#recover' even if you consider them a friend. In reality they have their little mining hat on if you know what i mean

[asilentfighter]

If you're wondering what happened to this blog, Bark actually died of refeeding syndrome years ago and everything after was a coma dream the end

#Lmfao jk but also. Do not trust people that tell you 'trust me bro a malnourished person would need to eat very suddenly and a lot to recove #recover' even if you consider them a friend. In reality they have their little mining hat on if you know what i mean #Anyway im reclaiming this muse. Glad to see the person that ruined him for me has been slapped by karma #If i ever return to this blog itll be as a full reboot #IDW Sonic has been giving us some excellent Bark reaction images so id have nice ones at my disposal #They did that for me and me alone <3

[promiscuouspomegranate]

still not recovered from the Carnell x reader… i need more of him.. 🤤🤤🤤

please i need one where instead of that STUPID IDIOT SAYING HE HATES US we go in and smooch his lips and it doesn’t even have to end with abduction i just.. i need my man 🤤🤤🤤

TWs: Carnell couldn’t handle the kiss and got too excited… 😞

He might offer a handkerchief first for all that drool..!

But if you kissed him.. it might’ve gone a little something like this…

“I’m going to kiss him today,” I stood up and gathered my belongings, “I know I’ve said that a thousand times, but I’m going to do it.”

“Well, good luck with that,” My friend hugged me and dreamily sighed, “I wonder if Lila needs someone to massage her back after carrying your entire class.”

I rolled my eyes and hugged them back before going to the practice room. I was incredibly excited to work with Carnell; I felt my heart pounding as I reached the door. My hand weakly opened the door, and I stepped inside.

“You’re late again,” Carnell playfully teased, “I assume you barely made any progress on our song?”

I almost retorted but took a deep breath.

“Carnell, could we try something different today? I need help learning a song on the piano,” I took a step closer and set my violin down, “Could you help me?”

“I– Of course, I could assist you, Y / N,” Carnell seemed flustered and put his sheet music back in its black binder, “Besides, considering how miserable your violin is, you will need the help of the best to teach you how to play.”

Usually, I would think of a witty comeback, but I decided to let Carnell boast. After all, I figured his resentment was his way of poorly masking his innermost feelings toward me.

“This song is uhm,” I felt my hands shake as I gripped the piece of paper. Sweat stained what was once pristine, and I nervously muttered, “It’s a bit abstract in how you uhm.. perform it.”

“What do you mean? Here, let me see it,” He grabbed it from me before I could protest.

I watched as his eyes widened as he read the song. I felt my heart pound as he shakily set it down on the bench.

“Your song is terrible,” He furiously blushed and scoffed, “I’ve seen better compositions from elementary students. I suppose, out of kindness and pity, I will teach you how to perform it.”

I sat beside him on the bench and set my hands on the cool, white keys. Our thighs brushed against each other as the song “For Carnell” stared into our shy souls.

“You want to start your fingers on the middle C,” He grabbed my hands and positioned them to the right spot–disregarding any musical knowledge I had.

“Like this,” I coyly asked, deciding to play into his little fantasy, “It’s been a while since I last played piano.”

Instead of listening to his instructions, I let my hands cautiously wander down the keys to his. I moved closer to him on the bench and awkwardly attempted to flirt.

“Your hands aren’t as rough as mine; it’s nice,” I felt a heat rise in my face as I regretted my choice of words. I fell back to my old ways and quickly added, “Hah! I guess that proves I practice more than you do.”

Silence filled the air like a burning fire, and our fear of vulnerability kindled the flames.

“I fear you are mistaken, as per usual,” Carnell lightly held my hand and examined it, “Your hands are like delicate little p-petals.”

“The skin on my hands is rough,” I guided his hand to my blushing face, “It’s softer here.”

Eyes locked and lingered on facial features as shyness slowly transformed into yearning. The sun seeped in from the window and highlighted natural beauty. Reality blurred as hidden fantasies emerged.

“You’re a pretty boy, Carnell,” I stopped thinking and softly smiled. I leaned in closer and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” He murmured and closed his eyes.

Arms wrapped around bodies as lips revealed every unspoken feeling. I felt our hearts touch as his lips passionately pressed against mine. I slowly pulled away and savored every moment. A stupid, lovestruck smile swept across my face as I sighed.

“I was hoping this would happen,” I chuckled and stared at him, “Do you like me, Carnell?”

Silence filled the air again as my heart ached for an answer. I felt his hand firmly grab my arm as I looked at him dumbstruck.

“I don’t just like you, Y / N,” His eyes widened as a saccharine smile plagued his face, “Oh, I am fervently and exceedingly devoted to your existence. You are my sun and my moon, my goddess and my devil, and my muse and damnation.”

His words felt unnerving and his mannerisms were no longer charming. His fingernails dug into my skin as his affections overpowered his reason.

“Kiss me again,” He pleaded, “I want to feel your mouth all over my skin.”

#☆–carnell #yandere #yandere writing #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #dark romance

[soranis-sunshadow]

Looking back

@cruelfeline wanted a snippet between Hordak and Glimmer where they contemplated on how much of a fuckup either of them is.

I took it as a prompt and I hope this little oneshot scratches that itch.

It was always better to go to a banquet than to host it, Glimmer thought to herself while making her way down the long hallway of the reclusive palace wing. If she felt at odds or tired or just not in the mood, all she had to do was signal Bow and he’d take her home. But as a host, she WAS home, there was nowhere else to go to. Besides, since she was the esteemed host, she couldn’t leave early. It would be in poor taste.

This year, the anniversary of the end of the war was hosted in Bright Moon and she had to find a secluded place in her own home to take a breather from all the commotion before she had to return to the party and smile and nod and… try not to feel like such an imposter.

She finally found her favorite overlook, the one where she came to sulk whenever her mother gave her a stern -and justified- talking to, the best view and the music of the party down in the main hall was muted. No sooner did she lay her hands upon the balustrade that she spotted movement to the periphery of her vision. It was another person she really didn’t want to interact with due to the sheer awkwardness: Hordak. He was sitting by himself in contemplation, looking on into the distance in the last light of the day.

She and he stood meters apart on the balcony in silence for a while. He seemed to look at peace while staring off into the sunset. She tried to do the same. Her maelstrom of thoughts made it difficult.

During the war, she had never met him face to face, all she knew was what other people said of him – both her own and other hordesmen that were captured and interrogated.

Their first meeting in the flesh had been memorable… for very terrible, nightmare inducing reasons. Even now, she couldn’t look at Hordak without seeing Prime discard his errant tool then threaten to destroy her world in a dulcet voice as if it were the most trite of things. It probably had been to that monster…

Hordak hadn’t been what she – an everyone else thought he was. What made it even more jarring, and unexpected, had been his eagerness to repent and atone following the war.

Glimmer had decreed that Prime’s little brothers were not at fault for what they had been made to do for their creator, all of them, Hordak included. She couldn’t in good conscience persecute any of them whilst knowing, intimately – unlike the other monarchs- where they came from and what had been done to them.

Hordak however, decided to be difficult, because of course he did.

He insisted that even had his actions been in the hopes of serving Prime, they had been his actions, his mistakes. He owned them, and he owed Etheria. He had decided- by himself - to rebuild the things he had a hand in destroying not out of a desperate bid for forgiveness but because it was what he had been convinced that it was the right, and the just thing to do.

It made it very awkward for her to interact with him… whenever she invited Entrapta to these events, he was always her plus one. Entrapta was a sore spot for Glimmer. She had decided that the Dryll princess would be the first one to be invited whenever Glimmer hosted any event. It was the least she owed her.

She had learned that Entrapta endangered herself to save her back when she had been abducted on Prime’s ship… a few weeks before that, Glimmer had argued with Adora and Bow to leave her on Beast Island for the time being. It was a shame that stung deeply. Entrapta had been a far better friend to her than she had been to Entrapta. To make matters worse, Entrapta seemed either oblivious or not to hold it against her. It made Glimmer’s guilt even worse. At times, she wished Entrapta HAD been angry, she wished the other princess would give her a piece of her mind, at least then, she’d be able to make it up to her.

Huh!

No wonder Hordak “punished” himself with reparations and reconstructions…She couldn't stop a heavy sigh from escaping her. It wasn't an invitation to talk but he seemed to take it as one since the noise startled him out of his contemplation and he slowly turned towards her.

“Good evening, your grace.” It was always a bit comical when one of Prime’s clones bowed to her, they would have to bend over comically low to match her height. Hordak didn’t. He merely bowed his head smoothly and lowered his ears to convey submission.

“Uh, hey.” How dignified of her. She wished she had half as much grace as her mother had. “Uuuh,-“ he looked at her with that blank face that had been conditioned into him. ‘Ugh, say something Glimmer, this doesn’t have to be this awkward. Make an effort, for Entrapta’s sake at least!’. “- lovely sunset, right?”

He blinked slowly then turned back to the vista. “Indeed.”

‘C’mon! Give me SOMETHING to work with here!’ She thought to herself. “What do you think of the party?” That had been a host thing to ask, it was appropriate and neutral right?

It wasn’t... The answer came in that calm, low, dignified and slightly husky voice of his, a voice that had cracked from screaming and had never recovered. His posture betrayed his unease. Hordak further stiffened at the question.

“It is,-“ he paused considering his words carefully “quite sumptuous, your grace.” He bowed again. It was clearly at least as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

This wasn’t helping… ‘Good job Glimmer!’ If it hadn’t been weird and both of them had enjoyed the companionable silence before, now she had made things awkward.

While considering what to say next, he saved her the effort by saying. “Your guests are enjoying themselves.” Was that a compliment? Was he trying to compliment her? She knew from former interactions with him that he had a very stiff and formal way of talking, very unlike his progenitor. Words fit poorly in his mouth. It was so curious how, despite having the same voice and the same face, almost… they sounded worlds apart. He held himself differently too, Prime had filled every space he was in, he owned every room he walked into. Hordak on the other hand seemed perpetually on eggshells. Was that why he was here by himself?

“You are my guest too.” She said to him, trying to sound warm and welcoming but it came out a bit defensive.

The unasked question hung between them in the dying light of the day.

He saved her from asking it once more. “My presence… makes some of your other guests uneasy, your grace. I did not wish to impose.”

“Impose? Nonsense!” She waved it off with a chuckle. “You and Entrapta are welcome here, I’ve expressly invited the both of you myself. There is no way you could ‘impose’ in any way!” Then it hit her… “Did anyone tell either of you that you were imposing? If they did, tell me who it was and I’ll have a chat with them.”

He huffed out a chuckle then turned towards her once more. A small, tentative smile made its way on his face. “No such thing your grace, the initiative was all mine.” The shared gaze was broken as he looked at his feet then back into the distance. “ I wished to prevent it from becoming an issue. Many of your kinsmen are weary of me, and for good reason. My actions on your world did not endear me to most of your kind.” It seems that guilt had brought them both on this overlook.

“I should name this ‘the shitty overlook!’ Hah!” She laughed. “Because everyone comes on this balcony to feel shitty.” He looked at her, one browridge raised in inquiry. “You’re here because of the whole conquest thing and I’m here because I’ a terrible friend.”

Glimmer continued. “We both did regrettable things during the war.” She too looked on into the distance, the line of bleeding orange light got thinner and thinner as night overtook it, a thin line of fiery hues reflected off the surface of the turbulent lake. Silence hung between them for a few minutes.

“You did what you thought was necessary, your grace.” Despite the curt tone, it was a reassurance. It was uncanny for Hordak of all people to be the one trying to comfort her.

“We both did. It still doesn’t make it feel right.” Both of their closets had skeletons cramped in them.

“It may not but, at the time, you saw no other way to do your duty.” He sighed deeply. “Hindsight is indeed, not a charitable beast your majesty, but it is unfair.” He clicked his claws on the balustrade. The motion was somewhat distracting. ” You know things now that you couldn’t have possibly known back then. Within the constraints of the time and the data available, you did the best that you could, the best that could be expected. You were a formidable opponent.” As sound as his logic was, it did little to assuage the anger she aimed at herself.

“And I had my friends take the fall for me because I thought it was necessary.” She sighed and hugged herself. “I was wrong, even back then but I didn’t want to admit it, I thought the ends justify the means. They don’t. They never do.”

“It’s easy to overthink the choices made when one is aware that there were other options, other paths that could have been taken.” He sounded, small and sad, his own demons haunting him.” The reality of it is that, in the moment, you may not have been aware of other possibilities and time had not been on your side. You decided to move forward down the only path you saw before you. The alternative would have been admitting defeat. Had you done so, you wouldn’t be here to second guess yourself. It was, in general, the right thing to do even if you are left with the consequences of your perceived momentary oversights. You have the privilege now, to make up for your mistakes – a privilege you wouldn’t have had should you have not done the things you did. “

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” She hadn’t known she needed it nor would she had ever asked for it and that’s exactly why the point had hit home. “She was right, you’re a good listener.”

He chuckled again, an animate chuckle that rippled through him as he shook his head and turned back to look at the lake. She made her way closer and took in the familiar view. Neither of them said anything after that.

They watched the stars appear on the night sky, reflecting off the surface of the lake, somewhat distorted. The ripples of the lake made their twinkling even brighter. The night was peaceful.

#glimmer #hordak #entrapdak #spop fanfic

[heauxzenji]

Tetsuro Kuroo: NSFW Alphabet

Since I got at least THREE separate requests for this as a part of my 200 event (and I’m literally 1 away from 300???? how???), I’ve decided to add these gems as an XXXtra Special (laugh with me) piece to celebrate! Thank you SO much for following and enjoying my work! ❤️You can find the full alphabet prompt list here. Creds to @fairy-tail-babes​ for creating it! 

𝔄 = 𝔄𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢

He’s the sweetest after he’s gone particularly hard on you. He loves to baby you, telling you how good you were for him. He also won’t let you go anywhere by yourself- he insists on carrying you wherever you want to go in the house. He also always has your favorite food or snack ready to go, and always lets you pick the movie.

𝔅 = 𝔅𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱

He fixates on the faces you make. Particularly the look in your eyes. Your expression tells him how he’s making you feel, and he’s an expert at reading you. He likes to stare into your eyes while you have sex, and always encourages you to keep your eyes open and look back at him.

ℭ = ℭ𝔲𝔪

Oh he likes to cum in your mouth- no, he LOVES it. Kuroo has an oral fixation, so he likes to see himself drip onto your tongue as he towers over you while you’re on your knees.

𝔇 = 𝔇𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶 𝔖𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱

He hasn’t gotten it done because he’s scared you won’t like it, but he’s seriously considered getting his dick pierced. He doesn’t want to bring it up because he’s thorouhgly convinced you’d hate it.

𝔈 = 𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

He knows a lot. Not necesarily from his OWN experience, but simply because he’s a smarty pants. He will literally research things you bring up, finding the best products or methods to make your experience the most pleasurable possible.  this is the one good thing abiut him being a fckn nerd...

𝔉 = 𝔉𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔓𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

I truly don’t think he has one! He likes anything that makes him look strong/sexy and that’s everything.... have you seen his abs/arms/back?!?! But I will say he is a VERY visual lover, so he does enjoy positioning you in front of a mirror and having the both of you watch him take you.

𝔊 = 𝔊𝔬𝔬𝔣𝔶

He laughs at you struggling against him. He thinks its funny that you think you stand a chance against him, when you both know you’re completely at his mercy.

ℌ = ℌ𝔞𝔦𝔯

He’s pretty well groomed. The carpet definitely matches the drapes. He doesn’t shave, but instead he opts to trim every once in awhile when he feels like its a little overgrown. But what’s important is that its clean. He’s very particular about that.

ℑ = ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔶

There are cute moments with Kuroo where he totally breaks out of the dom role he plays so well. Times where he’s actually very soft with you, and will just pause to say “wow, you are really the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

excuse me while I cry about it 

𝔍 = 𝔍𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔒𝔣𝔣

HE SENDS YOU VIDEOS WHEN HE DOES! The sneaky fuck will do so in his office or car, and send you the video like “thinking of you. <3″ He always cuts the video off right before he cums though, or even worse, he’ll angle the camera up to his face so you can watch his eyes flutter closed- then he’ll look directly into the camera and wink, knowing he denied you of EXACTLY what you wanted to see.

𝔎 = 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔨

Ok so I’m gonna list a few and just... let you do what you will with them 👀:

CORRUPTION

Praise (giving)

Brat Taming/Degradation/Light exhibitionism (these all go hand in hand)

We ALL know he has a daddy kink too come on

𝔏 = 𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

He’ll have you wherever he can for a quickie, but the real fun is always in your home. Obviously your bedroom, but Kuroo is also very fond of shower sex, especially early in the morning. For him, its better than coffee at waking him up. 

𝔐 = 𝔐𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

He loves to hear you beg for him. Knowing he’s the only one you call out for in that way drives him wild. He also likes to see you make a mess on his cock, its his reassurance that he makes you feel just that good.

𝔑 = 𝔑𝔬!

Kuroo is posessive, so there’s no way he’s allowing anyone else into your sex life. He might joke about showing his friends your sextapes, but in reality, he would probably murder anyone who looked at you like that besides him.

𝔒 = 𝔒𝔯𝔞𝔩

Loves to give and loves to receive. Prefers to recieve though, because he likes watching you get really into sucking him off. Also likes to fuck your face.

𝔓 = 𝔓𝔞𝔠𝔢

This is a toss up. It really does depend on his mood. He loves to tease though, so this fucker likes a good, lingering slow burn when he’s fucking you on a normal day. He’ll alternate between slow/shallow and slow/deep, just until you’re absolutely begging him. then he’ll pick it up and start pounding into you. However, if he’s had a particularly stressful day, he will take it out on you in the bedroom... not that you mind. 

𝔔 = 𝔔𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔢

He uses them as foreplay. He’ll bend you over his office deck and get you craving him, but he’ll thrust so shallowly that you’re grinding against him for more- only for him to bring a hand to your ass and then whisper “When we get home, you’re all mine.” Which in turn only makes you want him more.

ℜ = ℜ𝔦𝔰𝔨

He’s definitely someone who is down  to experiment. He wants to try just about anything you bring up, so that he knows what makes you feel good, and more importantly, what makes you tick. For him, understanding what you like is like understanding your deepest thoughts. 

𝔖 = 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞

He can definitely go rounds. He takes ‘all night’ literally, and will not be finished until he knows you are ABSOLUTELY fucked out and can’t take it anymore. Even then, he’ll give you maybe 30 minutes to recover ??? if he’s being nice that night. But then he’s just right back in your guts like nothing happened. 

𝔗 = 𝔗𝔬𝔶

Yes. He got you a special toy that was basically a silicone mold of HIS dick for when you’re not together... a true king.

𝔘 = 𝔘𝔫𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯

Of course Kuroo is a tease. It’s his life blood. He’s naturally someone who likes to get a rise out of people to push them to be better- and you’re no exception. He always likes to put you in ‘compromising’ positions around his friends and then play it off like you’re the instigator.

“Oh y/n I know you want it right now, but baby, everyone is here- we must wait until we’re home okay?”

What a JERK iloveitplease

𝔙 = 𝔙𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢

Oh. My. God. So, he doesn’t necesarily moan a lot, but when he does, he tries his hardest to muffle them by breathing in sharply, or catching them in his throat. But he is someone who grunts and swears a lot. And yes 300% to dirty talk and pet names. Chibi-Chan is undeniably canon.

𝔚 = 𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔡 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔡

He has the MOST FIRE sex playlist. I just know it. He has such a wide taste in music, so he can set the mood at any time just right. Its always playing “on accident” the moment you two are together- Kuroo calls it a sign.

𝔛 = 𝔛 ℜ𝔞𝔶

This took me like 30 minutes to fully fantasize about and explain 

KUROO HAS A PRETTY DICK HE IS A PRETTY DICK CLUB CARDHOLDER. It’s not super thick, but it’s long. I’d actually say he’s a realistic 8incher. Please kill me with it. He’s also definitely a shower- so what he has is only enhanced when he’s hard. His dick also flushes against the fabric of whatever pants/shorts he wears, so you’re constantly caught staring, not that he minds- he loves the attention, and the thought of always being on your mind.

𝔜= 𝔜𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

I would say he has a relatively normal to high sex drive- When he wants you, he wants you, and he won’t leave it alone until he gets you. He’s definitely the type to remind you how much he wants you all day long in an effort to rush you home from your errands or workday. He’s very good at making it known that he’s in the mood for you and you only

ℨ = ℨ𝔷𝔷

Kuroo... Doesn’t sleep at all? I see him as a night owl anyway, so he’s never really tired. He would honestly rather just admire you as you sleep. That’s how he knows he did a good job.

#THIS WAS A LABOR OF LOVE #200withdaisy #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanon #haikyuu hc #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu writing #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu smut #hq kuroo #hq smut #hq headcanon #hq headcanons #hq writing #hq scenarios #thinkin about kissin

[sodacansculptures]

Hello, everyone!!

Just wanted to give an update on my life and my absence. It is a bit depressing, so feel free to skip the rest of this post. I am on mobile and do not know how to do a "read more", so I apologize.

The TL;DR version is that I have been struggling with unemployment for over a year (thanks, covid) and have become very discouraged in my efforts, and I am essentially in survival mode while battling depression. I do have a therapist and I know I will ultimately be okay--just not having a particularly good time at the moment.

The full version is that in 2018, finishing grad school became my top priority and was why I had to take a break from sculpting. I graduated in May of 2020 with my Master's, and I had a job lined up with a university, but it got withdrawn because the whole university shut down. As far as I know, the position was never re-offered or re-posted.

The industries for which my degrees qualify me and that I am pursuing were highly affected by budget cuts and project cancelations due to the pandemic, so they have many displaced workers seeking reentry into the field, resulting in unusually high numbers of applicants and competition for people such as myself. (USA Today actually interviewed me for my expertise on this topic.)

Lower-tier jobs pass over me because I am overqualified and they assume I will be pursuing other employment, leaving them with turnover, which is expensive to any agency. Higher-tier jobs are in high demand as they offer better wages and better working conditions, so they have a large crop of candidates from which to pick and elect someone with more experience than myself (and obviously I cannot gain more experience without employment). I am in a sort of impossible situation that has left everyone involved in my employment search with frustration.

Over the past year, I have enlisted the help of an employment training/retention program and multiple staffing agencies, and they have been extremely supportive of me and helped me expand my network. I have sought out much help, and I am endlessly grateful to have support, but unfortunately there is little they can do more than what I have already been doing for myself to gain employment.

I have a stellar resume, an awesome number of favorable and practical references, and I always study the agency and position to which I am applying so I can write an informed cover letter and have relevant talking points during interviews. I put a lot of time and effort into every opportunity, and when I inquire for feedback, employers repeatedly tell me that they admire my resourcefulness and work ethic and think I would be an extremely valuable worker, but another candidate just had a little more experience. It is heartbreaking to know I have done my best and interviewed excellently but ultimately end up back at square one. I honestly wish there was something I was doing wrong so that there was something tangible I could improve to fix my situation.

My effort feels invisible to the outside world and it seems the public assumes I am on a sort of easy vacation. In reality, every day for me is full of uncertainty, and every day, I wish I could be working. I get by utilizing my skills from high school robotics and self-instruction via the internet to repair, restore, and upgrade old electronics, but it is not stable work and not for what I went to school.

Additionally, I have been deemed not to qualify for Unemployment for a nonsensical rationalization. They ask for employment history in order to calculate how much to pay, but for some reason, student jobs do not count as jobs to them. So although they have me in their system as having been employed as a graduate assistant, they both demand to know from my previous employer what that wage was (and the institution would not forward that wage information to Unemployment because it is a student job and irrelevant to Unemployment's calculations), and would not consider that, anyway, in how much to pay me. So essentially, Unemployment could not figure out how much to pay me, so they just decided not to. I have opened appeals over the situation with them twice, and I have been rejected twice and had the case closed with no opportunity to reopen it. It is a huge slap in the face that even the social system put in place to help people such as myself has failed me and turned me away.

I would take a factory job or do some other physical labor since those are hiring, but I have plantar fasciitis and being on my feet for more than an hour or so at a time just is not feasible for me. I was receiving physical therapy for it at one point, but insurance stopped covering it because they decided I should have had enough visits by now to have recovered. I'm also struggling to get my insurance to cover things like treatment for GERD, which makes eating anything at all a nightmare to deal with.

I have been getting by mostly on pity from family and friends. I do not have unnecessary things like wifi, and I have a lot of expenses I had been putting off because I assumed I would have a job by now (such as a vacuum cleaner. Mine is broken). It kills me to ask for money because it's embarrassing for me that I can't provide for myself, and I got into the field of public administration because I want to be a servant to the people and help them have resources and money, not take money from them.

If you don't have a lot of money, please keep it for yourself. I'm not hurting that badly that I would want to put others in a precarious situation. But if you have a little change you'd like to spare for me (and absolutely no pressure. If I receive nothing, I will still be okay), my Venmo and my PayPal are each @asclw7643. Any little bit would help and I'd be greatly appreciative.

Finally, I did finish that project I was posting about last year in my previous post. I want to post a photo of it, but I can't seem to locate where I put it at the moment. It's Kicks from Animal Crossing. I wanted to do a series of wooden block sprites (mainly Pokemon) and I do still want to. I want to come back to soda can sculpting, as well, so I want to let you all know that I'm here, I'm alive, and I'll persist.

Thank you all for your patience. I promise it will be rewarded and I have a lot of ideas for new sculptures. =]

With love,

- Crystal

(or Cris. I go by either.)

[redrose-arrow]

Do you think Royal Ranger is not as good as his other books? I know a lot of people don't like Madelyn.

I honestly don’t think the Royal Ranger is a weak link in the series. I am aware that a lot of people don’t like Madelyn, and I think that’s fair and understandable, even if I don’t agree. I actually have another post up about that, so go check that out if you want to know more about why I like Madelyn and why I think many other fans do not!

In regards to the strength of the Royal Ranger itself - personally, it’s as high up there in my personal ranking as some of my other all time favourites. I’ll explain why in a bit.

For starters - I think a lot has to do with expectation management: we never would have gotten the stories we wanted. Romantic relationships - and even emotions, in some ways - don’t even reach the podium in terms of the series’ focus. I think, since I never really expected to read a book in which Will and Alyss’ relationship would be a focus, I also wasn’t that disappointed not to get that. More on that later.

Obviously, there’s the discourse surrounding Maddie. If you don’t like her, it’s already challenging to convince you to like her books. I have another long post about this, in case you’re curious :). In any case - I love her.

What I also loved was Will’s character development. Now, this is a tricky point, because I know a lot of fans do not approve of how Will’s depression was handled. Let me preface my own point by saying this: I understand. I understand that the harsh pull-back to reality is not something that works for everyone and I can understand that many fans would have liked to see something else. But here’s the thing: it works for some. It worked for a close friend of mine. It worked for me. Throughout the series, we always see Will as the hero. Even when he’s addicted to warmweed, he recovers from that quickly (ignoring the trauma is another point unrelated to this one). He almost dies - more than once - but he’s always quickly back on his feet. The Royal Ranger is the first (and so far only) book in the series that explores a different side of his character. His darker side. The side that’s hurting, that’s uncaring about anyone, least of all himself. The side that could kill him in more ways than one. The side that he needs to be saved from. Seeing that side of him shocked me, and I love the book for it. Especially to see his growth back to happiness. He laughs again, for the first time, but when he’s reminded of Gilan and Jenny’s relationship he’s sad and a little jealous. He has to physically restrain himself when he finds out he’s hunting Ruhl, but he’s also joking around with Maddie when they’re coming up with their plan. And then there’s the crying, and we read that the tears are for Alyss, finally, but they’re also for Maddie. And for him - most of all, for him. That growth was so relatable for me, that sentence so close to me, I loved it so much, I cannot help but love the entire book for it.

But. Alyss had to die. Believe me when I say that that was a shocker for me too. In my post about why I like Maddie I mentioned that I think many dislike Maddie because she’s Alyss’ replacement, and I want to include that here as well. Yes, Maddie’s pretty much a replacement for Alyss. And something in me hates it, to excuse a male author for killing off one female character to introduce another, and yet again, I cannot help but do so. In this book, Maddie has two roles: one, to be a female hero, and two, to help Will’s character development. There’s little for me to say about the first point, so let’s delve into the second. Given the fact that the Royal Ranger was initially the finale for the series as a whole, we can assume that Will’s character development (that I mentioned earlier), was the most important aspect of the book. So, his dark side needed to be brought out. If Halt would’ve died, Will would’ve been heartbroken and he might’ve gone a little crazy too, but his mentor was old, and so the impact would’ve been different. Halt getting murdered was just too unrealistic, which leaves a semi-natural death, and that’s just not interesting for this series to explore. (Not to mention that that would’ve truly made the fandom riot.) The death of Horace or Cassandra would’ve disrupted the Royal Family too much, and it would’ve required much more of a politics focus than the series likes to delve into. That leaves us with Alyss as the only viable, realistic, and simply useful character death. Yes, yes, YES, I would’ve loved for both Alyss and Will to mentor Maddie, I think she could’ve learned a lot from them together. But that situation wouldn’t have made good on Maddie’s second role. Add to this that a Will-and-Alyss relationship never would’ve been explored a lot anyhow, and her death can be seen in a different light. Hence, I don’t very much mind her being killed off as much as others (but I am still heartbroken about it). Especially since in the future books, Maddie has really come into her role as a character of her own, and since her second role then isn’t so important anymore, she doesn’t really feel as a replacement anymore.

Now that we’re on the topic of death, here’s a quick detour to Crowley’s. Yes, I would’ve loved to see more of Halt’s grieving, but again, that’s not something the series pays particular attention to in general. It would’ve been a little too Halt-focused book and honestly? Wouldn’t have really added something to the plot. So we have to make do with a short sentence that mentions Halt finding comfort in the fact that Crowley died happily. (Also, why do y’all want Crowley to have been murdered so bad?? The man was ancien, let him rest in peace after a natural death with a smile on his face.)

Then there’s the matter of Cassandra and Horace’s parenting. Again, something that not everyone approves of, and rightly so. Yeah, maybe disinheriting your daughter is not the way to go. I agree. I also think it’s a very interesting “mistake”, because it is something that happened in medieval times. Furthermore, Cassandra takes after her father and Horace admits to being a bit sexist. It’s interesting, especially when you see how much Horace and Cassandra grow as parents throughout the Royal Ranger books. Fairly, the fact that Horace and Cassandra admit to not being the best parents makes me readily excuse their actions, but I cannot help it (and, I have loads of headcanons about the Royal Family that make me love them more and more).

Another thing about the Royal Ranger that tends to be disliked is the “repetition” - by which I mean Will turning in Halt 2.0 (in more ways than one). Again, there’s a few reasons why I don’t mind, and even love it. One - why wouldn’t Will be like Halt? Everyone loves their father-son relationship, and there’s more than one son I’ve seen turn into their dad in real life. Two - Will’s confronted with acting like Halt by Jenny. He tells her he just tries to copy his mentor, and she shoots right back saying how much he always complained about that. Yes, Will’s a lot like Halt, but it’s fully backed up and admitted by the series - also when it’s said that Will was barely considered as Commandant because, like Halt, he tends to bend the rules a little too much, and again in Duel at Araluen, when Duncan expresses his faith in his granddaughter partially because Will’s her mentor and Halt was his. Third - I like the parallel between Halt and Will’s relation-/apprenticeship and the one between Will and Maddie. Again, it makes sense for Will to copy Halt in a lot of things (Gorlog knows I copied a bunch of my teachers when I was standing in front of a class). But here’s the thing - Will and Maddie already know each other. They’re close. They’re almost literally family. It’s a very interesting balance that I loved to see in the Royal Ranger 1, and again in book 4. I’m really hoping for it to be explored even further in book 5.

All in all, I really like the compromise of the Royal Ranger. We got another apprenticeship, without the repetition of Halt being the mentor. It’s in the future, so we get a glimpse into the later lives of our favourite characters, but the fact that there’s 15 years unaccounted for leaves enough to the imagination. We have a new main character, but the original characters play important and recognised roles. For me, that means the Royal Ranger is many of the things I love about the original series, but it’s also fresh and new and therefore a valuable addition. Getting back to a point I made earlier: it’s an addition to the series because it is a little different and a little the same. Again, if the series would’ve ended with the Lost Stories, that would’ve been perfect. But if it would’ve continued the way a lot of fans wanted it to (honestly me included, and again, a very understandable point) the series would’ve become extremely repetitive (something that it is risking now as well, I’ll admit, but it’s taken a few more books). So, to me, the Royal Ranger seems like a fair compromise between continuing the series and keeping it intact!

Again, a bit of a longer answer, sorry anon! Also, I want to stress again that no one forces you to love the Royal Ranger - least of all me. If you want to pretend none of that happened - be my guest (even I love doing that every now and then). But I hope to have shown you why I also celebrate its existence!

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #the royal ranger #trr spoilers #ask redrose #ask redrosearrow #thanks for the ask! #trr

[inkandpen22]

Young Hearts Divided (11/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader/ James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: grief, mild arguing, fluff 

Word Count: 1.9k

Part Summary: While Y/N is struggling to cope with the news of her brother, Sirius is lost as to how to help

Masterlist

Sirius

I hear the others approaching to join Remus and I by the Black Lake. Y/N hasn’t moved from that spot under the young oak for sometime now. I was worried before she sat down, now I’m afraid. I’ve never seen Y/N this way. Usually she never stops talking- and I love that about her- but she hasn’t said a word in hours. I feel terrible because there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve never felt so helpless. Even when I’m home with my parents I can control the situation to an extent, but not here, not now. 

Out of the corner of my eye, Lily settles down beside me. Then, there’s a pat on my shoulder, then a comforting grip. James. 

“How long has she been like that?” Lily glances between me and Remus. 

All I can seem to do is watch Y/N, make sure she’s alright. For some reason, I’m afraid she may disappear. If I glance away, even for a moment, she’ll be gone. 

“A while,” Remus mutters with a rare gloominess in his tone. 

“How long is a while?” James inquires. 

“Hours,” Remus shrugs, sounding uncertain of the the exact time. 

“All day,” I correct sharply, finally breaking my silence. 

They must know the severity of this. They need to understand how much this is affecting Y/N. 

Lily shifts closer to me, eager to learn more. “Has she eaten anything? Had a sip of something?” 

“No.” My answer is plain, short, and to the point, exactly how we should be acting in order to fix her. 

Lily sighs, Well we should-” 

“What do you suggest Lily?!” I snap, finally looking away from Y/N to address her. “If you have any bright ideas by all means share it with the rest of the class! We’ve tried everything and no matter what we do nothing works!” 

Lily cowers, struck hard by my uncharacteristically harsh remarks. 

“Sirius...” James states my name disapprovingly yet calmly with understanding as a best friend should. 

He is right though... I shouldn’t have snapped. None of this is Lily’s fault, nothing is ever really Lily’s fault. 

“Alright, I’m sorry!” I rush out. “I just... I don’t know how to help her! I don’t know how and... and she...” 

I find myself struggling to find the right words. I want to help Y/N, but I don’t know how. 

“It’ll be alright,” Lily assures, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

She offers me a kind smile, one I’m all too familiar with. How can she say that when there’s nothing we can do? 

“Are you sure of that? Really?” I question baffled. “Because I have no clue how this will turn out. I don’t know how she’ll recover from this. If what McGonagall said is true, Y/N and her family, they... What would you do Lil? How would you feel if you found out your parents or sister have betrayed you?” 

“None of us understand like you do, Sirius,” she points out a reality I hadn’t considered. 

“Me?” I frown in confusion. 

“Your family, Narcissa, Belatrix, your parents, Regulus,” Lily begins to explain. “They may not be Death Eaters, but they see sense in You-Know-Who, right? You understand Y/N’s situation better than anyone. You don’t know what to do? All you can do is be there for her. Talk to her. When you have nothing say, simply sit with her. All you can do is be present, care, and listen when given the chance.” 

“She’s right,” James adds in agreement. 

“Sometimes the best you can do is be there,” Remus determines. 

I take a moment, processing what my friends have advised me to do. Despite their wisdom, I’m still hesitant. They carry a lot of faith in me. Lily is right, my cousins, brother, entire family haven’t exactly be withholding of their true feelings when it comes to Muggles. In fact, they might as well just declare themselves Death Eaters in order to cease the confusion. Everybody already accuses them of being ones. 

Taking a deep breath, I rise from my position on the grass and brush down my uniform. Y/N remains still, watching the ripples of the lake as she has all day. I wonder what’s going through her mind. Oh what I would give to hear her speak to me. It could be about anything, something as small as a homework assignment. I just want to hear her voice. 

Cautiously, I begin to approach her at a steady pace. I don’t wish to frighten her, but I also don’t want to creep up on her. Perhaps, if I walk normally and act normal, that would make her feel better. I’m certain she hears me coming despite her lack of reaction. It doesn’t help that I feel the others’ eyes on me. They’re all waiting to see what happens. 

Maintaining my composure, I steadily ease myself down onto the grass beside her. Her sight remains ahead, somewhere along the horizon. Her eyes are narrow into slits from the bright sun on the ripples of the water. I turn my head toward her to catch a better glimpse of her face and she still doesn’t react. Her lips remain in a soft frown and her features gloomy. I swallow hard, bringing my attention back to the horizon. I don’t what do. How do I help her? How do I take the pain away? 

Unexpectedly, Y/N’s hand glides over my fists gently and gives them a slight squeeze. Bewildered, I snap my head in her direction. Unfazed, she slowly rests her head on my shoulder. Afraid that the slightest movement will cause her to cower, I remain still. She scoots closer to me and slips her arm through mine, clinging to me. Hesitantly, I plant a kiss to her forehead. I’ve missed her presence. Her closeness to me. 

Resting my chin on top of her head, I stare off into the distance as a though crosses my mind. Then, the thought simply leaves me. “I know this doesn’t help, but I love you...” 

My voice is so faint I nearly lose it in the slight breeze brushing through the valley. There’s a prolonged pause and I debate within myself whether she missed it or I made the situation worse. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear that. Maybe I messed up. 

“It does help,” she whispers as her fingers tighten around my bicep. 

And finally, I can breathe again. At least for now, I’m not losing her. 

__________________________________________

Later that night... 

Y/N

Late following a stroll about the castle after dinner, Sirius and I return to the Common Room. It’s empty as the others have gone to bed. I won’t lie and say I’m not a tad relieved everyone’s to bed. I’m not sure I could handle everyone’s starring. At dinner, everyone tried their best to act like everything is normal, but even Lily couldn’t fake a smile. 

Sirius and I lay on the couch facing each other. The faint cracking of the fire fills the silence. A nice thick wool blanket keeps us warm and I find myself more at ease than I’ve been the last few days. He brings his warm hand to my cheek and brushes his thumb across it. My eyes fall shut at the sensation. Sirius, a blanket, a fire, a couch, and silence is like heaven to me. It’s my safe haven. 

“I think I should go see my brother,” I mumble. 

I already know what Sirius is going to say. Right on cue, his features change to express hostility. The peace moment already becoming a distant memory. 

“Go-” he inhales sharply. “Go see your brother? Seriously, Y/N?! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?!”

“Come with me then!” I plead, griping his hand in mine. 

He yanks his hand from me and sits up in a jolt. “That doesn’t by many means change the level of danger!”

I sigh, leaning up to sit beside him. My arm rests across his back as I rest my chin on his shoulder. “He won’t hurt me Sirius. He wouldn’t, couldn’t.”

“He’s a Death...” he stops himself before he says it.

My head snaps up from its position on his shoulder. “He might be,” I correct him. “We can’t be sure!” 

“Either way, it’s too risky!” Sirius declares as though it’s law now. 

Sirius shakes his head repeatedly as he avoids my gaze. His lower lip remains bit beneath his teeth. It doesn’t take a genius to see that his mind is traveling miles a minute. 

“Please Sirius...” I whisper desperately. “I have to know...”

He sighs deeply as his head falls. “You’ll go no matter what I say, right?”

“Probably,” I answer honestly. 

I don’t have a choice. I have to know. 

“Alrighty then,” he exhales sharply, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “We’ll do a day trip to London I guess. We’ll have to be smart about it though, to avoid suspension.”

I nod frantically, excited that he’s doing this with me. I knew it would be a long shot that he would agree to it at all. “We’ll use the tunnels and leave from the Shrieking Shack,” I suggest. 

His brows scrunch together. “Wait, how do you know about the tunnels?”

“Remus showed me once,” I explain plainly. “You don’t actually think I believed your little story about the four of you hiding in the Room of Requirement during Remus’s changes?” I giggle. He would too. 

He shrugs, appearing a tad offended. “I thought it was pretty convincing...” 

“You couldn’t possibly contain a werewolf in there!” I laugh. 

Sirius leans in a plants a quick peck to my temple. Then, he takes my face in his hands, making me stare into his eyes. “Just promise to never follow us on a full moon and to never go to the shack without me! If anything ever happened to you, I... I wouldn’t know what to do-” 

Interrupting his request, I plant a kiss to his lips. At first, he’s caught off guard, unsure of what to do. Then, he leans into the action hungrily. Before we both get too caught up in the moment, I break from him and rest my forehead against his. 

“Promise,” I smile. 

He shares my smile and brings his lips to mine again. Only this time, it’s gentle and more like we’re sealing the promise. 

“But promise me something in return,” I mumble against his lips. 

He leans back to meet my eyes. A brow rises with curiosity. “What is it?”

“Promise me that you won’t do anything reckless during a full moon. Every month I’m so afraid that you’ll sacrifice hour safety to protect Remus or the others,” I confess a worrisome thought that’s been bothering me for quite some time. “I lay awake at night asking the universe to keep you safe-” 

“I promise,” he blurts out without a second thought. 

It brings an immense wave of relief to finally confess my worrying and for him to be so compliant. 

“Y/N...” He wraps an arm around me, bringing in closer, if that’s even possible. “I would never do anything that would risk me losing you. I genuinely see us together for the rest of our lives. After we’re done here, we have the entirely world to see. I don’t want to lose a chance at that.” 

I lift my hand up and brush my fingers through his long black strands. Goodness, I love him so much. It amazes me sometimes how much I love him. I’m so thankful for Sirius. I look forward to forever with him if it will be just like this moment. 

____________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee-blog @a-classic-eye@devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzela @emilianamason @missryerye @loonyslytherin

#Sirius Black #remus x sirius #sirius black fanfic #sirius fanart #Sirius x Remus #Sirus Black #Marauders #marlene mckinnon #marauders fanfic #marauders era #Marlene #harry potter au #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter #hogwarts #Lily Potter #Lily Evans #peter pettigrew #remus #Remus Lupin

[free--therapy]

Let Go of Control: How to Learn the Art of Surrender

By Dr. Amy Johnson

“You must learn to let go. Release the stress. You were never in control anyway.”

~Steve Maraboli

I’ve noticed that things go much more smoothly when I give up control—when I allow them to happen instead of making them happen. Unfortunately, I’m terrible at this.

Although I’m much better than I used to be, I’m a bit of a control freak. I often use perfectly good energy trying to plan, predict, and prevent things that I cannot possibly plan, predict, or prevent.

For example, I wonder if my baby is going to get a proper nap when we travel and, if not, just how crabby she might be. I think through her travel and napping patterns, attempting to figure out exactly what we’re up against, as if her sleep is something I can control.

I also think about the weather a lot when out-of-town guests are visiting. I spend my already-limited time planning for every possible weather/mood combination when considering our itinerary.

Like most humans I know, I spend a lot of time in business that’s not mine. The baby’s business, my friends’ business, Mother Nature’s business.

As a recovering control freak, there are three things I know for sure about trying to control things:

1. We try to control things because of what we think will happen if we don’t.

In other words, control is rooted in fear.

2. Control is a result of being attached to a specific outcome—an outcome we’re sure is best for us, as if we always know what’s best.

When we trust that we’re okay no matter what circumstances come our way, we don’t need to micromanage the universe. We let go. And we open ourselves to all sorts of wonderful possibilities that aren’t there when we’re attached to one “right” path.

3. The energy of surrender accomplishes much more than the energy of control.

I suspect it’s slightly different for everyone, but here’s what control mode looks and feels like for me: My vision gets very narrow and focused, my breath is shallow, adrenaline is pumping and my heart rate increases.

My mind shifts from topic to topic and from past to future very quickly, and I have little concentration, poor memory, and almost no present-moment awareness.

In surrender mode, I’m calm, peaceful. Breathing deeply, present in the moment. I see clearly and my vision extends out around me, allowing me to (literally) see the bigger picture.

So the great irony is that attempting to control things actually feels less in control. When I’m micro-managing and obsessing over details, I know I’m in my own way.

The Art of Surrender

Surrender literally means to stop fighting. Stop fighting with yourself. Stop fighting the universe and the natural flow of things. Stop resisting and pushing against reality.

Surrender = Complete acceptance of what is + Faith that all is well, even without my input.

It’s not about inaction. It’s about taking action from that place of surrender energy.

If letting go of control and surrendering not only feel better, but actually produce better results, then how do we do that?

Sometimes it’s as easy as noticing that you’re in control mode and choosing to let go—consciously and deliberately shifting into surrender energy.

For example, when I become aware that I’m in control mode, I imagine that I’m in a small boat paddling upstream, against the current. It’s hard. It’s a fight. That’s what control mode feels like to me.

When I choose to let go and surrender, I visualize the boat turning around, me dropping the oars, and floating downstream.

I’m being gently pulled, no effort necessary on my part. Simply breathing and saying, “Let go of the oars” is usually enough to get me there.

Sometimes it’s a little harder to make the shift from control to surrender. Here are a few questions that can help:

1. What am I afraid will happen if I let go of control?

When you pinpoint the fear, question its validity. Ask yourself, Is it true? If you’re afraid the night will be ruined if your boyfriend doesn’t remember to pick up eggplant (and you’ve already reminded him fourteen times), question that assumption.

Can you really know the night would be ruined without the eggplant? And if it would be ruined (by your definition, anyway), what’s so bad about that?

2. Find out whose business you’re in.

Your business is the realm of things that you can directly influence. Are you there? Or are you in someone else’s business? When we’re trying to control things outside of our own business, it’s not going to go well.

3. Consider this: Would letting go feel like freedom?

It almost always would. Let that feeling of freedom guide you toward loosening your grip.

A Friendly Universe

Einstein said, “The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.”

I believe in a friendly universe.

Being receptive and allowing things to happen is a skill that can be practiced and improved upon. It helps to believe in a friendly universe—one that is supporting you at every turn so that you don’t have to worry yourself over the details.

We can always choose to do things the easy way or the hard way. We can muscle through, or we can let go of the oars and let the current carry us downstream.

There is a peaceful, yet focused energy that accompanies holding the intention of what I want, but not forcing myself to do it. That energy is magic. I’m still a work in progress, but I’m allowing it to become a habit instead of making it a habit.

#tiny buddha #letting go of control #control #letting go #controlling others #free therapy #mental health #mental wellness #mood disorders #anxiety #depression #bpd #bipolar disorder #ocd #ptsd #trauma #you got this #you can do it #you matter #you're enough #you're worthy #keep going #it gets better

[terrainofheartfelt]

"It's you, it couldn't be awful"

A Playlist For Dair Appreciation Week, Day 7 - Fave Quotes & Lyrics

I haven’t the faintest idea how to make gifs (seriously I think all of you are witches) so I made this playlist, because there is nothing I love more than scrolling through my spotify library and just projecting all over it.

Track listings and links with opinions & lyrics under the cut, because this thing is long, because I have no restraint.

(Note: I intentionally left off all tswift bc if I didn’t, we’d be here all day)

Section 1: The Bops

Little of Your Love - HAIM

A bop that embodies the energy of the 4b arc, and an energy of “Oh for crying out loud, Humphrey”

You’re just another recovering heart / I wasn’t even gonna try / you wouldn’t even give the time

Stop runnin’ your mouth like that / ‘cause you know I’m gonna give it right back

Hate That You Know Me - Bleachers

It’s “You owe me ten / You owe me twenty!” & “I was hoping it would go away / I was humiliated” & basically all of While You Weren’t Sleeping, tbh

Some days I, I wish that I wasn't myself / No luck! / And I hate that you know me so well

I Like Me Better - Lauv

Heavily featured in all y’all’s gifsets—and rightfully so!!! It’s also like the perfect counter to the previous song.

To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel

It’s about Blair roasting Dan for filth and him being completely charmed by it.

when you laugh / I forget that it's about me / But it's alright / Yeah, cause being your punchline / Still is something

No Reason to Run - Cold War Kids

In the perfect version of the show that lives in my head, this is the end credits song that plays as the two of them frolic in Rome.

I have evolved like a fish growing legs / Woke like a lightbulb clicked in my brain

You Make Lovin' Fun - Fleetwood Mac

The song for the couple that fucked in an elevator. Bless the work.

Sweet wonderful you / You make me happy with the things you do

No Matter What You Do - covered by Jakob Dylan and Regina Spektor

The energy is “I have a lot of affection for you but you are so annoying.” And this is the obligatory post-breakup s6 song.

No matter what in the world you do / Hey, I'll always be in love with you

Don't Take the Money - Bleachers

I see so much love for tswift on this website (valid) but I feel like the world as a whole sleeps on her collaborator Jack Antonoff bc he is brilliant and his act Bleachers has some of my favorite songs ever. Like this one. Antonoff has said before that the title phrase is more metaphorical than literal, like an idiom that means don’t take the easy way and give this up, because it’s genuine. Real “I want to have a sleepover with you” vibes.

Somebody broke me once / Love was a currency / A shimmering balance act / I think that I laughed at that

In the Morning - Nina Simone

It’s about the domesticity! And the “Our relationship is our world”! And the “we’re young and still have so much life to live so everything’s gonna be okay.” did i title a smut fic with lyrics from this song maybeso.gif

Please be patient with your life / It's only morning and you're still to live your day

This Must Be the Place - Talking Heads

This is a canon dair song bc @mysteriesofloves titled a fic after this song, them’s the rules. But for real, this is such a good one. The lyrics are intentionally scattered, a little bewildered, like “how did we get here? how did this happen? who found whom?” and finally “who cares? we found a home in each other.”

The less we say about it, the better / We'll make it up as we go along

Cleopatra in Brooklyn - Frank Turner

Chosen for the title obviously, but the lyrics capture the royal/5b arc pretty well, I think. The narrator carries this tongue-and-cheek comparison of the woman he’s singing to to Cleopatra through the whole song, comparing himself to Marc Antony, and ending with this really earnest kind of declaration. I’m obsessed with this songwriter he’s a genius please give him a listen.

These people are adjectives to your proper noun

I'll come find you when your fortunes fail you / I'll die with you when the gods desert you

Morphing into Section 2: Pure Vibes

Walking on a Dream - covered by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

The original is by Empire of the Sun (and omigod I just realized the coincidence), but I first heard it covered by McMahon, and he’s one of my favorite musicians of ever so I just love his rendition. And this song is sort of like...about finally deciding that the reality of love with someone is so much better than the idea of it.

Thought I’d never see / The love you found in me / Now it’s changing all the time

Wake Me - Bleachers

Jack coming for my life yet again. This song is so romantic but also so melancholy? Which is such a Daniel Humphrey Vibe.

And I'd rather be sad with you / Than anywhere away from you

All I Want - Joni Mitchell

I’m a white girl with a mother who grew up in the 60s, so I love Joni. And this song is so bubbly and joyful, but it’s also about a relationship between two imperfect people and wanting it to work anyway. Big “Despicable B” vibes!

All I really want our love to do / Is to bring out the best in me / And in you, too.

Dust to Dust - The Civil Wars

A friend in undergrad got me into the Civil Wars by showing me their live videos, and they have such incredible musical chemistry - like, the synchronicity of their ensemble is so good that it even comes through on their studio recordings and it makes these simple lyrics hit SO HARD.

You're just lonely / You've been lonely too long

NFWMB - Hozier

Ok, this had to be like the first ask I ever sent @bisexualdanhumphrey bc they wrote this fantastic meta post about Hozier and Derena but I said: “consider: NFWMB is a Dair song.” And they said, “You right.” I stand by it, and that’s why this song is on this list.

If I was born as a blackthorn tree / I'd wanna be felled by you / Held by you / Fuel the pyre of your enemies

Friday I'm in Love - covered by Phoebe Bridgers

This song - especially this cover - gives such Secret Friendship Arc vibes a la the end of 4x16...the inherent romance of eating pizza and falling asleep on the couch together

Always take a big bite / It’s such a gorgeous sight / To see you eat in the middle of the night

A Case of You - Joni Mitchell

Queen Joni again. Like! I am a lonely painter / I live in a box of paints. & The “You’re the star of Dan’s book” of it all in these lyrics!

I remember that time you told me / You said “Love is touching souls” / Surely you touched mine / ‘cause part of you pours out of me / In these lines from time to time.

Longing to Belong - Eddie Vedder

This is my thinly veiled attempt to tell more people about this: a song written and performed by Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder on ukulele, that is actually the softest love song in the history of western music.

All my time is spent here / Longing to belong to you

Bones - Josh Record

Okay, so, that Moment on the Couch at the end of 5x02? That’s this song.

And darling, when your feet are cold / Wait up, I'm coming home / And all of you I will hold / My love will clothe your bones

Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey

The song for when you reach the end of plausible deniability - One all consuming paralyzing thought & You need to go back to Brooklyn - and it scares the heck out of you.

There's things I wanna say to you, but I'll just let you live / Like if you hold me without hurting me / You'll be the first who ever did

You and Me - You + Me

You can be flawed enough but perfect for a person

Section 3: Songs for Dancing in the Kitchen with Your Lover at 1 am

Cigarettes and Coffee - Otis Redding

The “Dan and I have a real connection song.” It’s about the romance of commonplace things when they’re with the right person.

But it seemed so natural, darling / That you and I are here

I'd Be Waiting - Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats

It’s “I just want to spend the day with you” but in like, slow-dance, sexy harmonies format.

If you ever get lonely if you never did

Never My Love - covered by Jakob Dylan and Norah Jones

The “Words of Affirmation” love song they deserve, and an underrated love song from Laurel Canyon, imho

What makes you think love will end? / When you know that my whole life depends / On you

Dancing in the Dark - covered by Morgan James

Okay so these lyrics are such Dan lyrics to me, it’s charmingly self-aware and self-deprecating. And this cover by Morgan James turns this staple rock song into something ~sexy~

I'm dying for some action / I'm sick of sittin' round here trying to write this book / I need a love reaction / Come on, gimme just one look

Oh Me Oh My (I'm a Fool for You) - Aretha Franklin

They’re literally always making each other laugh! It’s about feeling safe enough to be uninhibited and unselfconscious in your joy.

To make you laugh / I would be a fool for you

I Fall in Love Too Easily - as done by Chet Baker

No one, but no one sounds as sweet or as smooth as Chet. I know it, you know it, Hozier knows it. And this song and it’s titular thesis is so Them, it’s such a central part of their respective characters, and one of the things that makes them compatible.

My heart should be well schooled / 'Cause I've been fooled in the past

For Me Formidable - Charles Aznavour

Due entirely to this fic (Part II of a god tier s4 au) This is the end credits song for their full feature length Nora Ephron romcom.

NSFW Honorable Mention: Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier

it’s the definitive “men get pegged” representation, iykyk

#dairaw21 #playlist #i may have gotten a *little* carried away... #i regret nothing #dair

[starrynite7114]

Adore You (EZ Reyes)

A/N: Good evening everyone! I decided to try my hand on EZ, test the waters out. Angel is my ultimate bae, but you know, let’s give little brother some love too! Hope you all enjoy this one! It’s based on Harry Styles song, ‘Adore You’. 

I will be posting Things You Never Knew tonight and hopefully Misconstrued in the next few days. Working through the requests as well and the next one will be body art along with a daddy Angel request. 

Hope you all are having a good start of the week!

Masterlist 

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @trulysuccubus : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @elcococruz : @thickemadame : @iambabyharry : @briana-mishell24​ : @briannab1234​ : @carlaangel86​ : @marvelmaree​ : @enamoured-x​ : @encounterthepast​ : @woahitslucyylu​ : @jadert15​ : @gemini0410​ : @whyisgmora​

EZ smiled as he watched you dancing with Angel, so happy to finally take that final step with you. You laughed, lighting up the room as cheesy as it sounded. He was content sitting down and watching his dysfunctional family taking turns dancing with you. Looking down at the ring on his left finger, he was always thankful that he decided to take the leap and ask you out on a date all those years ago. 

‘I get so lost inside your eyes’

EZ remembered the first time he truly saw your eyes. You always hid behind your black square framed glasses, reading your books during whatever break period you all had. He wasn’t going to lie and say he knew who you were before being paired up with you for a history project. He was hoping to be paired up with a friend of his, and you offered to switch, but after EZ’s eyes connected with yours, he immediately shut the idea down. He couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t even the color of your eyes that captivated him, it was how warm they were. You gave him a small smile and offered your notebook to him so he could jot down ideas for your project. 

You knew who Ezekiel Reyes was, it was hard not to. He was the star baseball player, number 15, with the impeccable slide. Scouts were already hounding around him and it definitely helped that he wasn’t your typical idiotic jock. 

Nope.

Ezekiel Reyes was incredibly smart. 

You’ve been in his classes since you two were in the fourth grade and you used to envy him due to how intelligent he was without trying. But he was always a nice guy, so it was hard not to like him.

But you knew he never noticed you, which wasn’t a problem for you. You were used to not being noticed and with the way your fellow high schoolers were at times, you were glad that they never paid you any mind. 

Things changed after that history project in the eleventh grade. You somehow became good friends with EZ. You two weren’t the best of friends, but you definitely considered him a close friend. It was hard to make any mark in EZ’s life at that time since he was irrevocably in love with Emily. You liked Emily, she was a nice girl and smart as well. 

Somehow, you and Ezekiel ended up in Stanford. Since you two were the ones from Santo Padre, you two stuck together however, when the whole thing with Marisol occurred, everything changed. You missed him terribly and tried to visit him as often as you could, but you knew that visiting him didn’t do much for him. You could just see his life being sucked out of him and you felt terrible. Your last visit caused a rift between you two and you never recovered after that. 

Till he was released from prison. 

Five years had passed by then and the next time he locked eyes with you, you were walking out of church with your mother, your older brother and father following behind you two. EZ was with his father and much like years ago, your eyes caught him once again and he couldn’t look away. Angel elbowed him to finally cut the staredown between you two. There was no animosity, you gave him a small smile before following your brother to his vehicle.

“Ooh,” Angel teased his younger brother.

“Shut up.” EZ playfully pushed him away, chuckling at his brother’s stupidly. 

The next time he locked eyes with you, you were holding hands with some guy who did not deserve your attention. You looked at him like he held the world and his eyes were on his phone, doing god knows what. EZ passes by you, your eyes connected with his, again, you gave him that small smile you did three weeks ago and he returned your smile. 

Was your smile always so breathtaking? 

He kept looking at you till you turned the corner. Before you did, you threw him one last smile before disappearing behind the building. EZ wasn’t watching where he was going and ran into a post. Angel was walking out of the carniceria and laughed at his brother.

“Wow. You got it bad.” Angel clapped his hand on his back. “You're really into making your way back down high school pussy lane.”

“Shut up Angel.”

That guy didn’t last long and when EZ saw you next, your eyes locked at one of the few bars in Santo Padre. You were behind the bar, glasses gone, eyeshadow and make up highlighting your features. EZ almost choked on his drink when he saw your clothing, enough was covered, but it definitely left every man in this bar wanting more. He noticed how many men vied for your attention, you rarely man the bar, but your bartender called off due to an exam the next day and you couldn’t possibly say no.

Angel nudged his younger brother, pointing your way. 

“Knew there was a reason you decided to blow off some steam here tonight.” Angel whistled, catching your attention. “Preciosa, let me get a beer.”

“If you wanted a beer Ignacio, you should have stayed at the club.”

“You know I come here for you.” He winked as you handed him the beer.

“Better tip me this time,” you shot him a playful glare. “What can I get you Ezekiel?” 

Your eyes were different. He didn’t feel the usual warmth and familiarity he felt. This was new. Your eyes were intoxicating, he didn’t notice it’s shade before and he was lost in them.

Angel elbowed his brother, crashing him back to reality. 

“Sorry for my little brother’s rudeness, he’ll have milk.”

You laughed as EZ playfully shoved Angel.

“Let me just get a beer too.”

Ezekiel didn’t know what came over him that night, but one of the thoughts that ran through his mind was how he wanted his child to have your eyes, the same warm and inviting eyes he saw whenever he looked into them. The same eyes that dilated so perfectly as he had you gasping, moaning, and screaming his name. Your eyes were the first thing he noticed about you. How perfect they were and how inviting they were. You always tried to hide behind your books, which was fine, but once he came into your life, you couldn’t use your books as an excuse to not befriend people. 

He wanted to be your friend. You were definitely more interesting to talk to than some of his friends, hell even Emily at times. The way you snorted whenever he made some corny jokes. He would never tell anyone but the memories you two shared together was what kept him going in prison.

When he got out, his heart yearned for Emily, holding onto past memories that he should have long let go of, especially when he heard that she married Miguel Galindo, but old habits die hard. Emily was his first love and he felt that he owed her some type of penance for the abortion she had to go through alone. But he also found himself seeking you out.

When he realized that the solace he yearned for was no longer with Emily but with you, it hit him hard. He was glad it did, because he would have let you slip from his fingers and he couldn’t have had that.

You don't have to say you love me

You don't have to say nothing

You don't have to say you're mine

EZ walked into the flower shop across the street. He found himself frequenting the shop since your mother owned it. From time to time, you would be there, greeting him with a bright smile, the same glasses on your face. You were a familiar face from his past that didn’t require anything from him. All you wanted was to see him, catch up on pop culture and television shows you two used to frequently watch together, and discuss books you went through while he was in prison. You visited him a few times during his prison stint before you two fell out. EZ couldn’t even remember why you two fought in the first place, but whatever the reason was, he regretted it.

He was happy that you let him back in.

You were sitting inside the shop, buried in your phone. You heard the motorcycle and disregarded it since you felt like it was the one constant thing you’ve been hearing as of late. A sound that made your heart quicken, but you didn’t want to always assume it was EZ, could be anyone. 

Looking up when the bell rang indicating someone just walked in, you grinned.

“Hey EZ, what can I get for you?”

“Just browsing.” He didn’t even look around, he always just stayed with you by the counter till a customer came in. 

“Feel like you’re loitering.” You teased him. 

“That wounds me, I thought we were hanging out.”

You laughed. “Okay, we’re hanging out. Are you too cool to be seen out with me cause you only hang out with me here or behind closed doors.”

EZ frowned at your comment and you immediately took it back. “I’m joking, I didn’t mean it in that way.”

“No, you’re right.” It’s not that EZ didn’t want to be seen with you. You were the breath of fresh air that reminded him that it was great to be out, that all the deceit and hardships were worth it because he got to be near you again.

You didn’t have to say you were his, but in his mind, you were his and eventually, when things settled, he could proudly show it off.

“I get it EZ, we’re just friends when no one is around.”

That wounded EZ. That wasn’t true. But he could see why you would see it in that way. When you two were in Stanford, away from the prying eyes of the people in Santo Padre, things were different, but as soon as you two were home, Emily had all of his attention and you weren’t bitter, she was his girlfriend. 

And now.

He’s been out of prison for six months, Angel wasn’t talking to him, which you noticed, but you didn’t ask questions. You were only EZ’s friend at his convenience.

EZ opened his mouth to argue, but the shop door opened and it was the guy you were seeing that walked in. Seemed like a decent guy, definitely better than the other one, but EZ didn’t like him anyway.

Cause he had you.

And he wanted you.

“Enjoy the rest of your day Ezekiel.”

You always called him Ezekiel in front of other people and he wasn’t going to lie and say it didn’t irk him, that it didn’t hurt him when you did that. But again, it seemed like he’s been hurting you all these years without meaning to.

Then it hit him then, he remembered why you two fell out.

You had come to visit him and he wasn’t exactly feeling so hot about himself. So he had the guard pass the message, you were no friend of his and he didn’t want you visiting him anymore.

EZ didn’t want you to waste your time on him when you could be productive with other things. He was a low point at that time and he regretted those words almost as soon as he said them. 

After that day, you avoided EZ. You always made sure there was someone at the shop with you so he wouldn’t come in. And you were right, he never came in. He kept his distance and you appreciated it. He said it all those years ago, you two weren’t friends, just convenient companions.

You were closing the shop, double checking the locks when there was a knock on the door. Looking up, you found EZ with your favorite bouquet of flowers. You looked at them then back at EZ. Turning away from the front door, you turned the lights off and made your way to the back where your car was parked. Once you slid in your car, EZ was barely making it around the corner of the building, you pulled out and left EZ. 

It was better this way, you and EZ as friends was always a fluke. 

But EZ didn’t give up. And next thing you knew, even Angel was bugging you. He would frequent the shop, scaring away the guy you were seeing. You wanted to strangle Angel, you’re not exactly sure what the hell he was doing but you weren’t a fan of it. 

On the day of your birthday, your mother told you to be at the flower shop at 1800 sharp since you all were headed to San Diego to have dinner for your birthday. Your mother could be so weird, but you adored her along with your father and brother. 

Walking into the shop, you made a face at how dark it was.

“Mom, you know I hate surprises.” You announced. “But if Charlie Hunnam is at the end of this darkness, totally okay.”

You heard a chuckle, but it wasn’t from your mother, it was Ezekiel holding a bouquet of chocolate. Looking behind you, your parents gave you a wave and a thumbs up before leaving. Turning back to face EZ he was still at the same spot.

“Happy birthday Y/N.” He greeted, extending the chocolate towards you.

“Thank you.” You looked around after you took the chocolates. “It’s just you and me?”

“Yeah, I wanted some time with you, before having dinner with your parents. I feel that we’re long overdue for a talk.”

“No, we’re not, it’s okay. I’d rather not have this conversation on my birthday.” You really didn’t. Whatever it was, you and EZ we’re cool. You didn’t want to have that conversation. 

“Please, I’m desperate here. I didn’t mean for my actions to be interpreted in that way. You’re my friend, hell, you’re my best friend. It’s been hell without you, with everything going on with Angel, the club, you were my escape. I kept you away because I didn’t want my actions to poison you.” EZ sighed. “It’s stupid, but your my main priority is your safety.”

“EZ, you’re a prospect, what danger could there possibly be? I don’t really think that way, at least not all the time, but be up front, I don’t mind being your secret friend as long as I’m in on the secret as well.”

“I don’t want you to be a secret. You’ve never been a secret. Everyone knows you’re the most important person I care about who isn’t family.” Even though someday, EZ hopes you would become a part of his family. But he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I’m sorry, you’re the best part of my life and I don’t want to lose you over a misunderstanding.”

You sighed, a small smile appearing on your face. “You’re not going to stop.”

“You know us Reyes’, we’re stubborn.” 

Two months after that, you and EZ were dating. Your relationship was hardly rainbows and sunshine, but you two were the happiest together. Between club business, the cartel and family drama, you and EZ were always busy. So when you found out you were pregnant, a year and half after you and EZ started your relationship, things shifted.

I'd walk through fire for you

You leaned your back against the bathtub, your head against the wall. Pregnancy was tough, especially since EZ had been gone more often. He needed the money and you know he did, for your daughter. Groaning, you really wished pregnancy was easier. The morning sickness was too much to bear at times. 

“Mi alma,” EZ frowned, seeing you on the floor with your hair covering your beautiful face. “How long have you been on the floor?”

“I don’t know.” You looked up and gave him a weak smile. “I’m really exhausted.” You were only two months pregnant and you were already suffering. But they said that the morning sickness only lasted till the beginning, that once you entered the second trimester, it was smoother. 

EZ helped you up, picking you up in his arms and carrying you over to the bed. He gently placed you under the covers, stripped down to his boxers and slipped in after you. His hand rested on your belly, which was still not showing. 

“I’m so happy your home.”

And he would always make it home. He would walk through fire and hell to assure he’d come back to you.

“I’ll always come home to you. I love you.” He turned you to face him, caressing your face. He kissed you, always missing the feel of your lips on his. “One day, we’re going to get married and you’ll definitely won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I love you too.” You smiled. “If I wanted to get rid of you, I would have continued to ignore you after that fight we had when you got out.”

“You’re not my secret, I hope you know that. I just wanted to keep you safe.” His thumb caressed your thumb, hoping to wipe the worry away. 

“I know.” 

EZ watched as you and your daughter, Sophia, danced with Felipe. Sophia was a bubbly two year old who had her mother’s eyes. Whatever she wanted, she got, since she had the Reyes men at her beck and call. He remembered your reluctance to get married, not truly seeing the point as you and EZ were committed as could be. 

You were the only woman he knew that had to be convinced to get married. 

It was ridiculous.

Just let me adore you

“That’s fucking ridiculous, what you mean she doesn’t want to get married?” Angel sat down by the dining table, holding Sophia in his arms. “Mamas, your mom is crazy.”

Sophia giggled which made both her father and uncle smile. Anything she did, it elicited a smile from those around her. 

“Right? She was reasoning how it’s just for tax purposes, which it is, but I love her, I want us all to share a last name.” EZ put the last of the dishes away. You were at work so Angel came over per EZ’s request.

He wanted to show big brother the ring he got for you.

EZ took the box that’s been weighing heavy in his pocket. He extended his hand to Angel, who took the box in his hand. Opening it, Angel whistled.

“Oh, that’s a rock.” Angel showed it to Sophia. “Isn’t it beautiful? When you get married at sixty-five, you’re gonna get a ring just like this.”

EZ chuckled. “She’s never gonna get married.”

“You’re telling me. Alena came home the other day and told me she had a boyfriend, I almost had a heart attack.” Six year old Alena Reyes has all of her tio’s wrapped around her fingers. Angel couldn’t even wrap his mind around it, but Alena explained to him that it was a boy who was a friend. That explanation would suffice, till she was sixteen. Angel was not looking forward to that.

“She’s gonna be a handful when she’s a teenager.”

“Can we not talk about it?”

EZ laughed. Angel handed the box back to him. They heard the door open and your announcement that you were home. 

“You cool with taking her tonight?”

“Yes, I can take care of your daughter, look how well Alena turned out.” Angel proudly informed him.

“Still think it was all your wife.”

“Fuck you.”

You walked in and found Angel standing up, grabbing Sophia’s bag. 

“What’s going on?” You looked at the two Reyes brothers, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Babe, I told you we were going out to dinner tonight, remember?” EZ gave you a kiss as a greeting.

“Oh, right, sorry,” you gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ll go get ready.” You walked over to Sophia, giving your daughter a kiss on the cheek. “Bye baby, have fun with Tio Angel, remember to pull his beard.”

“Hey!” Angel glared at you causing you to laugh harder. “That shit hurts.”

You left the two brothers at the kitchen to dress up. Angel looked at EZ and shook his head. 

“You sure she’s the one man? Cause once you put a ring on it, that’s it.”

EZ chuckled. “I’m sure man, I think I’ve been sure since I was in prison and she was the only thing I could think of. I love her Angel.”

“I know you do, congratulations hermano.” 

He proposed to you that night and you said yes. Even though you weren’t a strong believer of marriage, how could you say no to the man who had your heart all these years. It was the next step for you two and you were ready to embark on it. What made it better, you two were able to share it with Sophia, who was your flower girl. 

EZ stood up and made his way over to you.

“Pops, can you take Sophia? I want to dance with my wife.” 

Felipe gladly took Sophia from her mother’s arms. You turned to face EZ, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Are you having fun?” EZ asked.

“Yes, this has been amazing.” You gave him a kiss, EZ smiling against your lips.

“And you didn’t want a wedding.” EZ teased.

“Whatever, you know why I didn’t want one.” You chuckled. “But I’m glad you convinced me, it’s really hard to say no to you.”

“I’m pretty good with persuasion as you know you.” He smirked.

“Are we talking about the time we conceive Sophia or the time you forced me to do a presentation for history class even though we could have just written a paper?” 

EZ laughed. “It was extra points if we presented.”

“You know I hate talking in front of people.”

“I love hearing you though.”

You blushed, not even surprised how charming EZ could still be after all these years. 

“You want to know something?”

“Hmm,” you looked up at him.

“Even after all these years, your eyes still get me.”

“What?” You gave him a confused look.

“It was your eyes, everytime I looked into them, it was something else.” EZ grinned. “Whenever I would look into them, I would get so lost, I would do anything for you.”

“My eyes?” EZ never told you before that he liked your eyes, though, he always did stare into them. 

“Yeah, when we first met, you looked up at me and I don’t know, I was fucking blown away. It sounds cheesy, but it’s true.”

“You were with Emily then.”

“That’s not the point, I’m just letting you know, that you’ve had me wrapped around your fingers since then.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “You’re such a dork, I’m pretty sure you were devoted to Emily then.”

“I was, but I always seeked you out.” EZ pulled you closer, cupping your face and kissing you again. “You’re the person I adore most, the person I love most.” 

“I love you too EZ, and I’m sure our baby will love you as much as Sophie does.” You placed his hand on your belly. “I’m pregnant, four months along.” 

EZ’s lips broke out into a grin. “Yeah? We’re pregnant?”

You nodded your head. EZ lifted you up, causing you to shriek. He put you down and kissed you. Once he pulled away, he made the announcement that you were pregnant, earning cheers from all the guests. They tapped their glasses with their utensils, signaling a kiss. EZ gladly kissed you, overjoyed. 

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

#ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

[nade2308]

First Lines of Last 20....

Guidelines: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all.) Choose your favorite opening line, tag some friends!

Tagged by @impossiblepluto. Thanks friend!

(And just as always, I deviate from the mold and I give you more than just the first lines and/or my favorite lines 😈)

1. You don't know you are beautiful

Jack was so pissed. He was thrumming with nervous energy and was itching for a fight. Especially with that good for nothing, piece of shit, pretentious and pompous guy they were sent to retrieve because he had valuable intel the Phoenix stumbled upon by chance.

2. Catch you when you fall

Scott was always ready to push himself further, just that one step towards the tipping point. He thought if he went harder, and longer, that it will yield better results, but it wasn't always the case. That frustrated him even more and then he was angry at himself for doing that to himself and his friends. And to his dad. His dad who bent himself forwards and backwards to make sure Scott had everything he needed and more.

3. Coming home to you

You know that feeling when you want something so bad, but you have to wait for it? Yeah, Mac was feeling like that now. He was this close to losing it after the op ended. He couldn't wait to get back to Jack. Well, get back to Jack and get laid in the process.

4. "There's still time to change the road you're on"

Jack was in Texas for the birthday of his nephew and it just happened that his nephew was best friends with the kid of one of Jack's old flames. Well, more like a summer relationship, but seventeen year old Jack thought she was it. They had a thing that was actually cute and sweet. He took her out on dates at the local pizza place, and she took him to community events.

5. 98.Separated

Alina Chernyshevsky was a Russian scientist working at a lab in LA, on a scholarship who was kidnapped by a rogue crime group almost a week ago. The Phoenix was tasked with recovering her and capturing any of the members of the group they could find. It turned out that the son of a banker, the daughter of a businessman and the brother and sister, the kids of one of the most powerful Romanian crime groups had one thing in common. They wanted to get out from under the shadow that their parents put them in. So they formed their own union, and thanks to the ties Andrei Bogdan, their leader, had from his father's world, they quickly made their way up in the underground dark world. Climbing up the ladders, they did the odd jobs here and there, hits on important people for hire, and it was based on their combined knowledge of the finances, the system and the law, that they stayed undetected and under the radar for so long. Until Alina discovered some sample or another in the lab that was brought for testing and she made herself a target and was kidnapped in broad daylight.

6. Dye Hard

It wasn't like it was something he was dying to try. He was just looking at pictures of people with wonderfully done hair. Which happened to also be dyed in all the colors of the rainbow and more. It was just research. For an experiment. He was sure he was going to be told off again for experimenting so he kept it just to himself.

7. Sweet child o' mine

Riley woke up to the persistent ringing of her phone. She was having a very nice dream, drinking mai-tai's, at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, and now she was brought back to reality by the shrill tone of her phone.

8. Mac and Jack + softness

They had experienced bad missions before. It wasn't that uncommon, since almost every mission they worked on turned bad real fast. But there were some missions that took bad to the next level.

9. Jack + migraine + birthday

Mac was shivering even with the blanket wrapped around him. They were on their exfil flight, and the heat was on for his sake, but Mac's worry wasn't for himself, but for Jack. Jack, who was squinting at the bright sky and had his head tilted in an awkward angle because apparently he was hurting. And Mac had a pretty good idea what was the cause.

10. 9.Helpless

The drive back to Mac's place was a blur. Jack focused on the road and tried not to think of what they were told or the treatment that might have reversed all of their hard work on making Mac's hands heal and be okay.

11. 72.Painless

When Mac first noticed the car that was tailing him, he was several blocks away from Jack's place. They were supposed to have a movie night with the team, Jack already texted him to tell Mac that Riley was there with him.

12. 26.Flinch

Mac jerked away from the hand that was shaking his shoulder and immediately backed up to the corner of the bed. Someone was talking in a low voice, but Mac was still a bit disoriented and couldn't place the voice. Or the words.

13. 12.Confusion & 26. flinch

When Mac woke up, he could tell that something was different. There wasn't a creepy stare to watch over him, nor the blinking dot on the camera in the corner.

14. 5.Bruised

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well.

15. 56. Begging

Mac wanted to scream. It was hurting him to just breathe, but the pain was unbearable. He didn't know if the lash that caught his side, or the one that split the skin above the small of his back, hurt more.

16. Jack Sr. + Wrist Cuff

It takes all his willpower not to go back to the room he just vacated. He promised Riley and Mac that he'll take a break. It was nonnegotiable. Mac went so far as to tell him to go and take a good sleep. That Mac wasn't going to vanish again. He promised.

17. Fire Pit + Nightmares

Mac didn't know what woke him up. He's sure it was something and not a sound he made up in his dream. Mac turned around in bed and for a moment he was a bit disoriented. He blinked a few times and then looked at the digital watch on his nightstand. It was a little after 2am.

18. "Whenever your world starts crashing down, that's when you'll find me"

"Hours later (Jack's not sure about the time, he left his watch at home) the party is dying down. He is watching the night lights twinkling in the distance, mixed with lights from building windows, and homes and offices. LA is alive as always, traffic present even in this late hour. Everyone knows that NYC is the city that never sleeps, but Jack wants to argue how LA doesn't fall far behind the Big Apple. Especially since Jack has watched this city in all the times of day and night and can attest to that."

19. Si te doy mi corazón, lo tratarás con ternura

1. Tickling

Mac was studying for an exam and Jack was bored. It was one of those days. Really, there was a lot to be done in the house, and Jack barely had a time for himself and Mac these days, but on a rare night where he had absolutely nothing of importance to do… and Jack was bored. 

20. The Center of Their World

Mac was writhing in Jack's lap, and Jack moaned at the drag of Mac's cock against his hip as Jack had Mac's ass spread and a finger inside him already.  He instinctively backed up against the headboard of their ridiculously big bed, and threw his head out because the contact between him and Mac was explosive in the least.

Tagging: @sabbystarlight @82tweeder @dixons-mama @improvidus @panchostokes @erinsworld @nativestarwrites @kerkerian @starryhc @thesammykinz @dont-stop-believin-in-klaine @demonicsoulmates @rai-knightshade @telltaleclerk and whoever sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged.

#tumblr games #first lines tag game

[catrasredemption-moved]

Idk if Nonners wants it or not, but enough people expressed interest that I’m going to post anyway. However, I want to expand more on my original answer to this, and a couple other things.

(Story is under the cut if you just want to skip straight to that.)

Like I said before, I don’t care for the headcanon that DT just becomes the weird, quirky sort-of friend that people tolerate. I honestly enjoy their grey morality and the fact that they’re never humbled by anything or really change, because in the end they have no conflicts about themself (themselves? I’ve seen people use both). They’re happy with who they are. They know what they want, and they do what they have to do to survive.

And I know there’s a lot of conflict about the only NB character in the show being a shapeshifter whose loyalties can be bought, but... Idk, I find it kind of fascinating? And before anyone asks, yes, I’m nonbinary, and personally, I don’t take offense to DT being the way they are. Being the only NB rep is kind of dodgy, but DT as a character is still fun. Digging more into their ability to dissect a person’s personality and break them down to their core is just more interesting to me. It’s sort of in the same vein as people forgetting that Catra is still a master strategist along with being Adora’s love interest. DT is weird and quirky and still a cunning little shit who can play people like a fiddle and casually enjoys messing with people’s heads.

I just want to be clear about my interpretation of DT because I know it’s unpopular, but it’s mine, and it’s the mindset I went into writing this particular story with. So... read on, if you’re still interested.

Catra collapsed on a rock, sighing heavily. Salineas was, unsurprisingly, one of the hardest places to rebuild. They had made a lot of progress in the last month, however. It was almost starting to look like a kingdom again.

She scrubbed her eye with the palm of her hand. She hadn’t been getting much sleep or eating much since she had started working here. But it was worth it. Every lost night of sleep or missed meal was worth fixing the mistakes she made.

“Working hard, huh?”

Catra’s head snapped up; she blinked when she saw Mermista standing over her. “Yeah, sorry, I was just taking a break—”

“Cleaning up your own mess is a lot of work, isn’t it?”

Catra narrowed her eyes. There was… something in Mermista’s gaze that didn’t feel right. The water princess hadn’t been overly eager to trust her, but Catra had been working day and night on her kingdom, and that had earned her some points. That, and they shared the same deadpan attitude about most things.

“Um… yeah. I’m doing my best—”

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.”

Don’t get mad. Don’t get mad. Catra took a deep breath, and let it out again, pushing herself up. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get back to work.”

“You do that.”

Catra glared at her for a moment before walking away. Sure, they exchanged barbs sometimes, but they were never cruel to each other. Maybe Sea Hawk had pissed her off. He seemed to be good at that.

“Hey Wildcat!” Scorpia said cheerfully when she saw Catra returning to their work site. “Thought you were taking a break?”

“You know me, can’t sit still.” Catra shrugged. “Why don’t you go? I’ll try again later.” 

When Mermista wasn’t in a bad mood. “You sure?” Scorpia asked. “I’m good to keep going, really.”

“You’ve been here all day. Just go get something to eat, it won’t kill you.”

Scorpia raised an eyebrow. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” No. But Scorpia wouldn’t leave her alone if she said that.

“Okay, fine. I’ll be back in a few.”

She clapped a pincer against Catra’s back and headed off down the street. Catra rubbed her back and got to work. They were almost done with this building, just a few more bricks — maybe she could leave Scorpia to it when she got back and get started on the next place.

“Wow, you’re actually working.” The mostly silent air around Catra broke; she nearly dropped a brick on her foot. She whirled, hearing it crash against the ground, and saw Glimmer standing in the door, arms crossed.

“Yeah, of course I’m working.” Glimmer was okay to ger snippy at. Well, no she wasn’t, but Catra knew she wouldn’t hold it against her. She’d make her cake later to make up for it. It was the inevitable way to Glimmer’s heart.

“I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you actually did much to help.”

Catra narrowed her eyes. “You’ve watched me work every single day.” For the last six months. Glimmer knew damn well Catra worked, considering she’d nearly worked herself into the ground while rebuilding the Fright Zone.

“Doesn’t mean you’ve actually helped.” Glimmer scoffed. “I’m sure people have had to go back and fix whatever you did wrong.”

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Catra didn’t mean to snap — not really. Okay, maybe a little. Glimmer was wearing at her nerves, though.

Glimmer made a show of looking around. “Gee, we’re in a place you destroyed — I can’t imagine what my problem might be.” She rolled her eyes. “Just try not to mess up anything else too much, okay?”

“Yes, your majesty,” Catra half snarled, turning away to finish the wall she had been working on. She didn’t hear Glimmer leave; she just had to hope she was gone.

The wall was almost done by the time a peppy voice called, “Hey Wildcat! Got you a sandwich and some water.”

Catra didn’t even turn around. “I’m not hungry,” she muttered. “Thanks, though. Can you finish up here? I’m going to start on the next building.”

“Um… sure?” Scorpia sound bewildered. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra made her way out of the building. “I’m fine.”

She worked uninterrupted for a few long hours, muscles burning, arms aching, and it felt good. Hurting felt good. It felt right.

(That was a mindset she was trying to break.)

“Hey Catra,” a voice sang, breaking the silence. It was familiar and… not familiar. Catra’s ears twitched as she straightened up to look at Adora, standing in the door of the building she was working in.

“Adora? What’s up?”

The blonde smiled innocently. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” There was something extremely off about her cadence and tone. It set Catra’s fur on end. “Working hard?”

“Yeah. Been helping clear out buildings all morning.”

“Does it make you feel any better?”

“Huh?”

“You know.” Adora stepped in, walking closer to Catra. “Does it help with the guilt? The shame?” Catra’s ears went flat against her head, tail puffing up. “Or do you get a little thrill from it all? Remembering your glory days?”

“Wh-What’re you…” Catra’s back hit the wall. She was starting to shake.

“You ever miss that? The power? The sick thrill, the joy?”

It wasn’t Adora. Some disconnected part of Catra’s mind knew that, but she couldn’t put the pieces together. Panic was starting to knot up in her chest, twisting her lungs, squeezing them, making it impossible to breathe. It was exactly like something out of her nightmares.

“St-Stop…”

The word is a wheezing cough as she trembles. “Do you ever think maybe you’re too far gone? Beyond forgiveness? That everything you’re doing is for nothing? Maybe you haven’t really changed. Maybe you’re just biding your time before you lash out and hurt someone again. Or maybe you’ve already hurt someone and you just don’t know it.”

Her form shifted and changed, growing slightly, into Mermista. “Or maybe there are people who haven’t forgiven you.” 

Another shift, shrinking into Glimmer. “Or can’t forgive you.” 

Yet another change, growing taller, taller… into a person Catra only knew from cartoonishly bad holograms and a mural on the wall of Bright Moon. 

“People who will never get the option either way,” Queen Angella finished. Catra slid down the wall, curling in on herself, claws digging into her head. She wouldn’t have been able to defend herself even if she wanted to.

And part of her didn’t want to.

“I dunno, guys, she’s just been acting weird,” Scorpia said as she led Adora and Glimmer to the building Catra was working in. “I know she gets in moods and doesn’t like to talk sometimes, but…”

Her voice drifted off as an unfamiliar voice reached her ears. Unfamiliar to her, at least. Adora and Glimmer both exchanged wide-eyed glances and ran to the door, freezing for a moment when they saw Angella standing over Catra. The younger woman was curled up on the floor, clutching her head.

“There are some things you can never take back, aren’t there? Some things things that just can’t be forgiven. Some things that—”

Glimmer recovered first, swiping her hands through the air with a motion that was probably too aggressive for the situation, then fired a blast of magic right at the doppelganger's back. They yelped, stumbling forward, body shifting and changing into…

“Double Trouble.”

Scorpia stormed into the room, grabbing the shapeshifter and hauling them into the air. Adora rushed passed them, kneeling in front of Catra. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, gently grabbing her shoulders, then rubbing Catra’s arms. “It’s okay, you’re okay, none of it was real—”

“Well that’s rude,” Double Trouble scoffed. “I work best with reality, you know.”

Adora’s eyes flashed icy blue as she turned to glare at them. “Get. Them. Out.”

Scorpia nodded and dragged Double Trouble out into the street. Mermista was approaching them, saying, “One of the guards said something about possible troub — oh.” Her expression went flat when she saw Double Trouble. “What are they doing here?”

“That’s a good question,” Glimmer said. Scorpia dropped the shapeshifter, and the princesses surrounded them, glaring. Double Trouble sighed dramatically.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a steady job when the entire planet is rebuilding? I’ve been staying in villages and making money where I can. Happened to end up here. You know the story.”

“What did you say to Catra?”

They shrugged. “Nothing she didn’t need to hear. Although I wasn’t expecting such an extreme reaction. I guess Horde Prime really did break her.” They leaned over, trying to see into the building. Scorpia blocked their view, and Glimmer grabbed them by the collar, dragging them back up to meet her gaze.

“You were using my mother to torture her.”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Double Trouble said carelessly. “Catra needs someone to keep her in check, she always has. I consider it a service to the community to remind her where she stands before she gets too out of control again.”

A memory flashed through Glimmer’s mind. The sight of Catra on the floor in the forge, leaning against rubble. Completely despondent.

What are you waiting for? Do it.

Glimmer had never wanted to ask. She had been afraid to ask. She shoved Double Trouble back, letting Scorpia take them. “Your kingdom, Mermista. Your call what you want to do with them.”

“You could have just stayed here and stayed out of trouble,” Mermista said, glaring at them. “But you blew your cover to, what? Mess with Catra?”

“What can I say? She remains, to date, my most thrilling character.”

Adora did her best to shield Catra from what was going on outside. “Look at me, Catra, focus on me. Hey.” She gently grabbed Catra’s hands. “You don’t need that. You don’t need pain to keep you grounded, remember? Focus on me.”

Catra shook her head with a whimper, trying to pull her hands back, face pressed into her knees. Adora knew she was closing off. Not good. “Catra, please.” Adora leaned forward, resting her forehead on top of Catra’s head and hugging her tight. “Look at me. Please.”

It took a few moments, but Catra finally lifted her head. She was pale, eyes glassy and unfocused. Adora took her face between her hands, trying to make her focus. “It’s okay. I don’t know what Double Trouble said to you, but they were wrong.”

“No, they weren’t,” Catra whispered. It was more of a wheeze as she struggled to get control of herself. “I did so many terrible things, especially here, and the portal, and—”

“Hey, hey.” Adora leaned close. “Catra, please. That’s the past. Don’t let yourself get dragged back there. Stay with me, please. You promised you wouldn’t leave me again, remember? Stay here. Stay with me.”

Catra whimpered sharply, unwinding slightly and finally letting Adora scoop her up, pulling her into her lap. “It’s okay,” she whispered as Catra caught her breath and started sobbing quietly.

“No, it isn’t,” she whispered. “Nothing they said was wrong. I destroyed this place. I enjoyed it. I killed Glimmer’s mother. I… I…”

She curled up in Adora’s arms, wanting nothing more than to disappear. “Hey,” Glimmer said, resting a hand on Adora’s shoulder and kneeling beside her. “Mermista and Scorpia are tossing Double Trouble in a cell. Do you guys want to go back to Bright Moon?”

“I… I still have… I…”

“Mermista doesn’t care if you take the rest of the day off,” Glimmer assured Catra. “She said she’s sick of you anyway.” Catra’s ears somehow went flatter. “I mean — she just meant you’ve been working too hard. You should take some time off. Both of you.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Adora said firmly. Glimmer smiled.

“Whenever you guys are ready, then.”

Catra buried her face in Adora’s neck, and Adora nodded to Glimmer. A moment later, they were back in Bright Moon. “I’m going to head back and make sure they’re okay dealing with Double Trouble. Be back soon.”

She disappeared again. Adora adjusted herself to lift Catra and settle them both on the bed. Catra clung to Adora, arms wrapped around her waist, leaning on her like she was the last thing Catra had to keep her from drowning. Adora brushed her fingers through Catra’s hair, stopping to scritch her ears a few times. Melog appeared from under the bed, mewling sadly, and pressed up against Adora and Catra, nuzzling Catra’s cheek. Adora gave the cat a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she murmured after a moment. “It’s okay.”

Catra shook her head weakly. “It’s not. They were right.”

“No, they weren’t,” Adora said firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

Catra sniffed, pulling back to look at Adora. “You did bad things. A lot of bad things. And I know those are going to haunt you for a long time. But you are trying so hard to make up for all those things. Do you think I haven’t noticed you sleeping less and skipping meals since we started working in Salineas? Which we need to talk about, by the way. You don’t get to neglect yourself for penance.”

“I’m trying to help,” she whispered. “Nothing feels like enough. Nothing is ever going to make up for what I did.”

“That’s not up to you to decide. And it’s certainly not up to Double Trouble. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes I did.” Her voice was miserable.

“So what, do you think everyone should just line up every day and remind you about all the terrible things you did?”  Sometimes, Catra needed to be coddled and held while she worked through her episodes. Sometimes she needed a firm voice and to be reminded (possibly against her will) that she couldn’t hate herself forever. This seemed to have turned into the latter.

“I’m sure some people would enjoy it.”

“Yeah? Show me those people so I can punch them.” No answer. “I’m serious, Catra. I know it’s hard once you start spiraling, but you need to try and remember that you’re more than your mistakes. And people know that. People have forgiven you. They’ve chosen to forgive you. It’s not up to you to decide if they made the right choice.”

Catra looked at Adora for a long moment, clearly exhausted, before she finally nodded and lowered her head back to rest on Adora’s chest. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a fix, not by a long shot. Double Trouble using Angella to provoke Catra had been a low blow that would probably haunt her dreams when she finally slept. But it was a start. Adora would take that.

#catradora #catradora fic #she ra fic #spop fic #askbox fic #more or less #This version of DT is just more fun for me idk #but I hope you guys enjoyed it

[jilyandbambi]

Hey gang, so a couple of days ago @padawanlost brought up an old SW fic of mine that I’d only posted to my old blog, not my AO3 as it was only an off the cuff thing that I meant to turn into a full fledged multi-chapter, but bc I was working on so many projects at the time the fully realized idea I had never fully got off the ground. 

Anywho, there were some people in the replies to padawanlost’s post who asked me if I wouldn’t mind reposting it. So I did some digging and actually did manage to find my old Word docs. The person who I mention in the original Author’s Note user @/TheMooseJTM isn’t on Tumblr anymore, so unfortunately I can’t link to her old post, and I’m also not sure if suzukiblu is still on here or, in actuality, which post of theirs’ inspired Michi’s fic, which inspired mine. In any case, mine can be read as a standalone. Everything is under the cut. Feel free to reblog/let me know what you think in the comments, etc. 

Fair warning, I haven’t touched this thing since probably summer of 2016/2017 at the latest, so apologies for my older, less “polished” writing. 

Shout out to @celestialily and @alabasterswriting this is for you :)

The One Where Padmé Spills the Tea   Pt. 1

Inspired by this post by suzukiblu and this follow up ficlet by themooseJTHM. Also, Anakin being epileptic is in reference to this post. I didn’t come up with it. But I find it very fitting. I just want you both to know, this is all your fault. You two have no one to blame but yourselves. 

In which, I take things a little farther than Michi does bc what can I say I’m 95% angst, 5% bacon.  : ) : )))))))

Trigger warning for child abuse 

=================================

It all starts when an unusually grave Obi-Wan returns Artoo to her, charging port and all. Right off the bat Padmé can feel her intestines clench and constrict into hard stone as he explains that, as apart of an intensive spirit cleansing ordeal recommended by the Temple Healers, Anakin must relinquish all of his material attachments. Especially those that were given to him as gifts from outsiders. 

“But what will you do about his seizures?” she asks him. Trying her best to keep her voice even despite the frustration and worry bubbling up inside as she remembers the first time Anakin told her about them. Their wedding night, when he’d had one in front of her, and he hadn’t even been able to put a name to it. It was just a thing that happens to me every now and then when things get to be Too Much, Padmé. No need to get all fussy over me. 

And she’d hated it. Hated that he’d had such a poor grasp of proper mental health. Hated that he’d been conditioned by his upbringing to see his own well-being as tertiary if not altogether immaterial. But knowing that Anakin oftentimes had trouble distinguishing when people’s negative emotions were directed at him or for him, Padmé had tempered her righteous fury by giving him Artoo as a service droid. Just a friend, to watch over you for me when we’re apart, Ani. And he’d been delighted. Problem solved. 

But Obi-Wan’s brow furrows and his lips tighten into that patented Obi-Wan grimace that crops up on his face whenever he knows some new and dreadful information is about to be unloaded on him. 

“What seizures?” 

And the stone in Padmé’s gut grinds to dust, and she thinks it might have also been whatever remained of the restraint she’d been grasping at since this whole ordeal began. Because the next thing she knows, she’s hauling a panic-stricken What seizures, Padmé? What seizures?! Obi-Wan out the door and back to the Temple, demanding to see her Ani.  

His room still has a window, so she can’t call it a prison cell. But Mother of Mothers…

Everything is gone, everything. The room is completely barren save for the cot, the sheets, and the thin, shabby-looking carpet. Anakin’s workbench and all of the droid parts and little side projects he’d been working on had been taken away. Along with his single podracing poster that had been hanging on the far wall. 

Padmé has long been respectfully critical of the Jedi philosophy of no attachments, knowing that as an outsider, that there were aspects of their culture she could never understand. But this? This was just cruel. 

Anakin looks up when she enters, and oh the dullness in his eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders make him seem at least three times his twenty-two years. His entire body seems to sag with misery and resignation.  

He doesn’t get up to greet her, and he barely reacts at all when she sits down on the cot next to him. It’s been a week since she’s seen him last, thanks to the new restrictions the Jedi have put on their visits. Does he feel she has abandoned him? Stop it she mentally slaps herself. This isn’t about you! 

She reaches up to run her knuckles along the back of his neck, and he immediately jerks back and bats her fingers away. Then turns to look at her—really, look, as if seeing that it’s her for the first time—and is immediately remorseful.  

“Sorry,” he says. His eyes are painfully wide, weighted down with dark circles. Has he slept at all in the time since they’ve last seen each other? 

“Sorry…” he says again. “Sorry. I’m…I’ve been…remembering things.” 

“Don’t apologize,” she tells him, gently taking his hand in hers’. She starts to bring their joined hands into her lap, then reconsiders and places them on the cot in the space between them. Neither of them say anything for the longest time. And that’s just fine. She didn’t come here to talk, or to force him to talk. She came to make sure he was doing alright (and he’s not. Oh, he’s so far from alright. What is she going to do?). 

The silence stretches on and Padmé can do nothing but stare at the dreary grayscale walls of the room Anakin’s been trapped in. Is this what every Jedi’s room looks like? The younglings included? Do the infants in the crèche go to wake from nightmares with nothing but gray spackled walls to comfort them? Can the Jedi think of no way to breed order and conformity than to stamp out anything that could encourage creativity and color? 

Anakin clutches her hand suddenly, and she’s brought back to the present. He opens his mouth and pauses. Then clenches his jaw and tries again. She runs her thumb along the back of his hand, coaxing him through his distress. 

“Padmé,” he croaked. “Do you think maybe if I were a proper Jedi, if I had been able to adapt to the lifestyle from the get go—if-if I weren’t so needy, Sidious wouldn’t have been able to…?”

What was left of Padmé’s stomach plummets to her feet. “Ani…” she says slowly. “Is that what they’ve made you think?”

“No!” he says defensively. Retreating back into himself. “It’s just…the other day when the Healers recommended that the Council take Artoo and the rest of my things they said…” 

“What? What did they say?”

“They tell me Sidious was able to get to me because of how easily I latch onto people. How susceptible I am to attachments. That the reason I didn’t say anything to anyone about what was going on is because—“ 

“He took advantage of you,” Padmé said heatedly. Anakin recoiled, and she brought her hands up to cup both of his cheeks. Stroking her thumbs along them, so that he knows it’s not him she’s upset with. “He was an adult. He was in a position of authority. He manipulated you, Ani. That isn’t your fault.” 

“But—“ he gasped. His breath coming out harsh and heavy. His words choking on the edge of them. “but I-I should’ve…”

“Shhhh…” she whispers, drawing his forehead down to touch hers’. “You’re not to blame, Ani. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.” 

And he just looks so relieved, even as tears begin to leak from his eyes and a sob stifles in his throat. As if this is the first time anyone’s told him this explicitly in the month since the truth has come out. 

It lights a fire inside Padmé over the dust of her long-held restraint. 

And the next thing she knows she’s pulling Anakin up by his flesh arm, and dragging him out of his cell and through the winding halls of the Temple. Without any labels on any of the doors it’s either by pure luck or fury fuelled instinct that she finds the Council Chambers on the first try. Caution thrown completely to the wind, she bursts through them. 

“We’re married.” 

She tells the group of scandalized Masters, before they can even open their mouths to rebuke her lack of decorum. Scandal quickly morphs into shock. And surveying the varied looks of surprise and indignation on each of their normally stoic faces, Padmé feels dark satisfaction water the embers of her rage. 

Master Windu is the first to recover. 

“Excuse us?” he says tightly. 

“We’re married,” Padmé says again. Plainly and proudly. Code be damned. Careers be damned. Enough with the secrets and hiding. Enough. “For going on three years now. Since right after the war broke out. We’re married.”

Now that it’s out there, Padmé finds she can’t stop saying it. Mother goddess does it feel good to say those words out loud. She wants to shout them from the top of the tallest skyscraper on Coruscant. Rife with rebellious attitude, she turns behind her and smacks her lips against Anakin’s. And if the way he just melts into her doesn’t convince the Masters that she isn���t making this up, nothing will. 

“This is ridic—“ 

“Unbelievable!“

“How dare—“ 

“I’ll produce the marriage certificates tomorrow, if you like,” she says over the voices of the hysterical Council members. “But right now, I’m taking my husband home. Consider this his resignation. Good evening, Masters.” 

And with that she links her arm through Anakin’s, and and they walk briskly through the doors of the chamber, just in time to here Obi-Wan’s “Wait! Padmé, Anakin! You’re making a—” before the doors slam behind them. 

The reality of what’s just happened doesn’t hit her until they’re back in their apartment. Anakin’s left the Order. She just resigned him from the Order. Is she even allowed to do that? Did he want to leave the Order? Is he very angry with her? Is he going to leave her now and go crawling back to them? Oh, blessed Mother of Mothers curse her impulsivity, what did she just do?

“You were amazing!” Anakin shouted. She turned around to see a huge grin plastered across his face, and what a difference it makes. Gone is that hollowed out prisoner. He’s himself again, and he’s scooping her up in his arms, kissing her and spinning her around, saying over and over again. “You were amazing! You were amazing! You’re so” kiss “kriffing” kiss “amazing!” 

A long, deep kiss against her lips. He holds the back of her head, bringing her in deeper. Then pulls away, giggling now. Oh, she’s missed that laugh. She’s missed that smile. Oh, Anakin…

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispers, clutching her to his chest, and tangling his flesh hand in her curls. They stay like that for an eternity, swaying back and forth on his heels; her, several inches off the ground, buried in her husband’s arms, and him, nearly delirious with renewed hope, holding her tighter, tighter, tighter as if she’ll float away from him if he lets up. 

“What happens now?” he whispered in her ear. Softly, hesitatingly. As if daring this to somehow be only a dream. 

“Now,” Padmé grinned. “I’m going to pack a bag. You’re going to change out of this,” she fingered his ratty tunic and scowled at his too-small pants. “And the two of us are going to leave all of this behind, like we always talked about.” 

Anakin’s smile is so wide she’s afraid he’s going to pull a muscle. Instead he pulls her in for another deep, hungry kiss. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

He changes quickly so that he can help her pack. As is their routine, she pulls dresses and pants and tunics from their hangers and hands them to him to put away. He’s such an efficient packer. Somehow able to fit half her closet into one mid-sized suitcase without rumpling anything. He’s so careful with her things, taking special care to fold and arrange them perfectly. Treating them as lovingly as he does her. And he says he’s the lucky one. 

They’re just about done when Threepio comes in to tell them that Obi-Wan has arrived. Unnecessary, as he is right on Threepio’s heels. And just as quickly as it set in, Anakin’s good mood is snuffed out like a dying flame. 

“Anakin, Padmé, I—“ he stops himself when he catches sight of her open suitcase. 

“You’re leaving,” he says flatly. 

“Yes,” she answers, daring him to challenge them. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. 

“Please, just hold on a minute. Hear me out,” he says carefully. “Don’t do anything rash. Please.”

He looks to Anakin, who is uncharacteristically silent, sitting on the chaise lounge at the foot of her bed with his head bowed away from his master. Padmé steps in front of him. 

“We’ve already made up our minds, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says forcefully. Lie. She’s made Anakin’s mind up for him. But in her defense, he was all for it…

Right? 

I’m so lucky to have you! 

Right. 

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan scolds. Scolds, as if she were a simple child! “I’m surprised at you. You’re not usually so reckless. Please, just take a minute to think about this. Think about what’s best for Anakin.” 

“What’s best for Anakin,” Padmé seethed. “Being shut away in that room like some criminal? Being stripped of all of his personal possessions and any sort of stimulation? Being cut off from the only person who cares for him? Is that what’s—“

“You’re not the only person who cares for him!” Obi-Wan shouted. “You’ve got some nerve! We’re doing everything we can think of to help him through this! And then you just swoop in and—!” 

“Whatever you call yourselves doing it’s obviously not enough!” she exclaimed. “Obi-Wan he was miserable in that room. You had to have seen that! You have to know that being isolated like that would crush him! You know how much he needs other people!”

“That’s precisely what got him into this mess!” he cried. “He’s always just been so…attached! Palpatine saw that and was able to prey on him because of it. I know being cut off from everyone is difficult for him now, but he’ll come out of this a stronger, wiser Jedi. He’s a grown man, Padmé not an infant. He doesn’t need you coddling him!” 

As a general rule, Padmé hates violence. Especially when used to resolve an argument. But right now she wants to throttle every self-righteous bone in Obi-Wan’s body. 

“How can you say that?!” she screamed. “Palpatine preyed on him because he was lonely and traumatized! And then you go and make him worse!” 

“Oh so it’s my fault that that…disgusting maniac was buggering him for twelve years?!”

“Must you be so crass? I never said anything like that!” she bellowed, incensed. “But yes, while we’re at it? Where were you during those twelve years? What were you doing that you could be so willfully blind to what was being done to him?!”

“Willfully--?!” Obi-Wan spits out through clenched teeth. His face redder than a setting sun, and twice as huge. Like it’s going to just burst open from rage. She’s never seen him so furious. Good. Finally getting some genuine emotion out of Mr. Model Jedi. “Where were you? Now that we’re pointing fingers, where were YOU? He was married to you during three of those years? Clearly sharing more with you than he was with me, what were you doing that you missed something this huge?”

“How dare you imply that I--!“

“STOP IT! JUST STOP!!” 

They both turn to find Anakin hunched over and stricken. His hands clutching at his scalp. A high-pitched keening noise—like the garbled whirring of a broken droid—begins to sound from his mouth as he started to convulse. Oh no. 

“Ani…?” Padmé said softly, stepping closer to him. He didn’t look up. She deflated. All of the anger and bitterness and contempt flowing out of her at once. She didn’t have to look over at Obi-Wan to know the same was happening to him. 

“Anakin,” he said, getting down on his knees so as to be eye-level. “Anakin, shhh…Stay with us.” 

He reached up and began to tug at Anakin’s arms, trying to pull his hands from his hair. They didn’t budge. He pulled harder, yanking at them. 

“Anakin…Anakin let go.” 

“Stop,” Padmé comes down beside them, and gently pulls Obi-Wan away. “Leave him. It doesn’t last long.” 

“He’ll pull his hair out!” 

“His muscles and joints go stiff when he’s like this. If you pull on his arm too much like you were you could dislocate his shoulder.” 

Obi-Wan makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. “Padmé—“ 

“Stop!” Anakin croaked. His speech slurred and gravelly. “Please…” 

He brings his arms down, then. But his eyes remain bleary and unfocused. They both reach for him, but Padmé gets there first. She pulls him into her lap, bringing his head to rest against her chest and carding her fingers through his hair to soothe any scratches he might have left. 

“Shhh…” she soothes, as his breath hitches and he begins to tremble. “We’re sorry. We’ve stopped. We’re so, so sorry, Ani…” 

The room goes quiet and still as Anakin calms and his breathing returns to normal. Then, Obi-Wan asks

“Anakin, did Palpatine know about your seizures, too?”

She could slap that man. She could. She really, really could. 

A noise comes out of Anakin’s mouth that is halfway between a shriek and a sob. She shushes him again and rubs his back, glaring at Obi-Wan who glares back. 

“I’ve been…remembering things,” Anakin whispered. 

“Shhh…” she says again. “It’s alright. You don’t have to—“ 

“No, let him get this out,” says Obi-Wan. 

“H-he used to…when I was younger…afterwards, he’d have me sit on his lap,” he made another noise. “He’d lift up my tunic and rub my back…like Momma used to. Except he’d go lower...” 

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan said, dropping his head into his hands. Sounding as though he were going to retch. 

“Sorry!” Anakin whispered. “Sorry! I’m sorry! I should have…” 

“You did nothing wrong,” Padmé says vehemently in his ear. “Remember what I told you before, you did nothing wrong.” 

“She’s right, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, just as emphatic. Bracing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

He waited for Anakin’s breathing to regulate. Then pulled him up from her arms. Anakin went to him like a marionette being repositioned. 

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan said. “I want to hear it from you. Do you want to leave the Order? Truly?”

For a moment, Anakin doesn’t answer. And Padmé gets the sinking feeling that she’s made a terrible lapse in judgment. But then he says

“I want to go with Padmé, Master,” with all of his trademark obstinance. But all the same, it’s a question, a request. As if he needed the other man’s permission. As if Obi-Wan would force him to stay against his will. 

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he pleads.  

And Obi-Wan just looks so defeated, so desolate. Padmé can’t help but want to take back every single one of her earlier words. But before she can even begin to, he hangs his head, and leaves them with a quiet, “So be it.” 

Anakin falls limply back into her arms. They don’t leave for another two hours. 

==================================================

The Tea ‘Verse Pt. 2

(Palpatine is a nasty space hipster that wears ugly robes and plays chess) Trigger Warning for graphic abuse

---------------------------------------

Their first couple of days on Naboo are like something out of a dream. A second honeymoon, only better. 

Before, whenever they visited the Lake Country they’d been confined to the house and its surrounding lands for fear of being recognized and outed by locals. But now that they’ve revealed themselves there’s no more need for subtlety and sneaking. They can be as gooey and shameless and public as they want, without fear of reprisal. And they take full advantage of it. 

(It turns out, actually, that they had nothing to worry about all along, at least as far as the townies are concerned. The inhabitants of the Lake Country are far too consumed with their own day to day lives to care anything at all about the “vacationers” canoodling in the middle of the town square. Padmé and Anakin happily make a note of that.)

They cook breakfast together every morning, then take their food back up to bed and feed one another by hand off of a shared plate. She purposely drips syrup down Anakin’s chest so that she can lick it off. He doesn’t mind one bit. 

They waste an entire day making love. Languishing in tangled limbs and tender touches. Exploring and relearning one another’s bodies the way they always do after a lengthy separation. Finding new and creative ways to make each other ache and writhe in pleasure, until they are too sore to do anything more than listen to one another breathe, as the sun sets just outside their bedroom. 

They have dinner by candlelight—both at home, and at restaurants in town. The wait staff at one is so taken with the two of them and the way they feed each other bits of their dessert between kisses, they end up getting two more on the house. 

They picnic out in the fields, and watch the wild shaaks graze. And when Padmé teases him about that time he tried to ride one and ended up falling flat on his face, Anakin does it again, just to see her laugh. 

They pop popcorn and watch live coverage of the Pixelito Classic on Malastare, and she listens attentively as Anakin savagely rips apart every contestant’s podracer. (“I built a better racer than that at nine, what is Kolbron even DOING?” he rages. She chuckles, kisses him, and shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.)

They take her father’s old speederboat out on the largest lake in the region for a day. While she tans, he lies halfway over the edge of the deck and drags his arms along in the water, grinning and laughing like a little boy. And Padmé thinks that if she loves one singular thing about Anakin, it’s his wide-eyed wonderment at the simple things. 

Going to bed on a full stomach. 

Clothes that fit properly. 

Water. Fresh water. Unlimited fresh water. (“that you can just…drink and sail in and swim in, Padmé. Drown in, even. Anytime you want. It’s just there!”)

Her smile. 

And she wonders, for perhaps the millionth time, how anyone could ever want to break her Anakin, the way Sidious and the Jedi almost did. How anyone could see his passion and think it something that should be stripped away or perverted. 

Thinking about what they almost did to him makes her want to tear millennia old institutions down to the ground with her bare hands. 

Anakin catches her brooding, and against all her protesting scoops her up and tosses her into the water, tumbling in right after her. When they finally come back onboard, she’s missing her bikini. (She never sees it again.)

Later that night, as Anakin trails butterfly kisses down her belly, muttering nonsense words of praise and adoration between every nip and suck, Padmé finds herself feeling so very grateful to this provincial little corner of her homeworld for being so good to the love of her life. For helping him heal. For washing the gray from his skin. Lifting the hunch in his shoulders. Spilling light back into his eyes. For slowly bringing him back to himself. For proving to Padmé without a shadow of a doubt that she made the right choice in taking Anakin away from the Jedi and bringing him here to their sanctuary.  

He’s home. He’s safe. He’s loved. With her, as he should have been all this time.  

--------------------------------------------------

Honestly, now that he’s finally free, Anakin can’t fathom why it took him so long to leave. Or rather; why it took Padmé getting fed up on his behalf and literally dragging him out of the Temple for him to realize that that is what he should have done years ago. Thrown up his hands and stormed out. Kriff the Council and their scorn and distrust, Obi-Wan and his endless criticism, and three years of endless, pointless war. 

Kriff it all. Let the transistors fall where they may.

He endured them for entirely too long. Let them push him around for entirely too long. Let them take away all of his things—his posters and his droids and Artoo—when he already had so little to call his own, when they’d already forced him to relinquish so much. Let them lock him up like a rabid dog. Let them pick apart his mind like he would with a busted engine, trying to discern if there were parts of it that could be salvaged, or if it would be better to just scrap the whole thing and move on. 

That’s all he ever was to them, wasn’t he? A piece of machinery. Another droid they could program and push around and possess. That’s all he’d ever been to anyone. Even…

No. Don’t think about that. Your mind always ends up going to the wrong place when you think too hard about that. 

But… 

Shut up…

But—

Shut up shutupshutupshutupshutup—

You don’t know for sure. You never actually did get the chance to confront him. 

Shut up. 

Obi-Wan took that from you. 

He was defending me. 

Really? When has he ever done that?

Shut up. 

He was your friend. He was always there for you. How do you know—

Shut up.

 —that he was really out to hurt you? Obi-Wan’s been wrong about things like this before. 

Things like what? Obi-Wan’s never wrong. Shut up.  

He never did like the Chancellor. Maybe…

Shut up. He was right. I was wrong. I’m always wrong. Wrong and cocky and stupid and—

(“That couldn’t be farther from the truth, Anakin! I never want to hear you say anything like that about yourself ever again. Am I understood?” “Yes, sir…Thank you.”) 

See? Why would a person who wanted to hurt you treat you with such kindness?

That’s a stupid thing to ask. 

But did anything he did ever hurt? They keep saying he hurt you, but did it, actually?

Shut up. I remember. I remember…

What do you remember?

Hands…and touching…and—

Hands and touching. People touch each other with their hands. That’s normal. You were right. You so stupid. Why do the people in your life even bother with a socially illiterate imbecile like you? How can Padmé and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka even stand—

Shut up! Just shut up! 

Anakin rolled roughly over onto his side and stuffed his face into his pillow. Hoping to quiet the annoying voice in his head telling him that maybe this was all terrible a mistake. That maybe everyone had been exaggerating. Maybe…

“Ani…” Padmé’s sleep-thick voice called out from behind him. “Are you alright?”

Kriff. She’s awake now. She’s not going to let this go now that he’s woken her.

“Fine,” he mumbled into the pillow. 

She pressed into his side, stroking cool fingertips down the nape of his neck. That wasn’t fair. That was the opposite of fair. She knows what that does to him. 

“Ani…” she said again. 

He buried his face farther into the pillow. If he looked at her he would have to tell her everything, and she would look at him with That look. The only expression on her face that he could honestly say he detested. The one that was pitying and saddened and outraged all at once. The expression she always wore when he said or did something that was normal for him, but not Normal. When he reminded her of where he’d come from. Where she’d met him. 

But she was awake now. She was going to have it out of him one way or another. Best to just rip it off. Like a bandage. 

“Padmé,” he said slowly. Taking his head from the pillow and turning on his side so that they were now face to face. “What…what Sidious did to me. I…I know it was wrong. But why was it? I mean I know why, but why, you know? Why is it such a big deal?”

Why does it hurt me so much, when it didn’t actually hurt? Is what he doesn’t say. But he thinks Padmé gets it. He hopes so because he knows the words won’t make any sense if said aloud the way they do in his head 

And sure enough, there it is. Her drooping eyes pop all the way open and she’s staring at him—at him, but not at him. Now seeing cruelty and hardship and oppression instead of her husband. And she is so very sad for him, he can feel it swelling around her in the Force. She is heartbroken and furious with people who are long buried in his past. Her lips twist into a scowl that then quickly morphs into an even sadder smile when she remembers that she was scowling at him. Her mouth opens. Then closes with a disquieted hum. She’s silent for a moment, then says.

“Ani, do you think it might be good for you to talk to someone…else about these thoughts? A professional, I mean. To help you sort through it all?”

And Anakin—

(“Anakin, listen. The Council has decided you are to spend some time with the Temple healers after…this whole business with Palpatine.” 

“For how long, Master?”

“Until they clear you for active duty, I suppose.” 

New clothes, dark and coarse. Too loose and too tight. Then later a new room, bare and cold and alone. 

“It’s just to help you clear your head, Anakin. This isn’t a punishment; I swear to you.”  

Cold and bored and alone in the dark. No Artoo. Nothing to tinker with. No visitors. No Obi-Wan or Padmé or Ahsoka. Where are they? Why don’t they come? Why did Obi-Wan have to take everything away and leave him like this? 

“This is for your own good, Skywalker.” 

“It’s only to help you, Anakin.” 

“We’re doing what we can to undo the damage Sidious did. But Skywalker’s not cooperating.”

“As usual.” 

“Perhaps a more aggressive approach is necessary.”  

It’s just to help. It’s just to help. It’s just to help you, Anakin. The more you work with them, the easier this will be.)

—Anakin thinks, Palpatine never hurt me, the Jedi did. Except he says it out loud, and Padmé looks absolutely crushed. Fuck, fuck, fuck what was he thinking saying that out loud?! 

Before she can say anything else, he whispers 

“This is where I belong, Padmé,” into her neck, as her arms wind around him and she clutches him in a quivering embrace. “I’m happy here, with you. Finally, after so long. I’m finally happy. It was just a thought. Please…” 

Don’t send me away to another dark room. Don’t let anyone lock me up again. Please. Please…please. 

Padmé doesn’t say anything more, just continues to hold him tight and stroke his hair. And Anakin tells himself that that’s the end of it. That he’s safe now, with the only person who’s ever cared about him. He has nothing to worry about with being stuffed away in isolation while someone new tries to “help” him. Padmé’s not going to do that. She loves him. She’s the only person who does. 

He repeats that to himself again and again as he drifts off to sleep in her arms. 

And that night, for the first time since this whole thing began, Anakin dreams. 

He opens his eyes to find himself walking through a familiar hallway. Aides and staffers bustle around him, casting furtive glances his way, but upon realizing who he is return to their work. Some nodding at him in polite greeting. 

Eventually, he comes to a familiar door, and passes through it without a moment’s hesitation.  

Palpatine looks up from whatever it is he was working on as soon as Anakin enters his office, an eager smile stretching across his face. 

“Anakin,” he says as he stands up from his desk to come over and greet him. “It is so good to see you again, my boy.” 

“You as well, Chancellor,” Anakin says, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Come, come, sit down,” Palpatine says excitedly. Looping his arm around Anakin’s and leading him over to one of the couches in the sitting area of his office. Gently guiding him into one, and sitting down next to him. 

“So…” he says, that eager smile on his face getting wider and wider. “What brings you by today, Anakin?”

Anakin faltered. 

“I… I, uh…”

What was wrong with him? Why had he shown up at the Senate building today? He couldn’t remember… 

“Did you have something to discuss with me, dear one?” Palpatine prodded. “Is everything alright between you and Obi-Wan? Do you have some concerns about the last mission you went on that you’d like to share with me?”

“I…” 

Did he have something to share with him? He did. Of course he did. There had to have been an important reason for coming here. He wasn’t so arrogant to think he could just show up at the Chancellor’s office for no reason at all. 

“You seem troubled, Anakin,” Palpatine said. Smile gone. Lips pulled down into a thin frown. “Are you certain nothing’s the matter? There’s nothing going on that I should know about?”

Anakin shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What was going on with him? He thought he had been bad off before, but this was on a whole new level. He was seriously losing it. 

“No. No, I…I just…” 

“Are you sure?” Palpatine said. Mouth twisting into another fond smile. He gave him a knowing look. “Trouble in paradise, perhaps, between you and Senator Amidala?”

Anakin’s head shot up. 

“H-how…How did you…?”

No one knew about him and Padmé. They’d been so very careful. How could this be?

“Are things a bit…awkward between the two of you right now? What with all of those awful things they’ve been saying about me in the HoloNet?” 

Anakin froze. The blood in his veins turned to hard, steely ice. He turned to look at the Chancellor. He stared back. An expectant gleam flashing in his gold-rimmed eyes. He smirked. Anakin’s gut rose up into his throat.  

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered vacantly. The horrifying realization slowly creeping up on him. “This is really happening.”

Palpatine’s grin widened, and his cold, weathered hand came to rest against the back of Anakin’s neck, attempting to comfort him with gentle, placating strokes. Anakin stiffened. Palpatine’s touch stilled, and his fingers wrapped around the base of his neck. He felt a faint tingling sensation shoot down his spine, and slumped against the couch cushions. 

“What do you want?” he said in a strained voice. 

Palpatine chuckled fondly. “I think, Anakin, the question is, what do you want? We are in your head, after all.”

“You’re in my head,” Anakin said, his voice shaking with anger and barely suppressed fear. “You’re using some kind of Sith magic on me!” 

The Chancellor laughed again. This time with far less mirth. 

“Anakin, not even I am powerful enough to invade another being’s mind like this. Especially not now that my true identity has been revealed and the Jedi have pushed back my influence. Me being able to enter your mind means that you have to have given me permission, young one. You must have called me here for some reason. What could it be, I wonder.” 

Anakin took a minute to stew on that. What he was saying did make some sense…maybe. Obviously, he wasn’t well versed in what was and what wasn’t within the realm of a Sith’s capability. But with Sidious’ true identity revealed didn’t that mean that the shroud of the Dark Side that had been clouding the Force for so long was finally lifted? It had to, didn’t it? Obi-Wan and the Jedi have finally triumphed. They had to have. 

(Maybe he would know this for sure if someone had bothered to update him on what was going on during all that time he spent in isolation.) 

He turned back over to Palpatine and, with more bravery than he felt at the moment, stared his (former?) mentor straight in his eyes. 

“You’re a Sith Lord.” 

“Yes.” 

Anakin swallowed thickly, looking back down at his lap. 

He knew how he should be reacting to this. He should feel outraged. Violated. His entire being should be responding to the alarm bells sounding off all around him in the Force. He should be doing his damnedest to wake himself up. To fight back. To alert Obi-Wan and the Council that—even if Palpatine had been driven to whatever far corner of the galaxy he was contacting him from—he was still a powerful enough presence to manifest himself in another’s dreams. He should pull himself up, throw off Palpatine’s hand and get himself out of this “office” as fast as he can. 

And yet, Anakin finds himself planted right where he is. Paralyzed by the only thought currently running through his head. 

“All this time,” he choked. His heart hammering away furiously in his chest. “All this time. You’ve been using me. You never cared about m—“ 

“That’s not true, Anakin!” Palpatine cut him off, raising his voice ever so slightly in reprimand. Anakin flinched and ducked his head. Palpatine resumed his stroking. 

“If you believe nothing else,” he began softly. “Believe that all of our interactions over the years have been genuine on my part. You have always been very special to me, dear one.” 

Anakin shook his head, doing his best to shake off Palpatine’s hand. It tightened again, and another twinge shot through him. He relaxed. 

“You just wanted to use me,” he whispered. “This whole time, you were—“ 

“Trying to guide you,” Palpatine said forcefully. “That’s all, Anakin. Just trying to offer you the guidance and affection I knew you craved. You were so lonely during those first few years after you came to Coruscant. Don’t you remember?”

Anakin drew in a shaky breath. And without letting that one out, took another. Yes, he remembered. Of course he remembered those early years in his training. Before he learned that Obi-Wan’s aloofness was his own way of showing he ‘cared’. Before he had completely given up on making friends with the other padawans in his class. Before he had resigned himself to never earning the Council’s acceptance. He had been so utterly alone back then. And who had been there for him during all of that? 

He nodded. 

Then, remembering who—what—he was talking to, he shook his head again. 

“You were trying to turn me…” he whispered harshly. Furious that he needed to remind himself of this. “You wanted me to be your apprentice.” 

“I still do,” Palpatine said plainly. “Were you to wish it, were you to embrace my teachings, Anakin, you could be the most powerful Sith in millennia. I have foreseen it. I have always foreseen great things for you. In spite of your confounding insistence on wallowing in mediocrity.”  

“You’re everything I’ve spent my life fighting against,” Anakin gritted out between clenched teeth. “I will never join you.” 

“No, I suppose not now,” Palpatine sighed regretfully. “But nevertheless, Anakin. I still consider myself your friend. You called me to you for a reason. I’m here to help you. Whatever it is.” 

His hand drifted slowly down Anakin’s neck and spine in slow, soothing circles until it stopped at the small of his back. It reached around his waist, urging him closer to his side. 

Blood pounded in Anakin’s ears. The rhythm beating in time to the Force’s warning. Saliva, stale and sickly sweet pooled in the back of his throat. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until his mouth went dry. 

“You’re lying,” he said. “I wouldn’t have called you here. I don’t want to see you. Not after what you—not after…After—oh you know!”

Palpatine hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head so that Anakin was now facing him directly. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, Anakin.” 

“What you did,” he fumbled. For some reason unable to even think the words, much less voice them aloud.  

“What did I do?” 

“You…” Anakin croaked over the lump in this throat. “…Hurt me.” 

“Did I?” Palpatine frowned in genuine confusion. “When?”  

Anakin breathed a long, ragged breath. When? When? 

Yes, when. When did it all start? He thought back through all the old memories that had been cropping up recently. After Obi-Wan had sat him down and explained to him that what had been happening during his and Palpatine’s meetings all these years had been wrong, he’d thought back over everything. Every touch. Every hug. Every pat on the head or the cheek or the back. Which one was the bad one? Which one had made him feel dirty? Used? Manipulated? He couldn’t tell now. Palpatine was looking down on him, expectant, and just a little bit hurt, and Anakin found that he honestly couldn’t say for himself when the Chancellor’s touches had begun to bother him. 

If they ever did. 

They did, didn’t they? 

Because what he was doing was wrong. 

Right?

“I-I’ve been…remembering things?” he said, closing his eyes and turning away from the Chancellor. 

“Really?” Palpatine said. Bringing his head back up with an insistent jerk. “Such as?”

Anakin shifted his eyes to the floor—tried to, but Palpatine’s glare was firmly holding him in place. He couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

“Things.” 

“Like?”

He shuddered. His whole body began to tremble, much to his embarrassment. Palpatine brought his hand from Anakin’s side, and cupped both of his cheeks in his own. They were cold and clammy against Anakin’s hot skin. He sank into them before he could stop himself. 

“It’s alright, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I understand this is difficult for you. But you’ve always been able to talk to me, and I’ve always been able to set you right. Don’t shut me out now, when you’re clearly in so much turmoil.” 

“Y-you…touched me,” Anakin mumbled. His eyes stung and he shut them again. Willing the water building up beneath his lower lid to stay where it was. 

“Yes,” Palpatine said, running his thumbs along Anakin’s cheeks. “Just as I am now. Does this hurt you, Anakin? Do you want me to stop?”

Anakin thought about that. Did he? He should. He feels like if Obi-Wan or Padmé saw this happening they would tell him he should. But why? It wasn’t hurting him. It made him feel…the opposite…

“No,” he whispered, with a slow shake of his head. 

“Has anything I’ve done ever made you feel unsafe?”

Again, Anakin shook his head. “No.” 

“I see. Then, do you want to know what I think, Anakin?” Palpatine asked softly.

“Yes…”

“I think—and mind you this is just my own personal observation based on what I know of you and your Master. But I think the only reason you feel this way about our relationship now is because Obi-Wan and the Council told you you ought.” 

Anakin’s eyes snapped open. No…No! That wasn’t…right. Right? Right. Obi-Wan was his Master. His teacher. His friend. He was always right. He would never lead Anakin astray. Anakin opened his mouth, ready to jump to Obi-Wan’s defense. 

The Chancellor hushed him before he could even make a sound. 

“Just hear me out,” he implored. “I’m not saying they did this maliciously. Far from it. You’re Obi-Wan’s former padawan, Anakin. He would never do anything to deliberately cause you pain. But think about it, how often has he shown you any sort of physical affection over the years? How often are any of the Jedi ever affectionate with one another? Not very, am I right?”

“…yes,” Anakin said reluctantly. This was true. It was one of the biggest culture shocks of coming to the Temple. He had been so used to hugs and kisses before bed or before departing for the day’s work or just because. There had been none of that with Obi-Wan. Especially not in the beginning, when they were still so new to each other. It was one of the reasons why his meetings with Palpatine had meant so much to him…

“So perhaps, then,” Palpatine said quietly. “It’s all just a horrible misunderstanding on their part.” 

He dropped his hands from Anakin’s face, and reached into his lap to take his hand. Giving it a prompting squeeze. 

“You know that Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi just don’t understand things like this. They view any kind of affection as dangerous and corrupting. Of course they wouldn’t understand how we are when we’re together. They’ve never understood you and what you need.” 

He drew tiny circles over the back of Anakin’s hand. And a familiar coldness spread through Anakin’s gut.  

“They’ve never even tried,” he muttered angrily. 

“No,” Palpatine agreed. “But I have, Anakin.” 

Anakin nodded.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he whispered. Waves of shame and guilt coursing over him with each swirl of Palpatine’s thumb against his hand. He tried to look away, but Palpatine’s glare burned. His hand tightened. Anakin felt another spasm shoot through his bones. 

“I have,” Palpatine said quietly, his voice taking on a pained edge. “Which is why I can’t understand why you’d let them say all of those horrible things about me in the media, Anakin. Do you have any idea how devastating this has all been for me? How mortifying?”

Anakin’s throat hitched. His cheeks burned.  

“I-I’m sorry, Chancellor,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. Everything just went so fast after Obi-Wan and I switched back. He came to get me and brought me before the healers, and I—“ 

“Shhh,” Palpatine hushed him with a finger to his lips. “That’s enough, dear one. Of course I don’t blame you for all of it. This isn’t completely your fault. I know how the Jedi can be with you. I bet they didn’t wait a single second to hear your side of the story, did they?” 

Anakin shook his head mutinously. “They locked me up,” he said. “For weeks.” 

“Surely Obi-Wan couldn’t have agreed to that.”

“He did!” Anakin said, voice rising as familiar pangs of betrayal hit him as he recalled being packed off into that room to ‘heal.’ “He said it was for my own good.” 

Palpatine tutted disdainfully, as he continued to stroke Anakin’s hand. “There’s more, isn’t there? I can see it in your eyes, Anakin. There’s more you want to tell me.”

Anakin hesitated. He knows he shouldn’t. Again, he remembers what he’s talking to. And he knows, alright? He knows how dangerous it is to put his trust in a Sith Lord. Knows what fate awaits him should he let himself sink too deep. But this isn’t just a Sith Lord. This was Palpatine. His friend. His confidant. He could tell him anything. Had always been able to share anything and everything with him. And he had forgotten over these past few weeks how much he missed the Chancellor’s open ear and paternal wisdom. Forgotten how good it felt to come to him and just get it all out, without fear of judgment or reproach. 

“They took away all my droid parts. And Artoo, too. And they locked me up like a prisoner. No one ever came to see me, to update me on what was going on or to tell me when it would all be over. Not even Obi-Wan. They even tried to keep Padmé away!” 

Palpatine mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, ‘those fools. Those insipid, unbelievable fools.’ Then let go of Anakin’s hand to spread out his arms welcomingly. 

“Tell me all about it, Anakin,” he says, pleadingly. “I can see there’s still so much you need to get off your chest. I know they’ve made you doubt me. I know they’ve tried to turn you against me. But you know who I am. And you know that your thoughts and worries are always safe with me. Let them go, my boy. It’s alright. It’s all going to be alright now.” 

Anakin looks at this man, his mentor, whom he has known and trusted and confided in for more than half his life. And now knowing who he is and what he has always wanted from him, tries to find some hint of malice. Some trace of deceit or cunning. Any small seed of treachery. 

He finds nothing. Except Palpatine. His friend who has always wanted nothing more than to guide him, to give him the esteem and the security he has never gotten from the Jedi. 

If Palpatine has always been the one to make him feel accepted and cared for, when he was supposedly evil, and the the Jedi have always made him feel alone and unwanted, when they were on the side of good, then…

No, he can’t think like that. He can’t allow himself to…

But still…

Was it so bad? Was it really all that bad? 

Palpatine, seeing the reluctance and yearning warring in Anakin’s eyes, spreads his arms wider, reaching for him ever so slightly. That same old welcoming smile spread across his face. 

“Come to me, dear one,” he croons. 

Anakin goes. 

Well 

After ignoring the outside world for a solid week, it was high time Padmé got back down to business. There are messages she needs to return. Meetings to reschedule. Bills to review. And new speeches to write, as she has yet to personally address the news of her relationship since its reveal.

She had made sure to have her publicist leak the story of her and Anakin’s secret marriage to the press the night they left Coruscant, in order to beat the Jedi to the punch. And upon checking the Holonet the next day she had been pleased to find public’s reaction was even better than she’d anticipated. 

By the time she and Anakin had reached the Lake Country, every tabloid, gossip rag, and talk show in the Republic was abuzz with talk of the forbidden love affair between The Hero With No Fear and the beloved Queen turned Senator of Naboo. As Padmé hoped would happen, the general public was so enamored with the melodrama of her and Anakin’s torrid romance, the scandal of a Jedi being romantically involved with a senator was less than an afterthought to them. Neither had anyone made the connection between Anakin and “Minor A,” the Chancellor’s unnamed victim in the Senate Sexual Abuse Scandal. 

But there were still people she had to answer to. 

The Queen and her advisors had not been pleased at the news of one of Naboo’s most respected politicians engaging in such unseemly behavior. But given Padmé’s previously spotless record, and that her approval ratings were higher than they’d ever been, what with the public’s obsession with her relationship, she’d been allowed to keep her seat in the senate. Though she knew that she would have to work hard going forward to regain the monarchy’s full confidence.   

And then there was her family.

Sola and their mother, especially, were understandably incensed that it had taken three years for them to learn of Padmé’s marriage, even more so that they had had to find out through the HoloNet instead of from her directly. Her father, for his part, hadn’t said a word while his wife and daughter ranted for a full forty-five minutes. But the look of abject heartache on his face hurt Padmé more than her mother and sister’s tearful raging. 

She’d borne all of their resentment meekly and penitently. Knowing that there was nothing she could say in her defense. She has been selfish all these years, keeping Anakin a secret from them for her own convenience, and she wasn’t going to disrespect her family more than she already had by trying to reconcile her selfishness to their betrayed faces. 

But when they demanded that she bring Anakin home to them, and introduce him as Anakin her husband, not Anakin her bodyguard, Padmé had refused point blank. And no amount of cajoling or pleading or guilt-tripping on any of their parts could make her change her mind. 

When asked, bitingly, why she would deny them this one small request, after putting them through so much, Padmé had cringed, reigned in the tears and exasperation threatening to spill out of her, and told them that she and Anakin were keeping a low profile for right now so as to avoid the paparazzi, until they were ready to give interviews. 

Lie. 

Like the general public, Padmé’s family doesn’t know the real reason behind Anakin’s resignation from the Order, and she intends to keep it that way. It’s his secret to reveal. But if they don’t know, she can’t tell them about how moody and skittish he’s been lately. About how he stares off into space for hours on end. About how his seizures have started becoming more frequent. About how at night he wakes them both, shaking and screaming from night terrors, with no memory of what they’d been about once she gets him calmed down again. 

About how he was backsliding, in spite of all the progress he’d made during their first week here. And that he wouldn’t talk to her about any of what was going on in his head so that she could help. 

Padmé knows there’s no way she can reintroduce him to her parents while he’s like this. She—

“Miss Padmé,” C3P0 called, interrupting her thoughts as he came into the study. “Miss Padmé, I’m so sorry to interrupt your work, but I’ve made lunch. Shall I fetch Master Ani?”

“No, that’s alright Threepio,” she smiled at the droid. “Thank you, but I’ll go get him myself. We’ll be down in a minute.” 

“Yes, of course, Miss,” chimes Threepio, and with a slight bow, heads back to the kitchen. Padmé follows him through the door. 

She hasn’t checked on Anakin all morning, but finds him in the first place she looks, their bedroom. 

Surrounded by… sheets of flimsi?

They’re scattered all over the floor; from the foot of the bed to the dresser, from the doorway of the ‘fresher heading out the opposite way to the entrance to the balcony, from the closet coming up to the hallway. Many of the pages were blank, save for a few illegible scribbles. More were filled with strange drawings of irregular shapes with words and equations written next to them. There were run down pencils abandoned all over the floor, and erasers chased down to ragged nubs. In the middle of this mess sat Anakin. One page held in his hand. His head lolled forward, his chin was touching his sternum. A low murmuring whine squeaking out from between pursed lips. 

Artoo was at his side, dutifully monitoring his vitals. He beeped in greeting as Padmé came further into the room. 

“How long has he been like this,” she asked him. 

Three minutes, seventeen seconds he told her. 

Longer than normal. Padmé bit her lip and went into the ‘fresher to wet a washcloth under some the cold tap, then came back out to sit on Anakin’s other side, and began dabbing at his forehead with the cloth, as she and Artoo waited for him to regain full consciousness. 

It’s another five long seconds before he comes back to them, collapsing into Padmé’s arms with a loud groan. 

“You’re alright, Ani,” she soothed. Shifting him so that his head was pillowed in her lap, and laying the cloth across his forehead. 

“P’dmé,” he mumbled groggily. “’rtoo?” 

Artoo beeped in affirmation. 

“We’re right here,” Padmé assured him. Bringing his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “We’re right here.” 

The three of them sit in silence for a long moment. Before Padmé remembers all of the flimsi laying around them. 

“Ani what is all this,” she asked him, taking the page he was holding from his hand to get a better look at it. 

Her jaw practically unhinges once her eyes register what she’s actually looking at. 

“I was…bored,” Anakin said weakly.  

And Padmé, she just has to laugh, because Mother of Mothers is he really going to write it off as just that? 

“Ani—this…this is…” 

A blueprint. A full-scale, impeccably detailed blueprint for what appears to be an original concept design for a starfighter. He did this. In the span of one morning. Because he was bored?

“Ani this is incredible,” Padmé breathes once she finds her voice again. “You just did this on the spot?”

“It took me a few times to get it right,” he shrugged. Weakly gesturing at all the flimsi around them. “I wanted to build something, but I don’t have my tools anymore.”

Her heart hurts for him. Faintly, because she’s still so caught up in her amazement.

“So you designed a starfighter.”

“Yeah…” 

So nonchalant. Like this was normal. A thing everyone just up and did whenever they got sick of returning messages and filling out paperwork. 

“Ani this looks—please, don’t take this badly—but this looks like it could actually fly.” 

“In theory,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure if my math is right, but it’s based off of the Actis-class. With a few tweaks.” 

He brought up a finger to point at the different areas on the ship’s model. 

“I added room for a built-in hyperdrive, and stronger laser cannons,” he explained. “Thicker wings to accommodate a full sized astromech. And better shielding.”

Padmé is right back to being rendered speechless. There’s so much she wants to say to this. She wants to tell him to sell his design to Kuat Systems Engineering. Then she thinks that he should keep it to himself and start his own ship-designing firm. She wants to tell him to enroll in university and pursue a business degree so that he can start his own ship-designing firm. Then she remembers that he has had far less and far different formal schooling than most university students, and wonders if that might be a setback. Mostly she just wants to kiss him all over, and tell him how amazingly talented he is and how proud she is to be married to someone so gifted. 

But first, she smirks and says

“Is this what you’ll do from now on? Spend your days drawing starships?”

He frowned. Clearly not getting that she wasn’t putting his work down, but asking a semi-serious question. She does quick damage control before things get out of hand. 

“You could, you know,” she said lightly. “You could take some classes, hone your skills a little more. Submit your sketches to a firm, and maybe they’d hire you on to oversee the projects.” 

Anakin pulled himself up from her lap, and spun around to face her. 

“Do you really think that could happen,” he asked. His jaw clenched doubtfully, but his eyes shining and hopeful. “I mean do you really think that I could really…do that…ever?”

Padmé smiled, pulling him down in for a kiss. 

“You’re free, Ani,” she promises against his lips. “You can do anything you like.” 

Anakin pulls away suddenly. His face a puzzle of wonderment, as though he’s watching an entire galaxy form right before his eyes. It takes Padmé a second to get it. But when she does she finds herself looking not at a galaxy, but a road. 

Winding and expansive, full of forks and curves and hills and pitfalls, making up endless paths and possibilities. All of which were, until very recently, cruelly held out of Anakin’s reach. But no more. For the first time in his life, Anakin has no master prodding him along, demanding that he follow whatever path they set out for him. Those chains called Destiny and Prophecy that for so long have shackled him to them have all been cut loose. At last, Anakin is free to go his own way. 

Having finally gained some perspective, Padmé realizes suddenly that she’s been indefensibly remiss in not doing more to help him explore the many options now available to him. 

She resolves to remedy that, immediately. 

  This is an old game from a very ancient and long-dead world. It’s boring, and Anakin’s terrible at it. And yet still, every once and a while, Palpatine will insist they play a round or two. 

I so seldom have any company to play with, Anakin, he would say. I know this isn’t a game you enjoy, but please, indulge an old man, won’t you?

And Anakin will roll his eyes and groan good-naturedly as Palpatine pulls out the faded black and white checkered board, lines up all the strange looking pieces, and makes the first move. 

It didn’t seem fair, though, that if they were in his head, and he was the one calling Palpatine here, that he should still have to endure this. Couldn’t they do this in a workshop? He chuckled inwardly at the thought of the Chancellor with his sleeves rolled up, fiddling around with nails and bolts. 

“Something funny, Anakin,” Palpatine mumbled absently, not looking up from the board. 

“No, nothing,” Anakin lied. “I was just thinking.” 

“About…?”

“Nothing.” 

Palpatine sighed, in that disappointed way that he knows Anakin hates, and looks up from the board. 

“Anakin,” he scolded. Crossing his arms and raising a chiding brow. “Remember what we talked about.” 

Anakin flinched, and folded under the weight of the Chancellor’s heavy glare. 

“I did a sketch of a starfighter the other day,” he said quietly. “Padmé really liked it. She thinks I should go to school to become an engineer.” 

“Really,” Palpatine said. For once sounding genuinely surprised. He leaned back in his seat. “And what do you think about that?”

Anakin shrugged. “I think it could be fun, I guess. It’s certainly never anything I considered before.” 

Palpatine “hmmed” thoughtfully, turning his attention back to the board. 

“What?” Anakin said. Suddenly feeling very anxious. 

“Nothing,” said Palpatine. “Just considering my next move.” 

He moved one of the little pieces that looked like a tower one space to the left. Then looked back up at Anakin.  

“Forgive me for speaking candidly, Anakin,” he said. “But I can’t imagine you’ve ever given much thought to a future outside of the Order.”

Anakin dipped his head, staring fixedly at the board. “Not really…” 

All those years ago, when Master Qui-Gon came to Tatooine, the choice he had presented Anakin with were either become a Jedi, or stay a slave forever. Obviously, he’d chosen the former. But that had been it, as far as career exploration was concerned. From the day he became Obi-Wan’s padawan, he’d devoted himself entirely to being the best Jedi he could possibly be. And while yes, at times he’d considered leaving the Order—especially after his marriage to Padmé, his fantasy of chucking his lightsaber at Master Yoda’s head and storming out had always stopped there. It’s probably why he didn’t have the strength to leave on his own after the scandal had broken. No matter how chafed he felt by the Order, realistically, Anakin could never envision himself doing anything else. 

Only now that he’s actually done the impossible and left the Jedi, was he starting to see that maybe there were other things out there for him. 

The Chancellor tutted softly, and then stood and came over to Anakin’s side of the table, sitting down beside him. 

“Well at your age there’s certainly nothing wrong with considering a change in career path,” he said judiciously. “Even one as drastic as this.” 

Anakin nodded. 

“Of course,” he went on. “You’ll want to keep in mind that the world of academics is an entirely different setting than what you’re accustomed to. Not to impugn your intelligence, dear boy, but let us be frank, your formal education was uneven at best. The students at the schools Padmé no doubt has in mind for you have spent their entire academic careers being educated at the galaxy’s most elite institutions. And you, well…” 

“Haven’t,” Anakin said bluntly. Remembering the trouble he used to have keeping up in lessons at the Temple. The instructors had put him in remedial classes when he first arrived because of how far behind he was. In the beginning, he did try his best to catch up to his peers, but it didn’t help that he was always being taken out of classes to go on missions with Obi-Wan. Although the workload did eventually get easier for him, by that point he had already given up on catching up with the more advanced students in his class. It had become enough for him to just get by. He’d learned to read and write and do advanced arithmetic, which was much farther than his mother or any of his friends back home had ever gotten. Farther than he ever thought he would get. For him, that was something to be proud of. And besides, even as a padawan he was a better pilot than most knights, and he could build and fix just about anything. Who cared if his marks were just average when everything that actually mattered came naturally to him?

But he isn’t a Jedi anymore. He has to find a job in the outside world now. What if whatever meager amount of knowledge his instructors had been able to beat into his belligerent adolescent brain wasn’t enough? His place had never been in the classroom, true. But he’d have to be trained in something if he wanted to build a life for himself outside of the Temple, right? 

“Maybe I could, I don’t know…” 

“A career in engineering requires years of intensive study. Not to mention, a strong background in mathematics and the sciences, which I’m sorry, Anakin, but that you just don’t have. You’ve never exactly been the studious type.” 

Anakin nodded, eyes downcast. The Chancellor was right. Raw talent aside, he couldn’t just jump right into a fancy university program and expect to be able to hold his own against the galaxy’s best and brightest when he’d been an average student at best. He needed to think of something realistic, not let himself get carried away by idiotic fantasies. 

“It was just an idea, anyway,” he mumbled. 

Palpatine laid a hand on his thigh, and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“I don’t mean to discourage your desire to explore new paths, dear one,” he said softly. “I know you need to search for something more, now that you’ve left the Order.” 

“I just…,” Anakin whispered. “There’s so many different things I can do now that I’m not a Jedi anymore. Things I never even considered doing.”

“You’re worried about not taking all your options into account.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well,” Palpatine said, patting the inside of Anakin’s thigh. “Let’s do this then. Let’s say you have the power to do anything you wanted to do, right now. No certifications or justifications required. What would it be?”

Anakin thought about it for a moment. 

“Explore every planet in the galaxy.” 

He looked at Palpatine to gauge his reaction. If he didn’t know any better, he would almost say the Chancellor looked put out by his answer. 

“And that’s it?” he said, his lip curling ever so slightly. 

“What do you mean,” Anakin said hotly. A tiny spasm shot through his leg. He softened his tone. “It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”

“If I’m being honest, Anakin,” the Chancellor answered. “Yes, I am a little disappointed. I would have thought you’d have a nobler answer for me.” 

“Nobler?”

“You’ve always been so mission-driven, Anakin,” Palpatine said. Stroking the inside of his thigh. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you. You have this…innate drive to improve the world around you. To make things right.” 

“Fix things,” Anakin said to himself. 

“Exactly,” said Palpatine. “Going on a tour of the entire galaxy sounds wonderful. Enviable, even, for those of us banished to hiding out on one planet in the far corners of the galaxy. But—forgive me if this sounds harsh, dear boy—but it would also be a very big waste, in my opinion.” 

“A waste?” 

Palpatine smiled, wide and prideful. “You have so much talent, Anakin. So much power inside you. You could do so much good with it. Especially now that you’re not bound by the Jedi and their dogma.” 

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Good like what?”

Palpatine wrapped his arm around Anakin’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He resisted at first, not liking where the Chancellor was going with his suggestion. But a faint pressure in his shoulder blades relaxed him and he went without further protest.

“Anakin,” Palpatine said gently. “What has been your dream, ever since you were a small child?”

He didn’t even have to think. “Freeing all the slaves.” 

Palpatine gave him a pointed look. “So…?” 

Anakin looked away. Ashamed at having forgotten the promise he made to himself and his mother all those years ago for even one moment. Palpatine pulled his head back up so that they were now face to face. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where you came from.” 

“Never!” Anakin said fervently. “It’s just…a lot more complicated than I thought it was when I was a child.” 

“How so?”

“There’s just so much politics involved. The places with the highest concentration of slavery are all outside of the Republic’s jurisdiction. There’s nothing anyone can do.” 

“But do you think they would if they could?” Palpatine argued. “When have the Jedi ever shown you that they cared about ending slavery?”

“They care,” Anakin said. Not completely understanding why he was defending the Jedi, when he has thought this for years. “They just… “ 

“Won’t do anything about it,” Palpatine finished for him. “Innocent people being tortured and exploited doesn’t threaten the status quo. So it’s not a pressing concern for anyone in power.”

 “You’re a Sith Lord,” Anakin said. Not sure if he was calling Palpatine out for his hypocrisy, or reminding yet again himself of this fact, as the Chancellor’s reasoning was sounding more and more rational.   

“And that means I can’t believe in justice?”

Anakin scowled. “This Sith manipulate the will of the Force to execute their own agendas. They use their power for their own selfish reasons. They act only out of self-interest.” 

“And the Jedi don’t?” Palpatine said rhetorically. “Which is more self-serving, cloistering oneself in a ziggurat to meditate and pontificate about the evils of emotion and attachment, or actually using the powers you’ve been gifted with to institute real change in the lives of those who need it most.” 

“The Jedi do help people.” 

“Is that why you were born into bondage, then? Is that why they never allowed you to free your mother? Is that why they only intervened in Zygerria once the war broke out and the slavers became enemies of the Republic?” 

Anakin can feel a familiar, aching rage writhing inside his stomach. He has thought all of these things before, many, many times throughout the years. The Jedi warned of the suffering caused by fear and anger and attachment. But what of the indignity of being stripped naked and muzzled for a slave auction? Of having your rations cut because your Master blamed you for their business losing profit that month. Of having no water to wash with because there was currently a shortage and it was too expensive to waste on slaves. What of that kind of suffering? How could that just be meditated away? And how could a body of powerful beings touting themselves as guardians of harmony and light turn a blind eye to it? Claiming the abuse and exploitation of innocents to be out of their hands, but then having no problem with diving into a war driven by politics and corruption? 

“It’s complicated.” 

“It always is with hypocrites,” Palpatine mused. “But think about how easy it would be to un-complicate it, Anakin. Slavers and pirates and smugglers care nothing at all for politics or rule of law. They respond only to power, to brute strength. And you have that in spades, my boy. Think about how easy it would be for you to use your natural talents to deliver justice unto those who need it most, the way the Jedi never have. After all, you’re born of the Force itself. Who could have a better sense of how its will should be exercised than you?” 

It has always made Anakin burn with satisfaction whenever the Chancellor spoke like this. It still does. In spite of the Force burning back, just as fiercely. It’s warning bright and clear. 

(Remember who he is. Remember who he is. Remember who you are)

“It’s not the way of the Jedi.” 

“But you’re no Jedi. Not anymore.” 

Anakin’s gut twisted. (Remember. Remember. Remember.) He did remember. He remembered being shut down and shut out whenever he tried to bring up his past. He remembered how good it felt to have just one person listen to him. How good it felt to have the most important man in the galaxy be that person.

The Chancellor’s words sweep their way into him, settling inside his heart and igniting a fire over years of stored up kindling. 

The frustration he felt at being seen as irrational and immature for wanting to free his mother. His despair and guilt at how he’d left her to rot in that hellhole. The resentment he carried with him like an extra limb for every single Jedi who had ever made him feel foolish for being unable to leave his pain in a vacuum. 

Hatred. Pure and nurturing and vindicating raged like wildfire within him. His entire being sang with it. If only for a moment, before it was tempered by the Force’s warning. 

(Remember) 

Yes, this was a Sith speaking these thoughts into his ear. He couldn’t forget that. But even so, they weren’t lies or half-truths. They were his own words, being repeated back to him by the only real friend he’d had for so many years. 

(Remember, remember…) 

Making Anakin sick with confliction. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he muttered. “Can we go back to the game?”

“Of course, dear one,” Palpatine smiled. And with a final pat on the leg, stood and went to sit back over on his side of the board, and waited for Anakin to make his move. 

Padmé, in a not-at-all subtle ploy to get him out of the house, had insisted they have a picnic lunch down by the lakefront today. Truthfully, Anakin hadn’t been in the mood to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. But that’s all he’s done for the past three days, and he can tell Padmé is getting frustrated with him. 

Force, he is frustrated with him. 

Here he is, in the most beautiful place in all the galaxy, with his favorite person in all the galaxy, and all he can do as of late is mope. It’s disgusting. Anakin is disgusted with himself. He wants so badly to stop. To go back to being as happy as he’d been when they’d first arrived on Naboo. But he can’t. And he doesn’t know why. 

He wishes there was a way to just wrangle it all back in. Everything that’s come out since Obi-Wan told the Council all that stuff about him and Palpatine. He wants to put it all back the way it was. He wants the Chancellor back in power. He wants the Holonews to stop spreading the lies put forth by the Council. And he wants them to stop obsessing over his and Padmé’s marriage, as if they weren’t real people behind all of the holos and romance and gossip. He wants it all gone. 

But most of all, he wants to stop the visions. Or flashbacks. Or memories. Whatever you want to call them. They’re annoying. And they’re wrong. Or, well…maybe the way he’s remembering them is wrong. Skewed. Because of the Council and the Healers and what they made him think about the time he and Palpatine spent together. It’s wrong. And it’s dirty. He’s been set straight. Nothing happened back then. Nothing. So Anakin shouldn’t be remembering his friend this way. It’s shameful. And he wishes he knew how to make himself stop. He wishes he knew how to make everything stop.  

Palpatine would know. He always knows what Anakin needs. But he hasn’t come to see him in several days, which has Anakin feeling worried, and a little abandoned. Though their last conversation ended on a bit of an awkward note, overall it has been so good having his mentor back. No one’s ever been able to get him the way the Chancellor always has—except Mom. But she’s gone. Like Palpatine was almost gone, thanks to the Jedi. It seemed to be a common theme with the Order, taking away the people who cared for him the most so that they can control him. 

He hates them. Force, does Anakin hate them for doing this to him. 

“Hey,” Padmé says, reaching up from her position in his lap to stroke the side of his face. “What’s that look for?”

She wouldn’t believe that it was nothing. But he can’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand.  

“Can I tell you something?” he asked tentatively. 

“You can tell me anything,” she said, sitting up to give him her full attention. “Always.” 

“I…” he shifted, looking down at the ground and nervously plucking up blades of grass. This wasn’t really something he wanted to bring up, either. But it would go over better than the other thing. “I don’t want to be an engineer.” 

Padmé cocked her head to the side, looking puzzled for a moment. And then started to laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…you looked so guilty when you said that. I was gearing myself up for something awful.”  

He grimaced, pulling chunks of grass up by the handful. “But you had so many plans in mind after I drew that sketch and I didn’t want—“ 

“Ani,” she says firmly, grabbing his wrist to catch his attention. “It was just a random thought I had. A suggestion. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do. I can’t do that. That’s the beauty of freedom, love. Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide what you want out of life.” 

Anakin nodded, a small smile returning to his face for the first time in days. 

“I know what I want to do,” he said, emboldened. “I want to free all the slaves.” 

She blinked. Her brow furrowed. Why did she look so bothered by that?

“All of them? Everywhere?”

“Yeah,” he bristled. “Why do you make that sound impossible?”

“It’s not impossible,” she said carefully. “Just…it’s a tall order, is all. The places with the highest concentration of slavery are—“ 

“Outside of the Republic’s jurisdiction, I know. That just makes it easier then, if there’s no law and order in place there to begin with.” 

“But there is law and order there, Ani,” Padmé argued. “It’s just a different kind than what we have in the Republic.” 

“An immoral kind.” 

“True,” she said evenly. “But one we need to respect and abide by regardless.” 

“Why,” Anakin growled. “Why do we need to respect laws that allow people to be oppressed? Why do we need to respect laws that make sentient beings the property of others? How is that fair? How is that just?”

“It’s not,” Padmé said. “But we can’t breach the sovereignty of the Outer Rim planets, Ani. Not if we want them to one day join the Republic willingly. I know you want to see change happen. I want it to. But change is a process. It happens gradually. I know you don’t like it. I don’t either. Not one bit. But the situation is complicated.” 

“It always is for hypocrites,” Anakin grumbled, turning back to the grass. 

Padmé caught his wrist again. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?” she said lowly. 

Anakin wanted to slap himself. How could he say something like that? Of course not! Of course he didn’t—

“No, no! I didn’t mean—what I was trying to say is—it’s just—the Senate. The Senate is full of hypocrites.” 

“I’m a senator. Bail and Mon are senators.” 

“No, I know that. I just mean—as a whole,” he fumbled. “There’s a lot of hypocrisy. Like, we can start a war to bring planets who don’t want to be in the Republic back in, but we can’t make outside planets stop having slavery?”

“I understand your frustration, Ani—“ 

“How could you possibly understand?!” he roared. Furious, all of a sudden. With her, for not seeing it his way. With himself for making her flinch and draw away from him. “You have no idea—” 

“You’re right,” Padmé loudly cut him off. “I don’t share your experiences. I can’t understand it the way you do. But I want slavery eradicated too. So do a lot of my colleagues. But we’re politicians, Ani. Not magicians. We can’t make change happen overnight.” 

“You should, though,” he seethed. “You should have the power to make change happen overnight.”   

Padmé glared at him, snuffing out the fires of his rage with the ice in her eyes. Anakin winced, knowing how much it upset her when he talked like this. But this was how he felt. She said he could tell her anything. He was just being honest…

He should apologize. She’s hurting. He can feel it seeping out of her like puss from a wound. She’s angry and hurting because of him. He hurt her. She was just trying to do something nice for him, trying to cheer him up and pull him out of the funk he’s been in, and he’s paid her back by insulting her, her friends, and her life’s work all in one go. He needs to apologize. He needs to take it all back. But he can’t. She’ll know he doesn’t really mean it. That if he had the power he would run his lightsaber through each and every slaver in the galaxy. Right now. She’ll know that that is the real truth. She is better acquainted with that part of him than anyone else. But it’s a larger part of him than even she knows, and he spends a lot of energy hiding it from her. Except sometimes it breaks free and comes bursting out of him. And then this happens. And he doesn’t know what to do.  

Cursing his big mouth and stupid temper, Anakin reached into the picnic basket and grabbed a pastry. Popped it into his mouth and—

(“Have you ever had a muja-fruit pastry, Anakin?”

“No, Chancellor.” 

“Ah, well I have a few extra left over from a luncheon with some delegates from Ganthel. Would you care to try some?”

“Well, I guess. If it’s alright, with you, sir.” 

“By all means, dear boy. I insist.” 

The Chancellor beckoned him over to his side of his desk, and pulled out a white box from one of the drawers. He set it on the desktop, and then to Anakin’s surprise, lifted him into his lap to give him better access. 

“Go on,” he said, gesturing to the box. Anakin opened it, picked out the smallest piece he saw, and began to nibble at it. Hoping to make the treat last. 

“You seem troubled, my boy,” the Chancellor said thoughtfully. “May I ask what’s the matter?”

He placed an encouraging hand on the small of Anakin’s back and began rubbing small circles, just like Momma used to. Gods, he missed her.  

“Master Obi-Wan hates me,” he murmured. 

“Whatever would make you think that?”

Anakin flinched. He shouldn’t be talking about Master Obi-Wan like this. It was disrespectful. Not to mention ungrateful. The Council hadn’t even wanted to let him be a Jedi, but Master Obi-Wan had stuck up for him. So what if he was mean sometimes. He was just trying to make Anakin better, right?

“He’s always fussing at me, ‘cause I’m always messing up. Everything I do is wrong.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true.” 

“It is, though!” Anakin cried. “I’m lousy at meditation. I’m still having trouble reading big words. I can’t remember all my katas. And I’m trying so hard, but I can’t stop thinking about my mother!” 

He sighed. 

“I’m never gonna be a good Jedi.” 

“I see,” Palpatine said sympathetically. “Do you want to know what I think, Anakin?” 

“Yes, Chancellor.” 

“I think Obi-Wan’s just a little bit intimidated by you.”

“Intimidated, sir?”

“Anakin, if the late Master Qui-Gon’s suppositions were true, you are the Jedi’s Chosen One. Training you is a great honor, but it is also a huge responsibility. Obi-Wan is a newly-minted knight. If I had to guess, I’d say he is under an enormous amount of pressure to be a Master worthy of you.” 

“Worthy?” Anakin repeated disbelievingly. Unconsciously squeezing the pastry in his hand and “Oh no!” 

Purple splotches ran all the way down his tunic and onto his pants. Oh no. Oh no Oh no. Master Obi-Wan was always scolding him for being dirty and unkempt. He was going to be so mad if Anakin came back to the Temple looking like this! Oh no! 

“Don’t worry, Anakin,” the Chancellor soothed. “I can have my dry cleaning droid take care of that for you. Here, let me…” 

He tugged on the hem of Anakin’s tunic, pulling it up over his head. Then reached for Anakin’s leggings, removing those as well. Anakin wasn’t sure about this. The Chancellor shouldn’t have to go through so much trouble just because he’s a messy eater. But he knew better than to refuse when someone important tries to do you a favor. 

A droid came by and collected the soiled clothes from them. Anakin shivered. Freezing now, without his clothes on. The Chancellor tightened his hold around him. 

“Would you like another pastry, Anakin? Go on, have one. I insist.” 

Not wanting to be rude, Anakin took another small one from the box. 

“Now, as I was saying…” 

But Anakin wasn’t listening anymore, because the Chancellor’s hands were now moving all over him as he continued to speak. Down his back and along his arms and legs. Pulling him closer. Closer. Closer. All the while Anakin remained completely still, his Momma’s words coming back to him (“It’s just a body, Ani. Let them do what they will. It’ll be over quickly if you don’t fight.”). Right. It’s just a body. It’s just a body. It’s just a body. Just lie there and be good for them, Ani and I’ll give you and your mother double rations for the week. 

Anakin’s not surprised that this is what the Chancellor wanted from him after all. And to be honest he doesn’t really mind. The Chancellor is the only person who’s been nice to him since he’s come to Coruscant. Anakin doesn’t see a problem with giving him something in return. 

But then things start to get fuzzy. Like an incoming transmission from an old, outdated comlink. The picture grainy and the sound choppy. He can still hear the Chancellor’s voice coming in and out in spurts, talking about the Jedi, and occasionally offering Anakin more food. And he can still make out the office around him through his blurred vision. The Chancellor is still…doing that. And it hurts. But distantly. Like when his leg falls asleep and he gets that prickling feeling, but throughout his whole body. And his head. His head is the worst. It’s so heavy he can’t hold it up. But light at the same time. As if he wasn’t even in there anymore. As though he, Anakin were being pulled out of his own mind and replaced with static…  

…

…

…

What?

He’s sitting upright on the Chancellor’s lap, fully clothed and alert and a little bit dazed. 

The chromo on the wall shows that an hour has passed since he’d arrived. Wow. The time sure has gone by fast. Anakin can’t even remember what they’d been talking about. He’d been telling him about his troubles with Master Obi-Wan and then…nothing. Could he have dozed off while the Chancellor was talking. How rude! He hopes the Chancellor at least didn’t notice… 

The Chancellor has stopped talking now, and the box of muja-fruit pastries in front of him was now empty. Had he eaten them all by himself?

(“Have another Anakin. Go on. Keep eating… Have another… Have another”)

He must have. The Chancellor’s hands were clean, and his were sticky with purple filling. 

“Anakin, I’m afraid I have another meeting coming up in a few minutes that I must prepare for. I’m going to have to ask you to—“ 

“That’s alright, Chancellor,” Anakin said quickly. Embarrassed at having overstayed his welcome. “I get it! I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.” 

“Not at all, dear one,” said Palpatine, patting him on the shoulder. Anakin flinched involuntarily at the touch. He hopes the Chancellor didn’t catch it. “We really must do this again soon. I do so enjoy our visits.” 

“Me as well, sir,” Anakin said earnestly. 

He hopped off the Chancellor’s lap, and stumbled a bit, before regaining his footing. Noticing for the first time how sore his legs were. Why did it hurt to stand on them? He took another step, and his belly lurched. He wrapped his arm around his middle, and continued walking. This is what he gets for being greedy. He shouldn’t have had so many pastries.

He turned to wave a final goodbye to the Chancellor, then passed through the doors to the outer office to meet Master Obi-Wan. 

He spends the rest of the day throwing up, and ends up missing his evening meditation session. Master Obi-Wan is not pleased.) 

—gagged. Clapping a hand over his mouth. He tries to swallow, but the half-chewed bit of pastry gets lodged in the back of his throat. He retches and retches, and his eyes well up. He can’t breathe. 

“Ani?” Padmé’s sounds frightened and far away. “Ani, are you alright?”

She pats him on the back and helps him move onto the grass, as he continued to retch. The mashed bits of pastry roll around in his throat, mixing with saliva and bile. He gags, and gags. But keeps his mouth clamped tight so that the wet, mushy bits of food don’t spill out. (Have another, Anakin. Have another. Go, on, don’t be shy.). Padmé tells him to breathe through his nose and he does. He inhales and exhales and accidentally heaves what was once the pastry as well as the rest of his lunch onto the grass, while Padmé rubs his back and whispers soothing words in his ear.  

“Anakin,” she says urgently. Helping him sit back on the blanket, and dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Are you alright?”

He nods. Then, to prove it, he grabs another pastry and shoves it into his mouth 

(Have another, Anakin)

He swallows it after two bites. Then he has another. This one too goes down without a struggle. 

Padmé still doesn’t look convinced, even after all that. But Anakin can’t eat any more. Not for the rest of the day. His stomach hurts. 

Anakin won’t talk to her. And that’s fine. 

No really, it is. The holobooks and sites all say that every survivor processes their trauma differently. That all their family can do is be there for them and validate their pain as they work through it.  

And Padmé thinks she’s doing a pretty good job at it. She hopes she is. 

It’s just… what she wouldn’t give to have someone else to talk to about all of this. Someone to reassure her that she’s doing the right thing by Anakin. 

Like Obi-Wan? that annoying “I-told-you-so” voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like the Jedi Master says. But Padmé knows she can’t com him. He’d gloat (Obi-Wan doesn’t gloat) and admonish her (Obi-Wan would understand) and tell her to take Anakin back to the Temple (Obi-Wan respects your and Anakin’s decisions). She can’t have that. 

Besides, Anakin is going to be fine. It’s expected that people who’ve experienced a severe trauma to have ups and downs. He was in a slump now, but he’d come out of it soon. Especially with her here to help him through it. 

Padmé has done a lot of research since finding out the truth of what Palpatine had been doing to Anakin all these years. She knows all about triggers and flashbacks, and has already scratched muja-fruit pastries off the list of foods to have Threepio prepare for them. But she needs more. What is it about them, specifically that set him off? The taste? The smell? The texture? Does he not enjoy sweets anymore? Or is it only just pastries? She needs to know, for Anakin’s sake, yes. But for her own as well. It’s fine that he doesn’t want to talk to her about any of this, really it is. It’s just—she needs him to. 

He doesn’t say anything after his episode, but his body goes lax and he falls into her arms, dead weight. She gathers him up and rocks them both back and forth. Pressing kisses to his brow and running her knuckles along the base of his neck. He stuffs his face into her shoulder and there are no tears. He doesn’t make a sound. And she doesn’t press him other that to ask one more time if he is alright. He is. And she leaves it at that. He’ll let her in when he’s ready. 

Which is fine. Perfectly fine. But also.

I’m right here, sweetling. I’m right here. Please just talk to me. 

-

#fic #star wars prequels #anidala #star wars au #cw child abuse #comments are nice #even tho this thing is OLD and whew so many old habits i'm glad to be rid of #the Tea verse

[august-anon]

LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

--------------------------------------

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends. 

 He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

 And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

 “Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

 “Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?” 

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded. 

 “Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

 “So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

 “About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

 Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

 Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

 Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

 “I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. 

 “Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

 “I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile. 

 “Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked. 

 Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again. 

 “Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

 “Tickle fanfiction.”

 Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

 “Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

 “Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

 “Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

 “Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

 Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

 Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

 “Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

 Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

 Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

 “Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

 And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

 Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

 Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

 Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil. 

 “Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.” 

 “Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

 Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

 Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

 Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

 “Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

 “Yep. Whatcha need?” 

 Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?” 

 Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

 It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

 “What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

 Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better. 

 “Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute. 

 “What part?”

 Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

 Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

  Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

 Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

 “Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over. 

 “Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

 Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

 That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later. 

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such. 

 “Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone. 

 “Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?” 

 Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

 Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

 “You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his 

voice to work.

 “Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

 Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

 Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

 “Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!” 

 Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

 Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

 Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

 Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

 “Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained. 

 Virgil said nothing. 

 “He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

 Yep. Virgil was going to die. 

 After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.  

 “So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

 Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

 Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

 “I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more. 

 “No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet. 

 Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

 Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

 But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

 ‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

 What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

 Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

 Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

 Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

 Immediately, he received a reply.

 TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

 Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding. 

 He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

 Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

 Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

 But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him. 

 Interesting.

 But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

 Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

 “Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

 “I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

 “Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

 “Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

 Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

 Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

 “Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

 Wait?! Before walking away?!

 Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil. 

 “Yes?”

 Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

 Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

 Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean. 

 But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

 “I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

 He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

 “Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

 Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

 “W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands. 

 “Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman. 

 “You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

 “I’m waiting~” 

 Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

 “Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink. 

 After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

 Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

 Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

 “I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

 Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.” 

 Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?” 

 “Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

 Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

 Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

 Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

 “Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

 Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath. 

 “What was that?”

 “I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

 “Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

 “But I thought you said-“

 “Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

 “No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

 Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

 “No! No, don’t read the comment!”

 “It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.” 

 He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

 Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to. 

 “No, no, no, no.”

 “Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.” 

 Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

 “Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

 Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

 “Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

 Yeah, he... What was he saying?

 “Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more. 

  “Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

 Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself.  Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account. 

 After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

 Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin. 

 Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

 “No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those?  ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil’s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

 “I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.” 

 Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time. 

 He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

 “Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him. 

 “Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish. 

 “Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

 All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!” 

 Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact. 

 Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

 Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

 Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

 “What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

 “Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

 Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

 Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

 Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

 “But I still have one more game before we start.”

 Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

 Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence. 

 Until Roman did a fake out.

 Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

 “You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

 “Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

 “Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

 Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

 Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

 “You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

 But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

 “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

 “I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

 Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him.  “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

 Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

 Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

 Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

 Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

 “Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?” 

 Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

 After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely),  he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited. 

 “Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

 Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

 “Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

 “No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

 Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

 When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles. 

 “Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly. 

 “Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.” 

 Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

 “Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned. 

 “You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that. 

 “Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

 “Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

 “If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

 “The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation. 

 “Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling. 

 Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

 Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking. 

 “Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

 “Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

 Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

 “Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?” 

 Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue. 

 He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

 “Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

 “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

 But then.

 As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened. 

 Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

 “Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.” 

 Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him? 

 Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

 Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

 No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

 Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again. 

 Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it. 

 And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

 “So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

 “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

 “Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

 Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

 “Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

 Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

 “YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately. 

 “Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get. 

 “Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

 Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled. 

 Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

 “Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him. 

 Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?” 

 Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.” 

 Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

 Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

 Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch. 

 “Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

 “Why, I would love to.”

 Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks. 

 “W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy. 

 “You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.” 

 Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

 Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could. 

 Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

 “Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm. 

 “Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

 “Of course.”

 And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

[airi-p4]

Second chances - Lukagami

@katydoodles ‘s Lukagami / Viperuko art from the other day made me finally finish this WIP I had abandoned for months. It follows my headcanon of Ryuko hating Luka because there are no second chances in her family and how they could become friends (and more than friends). 

I think Lukagami has true bonding potential and they are underrated.

AO3

_____________________________________________________

It took years, but the final battle against Hawkmoth was over.

All miraculous holders were needed, but it was worth it: they won. No more akumas, no more despair. Paris recovered its ‘ liberté’ , one of the country's founding values the flag is expected to represent for its people and to the world.

Viperion sighed in relief. He was glad his second changes managed to keep everyone safe. Protecting all his partners wasn't easy, especially when they attack recklessly like Ryuko or Chat Noir. He made use of many second chances, finding out about all the heroes secret identities in the process. At least, he was the only one who remembered. And the long battle- and the war- was over, so it didn't really matter anymore.

The snake miraculous wielder decided to check once again for the rest of the heroes. Rena Rouge and Carapace were hugging in celebration. Queen Bee was rolling her eyes at them and posing for the Parisians, who were taking photos. Pegasus, Roi Singe and Bunnyx were happily dancing together. And it was hard for him to watch how Ladybug was consoling Adrien, heartbroken to find out his father had been a villain all along.

Viperion turned his head away at the sight of them kissing, hurt. As his gaze turned away, he heard something behind him: crying sounds. He looked back to see the owner of the spilled tears, his eyes gazing at the strong yet fragile Dragon Miraculous wielder.

"Ryuko, are you ok?" He asked.

"No, I'm not" the dragon lady answered between sobs.

Of course she wasn't. She was crying rivers. ' What a stupid thing to ask ', thought Luka. His eyes moved to her arm, at some painfully looking scratches.

"Did you get injured? I'm sorry I didn't notice. I would have called the second chance if I did. But I'm glad we still have the miraculous ladybug power to repair the damages, yours included" Viperion tried to give her some understanding.

"My damage won't be healed by any miraculous power. It's irreversible" she weeped in a broken cry.

"Oh, you meant that…" looking at how Ladybug was kissing Chat Noir - or better said, Kagami's boyfriend, Adrien, kissing Luka's girlfriend, Marinette. She was as heartbroken as he was. Maybe even more, considering she didn't know about her boyfriend's superhero job. It caught her unprepared, and she had a lot of information to process. He couldn't say her reaction was unexpected...

Identities had been revealed during that last fight, a few moments ago. After finding out Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, Adrien tried to convince him by revealing himself. At the end it didn't work and Ladybug needed all their superhero team in order to win. And they won. Including a final act of Ladybug comforting Chat Noir and both of them reciprocating their feelings with a sealing kiss.

Luka had been trying to avoid looking at them and focus on their superheroes partners instead, Ryuko being especially affected. ' Of course she would be ' he thought.

"You knew about them? You knew that I've never stood a chance?"

"I found out about them during one of my second chances".

"Why didn't you tell me!? I've been trying my best for nothing! Such a waste of time. I hate you"

"Kagami. Weren't you happy while it lasted? Didn't you make happy memories with him? I think that's good enough knowing how the situation is. Just treasure those memories"

"What's the point of memories if you don't have someone to talk about them? Or someone to share them with? I had one chance and I've lost. And it's over. There are no second chances in my family, you know?"

The awkward silence that formed broke with a voice "Miraculous Ladybug!" and Ryuko’s injuries healed with the magical power of the ladybugs. Luka ignored them, swallowing his own pain, to speak again.

"Listen. Memories are precious no matter what. They are part of who we are and who we'll become. They give us growth. You just need to make good use of them. And as for second chances. You know that's my power. I believe in them. And I know you will have yours too"

*Beep beep*

"That's why I've always hated you. I don't even need to know who you are under the mask for that. Your power makes it sound like there's always hope. But there's not. Reality doesn't have second chances. You screw up once and you're ruined forever. Love is the same. I've lost and it's over for me"

"How can you be so sure? I have to agree not every aspect of life allows second chances… but love does. There are many types of love. You can have a second chance even if you keep close your memories of your first one. It doesn't even have to be romantic love. Family, friends, partners… What's important is to love and be loved. And more importantly, happiness. Being happy with who you are and how you cope with your loved ones"

*Beep beep*

"You talk too much. You are about to detransform. You should leave"

"No, it's ok. Hawkmoth is already defeated. No need for secrets or miraculous anymore"

"I really don't want to know who you are. I hate you and I would hate meeting you on the street. Go away!"

"You're too closed-minded and stubborn"

"So what!?"

"Nothing. But I really hope you listen to my advice. Even if you hate me, you know I'm correct"

"What do you know? I guess you're just some stupid boy jumping from one girl or boy to another, claiming it is love everytime when it's only either a game or being afraid of being alone, using many chances since your family is not strict as mine, playing around without knowing what true love feels like. Who do you think you are to give me lessons? I've loved Adrien more than anything, even more than myself. I've given him all I've got. But for what? He never loved me the same way. And now destiny claimed his love to bloom for Marinette- my best friend. My heart is broken and I can't stand the pain"

*Beep beep*

"Go! I don't want to see your face!" she insisted, angry for his silence

*Beep beep*Beep beep*Beep beep*

"Kagami" Viperion didn't move as his transformation was called off.

"Why are you still here?" Ryuko yelled, avoiding to look at him.

"Look at me. Look at me and tell me I don't know how you feel again". Luka's voice was serious and sounded familiar to Kagami.

So she turned to look at him and gasped in surprise. She was speechless.

"Nothing to say? Tell me again I know nothing about love. Tell me again no one can understand how you feel. Can you do it?" Tears were falling down his cheeks as he spoke and Kagami finally snapped out.

"I knew I hated you! How dare you! How can you say all those words when you're just as heartbroken as me!? I knew you were stupid but this…!! How can you believe in second chances after that? We are the same. It's all over for us!"

"No, it's not over. It's true I'm heartbroken and I'll never be able to stop loving Marinette… but I still believe in second chances"

"How? I don’t believe you" She asked, incredulous.

"I told you. Love will come in other forms. I have my sister, my mother and my music. I'm grateful for the love I have". He said peacefully.

"Well, good for you, but I have nothing. My ex-boyfriend and my best friend have betrayed me and they are now together. I can't even look at either of them. My mother is out of the picture too, and I have no more friends. I have nothing. I'm empty". Kagami's words were filled with sadness.

"No, you're not. You just need to learn how to make use of the love you're given. And you know? I would be happy to help you" he smiled a little.

"You? I hate you! I don't want your help!" She groaned in anger.

"See? That's why you think second chances don't exist. Because you're not willing to put your trust in them. I'll give you a second chance. Let it be friendship, partnership, rivality, whatever. I promise you chances are there for you. We're in the same boat, aren’t we?"

"Huh!? Are you crazy!?" Ryuko's sword was now pointing directly under his chin, close to stab his long slim neck.

At that moment, Ladybug and Chat Noir arrived where they were and Ryuko's transformation got called off.

"Hey. Oh… you know each other's identities…" Ladybug said.

"Marinette, Adrien" Luka called their names, hiding his strong disgust in his stomach.

"You know our identities, huh…" Both Ladybug and Chat Noir called off their transformations, before continuing. "I'm sorry Luka, Kagami. I hope we can still be friends…"

"I'm sorry too… I hope you can forgive me someday…" Adrien added.

"Of cour-" Luka's answer was cut down by Kagami.

"No. I can't be your friend anymore. The people I trusted the most betrayed me! How do you expect to-!"

And it was now her turn to get cut down by Luka's words. "Kagami. Second chance. Try again"

"Argh!! You're getting on my nerves with your stupid second chances! I hate you! All of you!! Get out of my face!"

"Kaga-" Adrien's voice started, but was interrupted by Luka again.

"Kagami. What do you have to lose? Use the chance I'm giving you. For yourself. Make use of it to find your happiness"

"Look, snake boy! I'm sick of your nonsense! If I had my sword with me I would chop all of you. Consider yourself lucky. I won't hesitate to kill you if you try to contact me, ANY of you" she threatened, angry and with tears on her eyes. "Goodbye"

But Luka spoke once again before she left.

"Think about it, Kagami. Feel free to come to my ship anytime if you change your mind. I know you are aware of the truth in my words"

"Never happening!!" She yelled back, before running away.

"Kagami… I was the worst with her…" said Adrien in regret.

"And I've been the worst with you, Luka… I've taken advantage of your feelings and now… I'm so sorry… I want you to know I really loved you. Thank you for everything. I hope you find someone who can love you at its fullest. You deserve to be happy…" she moved intending to give him a kiss on his cheek, but he stopped her.

"Just like you two. I wish you happiness. Thank you for everything, Marinette. Goodbye"

Luka left without looking back at the new couple, well aware they were sharing a kiss he couldn't bear to see.

________________________________________________

At the deck of his houseboat, Luka was sitting with his guitar, but was unable to do anything except to play sad melodies. Not even meditation helped to recover his calm. He was heartbroken and missed his ex-girlfriend Marinette more than anything.

' Shit. Kagami was right. This hurts like hell. How can I give advice when I've reached the absolute bottom. A second chance, huh… I'm not even convinced they exist anymore '

At that moment Kagami arrived to see him weeping in silence.

She looked angry and had puffy and swollen eyes due to her crying. Luka could easily tell she was exhausted from being sad and crying all this last week until the final battle ended, just like he had been trying to prevent himself from looking at his own face.

"So you really didn't believe in your own words, huh? I knew it. Always trying to act cool and show off, hiding your true feelings. If this music is what's now in your heart you are just as heartbroken as me. Why can't you be honest?" She asked.

"And what? Worry the others? Make them feel bad?" Luka answered, wiping off his tears. "No thank you".

"Yes, I get that. But I'm honest and I never hesitate. Unlike you" she stated.

"I don't hesitate either. My choices are different from yours, that's all"

"I see" Kagami was surprised at Luka's confidence. He was feeling slightly better with the Japanese girl nearby.

"Any requests?" He asked. "Since you've come directly at me, let me compensate you for your company"

"Don't misunderstand me. I still hate you" she warned. "But I'm losing my mind when I'm alone. And Marinette loved you. And I know Marinette wouldn't love a bad guy. And you offered, so I don't need to give you any explanation, do I?"

"Yeah. No need to tell me anything you don't want to" Luka could finally smile a little. "Thanks, Kagami. You being here is more than enough. I prefer not to be alone either. So, what song will it be?"

"Highway to hell"

"Seriously...?"

"For Hawk Moth’s defeat"

Luka couldn't help it but to chuckle at her comment. He never expected her to be funny - and neither did she.

________________________________________

A message arrived into Luka's inbox early Saturday morning. He stretched his hand and checked the new message on his phone screen.

Kagami: You. Me. Today. The park next to your house. 10 AM. Don't be late.

Luka couldn't help it but smile a little at the message. The first one she had ever sent him and it sounded exactly like her. He woke up and got ready to go.

When he arrived, Kagami was already there, taping her foot on the ground, waiting for him.

"Hey" Luka waved from afar while approaching without any rush and Kagami’s body turned to face him.

"7 minutes early, not bad." Kagami said after checking the time on her phone. She then offered Luka a big sports bag. "Take this"

"What's this?" he asked, curious.

Kagami frowned her eyebrows, stating what she considered obvious. "Protection. You'll need them, Habu"

"For what? Habu?" The boy was even more confused after her answer.

"You can't tell? Are you stupid? Habu means snake in Japanese" she yelled, while putting on her protective gear.

"I thought they were called ‘hebi’?" Luka started to do the same as her with his armor.

"That's in mainland Japanese. ‘Habu’ is Okinawan Japanese. You seem more of a tropical islander than a mainlander"

"I see”. Luka could feel the anger in her voice and didn't want to worsen it. So he didn't press her further in the matter. “Why do I need protection?"

"You really get on my nerves!" she growled. "I need to relieve my anger. With a sword fight. And I think I'm going to feel better after I crush you. Because I hate you and your stupid second chances" Kagami grabbed a Kunai and threw it to Luka. "Take this. I'm challenging you. Get ready, because I'm not going to hold back!"

And she charged fast pointing her bamboo sword directly toward the musician. He managed to dodge her just in time.

"Wow! As expected. You have no compassion, huh?" He said, fixing his arm protections in place.

"Compassion is for weaklings. C'mon, attack me!"

Luka smiled and put his hands on the air. "I surrender. Your win"

And Kagami's anger incremented. "You can't surrender a live or die battle! Fight or prepare to die!"

As Kagami charged again against Luka, he suddenly drew a pirate grin over his face, and just before she reached him, he surprised Kagami with a well-prepared counter-attack.

"Huh!?"

Luka's smile widened at Kagami's unusual expression. "I've been missing excitement in my life since I gave up my miraculous. I get why you enjoy this so much"

"Stop talking and fight, Habu!! I'm going to erase that disgusting grin from your face!" She screamed, preparing to destroy her new rival.

______________________________________

After a long sword fight, the two teenagers were panting for air, laying on the soft grass of the park.

"You've completely destroyed me. As expected for the best egrimist of Paris" Luka said, breathing fast.

"You've got some fine moves and more agility than I thought” she answered, in need of air. "I always assumed it was the miraculous powers, but it seems I was wrong. Where do you learn those moves? They're sword fighting moves, I'm sure of it"

"Yes, you’re right.  It's pirate sword fighting style. Mom's obsession is to become a real pirate someday. At least it has come in handy now" he smiled proudly.

"Interesting. I'll look forward to seeing more of it when I feel like crushing you again…" Kagami started to stand up again. "Now could be a good time"

"Stop, please! Let my bruises heal at least"

"You are in no position to demand anything. En garde!"

______________________________________

Some days later, Luka was the one who reached Kagami.

Luka: Hey Kagami. Want to go to the ice rink next Saturday? Is 11AM alright?

Kagami: Let's go now. Meet me there in 30 minutes.

' this girl… ' he thought, smiling in resignation.

Luka: 45 minutes.

Kagami: Slow. Lazyass. Don't hibernate you Habu.

Luka couldn't help it but to form a crooked smile on his face. ' This girl surely is interesting and funny. I can't believe she is still acting this way so she doesn't have to swallow her pride. What a woman ' Luka thought.

_________________________________________________

Once again, Kagami was the first one to arrive at the ice rink.

"Hey" Luka greeted.

"Hmph"

"Are you ready to skate?"

"I'm always ready", she stated in anger.

"Good to know" he giggled.

And it was surprising how Kagami reached her hand to Luka’s sleeve and dragged him on the ice. Both of them couldn’t help it but blush a little as their touches started to become more casual and their hearts were getting closer.

___________________________________________________

After spending the day at the ice rink, their meetings started to become more usual to the point they could be called ‘dates’- even if Kagami refused to use that name. Cuddles while Luka played the guitar, sword fighting (Luka and Anarka teaching kagami pirate style sword fighting), figure skating, shopping… being together almost all the time became more than a habit: it became natural. But despite both of them knowing about their growing affection for each other, neither spoke a word about it.

Until the moment that scared Kagami the most arrived with her mother’s words:

"Kagami, we are going back to Japan. Nationals are about to start and they are needed if you want to aim for the Olympics. Get your things ready. We are leaving tomorrow" she ordered her daughter, impassible as always.

"Tomorrow!?” Kagami's inner self panicked, even if it didn’t show on the outside. “Understood mother. But I need to do something before we leave. I'll be back"

"You better."

Kagami excused herself and started running to a certain familiar boat. When she arrived, Captain Anarka greeted her.

"Kagami? Luka is not home, he has a concert today. Don’t tell me he didn’t invite you there?" she sighed. “This son of mine…”

"Where is that concert?" Kagami asked, impatient.

"Paris Stadium"

Kagami interrupted her, rushing out the boat. "Thank you"

"You're leaving already?" Anarka asked, surprised.

"Yes. But I'll be back, definitely"

And with that, Kagami ran again, this time to the stadium.

______________________________________________

"You can't go in, it's a restricted area" one of the security guards told her Kagami when she tried to get in the backstage of the stadium.

"You don't know who I am!? I'm Luka's friend and I'm going to crush you if you don't let me in! I need to see him!"

"We can't let you in" the other bodyguard insisted.

Kagami screamed and dodged the guards, running inside the stadium. "Aaargh!!!"

"Wait!! Someone catch her!!"

Kagami ran fast. Very fast. She wasn’t going to miss the chance to meet Luka before returning to Japan. She couldn’t afford getting caught. Not at this moment. Not today.

"Lukaaa!! Stupid Habu, where are you!? Lukaaa"

From the rehearsal stage, Luka could hear the commotion at the aisle "What's all this noise...?" He innocently asked Penny.

"A girl is here looking for you. She's running like crazy and the guards can't catch her. Her athleticism is impressive" the pink-haired woman giggled.

' Could it be…? '

Luka moved to the door to the aisle and took a look. "Kagami...?"

And she finally found him. "There you are!! Why don't you answer the phone you stupid Habu!" she screamed, before turning at the security guards in anger "See? I'm friends with Luka, no need to chase or take me out anymore. Get lost!"

The guards apologized and returned to their usual work positions, while Kagami gave them a deathly glare that gave them chills. ‘ If only they knew the sweet heart under the strong disguise… ’ Luka smiled to himself.

"I'm sorry Kagami, with all the music I couldn't hear the phone. What's wrong? You sound… impatient?” he questioned, confused. ' It's been a long time since I've seen this look on her face… ' he thought.

Kagami’s gaze fixed to Luka’s, and then she spoke again. "Mother told me we're returning to Japan for my Qualifying to Olympics competitions".

"Wow, that's amazing!”. Luka was happy for her getting closer to accomplish her dreams, despite how sad she sounded but he really didn’t want her to leave. But, like always, he put his feelings aside to wish her happiness. “When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow"

And her words felt like a bucket of cold water over him. "Tomorrow… that's… soon"

“That's why I'm here. I have something to tell you”

Kagami was determined, and it showed in both her voice and her stare.

“What is it?” he asked, in hope, casually touching her upper arm.

"I'm sorry for not believing in your words about second chances. I'm sorry for telling you I hate you and stupid all the time. It's not true. I'm happy you've given me company when I was at my lowest. Thank you for giving me hope for second chances" she said, shyly.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you've changed your mind. It's nice to see you feeling better everyday" Luka smiled sincerely.

But that was not everything. There’s something else she wanted to tell him. Something even more important. Something she would regret forever not telling him before leaving.

"Luka, I-"

"Shhhh. Stay for the live. You'll tell me later."

Kagami blinked twice before he moved back to the rehearsal stage, not before winking at her with a knowing pirate grin on his face. ' Smooth ' she thought.

"You better not run away from me, Habu"

________________________________________________

Luka’s aura on the stage was something new to Kagami. He was shining with the light of the spotlights over him, like he has just become someone else- a true star. And even if he was only going to perform the opening song for Jagged Stone, Kagami knew for the look on his eyes that he was going to give it all. Kagami couldn’t stop blushing at how handsome he looked up there, with his stupid pirate grin never leaving his face.

After setting his guitar in place and checking the microphone, he started to talk.

“Hello! Welcome! I know the opening act usually starts with music, but today it’s not a normal day. You see, there’s this amazing girl who is leaving tomorrow to chase her dreams here, a lady who doesn’t believe in second chances. And I really want her, and all of you to believe in them and never give up. I want you to remember that, no matter how low you’re feeling, there’s always a second chance awaiting for you”.

“Listen to my self-composed song for that special girl: ‘Second chance’”

Kagami knew the song was meant for her. The meaning of the song was also clear to her, and, if the music alone wasn’t obvious, some of the lyrics left no trace of doubt. A love confession from Luka to Kagami.  

Will you take my second chance now? First chances may never disappear. But you’re now my second chance and I want to be yours.

Be my second chance in love, be my second chance in life. There's no need for a third, since I'll always be here. There's no need for a third, if you want to always be with me.

With some well selected guitar notes arrangement, Luka finished the song, his eyes sparkling towards the excited audience. “Thank you!“

The cheering from the public didn’t stop even when he had left the stage, making it harder for Jagged to step in. ‘ He has potential ’ the rockstar thought, before offering the audience an unforgettable performance.

_______________________________________________

Backstage, Kagami was waiting for Luka.

“Hey” he greeted her. And she jumped to his arms, surprising him with a hug, burying her face on his chest as he surrounded her with his arms.

“Showoff” she whispered, and Luka chuckled at her comment, his smile growing wider. “You could just ask me normally, you know?” she complained, blushing but keeping the eye contact.

“I make more sense with music” he giggled, cupping her cheek. “So… what do you say?”

Kagami’s answer didn’t make him wait long. “Don't you ever dare to break my heart”

“I promise”, he said.

And Kagami stepped on her tiptoes to give him a soft kiss full of emotion, which he gladly reciprocated.

“I'll miss you so much…” he passed his long fingers behind his ear and whispered close.

Kagami blushed even while deepening their hug. “You must call me everyday and watch all my competitions. I'll hate you if you miss any of them”.

“Count on it. Will you be back?”

“Yes, definitely. I have more pirate fighting to learn”. she grinned in a similar pirate way Luka usually did around her.

Luka’s eyes were glowing deep in love. “You're so pretty, have I ever told you?”

“You did just now. You can go on appreciating me. I’m not going to complain anymore”.

Luka smirked at her confidence. “Are you sure? I think your baggage is still undone and I don't think I'll ever stop if I start with the adjective list…”

“Then tell me without words. And I don't mean music”. She suggested.

“Of course”.

And he did. He gave her a kiss she would carry to Japan and forever in her heart. A kiss that promised her he was going to wait for her no matter how long it took. A sincere kiss that connected their hearts in one same emotion: love. A promise they would carry until the next time they could meet.

"Crush them all at the Olympics" he whispered, giving her a kiss at the corner of her lips.

"You bet!"

___________________________________________________

Epilogue

"You're back. Weren't you the one supposed to wait for me here, Habu? Stupid tour" Kagami muttered.

Luka giggled at his girlfriend’s temperament. “Hi, there. I’m happy to find the best company just when coming back from a long world tour. Congratulations for the gold medal" he said, giving a peek on her cheek.

"You already told me that months ago when you came and witnessed my victory at the Olympics"

"I know. Good thing pirate sword fighting style came in handy" he said, pulling her closer into a hug.

"Captain has been teaching me more of it these two months you were on tour. I'm even stronger now, so prepare to lose next time we fight" she grinned and he rolled his eyes.

"I may be a masochist to keep agreeing with this"

“No, you just love me” she said, teasingly.

“I do love you” he confirmed.

“Good. Because I love you too”.

And they shared a kiss they had been longing for the two months they had been apart. As they pulled out, Luka locked eyes with Kagami to speak again.

"Kagami. I'm not going anywhere anymore. Move in with me"

"I've already done that, Habu"

"Oh… that's right. Well then… marry me… how was it? ‘ kudasai ’?" he asked, not too confident in his Japanese skills.

"Hai" Kagami laughed at his accent, happy to soon become the wife of the man she loved.

THE END

#lukagami #lukagami fic #my fic #airipyon #airip4

[5lazarus]

#29 "if one of us sinned it must be God", your choice of what to do with it?

I cannot tell you how much I love the prompt list you made. Collected Works got lost in the mail, so I ordered To Axion Esti. Very excited to read! I’m thinking about going through all 40 prompts and writing each of them as a moment from Solas’ revolution, so here is the first. I posted it to AO3 here, there is no ithaca--I was rereading C.P. Cavafy’s poem “The City” and thinking about Solas and Arlathan, as I am wont to do, and decided to use that as my thematic base. because when I am not writing about a city? but without further adore, the story itself: “if one of us sinned it must be God.”Humiliation comes easy to a son of Arlathan. Solas goes limp and lets the vallaslin take control, shuntling self deep behind his eyes where even Mythal cannot see. He knows he is not wrong. She bends his knee and he stares steadily at the ground. His eyes do not burn. His lips do not contort into a snarl. Mythal shapes him into genteel obedience, as a reminder of what they are. She forces him. He resists gently. The punishment will be worse than this. He would punish himself worse, if he let her see his eyes.

“Even my own Pride kneels humbled before me,” Mythal chuckles. Hesitant laughter murmurs through the galley: he may be humbled today, but back at her side tomorrow. They all know this, especially him. He traces sigils in the mosaics, cold beneath his hands. They dance geometric before his eyes, and he wonders at the shapes into which they contort. He has dissected an elf’s eye before, assisting Ghilan’nain. What collection of minuscule muscular contortions make this? How can he replicate it? He tells himself: this is what I shall remember. Mythal’s grim smile and the uneven marble tesserae cutting into my minds, and I shall permutate the perspective until I can meet my own eyes again. He tests the charm quietly, tensing the muscles in his feet, but he cannot rise. Mythal still has him bound.

Andruil says wearily, “Really, Mother, is this necessary? Let him rise, and lick his wounds, and come back all the brighter tomorrow. We have work to do.” She flourishes a hand, so the light catches in her lyrium-gauntlet. He sees the red reflected in her shadow. Reflexively he shudders but he cannot, Mythal has him in place, and the horror comes to his eyes and Solas quashes it fiercely, because though he is bound, he still has his own pride, and he will not let Mythal corrupt his nature. She made him like this. He will not let her break him too. Mythal is amused. “Fine,” she says. She has made her point: the war against the dwarves will continue, and those pressed into the Evanuris’ service will stay their servants. There may be freedom for their grandchildren, down the line: so Solas’ own children, if he has any, will be born free. But the soldiers are bound to Elvhenan, and Mythal will not free them so long as Elvhenan needs them--and that includes binding her own Pride to Elvhenan’s will, however humbling it may be. The vallaslin sinks back into his skin, almost invisible, and slowly he rises. Expressionless he gazes upon Mythal. He thinks, your Pride shall be your downfall. He says the words he has rehearsed so often before, “Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!" Mythal smiles unpleasantly. “Enough of that, Dread Wolf. I have mastered my Pride. I do not need to see you grovel.” “I merely recite fact,” Solas says. “Fact you have had me say many a time before, and that I will repeat for any audience.” There is no point in staying. She will not listen to reason. This lyrium-sickness will drive them mad and wrap their minds right into that bizarre hivemind of the Titans. The Evanuris will not compromise. His people have sealed the road to the Titan, and he has been punished for it. He has taken liberties that were never his, enslaved to the will of Mythal, to guard those she does not consider her children. He holds the anger in the pit of his stomach and keeps his face blank. Mythal says, “See that you do. You may leave, Dread Wolf. You have sinned but you have been forgiven. Return to celebrate the spoils of our next campaign. I will not see you before then.” Solas thinks, I don’t want to see you before then, what makes you think I am so eager for punishment? I am not like Andruil, still slavering for a kind word. I have my own people to attend to--and yours. He cannot help but utter a short laugh as he bows his head. Smiling grimly to himself, he leaves, conscious of the court’s attention, and he cannot help but throw his shoulders back and walk as tall as he would after a battle bloodlessly won. His pride is smarting. He will lick his wounds, and recover. He walks back to his office and takes the eluvian back to his official household, where he removes the golden armor of Fen’Harel that he is really growing too old for, and changes to more comfortable clothes. He debates the utility of doing something dramatic with his hair, where gray is beginning to pepper at the temples. Restlessly he goes into his bedroom and packs a bag, thinking that he can go anywhere, slip away to another quarter of the city, where he can be yet another of the All-Mother’s slaves, and struggle to pay his rent and his tithe as he works a job marginally more satisfying than managing a losing war. He would like to paint. In another world, perhaps, he was never given that promotion, and returned to Arlathan not in Mythal’s own triumph, but as a weary footsoldier, seeking his allotment from the temple guards. He laughs. A slave’s life, regardless: he cannot imagine a reality in which he is not defined by the will that is Mythal. Then Wisdom says, “Look at yourself, Pride. You dressed yourself blindly. A costume can change but you remain the same.” He had not heard them creep behind him. He looks up at them and they smile, mirroring his face without the binding. Grief seizes him and he turns away, tears prickling at his eyes. He sits back on his bed and puts his head in his hands. Wisdom freely given can feel cruel. He thinks, I thought I had grown too old for this. “I envy you,” Solas says. “That you may take my shape without my obligations. That you are free from the will of Mythal. That your nature remains incorrupt.” He touches the vallaslin at his cheeks. He remembers fighting off the priests when they restrained him, as a boy. He remembers refusing to submit to the will that is Mythal. He bit one--his father had been horrified. They still branded him. He remembers the way that it burned. Wisdom is quiet. They sit next to them. He listens to them mimic his breathing. Outside the window the city seethes. Night is falling and there are plenty of places to go, a friend of his has a gallery opening tonight, and then there is the little cafe opened by a man from the Tirashan who sings exquisitely, and of course he has the dispatches to attend to, little favors to dispense, and his friends to consult about this latest humiliation. Wisdom says, “What makes you corrupt?” “The will of Mythal,” Solas says immediately, and then pauses. “The will that is Mythal. Obeying and disobeying. Either way is wrong.” He smiles ruefully. “I have sinned and I have been forgiven and I will be welcomed back to the fold, only to sin and be forgiven and welcomed back to the fold once more. According to the will that is Mythal. Because her Pride must be mastered.” “What makes you obey?” they say. Solas says bitterly, “Habit and the vallaslin. Blood calls to blood.” Sick shame and anger rush him, and his fingers claw at the quit under them; and then he breathes through the pain, as he has been taught, and the feeling of humiliation subsides into rawness rather than burning. Wisdom says, “What makes you disobey?” Solas looks at them askance. “Because I will not blindly follow orders that will get myself and my people killed. I will not commit workers who expect me to protect them to those mines. I will not let the Evanuris’ greed destroy us all. The vallaslin may bind me, but it does not command me. I will save the elvhen people, even from their own false gods.” Wisdom smiles, and Solas looks into the face that is so like how his own could be, unmarred by the vallaslin. “Then you have it,” they say. “You know your path. Walk it. Mythal gave you manumission, even if she did not give you your will.” “I cannot remove the vallaslin,” he says, amused. Wisdom loses its definition slightly, so Solas knows they disagree, even if they will not vocalize it. “What?” “You say you cannot remove the vallaslin,” they say. “But you also say that it does not command you. Then why do you let it define your face? You are limiting yourself, Solas. Why?” Solas says, only to fill the space, “You have given me much to think about.” It is unthinkable that the vallaslin can be removed, but he wants it gone. He has rarely circumscribed his desires before--it was unthinkable that a slave could become an evanuris, after all, but that did not stop him from steadily rising through the ranks. He rises and catches sight of himself in the mirror in the corner of his room, plainly attired, Mythal’s vallaslin burnt as prominent on his face as ever. He strokes the lines they burnt onto his chin, wondering what he would look like without it. He imagines himself without it, no longer resigned to the easy humiliations of Mythal’s service, and he sees, in a glance, the possibility. A shiver traces down his spine as Wisdom leaves the room and he is left standing before the mirror, thinking rapidly the chain of spells born in the blood and how they can be undermined, chipped away at, worn away like a river against the stone. He has brought down mountains and decapitated the heart of the Stone. What is stopping him now? When there is possibility, there is pride. Solas raises his head and meets his own gaze in the mirror and knows, suddenly, that his only master is his Pride, and that cannot be mastered.

#solas #mythal #andruil #dragon age fanfic #fanfic #solas pov #wisdom #brightoncemore #there is no ithaca