It's that time again I'm dropping something
But no, it's not a new part to The New Manda'lor, sorry. This next part is very particular and I want to get it right.
That being said, I am providing content for a WLW ship that is severely lacking in content so... a win is a win?
Anyway, here is Celadon, Part one. Also available on AO3 Hope and Love Chapter 2
Mon Mothma x Kleya Marki
Celadon Part 1
Trigger warning, mentions of sexual assault
Rated M
"I don't think I've ever seen you dress up," Mon said, looking Kleya up and down.
"I dress for work all the time." Kleya argued, swirling her glass.
"Sure, but not like this." Mon had admittedly been blown away when she saw her. Kleya was almost always in the same clothes or same style. She often stuck to dark blues and grays, perhaps the odd white or red strip of color.
But she'd never been in green before, or at least not in front of Mon Mothma.
It was still a muted shade, but it stood out enough to catch her eye. She'd put money on it that Perrin would ping the color as Sage Green, but Mon on the other hand suspected a nice Celadon.
"We shouldn't even be talking," Kleya told her, trying to look inconspicuous but failing miserably.
Deep down Mon knew she was right, but she'd been having a hard week.
Everyday she'd get home and have to gaslight Perrin into thinking there were rumors of his gambling addiction. And every day she wished those rumors would come to fruition. It would be so much easier for her, but alas, the work was never done.
"Kleya if you keep looking around like an Owl in the daylight people are going to get suspicious. Just relax for another forty-five minutes and then you're home free. Luthen will make his appearance and no one will be looking at you."
"Except Luthen is always late." Kleya said abruptly.
Another true statement. But he was a man of the minute, he did things as they came to him. It was efficient but unpredictable.
To be perfectly fair Mon had no idea where they were and why. Every Friday she was invited to something or other and she didn't keep track anymore. When the car pulled up out front she knew to throw on nice clothes and smile and the driver would take her to whatever party her assistant accepted the RSVP to.
When she'd walked in she made her rounds, she talked to three senators before she was offered her first drink. Seven senators by her second drink, and she was to a total of seventeen on her third. On her way to find number four she'd found Luthen's shopkeeper attempting to fade into a corner.
"Well why don't you try to actually sell some stuff. Make some money for… Luthen's Projects."
"Because I'm off the clock and here as a courtesy. If Luthen wants to sell old junk to rich people then he should come here and do it himself."
"Charming as ever, Kleya." Mon told her.
"Why don't we get another drink? You don't seem to be a fan of the wine."
"Oh this water with dye in it." Kleya answered, finishing the glass with a shrug.
"Why?"
"On the job. Don't want to inhibit my thinking."
"Right because then you might agree to do this for free," Mon said, catching the other woman in her own trap.
Kleya rolled her eyes ever so slightly. The eye roll of a professional.
"I heard about your daughter," she started, "she's really going back to Chandrila huh?"
The sinking feeling at the bottom of Mon's gut returned. For a brief moment she'd forgotten about her daughter's choices, and now she was blindsided by it all over again.
"Let me guess," Kleya said, moving to stand right in front of her, "she thinks it's romantic."
"It would appear so."
"Did you tell her otherwise?"
Mon stayed quiet, not willing to admit the answer.
She loved her daughter, and she hated that she was making this decision. But it was an overwhelming positive thing for the sake of the rebellion. That's one less set of eyes on Mon.
She hated how rational it was. She hated that she was the one who had to make this sacrifice.
"I'm really sorry," Kleya told her, "I know you've been trying to keep her as far away from… that, as possible."
Mon smiled, glancing at the other end of the room where her husband made small talk with a businessman.
"Thank you Kleya." She said, heartwarmed a bit at the idea that someone acknowledged her suffering.
"I think I'm going to leave." Kleya said, prying herself from the wall.
"Now?"
"Yeah, I have a sense Luthen is doing something more important without me. He needs supervision."
"I should come with you," Mon Mothma argued, knowing the attempt was futile.
"You don't believe that's a good idea," Kleya told her, snatching a glass of Champagne off a waiting Droid as it passed.
"I know, I guess I'm jealous you're not trapped here." She explained, accepting the glass Kleya handed her.
"Change is coming, Mon. But you know better than anyone we have to be patient. We might not even be around to see it, but the spark on Aldhani set a fire, and it's spreading."
"And it must be extinguished," Mon said, her voice slightly raised. A man to her left looked at her, raised his glass with a nod. She accepted the gesture, satisfied with her ability to cover their tracks.
"I agree," Kleya said, "because it's a lot harder to put out a fire than a spark. More expensive too, and the last thing we want are higher taxes."
Mon smiled, a slight chuckle building at the edge of her mouth.
"Speaking of Aldhani, are we?" Perrin asked, surprising her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, yes, it's truly awful what happened. Betrayed by their own General. It makes you think about how many more… abolitionist terrorists are out there." She told him.
Kleya eyed Perrin skeptically. Mon could see the other woman's visual analysis on her face.
And Kleya did not look impressed.
"Saw Gerrera and his 'rebellion' are nothing but ants. They can't touch us here. They'll continue to blow things up and make scenes on outer rim worlds, but that's all they'll ever be." Perrin told them, and Mon wanted to roll her eyes.
Saw Gerrera was not the only spark.
There were other snakes in the emperor's garden.
"I don't believe we've met," Perrin said, extending a hand to Kleya. Mon watched as the icy woman took it, undoubtedly using a firmer hand then her husband.
"Perrin Fertha," he said.
"Kleya Marki." She replied, retracting her hand.
"Do you know each other?" He asked.
"Kleya works with Luthen at the treasures and antiques place I like. She sold me your birthday gift."
"Ah, you have good taste Kleya. In both art and career. Luthen's work is well renowned and highly valuable. I appreciate the work you do."
Kleya smiled, going as far as to add a small curtsey.
Mon couldn't wait to tell Luthen.
"Well I try. I like to say that every piece tells a story, and my job is to do my best to convey that story to the customer. I must be pretty good because your wife keeps coming back."
Perrin just smiled, taking Mon's shoulder and attempting to usher her away.
"Just give me a moment, would you dear? I have another matter to discuss with Ms Marki regarding Luthen's new Alderaan collection.
"Of course, join me by the stairs when your finished. I have some friends I would like to introduce you to."
When he was out of earshot, Mon returned her attention to Kleya, who seemed to be chomping at the bit to leave.
"Sorry about that," Mon apologized.
"Why? You're not responsible for his behavior."
Mon smiled, but it wasn't a typical smile. It was more of an acceptance of defeat than anything.
"I shouldn't have talked to him that way," Kleya said, "I'm sure I just caused you trouble."
"It's okay, I'll manage. I wish you were around more often, it would take the heat off me."
"You know where to find me." Kleya told her plainly.
The words rolled off the tongue like an invitation, but Mon wasn't sure to what.
"You should go," Kleya told her. "Don't worry about me, or Luthen. Go appease the senate, senator."
Before Mon could reply Kleya reached forward, extending a hand to the edge of her face, brushing past it to her ear.
Ever so gently Kleya rotated her earring, fixing the position it had mistakenly shifted to.
"Can't be anything less than perfect, can we?" Kleya whispered in her ear as she moved.
Mon simply sighed, shaking her head.
"I'll see you around, Senator." Kleya told her, before removing herself from her corner and disappearing into the crowd.
Mon took a second to collect herself, then followed the cold trail left by Perrin towards what was undoubtedly another round of his friends making political or sexual passes at her.
Passes he would ignore.
And for longer than a moment she wished Kleya had stayed with her, even if only to share the burden.
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There's an up-and-coming Tech Giant, called Fenton Works, and Batman is determined to prove that the company is a front for a villain.
Danny, after his parents turned from Ghost hunting to being the first official Ghost Anthropologists, decided to repurpose some of their weapons.
And, well, there was a contest being run by Wayne Enterprises; whoever can design a robot that will help the environment got prize money and a grant.
Danny, in all his mechanical engineering prowess, was bored. So he designed a thing. Repurposed the Fenton Guns into a cute robotic tortoise that would clean the beach.
It spiraled from there, and now Fenton Works is the leading name in green technology that's cleaning up the Earth bit by bit. Sea Dragon robots that clean oil and trash from the ocean; beach tortoises that clean the sand and beach and deposit their hoard of trash into designated receptacles that Danny uses as material to make more robots; Cryptid "stalker" robots with long legs that delicately patrol forests to perform "fuel management" and clear out the underbrush to help manage wildfires; moving gargoyle robots that sit on top of skyscrapers to help clean the air with huge sail-like wings, etc.
Basically, Danny pulls a Doctor Elisabet Sobeck, but with less world ending and more actually helping. (Not that the world ending was Elisabet's fault, of course, but different franchise)
And due to the number of times aliens try to attack and rogues send their own robots to attack people, naturally Danny installed self-defense protocols, along with one single golden rule written into the very OS of every single robot; Save Humans Whatever the Cost.
Problem is, Batman has never seen robots like this not be used for evil purposes, and he knows that their power source (a closely guarded Fenton Works secret) is some sort of liquid that glows green.
He really only knows of one liquid that glows green.
So he's determined to find everything he can about Fenton Works, because there's no way that Daniel Fenton isn't actually a villain in the making.
Danny's just thrilled for the chance to work with Wayne Enterprises.
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before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
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