up and stood up, swaying slightly. Elroy froze in mute amazement, joy and disbelief, watching his little daughter, his princess, stand on her feet for the first time, and was afraid to even sigh and break the great moment. This feeling was even brighter than what he had experienced when Coby first got on his feet, much, much brighter, although Elroy did not want to admit it to himself.

It seems that Veruca was afraid of her own independence and the next second fell on the carpet and began to cry. Elroy was at his daughter's side in the blink of an eye and hastily picked her up in his arms, saying affectionately:

"Don't cry, Vera, don't cry, my princess, everything will be fine, you're a good girl. Look, you got up for the first time today, can you imagine?" and he kissed the top of her head, stroking her back. Veruca's crying wasn't caused by pain or anything worse, it's just that she hardly expected such sharp physical progress from herself.

So he patiently calmed her down until the girl stopped crying and wearily buried her face in her father's shirt.

"Do you want to sleep?" Elroy asked gently. "Let's go sit outside. It started raining there, we'll swing in the chair, listen to the weather…"

They did just that. Elroy went out onto the terrace. There he sat down in a wicker rocking chair with Veruca in his arms and was quiet; a summer downpour was really rustling on the green street and in the garden. The storm swelled over the McQuaid estate, rallying in the sky in a dense purple wall, ready to crack and burst into lightning. But while there were no loud noises, Elroy held the sleeping Veruca, wrapped in a plump purple blanket with a bat's face, in his arms and looked at the blooming garden. There was an unusual calmness in his soul, although, in general, there was no cause for alarm; nevertheless, such satisfaction in his soul had not been for a long time-maybe because he was the father of two children, the eldest of whom was now supplying his school with problems, and the youngest was still very small and helpless, like a porcelain doll. They had to look after both of them, and it was difficult for him and Wilhelmina. Very difficult.

Elroy kissed the top of Veruca's head as she dozed off. No, he was grateful to his wife, Providence, and himself a million times for his daughter, because since his youth his dream was to have a daughter, his little princess, just like from fairy tales. As a child, he saw how carefully his father treats his sister, and just dreamed of doing the same.

And now he had Veruca.

His little girl.

His princess.

Elroy wrapped his daughter more tightly in the blanket and began to doze a little himself. The storm did not break out with thunder and lightning, only the rain began to rustle more loudly, and somewhere on the horizon a rainbow began to appear, as if the sky was watching the father and daughter and letting a bright ray through the summer rainy haze.

The rainbow was flaring up. Elroy and Veruca were sleeping peacefully.

#ariparri #elroy mcquaid #veruca mcquaid #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc #fanfic #hogwarts mystery fanfic #fanfiction #hphm fanfiction #hphm fanart #hogwarts mystery fanart #jacob's sibling

[retvenkos]

alright, Olive, I'm back with a weird question. (but first of all, I hope you're doing good! how awfully rude of me to not start my ask by that) because you're so good at psychoanalyzing people (and I adore your rambling thoughts), I was wondering if you could maybe help me? I've always wondered who my godly parent would be in the PJO universe - it's been the biggest mistery in my life since I was 8. I just haven't found myself in any figure of the Olympus, maybe because I'd be the child of a minor deity? I've thought about Apollo, and I genuinely like it, but idk, maybe I need a more thorough analysis. I've also gotten Iris and Hemera from other people? I just think your piercing mind could see right through me. anyway, this is weird lol, I hope you don't mind me asking this! and don't worry if you can't answer, it's totally fine. 💜

asdfgfddfgfd, when i get my two weeks off for summer break, i should just do placements for inquiring mutuals because honestly it's one of my favorite things,,,

also, before i get into it (because i have some thoughts™), i'm going to plug one quotev quiz that i think is better than the rest when it comes to these matters: this godly parent quiz.

now, clara, i am not nearly as versed in pjo cabin placements as i am in hogwarts houses, but i'm going to give this my best shot:

first, i think i would be remiss not to mention that you are a libra, and libra is associated with themis, (idk really what that means since i'm not into astrology, lol), but themis isn't mentioned as one of the gods with a cabin, so i'm disregarding that. if we are following this logic though, i think that aphrodite is also associated with libra, so perhaps you could fit into that cabin? personally, i don't see it as strongly as i see others, but you do have a hopeless romantic streak, and a strong sense of community, which could sway you in that direction.

as for apollo, i'm going to unpack that for a minute, because it's very interesting that you'd place yourself there, and i'm on the fence with that myself, lol. (this is very stream of consciousness, so let's see where this section takes us)

i definitely see the association with the arts - music and poetry - although in my mind apollo has always been the performer, and less of the creator. i always associated the muses more with the creation stages of music and poetry. like... the muses are the fashion designers and apollo is the model going down the runway. or the muses are the writers and collaborators in the writers room and apollo is the actor or director. so, while i see the association, i think it's a little weak, because you strike me as more of the quiet artist who's behind the scenes, rather than the bard singing in the pub, trying to get coins. but, you know yourself better, so maybe it's a good association.

and after that, what always strikes me about apollo is the volatile contradictions of his personality. i mean, he's associated with the sudden death of children (rightfully so, i mean he slaughtered all of niobe's sons), along with his sister, artemis, but he's also a healer. he's like that "i'm a healer, but..." meme, which is funny as hell but also a little concerning. like, in many stories he is that godly sort of intelligent strength, but also he's really volatile and has quite a temper on him. i don't really think this relates a whole lot to you, because i get the vibes that you are generally mild mannered, but when something pisses you off, you let is really simmer. i feel like you aren't one to fly off the handle - if you do, it's probably been stewing within you for a while, and whoever your anger is directed at really knows that you're upset, and they knowingly pushed you to that place. i feel like you're more of a grudge holder than hot-tempered (but girl, same).

and then, of course, we have apollo's prophecies. now, maybe this is me reading too much into your scientific mind, but i think you are concerned with the future, but also don't think too much of it is predetermined. i feel like you are more of a trailblazer than that, and might just be prone to ignoring or actively working against anything you saw in the stars, asdfghgfsdfggfdsdfggfd

oh, and, apollo just has so many unfortunate romances, and on one hand, i have you quoted that you are more of an eponine than a cosette, but also, no hate to apollo and his tragic affairs, but he's openly mocked eros, and that truly gives off the vibes of working off of one (1) braincell, and you are too good for that, clara.

and just going back to personality, i think you have a lot of flexibility that just doesn't fit with the apollo cabin.

tldr; kinda but no?

now, i'm gonna kinda hop back into possible theories.

one of my gut reactions was the say athena, but after thinking about it, i'm still a little unconvinced. you have the intellect and pride for this cabin, and i feel like you would get roped into helping a lot of heroes like athena, but you also just have a charm to you that athena lacks. part of athena is that she's unapproachable and her pride is excessive. you, again, are too flexible to be athena. she's staunch where you are willing, and i feel like the rigidity of her nature is too constricting for you. it's very similar as to why i didn't place you in ravenclaw.

i also considered nike because of your competitive streak, but this placement kind of takes away from the underdog vibes i get from you. the righteous fury... the glee in the moment... it's definitely there, but i feel like there's a level of unsurety to your psyche that you don't really get with nike.

which leads me to my final analysis, where i think you would do well as a child of tyche.

let me go through this. so, i mentioned your competitive streak with nike, and that is 1000% evident in tyche. tyche is all about luck and fortune, and i feel like competition is a shoe in. children of tyche like to dabble with the unknown or the novel - it makes life interesting. they like to go against another and see where the cards fall, and if lady luck isn't on their side.... well, tonight's just not their night. they have a secure base to fall back on, and that allows them to stretch their wings and fly.

furthermore, with nike, victory is expected and guaranteed. luck is far more fluid and unpredictable - it's harder to pin down. you can have a lot of luck and a lot of things working in your favor, but still, the desired end result isn't set in stone - it's likely to happen, but there's always risk. this risk leaves for an air of quiet self-assuredness that isn't overbearing. there's always uncertainty in the mix, and that leads to less overt confidence. it also adds to the thrill (or the anxiety).

plus, i think that the gap between fortune and certainty (a pitfall of risk) leads to a lot of checks and balances that i really see in you. there's a lot of clear headed logic that gets weighed against ambition and desire, and it makes for a kind of pragmatism that doesn't stomp out dreams, just looks at them realistically.

which means i feel like a lot of people ask you for advice, clara. it also makes you a decision maker for sure. you might falter for a moment, but in the end, you make a choice and you live with it.

also, i have a personal headcanon that children of tyche are really well rounded, which harks back to my gryffindor analysis of you, where i mention that you have many tools in your box. you are able to manipulate many different things, and you can look at them from many angles, and i love that for you.

i also think this is a good placement for you because luck is all about what-ifs. it's about actively manipulating the world around you. like i said when i mentioned apollo's prophecies - i don't think that you do very well with the predetermined. some things, certainly, but one (1) you are too stubborn to believe you can't change things (oh, the contradictions of a gryffindor and child of tyche), and there's also a level of desperation that things won't always be like this. luck can come to anyone in any place. this is definitely tied to your bleeding heart - you care for people who have fallen on hard times, and you can't help but pray that it's only temporary.

oh, and i headcanon that tyche holds grudges sO BAD. she is only outdone by nemesis and hades.

anyway, this was long and it winded, but TLDR; i hereby herald you a child of tyche. you are my lady luck, clara.

#asks #mutuals #lol i need to get a tag like: #olive psychoanalyzes friends #anyway i hope you like this! i feel like i kind of raked apollo through the coals asdfghjhgfdfghjhgfd #but lISTEN you don't get to be one of the big name gods without being messy as hell #but lol now i feel like i need to re- assess my status as a child of hecate because i didn't go this in depth for mYSELF

[renee-writer]

Guardians of the Stones Chapter 16 A Death

A/N Hello everyone, this is ladymeraud from oxford UK. This will be a dark chapter. I have been working in the hospitals in the NHS and we are busy. We are trying to help everyone we can and are not winning. So, I am in a dark mood. Just need to get this out so I can move on. I am not a hero just a woman who can’t do anything else but help sick people feel better. The next chapter will be the wedding. A little flash back.)

Time moves quickly. The twins are soon seven months old. They are crawling about everywhere. With Jenny and Ian's first lad, Wee Jamie, just a newborn, the house is a wonderful chaotic mess. Claire, surrounded by family, is filled with happiness. Even when her son's try to crawl out into the fields to see their daddy. As they are this morning.

“Willie, Robbie, where do you think you are going?” she scopes them up, one under each arm. “Daddy will be back in soon. Come, mam has some bannocks for you.” She sits them back on the floor with a bannock to each. They, with appetites like their da, are happy to sit and gum them.

Fergus comes running in. “Ma, a letter has arrived from the castle.”

She takes it and sees it is in Hamish's hand. She smiles until she starts to read.

“It is with heavy heart that I inform you of the death of my father, Column ban Jacob Mackenzie. His services are in three days. I pray you will all come to see him laid to rest and to see me take his place as Laird.

Hamish ban Column Mackenzie.

P.S. Please come.”

Claire is in tears. At the passing of Column and the torment of the new Laird, trying to be strong while still just a child, barely thirteen.

“Ma?”

“Column has passed. Please go fetch your Aunt Jenny and Ellen from the kitchen and then your da Uncle Ian, and grandsire, from the fields.”

“Aye ma. Hamish is he..?”

“He is hurting. We will go see to him.”

Jenny and Ellen enter and sees the look on her face. “What is amiss then?” Ellen asks.

“I've bad news. Hamish has written. Column has passed on.” Her strong face crumbles as she collapses down beside her. Claire hands her the letter. She reads over it. Jenny stands in shock.

“Oh my brother! My poor Column!” her wails bring Mrs. Crook and the other maids rushing in.

“Bring Mistress Fraser some tea and the carafe of whisky. We have received some bad news.” They curtsy and run off to do it. Claire pulls her mother-in-law close and they cry together. A still stunned Jenny joins them.

Fergus finds his da, uncle and grandsire and hurries over to them.

“Fergus son, what is wrong?”

“Da, the most distressing news. Uncle Column has passed. Hamish wrote. Ma, grandma, and auntie are weeping.”

“Christ!” Jamie whispers as they all three cross themselves. They hurry back into the house. Jamie and Ian take their wife’s in their arms. Brain pulls a devastated Ellen into his lap.

“Ian, he is gone! My uncle is gone!”

“I know my love.” He sooths his arms down her back. Jamie is doing the same with Claire.

“My Column. My dear brother!” Ellen clings to her husband and pours out her grief.

“When is Hamish having the service?” he asks. Claire fetches the letter and hands it to her husband. He quickly reads it.

“We must go.” Claire adds. “To honor Column and for~ “ her voice breaks again. “Hamish. He ~ needs us.”

“Aye. He does. Jenny, is wee Jamie able to travel?” She pulls herself together long enough to answer.

“Aye. He is.”

“We will leave out today. If that is alright da?”

“It is son.” He pours all except the youngest of his grandchildren tea laced with whisky. “Mrs. Crook, have bags prepared for all. We will be heading to Castle Leoch.”

“Right away sir.”

They arrive a day before his funeral. A subdued Mrs. Fitz sees them to their rooms. After they are settled, the men head to see the new Laird and war chief as the ladies take care of the children.

Hamish is trying to be strong. He is glad his uncle is by his side. It is a lot to grief his father and be the Laird at thirteen.

Dougal wishes to return to his own land and marry his new wife but knows his place is by his nephew’s side for a bit longer. He looks forward to introducing his assembled family to his fiancée.

Brain, Ian, Jamie, and Fergus, enter. They bow low, as befitting the new Laird before they hug the grieving men. They drink Column's famous reddish as they toast him.

“Fergus, I know you have a room by your parents but, could you join me tonight. I could use a mate.”

“Of course.”

Jamie returns to his room to find his wife asleep with their boys beside her. He smiles, despite his grief. He never tires of seeing the miracle of Willie and Robbie, with Claire. He carefully joins them, Wrapping his arm around Claire.

It is in the dead of the night when Fergus comes in. “I am so sorry da but Hamish, he needs ma.”

Jamie gently wakes her. “Mon gaul, Hamish needs you.” She wakes instantly. Throwing a wrap around herself, she hurries out after Fergus.

Hamish is curled up in the center of the bed, crying his heart out. She joins him and pulls him into her arms. “It is alright. Cry all you need. I am here.”

“I tried to be strong, like a good Laird should but..”

“Shh, you are allowed to grief you father. It doesn’t make you weak.”

“I cried when my first da passed and I waa then the man of the house too. Had to see to my ma and baby sister. Cry cousin.”

With their dual permission, he weeps for hours, soaking the front of Claire’s wrap and shift, until he cries himself to sleep. Claire carefully lays him back down

“You are a good mate Fergus. He should sleep now. Get some sleep yourself.” She hugs her eldest before heading back to her husband and babies.

She finds them all sleeping together. Willie lay across his daddy's chest with Robbie laying against his side, cradled in his arm. Her heart gives a lurch and she wishes for a camera. But, those days are long passed. She just looks at them until the picture is fixed in her heart. She then joins them. She is back to sleep within minutes.

When next she awakes, it is to her husband bringing her breakfast. “I figured after your long night, you could use it.” He explains. “How is Hamish?”

“He is hurting but strong. He will be alright.” She feeds her sons and herself before they dress for the funeral.

Every clan is represented as they lay Column to rest. All the Lairds, minus the Grants and Campbell's( they are guests of the king) are present. He has a full Catholic funeral. His son, stands tall by his uncle and cousins. His eyes are dry, for now. Jamie thinks that his uncle would be quite proud.

He will be made official Laird the next day. For now, the healer, orders a nap for Hamish and all the children as the war chief does hosting duties. Column and Hamish and toasted as Mrs. Fitz lays out plenty of food and spirits. Tomorrow will be the same when the new Laird is recognized and oaths sworn to him.

Claire and Jamie finally make their way up to their room and find their babies all three sleeping together. Fergus has a baby tucked in to each of his arms.

“They are so beautiful.” Claire whispers.

“Aye. Our family. Miracles all.”

“Yes.” She starts to get undressed done in by the long day and night.

“You wish me move them?”

“No. Please don’t.” she slips in on one side, Jamie the other. They join hands across their children. “I love you.” She tells him as her eyes close.

“I love you, sae much. You and them are my world.” They sleep undisturbed that night.

Hamish is officially made Laird the next day. Dougal stands beside him in front of the clansmen and declares that,” Hamish ban Column Mackenzie is the Laird of clan Mackenzie after his father. May God grant favor to the new Laird, to clan Mackenzie, and to Scotland!”

A cheer greets this and the oath taken begins. Dougal kneels before his nephew and new Laird and vows,” I swear by my Lord Jesus Christ, and by the holy iron I hold, to give you my fidelity and pledge you my loyalty. If my hand is ever raised against thee in anger, I ask that this holy iron pierce my heart.” Hamish urges him up and they both drink out of the same bowl his father used for such a service.

One after one, the man of the clan did the same. After the other Lairds came up and offered a different vow, a vow to support the new Laird. Finally it is Brian's turn. He kneels before his nephew.

“Laird Mackenzie, I swear to support you as Laird and kin. To be available whenever you have need of me. To honor you as I honored your father.” He is lifted up and a cheer goes through the room. The younger children are brought in As Jenny nurses wee Jamie, the twins crawl eagerly around.

Fergus sees a strange woman by Dougal and asks about her. Dougal overhears and thinks it a perfect time to introduce her to his family.

“Fergus and everyone, this is Geneva Grant. She is to be my wife.” Claire notices her husbands lose his color. Just then Robbie crawls over the lasses foot and she kicks out. The baby cries and Hamish stands.

“Mistress Grant, did you just kick my cousin!”

“No I~ I was just moving him.” Claire has hurried over to her sobbing son and lifts him up. She turns back towards Jamie just as Hamish says,

“No. You kicked him. You also tried to seduce his daddy last night. “ A furious Claire looks from Geneva to Jamie, her eyes spitting fire.

“Wot!’

“I was just…” Geneva has no answer. Jamie does.

“The lass tried to make a pass. I rebuked her, most firmly. I swear Claire. I dinna wish the lass when she tried years ago, and dinna now.”

The hall is still as all await her reaction. Hamish is faster. “Uncle Dougal, I want this woman removed from my castle immediately. You may, of course, marry her, if that be your wish, but she is not allowed in Castle Leoch.”

“My Laird, I dinna want her, a lass wanting another.” He turned away as some of his kinsmen escort her out.

“I am sorry Claire. I should have told you last night. It just, the incident nor the lass meant a thing to me.”

“It is alright Jamie. It was her not you.”

The hall settles back down, the party continuing. The Frasers and Murray’s head out the next morning. Fergus had requested permission to spend a week with his cousin.

“Ye may. A week only as the harvest will be coming in. Even with Murtagh there( he was guarding the house in their absence) we will need you.”

“Aye da. I will be back.”

2020

Fergus is shocked by what he finds. A Google search pulls up that Claire Beauchamp was reported missing in 1945 by her husband Frank Randall. Seems Mr. Randall had remarried three months later to a Sandy Duncan. The marriage had ended at his death, by auto accident, a year later, leaving no issue. Sandy had remarried.

Putting this together with Claire's dairy, he is able to piece it together. Frank, a horrid husband, had been abusive to Claire. She had enough, struck back and fled, ending up falling through the stones. Frank had done a token search before moving on. The facts are clear, if mysterious. The questions are many.

Fergus recalls that there is a kirk at the bottom of that magical hill. Maybe they would know more. Determined to find out all he can to help his ancestor, he heads there.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #guardians of the stones #a death

[aleteia-ff]

If you are still taking request, how about some angst with hiccup and Astrid witnessing zephyr death or if that's to dark they think she does but then she comes back to them later. Lol I've been watching to much game of thrones

Why!? Why do you want to read something so heartbreaking!? And why am I delivering?

I don’t know which circle of Hell you’ve come out of, and I don’t know which one I belong in for actually writing it. But I guess we’re in this together now. 

Warning: Feels below the Keep Reading line.

May the Valkyries Welcome Her

They’d only just returned from visiting the dragons for the fourth time. They went once a year; the first time had been when Zephyr had just turned six. She’d been delighted to see them then, and she had been just as happy this time around. Smiling, cheering, spending all day with Toothless or one of the Night Lights, unable to let go of them even when they weren’t in the air. But they never should’ve gone to the Hidden World in the first place.

Hiccup had been in their kitchen, having breakfast while seeing to it that Nuffink didn’t break down the rest of their house. The boy had all of Astrid’s energy, but none of her sense of responsibility – something that would come with time, he hoped.

Astrid’s voice had alerted him. “Hiccup.”

It’d been short, yet urgent, the kind of tone she only used when something was wrong and she didn’t want the kids to notice. Anxious but trying not to be too concerned, he’d walked to his daughter’s room, where Astrid had been getting Zephyr ready for the day.

He’d found his wife looking at him with her big blue eyes, the shock and fear clear in them. Before he’d been able to open his mouth, Zephyr had escaped her mother’s hold, running into him and proudly showing him her arm.

“Daddy, look! I have spots too, just like the dragons!”

Things had gone quickly after that. He’d taken Nuffink to Valka, with the specific instructions that he could not be in contact with his sister or any of the other children on the island. His mother was quite solitary regardless, and Nuffink loved to stay over at his grandma’s, so he’d figured he’d be safe there. In the meantime, Astrid had gotten Zephyr dressed and had called in New Berk’s healers. Who’d confirmed their worst fears.

Dragonpox. The illness had been with them on Berk for as long as dragons had raided them. Dragons were wild animals after all, carrying things with them that Vikings normally weren’t exposed to. It didn’t strike often; even during the raiding years, only those who were already very frail or sickly had been known to contract it. But with dragons coming to Berk and becoming a daily part of their lives, the combination of gradual exposure and immensely improved dragon hygiene had made it so that the disease was nothing more than a distant memory.

They’d forgotten it existed. It’d become a thing of their dragon-fighting past on Berk, and no one had been brought down by it since they’d settled on New Berk either. Until now. And now, he was forced to watch his little girl tremble and writhe underneath the covers as the rash continued to conquer her skin. Which was his fault.

Zephyr didn’t know that. She smiled at him whenever he entered the room, her blue eyes lighting up as they always did when she saw her father. But a little less so every day.  She hadn’t noticed he’d started to wear gloves yet, as there were simply some responsibilities he couldn’t avoid, and he had not wanted to risk spreading her illness any further. He’d done his job, called a village meeting on the first night she’d gotten sick, warned everyone to watch themselves, their children and their elderly. Some had felt he was overreacting – the disease hadn’t claimed any lives on Berk for years, so why would it now? Surely, Zephyr wouldn’t be the first? That’s what he tried to believe as well.

But Astrid was with their daughter at all times. And every time he returned after he’d had to leave for some agonizing emergency, he’d ask her if Zephyr was doing better yet. And every time, she’d shaken her head.

Now, exactly two weeks after Astrid had first spotted the marks on Zephyr’s skin, Hiccup slumped back into their home. His metal foot sounded hollow on the wooden floor, the heavy cloak around his shoulders not quite measuring up the sense of guilt that rested on them. He was startled by the two women coming down the stairs, who almost froze in place at the sight of their chief.

All it took was a questioning look from him for them to shake their heads. There was nothing more they could do. He couldn’t blame them. They’d tried all they could to help, using Gothi’s old notes to the best of their ability. But with their old healer’s passing, a lot of dragon-related healing knowledge had faded as well.

No, the only person he could really blame was himself. For forcing a reunion with Toothless and the others. For refusing to stop chasing his lifelong dream of dragons and Vikings living together in peace. For wishing his children came to know that part of his life too. And now he was paying the ultimate price. With all he could do being praying to the gods not to take his little girl from him.

He walked up the stairs of their home, his every step heavy and loaded. The door to Zephyr’s bedroom was open and he found Astrid inside, sitting on a stool at the side of their daughter’s bed. Astrid looked exhausted, her cheeks hollow, her eyes red and swollen as she did her best to wipe her tears away. He crouched down next to her, letting her lean her against his shoulder as her own shuddered.

“We never should have taken them,” she told him, her voice so hoarse he almost couldn’t hear her. “Gods, Hiccup, why did we go?”

There was nothing he could say that would justify their decision. There were no words that could be said, no reason that could be given that would erase what they’d done. What they were now responsible for. No dragon that could cure this kind of pain. Watching the 10-year old girl he’d loved from the first moment he’d seen her, lying there, shaking in her bed as she fought against a fever that refused to release her from its hold.

All he could do was take off his gloves, wrapping his arm around Astrid’s shoulder as he reached out towards Zephyr with his other, taking the hand that laid on top of the covers in his. The sheer heat of her skin almost made him flinch, but he carefully enveloped her little fingers in his nevertheless.

Every now and then, she writhed, squeezing her eyes shut even more as her lips trembled. Her skin was flushed, the colour of the rash and blisters that’d covered her almost matching that of her reddish brown hair. He’d never seen her look this small, or this vulnerable. She was losing the battle inside of her. Which her father should’ve protected her from in the first place.

They sat there for what seemed like eternity. He tried to keep himself together as best as he could as Astrid continued to sob, the past two weeks which she’d solely spent taking care of her daughter taking its toll. Eventually however, he watched Zephyr’s tired eyelids open, a little touch of bright blue still left in them.

“Daddy?”

The weakness in her voice broke his heart as he watched her struggle to produce the words. He swallowed his own tears away before he spoke. “Yes, Zeffie?”

Zephyr shivered, her face wrinkling as she did. “I’m cold.”

He gave her the most reassuring smile he could as he unwrapped his cloak from his shoulders, reaching out to give it to her. But she latched onto the fabric of his tunic rather than that of his cloak, the look in her eyes pleading. “Daddy.”

He quickly wiped his eyes with his other sleeve before he got up, removing his prosthetic before he climbed into his daughter’s bed as he’d so often done. He held his arms open for Astrid to crawl into as he pulled Zephyr into his lap, wrapping his cloak and her blankets around her as her little hands buried themselves in his tunic as well as they still could.

Sitting there, leaning against the headboard with the two most important women in his life in his arms, he softly brushed Zephyr’s sticky bangs out of her face. “Is this better?”

She nodded against his chest, the heat from her little body almost warming his heart, which was growing colder and aching more by the minute. Zephyr stayed silent for a bit, until another question crossed her lips. “Where’s Nuff?”

Astrid answered before he could, softly rubbing Zephyr’s back. “He’s with grandma.”

“He’s not sick too, right?”

“No,” Astrid reassured her, her voice thick with tears. “Your brother’s fine.”

“G-good,” Zephyr nodded, shivering as she did.

She stopped talking for a while after that, curling up against Hiccup’s chest, shivers still wrecking her. When he was sure she was about to fade into sleep, she spoke up again.

“I’m scared.”

Zephyr’s eyes were closed as the words left her mouth, her voice as small as he’d ever heard it. Astrid looked up at him, biting her lower lip as tears started to flow down her face once more. He could only barely contain his own as he stroked Zephyr’s face, trying to put her at ease.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he told her. “It’ll pass. How about I tell you a story?”

Her head moved against his chest, the motions weak but her agreement clear.

“Any particular one you’d like?”

“About dragons.”

Dragons. Of course, he thought as a dagger slowly made its way into his heart. “But I’ve already told you so many!” he said, trying to fake a laugh. “Let me try to think of a new one.”

He searched his mind, trying to find a story he hadn’t told her yet. Eventually, he did. “Did I ever tell you about Vanaheim?”

Zephyr’s blue eyes opened slightly as she shook her head, too weak to form words.

“Well, then I’ll tell it. In the life of every dragon, there comes a point at which they can no longer stay with the rest of their pack, because they are getting old and fragile. So they take one last flight, all the way to the island of Vanaheim. It’s a sacred place, meant for dragons alone. But your mommy and I once had the honour of guiding a dragon there,” he lied.

“To die?”

“No, on the contrary,” he laughed, partly to suppress the tears that were becoming harder to hold back as he watched Astrid silently weep from the corner of his eyes. “It’s a place for all sick and tired dragons to go to, and there, they can live forever. Like they’re young again. They’re never in pain, never hungry and never ill. There’s no one to hurt them there, and they’d never hurt each other. They just live there, all dragon species together, without a sense of worry on their minds. For all eternity.”

“I want to go there,” Zephyr managed, trying to look up at him but failing to keep her eyes open.

“Then we’ll go,” he told her, pulling her closer against his chest. “Once you’re better, we’ll go find Toothless and Stormfly and mommy and I will take you there. And Nuffink too. We’ll go to Vanaheim, with just the four of us. No chiefing for your mom and dad. A long holiday, during which you will able to see more dragons than you’ve ever seen on the edge of the Hidden World. Cuddle them, play with them, fly on their backs. Anything you want.”

The kind of foolish fantasies that’d landed her on her deathbed in the first place. But she didn’t know that. And he wasn’t going to tell her. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” a soft voice told him.

“Then we’ll go,” he repeated, rocking her in his arms as he felt her shudder against him once more.

“Tell me more.”

And so he did. He made up all kind of stories about the version of Vanaheim he’d created for her. As she’d never get to see the real island. He used what little he’d seen in the Hidden World, and what he’d experienced on all his adventures throughout his years with Toothless. He thought about all the things he’d wished for in his life with dragons and described them to his daughter. All the long-lost dreams that’d never come true. But which filled her with wonder nevertheless.

It wasn’t until Zephyr eventually fell back asleep that he allowed himself to cry, tears streaming down his face as he tried to keep his body as steady as possible, so he wouldn’t disturb her. One of Astrid’s arms was around his neck while her other was in their daughter’s hair, softly stroking it as Zephyr’s chest heaved. Slowly, the time between her inhales seemed to increase, every muscle movement starting to cost more effort. Until her breathing stopped altogether.

“Zephyr?”

They’d known it was coming. But still, nothing could compare to the freefall his soul took right then, as he couldn’t do anything but shake the little girl’s body in his arms, somehow, somewhere expecting her to open her inquisitive blue eyes again. But she didn’t. No matter how hard he tried, or how often he called her name, she didn’t wake.

Astrid cried out, the sheer agony in the sound of her voice tearing him to shreds. He pulled Zephyr closer to him, looking for anything, any sign of life at all. But he found nothing. The fever she’d tried to fight off so desperately started to subside, her body growing cold. Too cold.

She was gone. His little girl. One of the three people he was supposed to protect above anything else. Dead. And it was his fault.

There was nothing he could do then but hold her frail shape to his chest as his shoulders shook, an indescribable pain and anguish flooding his entire existence, making him hope he’d drown in it so he’d have to feel it no more. Although he deserved to.

All that was left for him to do was to pray that the Valkyries would welcome her among them, taking her to Valhalla. Where he hoped, prayed, wished his father would take care of her. After he’d failed them both. Through his ‘love for dragons’, through his ‘good intentions’. Both of them, dead by his hands.

And this would be the last time. In that moment, he swore to himself that no one on New Berk would ever see a dragon again. 

#httyd #zephyr haddock #hiccup #astrid #hiccstrid #post httyd3 #one shot #httyd3 #may the valkyries welcome her #angst #feels #dragonpox #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #death of a child #prompts #httyd fanfiction #fanfiction #hiccstrid kids

[cienie-isengardu]

Hi. I read your great post about Yoda using Ahsoka to control Anakin. You mentioned the Agri Corps. This is something I have already heard here or there but I'm not familiar with this. I mean, I don't really know how they work. I've read on Wookieepedia that adhesion was voluntary. But was it voluntary also for discarded younglings/padawans who failed the Trials, or were they obliged instead? Just, may you explain what you know about these corps generally? My Jedi-critical feels are pawing. lol

Thank you, I’m glad you like it! :)

I will try my best to explain the matter, though to tell you truth, most of my knowledge is based on informations from Legends / old canon. What means, I’m not sure how up to date it is compared to the new canon. With this in mind, here comes my not-so-short answer:

In theory, Agricultural Corps - along with other Corps, like the Educational one - were part of Jedi Order, and thus its purpose was to using Force for the betterment of galactic society. The biggest difference was that, Jedi Knight 1) finished their studies at Temple and with that, they were full-fledged member of the Order and 2) were sent on diplomatic missions, to fight against Republic’s foes, to provide protection for designated - very often important - people or to investigate the crucial matters, while those sent to Argi Corps either were considered to have a poor (too weak) connection to Force or failed their Trials or didn’t get their own masters before reaching a certain age (for human & human-like species it was the age of 13th birthday). Though both Jedi Knight and those in Agri Corps were working for the benefit of galactic society, there is visible difference how their talents were used by Council and/or Republic.

Of course, it makes sense that various people will have specific talents which should be used according to the ability of a person. Like Docent Vant explained in Jedi Apprentice: The Rising Force:

“Not every one is meant to be a warrior. The Republic needs healers and farmers, too. With your Force skills, you will be able to treat sick crops. Your talent will help feed whole worlds.”

So, in general work of Agri Corps is useful and important because it helps to feed people on many worlds. But at the same time, most younglings were afraid to be assigned there. And that brings us to the more complicated matter: how Agri Corps was seen by young initiates of the Jedi Order.

Mace Windu once said there was no dishonor for a youngling to be part of Agri Corps. In a sense, this was “a kinder fate” for childrens to work at their “own level” than being “humiliated” when they can’t keep up with much younger and talented kids. Also, helping to feed hungry & people in need was very honorable and good thing to do. And the selfless service to others is basic principle of being Jedi.

But for most younglings, it didn’t matter if the work of Agri Corps was important or not. A person assigned there was seen as, well, washout and failure. Some kids were sent there, because their connection to Force turned out to be too weak to make of them a good Jedi. Some were skilled yet still could not pass the Trials for various reasons. Some who already were strong in the Force and passed Trials still didn’t catch attention of any Jedi Knight, and thus no one offered them an apprenticeship.

Many - if not most of younglings were thinking about Agri Corps as demotion, a prove they weren’t good enough to be a Jedi. Those kids who grew up at Jedi Temple didn’t know any other life than that and thus had a real reason to be afraid of. They were not only “kicked out” for being a “failure” but also by sending to a foreign planet, they were cut off from security provided by Order - from friends, familiar teachers  & Temple staff who until now took care of their needs, so they never had to worry about food, clothes and so on. Of course, the Agri Corps were supplied by Order/Republic, yet I believe the living conditions were dependent on the climate and technical advancement of the planet. To be fair, I personally don’t know that many sources focused at inner working of said Corps - there was one comics called Graduation Day that actually makes an impression the kids were on their own, without any teacher or adult guardian(s)… then again, the action of comics took place during Clone Wars, so maybe all Jedi / appointed superior(s) from there were pulled into war? I dunno.

Backing to Legends sources, there are examples how the oldest (almost 13 years old) younglings were desperate to show off their skills, in hope to catch attention of Jedi Knight, so they will not be assigned to Agri Corps, what was seen with both Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy (a.k.a. Scout) & young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not to mention examples of bullying between kids (and yes, this is sadly thing, but bullying was quite common in Jedi Order) where Agri Corps were seen as a “job for rejects, initiates too weak to be Knights”. Some younglings taunted other kids by making fun of their lack of skill, that no Knight will take them as padawans and thus they will be kicked out and sent on some remote planet to be *just* farmers.

Did younglings had any choice in that matter? Their voluntariness is… debatable.

Sources like A Jedi Path: Manuals to students of the Force and The Complete Encyclopedia noted that younglings may volunteer to Agri Corps - and some probably did so. But for those that were assigned to Corps by Council, the choice was limited. For example, in Jedi Apprentice, when Obi-Wan Kenobi was informed about Council’s decision, no one asked him if he agreed with that nor in what part of the galaxy he would like to serve. He only get his orders through Docent Vant:

Obi-Wan Kenobi was bandaging his burns in his room when he got the bad news. He was trying to imagine ways to impress Qui-Gon in the morning. He considered ways to improve his fighting skills – anything he might say or do to convince the Knight that he was worthy to become a Jedi’s Padawan Learner. But then Docent Vant brought a data pad and showed him his orders.

Suddenly all his plans and dreams were shattered.

[…]

Obi-Wan stared at the orders in shock. The data pad told him that he would ship out of the Temple in the morning. He needed to pack his bags.

He was to report to the world of Bandomeer – some planet he’d never even heard of , out on the Galactic Rim. There he would join the Agricultural Corps.

Like you can see, younglings didn’t have much to say on this issue. Kenobi was lucky, because Yoda liked him / saw him as valuable student, so old master made sure the boy get his chance to meet Qui-Gon Jinn who at that time were looking for a new padawan. But how many other kids didn’t get the same chance, we may only wonder.

Of course, the kids may decide to leave Jedi Order permanently and thus not joining any Corps. There are examples of padawans who chose that path - some, like Ahsoka left due to unpleasant experiences, some simple decided they didn’t really want to be a Jedi. But in both cases, padawans were given little to no support at all. I mean, Ahsoka practically marched out of Temple with only clothes on her back - no money were given to her to help her survive on her own. Which I think is one of reasons why younglings followed Council’s orders even when they didn’t want to become part of Agri Corps. They didn’t know any other life outside of Order, didn’t know their parents or families, and thus have nowhere to go, no money or support to survive in dangerous galaxy on their own.

And then Empire happened.

Agri Corps were part of Jedi Order - the force sensitive kids working there were considered Jedi (albeit no fully trained ones) and thus were either killed or captured during Jedi Purge. Those who proved themselves to emperor and / or Vader, became Dark Jedi and as so, became servants of the Sith Lords. Some, I believe, simply didn’t want die, so it was better to serve Empire than being dead. Some, on other hand, were quite angry at Jedi - and thus prone to Dark Side. What Palpatine happily exploited for his own benefit.

This is less or more what I can tell you about Agricultural Corps at this moment. I hope my answer has satisfied your curiosity :)

#star wars #my replies #agri corps #jedi order #star wars legends