#13 years in the industry and he has no contacts

[zot3-flopped]

Andrew Cushin's debut album Waiting for the Rain was released two weeks ago. Louis has zero networking power so it wasn't reviewed by the NME or any of the publications that count for Metacritic. Pete Doherty's involvement didn't make a difference either.

#andrew cushin #and this is why Louis could never run a music management company #13 years in the industry and he has no contacts #no connections #useless #louis tomlinson

[chaoswarfare]

dp x dc prompt #13

Over the years of traveling, after stabilizing the infinite realms and creating a council to do most of the governing, danny has had quite a few flings and human lives. Every one of them burned bright and brief like a falling star, but he cherishes the memories of all of them. New heroes have taken over the industry, and he’s completely free to enjoy being normal.

So it comes as a surprise when one of his partners from a particularly passionate relationship contacts him from the infinite realms with the knowledge of a child they had together, that’s becoming a hero, and who needs someone to look after them.

Now danny just hopes it’s not too late to be a decent father.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #crossover #dc universe #writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #writing #who could it be? #i don’t even know #‘​it could be any one of us’ #just a really powerful superhero with a totally normal dad #danny is the normalest guy to ever normal #comes with practice i guess #he is very attached to his family #protective danny

[ckret2]

Super totally normal things happening in Gravity Falls today.

Just. Incredibly normal.

Chapter 13 of Human Bill Is The Mystery Shack's Prisoner And Mabel Has Decided To Be Nice To Him, featuring: medical marvels being used for stupid reasons. You can read the previous chapters here!

####

"... So there you have it," Pacifica said, running a gloved hand through her hair and gracing the country club members with a pristine plastic smile. "You too can have a full, beautiful head of hair in seconds."

The watching country club members clapped politely. Mabel slyly peeked at the woman next to her and tried to copy her Fancy Clap, patting one hand's fingertips on the other palm.

Dipper didn't clap. He'd been staring out a floor-to-ceiling window, making direct eye contact with an albino peacock, for the last five minutes. When he moved his head, so did the peacock. A bead of sweat dripped from Dipper's hairline. The peacock's gaze followed its progress down his cheek.

The assistant who'd just massaged Hairy Fairy lotion into Pacifica's hair carefully stoppered the bottle, delicately wiped it clean with a golden handkerchief, threw the handkerchief away, and handed the bottle to Pacifica so she could hold it out to the crowd. Pacifica said, "And it only takes a couple of drops to give you a full head of hair, so this little bottle will keep you looking beautiful for years. Using it all at once would make you look like Rapunzel."

Mabel gasped softly. "I want to look like Rapunzel."

Dipper dragged his gaze away from the peacock and whispered, "Do you want it enough to spend ten thousand dollars on it?"

She considered this. "Yes," she said. "Think about it, Dipper. I could make it into a rope, and then: grappling hair."

Dipper pictured Mabel firing her grappling hook and losing her head when she ran out of "rope," and shuddered. "Hey." He elbowed Mabel and pointed at the assistant. "Is it just me, or is he a little overdressed for June?"

The assistant was covered from his feet to his forehead. Nothing stood out too much about a man in a suit in the kind of country club Pacifica visited—he didn't look like a member, but he sure looked like a member's servant—but whenever he stood at an angle that gave a glimpse up his sleeve, it was clear his gloves went far further up his arm than was typical. What was really strange was the silk bandana covering the bottom half of his face, like a Wild West bandit's butler, and the designer sunglasses shaped a bit too much like goggles.

"Yeah, you're right," Mabel said. "In the commercial yesterday, the person who did Pacifica's hair looked like they were in a hazmat suit. Do you think...?"

"But Pacifica doesn't have any protection at all," Dipper said. "If it was dangerous, they probably wouldn't have hired her and risked her family suing, would they?"

"Maybe her 'modeling gig' was getting cloned. And this is Pacifica's clone stunt double for the beauty industry to test its products on!" (The woman standing next to Mabel gave her a worried look.)

The Hairy Fairy spokesman who'd presented Pacifica—a thin man with a too-big mustache and a suit that matched Pacifica's hair—stepped forward to take over the presentation again. "Wasn't that magical, folks? That's exactly why we call this stuff 'Hairy Fairy'—because it's like something out of a fairy tale!" The spokesman laughed; several country club members joined in. "And definitely not because of any other reason. Now, are there any questions—no, no questions?" The spokesman pointedly ignored the raised hand of the woman next to Mabel. "Then who's interested in placing orders today? You can order later, of course, but we have a limited stock and it's going fast—if you're intrigued, you do not want to miss out on this exclusive opportunity to buy a bottle without having to compete with the common masses. Maybe you sir, with the receding hairline? How about you, ma'am—having second thoughts about that bob cut...?"

Her job done, Pacifica had started edging away from the front of the room. She caught sight of Dipper and Mabel and tilted her head toward a nearby hallway.

The twins quietly slipped from the crowd and followed her. Dipper looked at the albino peacock, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at it, and left.

The peacock fanned its tail threateningly.

####

"So—funny thing," Pacifica said, leading Dipper and Mabel into a wood-paneled and Persian-rugged locker room. Several boxes of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula were stacked against a wall, in hopes the club members would make some purchases. "I asked my manager why the Hairy Fairy commercial was airing in Gravity Falls, of all places, and get this: our marketing campaign is targeting communities whose population of over-65-year-old men has a high enough average net worth to afford our prices. Ultra rich balding old dudes. And Old Man McGucket has made so much money selling his patents that he's raised the average worth of the entire town's elderly male population. So, basically, the commercial's running for his benefit!"

Dipper laughed. "Whoa, seriously? If he wanted a hair growth formula, he could probably invent one in his bath tub with motor oil."

"I know, right?"

"This is the fanciest locker room I've ever seen," Mabel said. "All the lockers are made out of real wood!" She pulled open a locker that hadn't been properly shut. "Wow. Adult golf clubs."

"Oh, yeah," Pacifica said. "Most country clubs have golf. There's a full 19-hole course outside."

Dipper frowned. "Isn't golf usually 18 holes?"

"This is the rich people's country club. They go the extra mile here."

Mabel stood on one of the velvet-cushioned benches between two rows of lockers to give herself enough height to experimentally swing a club. "I've never played adult golf before."

"I play here from time to time, when my parents bring me along to network with their colleagues' offspring. I could let you in sometime if you want."

"That sounds great!" Mabel punctuated the exclamation with a full swing of the club. It hit the ceiling. She stared in horror at the long scratch she'd left in the wood, then started sheepishly practicing more modest swings, acting like nothing had happened. "Is adult golf better than mini-golf?"

Pacifica paused. "No. It's super boring."

"Aww."

"But coming here is more fun with friends," Pacifica said. "Thanks for, um, showing up to watch my demonstration, by the way. And for... trying to dress up." Dipper had paired his usual t-shirt, vest, backpack, and trapper hat with a nice dressy pair of slacks. Mabel had knit a sweater covered in dollar signs. "Don't tell anyone, but I was actually kind of nervous about doing it live, in case something went wrong? Having you guys there really helped. I knew I had to look perfect in front of the normal people in the audience."

Mabel groaned lightheartedly. "Pacificaaa! You got so close to saying something sweet and spoiled it at the last moment."

"I knowww. Being too sincere still feels weird. I had to water it down."

Dipper said, "Hold on. Before we say anything else: I need you to prove you're you and not some kind of clone. Tell me something only the original Pacifica would know."

Pacifica raised a brow. "Seriously? I'm like a minor celebrity, who would clone me?"

"You'd be surprised, Pacifica." Dipper adopted that squinty-eyed look and mysterious voice that he thought made him look like a worldly adventurer. "You'd be surprised."

"Okay, uh..." She sighed huffily. "The first time you played Bloodcraft, you got so mad at me for trying to get you into the armor shop to upgrade your embarrassing newb gear, because there was a dragon attacking the town."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't know that going into a building cancels a combat encounter, okay! I've played games where the enemy follows you through the next loading screen, I did not want to fight a dragon in an armor shop."

Pacifica laughed. "You were like, 'Are you just gonna let him burn down the town,' waving around your little tutorial-level handgun. As if the dragon didn't have twenty levels on you—"

"Okay, okay, got it. I believe you. You're Pacifica."

"It's really polite of the dragon to wait outside while you're shopping," Mabel said. She put on a fake deep dragon voice: "'You two find some cute clothes; I'll just be out here breathing... FIRE!'" Her next swing collided with a chandelier, smashing a couple of bulbs.  Mabel jumped off the bench to stuff the golf club back in its bag and slam the locker shut. "That... wasn't polite of me."

Pacifica opened her mouth. Dipper cut in before she had a chance to speak: "Okay, before my sister gets us kicked out for destroying the ceiling: we did come here for a reason."

"Right!" Mabel put on her Serious Face and focused on Pacifica. "Could we get a little of that hair stuff?"

"No," Pacifica said flatly. "I said you could come to watch my demonstration, and that's it."

"Pleeease?" Mabel begged, hands clasped together. "Just a tiny bit? It's really important. I have this friend—" She paused. "That's the wrong word. Not a friend, more like an enemy—an enemy that I'm trying to be nice to—? It's complicated, I'm not making any sense—"

Pacifica said, "Hey. You don't have to explain. I'm a popular mean girl. You just described, like, every single one of my friendships."

Mabel went on, "But anyway, he got this awful haircut and it is ruining his life and I need this stuff to fix it."

Pacifica put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Listen. I empathize, really. But I can't just hand this stuff out, even to friends. I'm not even saying that to be a jerk, I will literally get in so much trouble if I give this stuff away."

"Even just a few drops?" Mabel pled.

"They would measure it. I'm not kidding!" Pacifica started pacing. "You have no idea what this company is like. Hairy Fairy's formula is crazy controlled, down to the last drop. Even I don't get free samples. There's a limited supply—something about the active ingredient going extinct? Anyway, they only have a few thousand bottles total and stock's going fast."

(As Pacifica spoke, wrapped up in her monologue, Mabel realized she could mosey behind her and rummage through one of the boxes without Pacifica noticing. Dipper watched and said nothing.)

"Besides, it's not something for public consumption," Pacifica went on. "There's super specific application techniques, it's got to be handed over to a trained hairdresser to apply, I can't even tell you everything about the handling techniques because just to get hired on as their model I had to sign like a mountain of non-disclosure agreements—"

(Mabel retrieved a bottle, pulled out the glass stopper, and rubbed it against the palm of her right hand so she could sniff the fragrance.)

"So, like, even if I did let you take some home, you'd probably apply it wrong anyway and it wouldn't do you any good—"

"Uhhh, Pacifica? Dipper?" There was a note of suppressed panic in Mabel's voice. "Why do I look like Grunkle Ford?"

Pacifica whipped around so fast her hair smacked Dipper's face. All three of them gaped at Mabel's right hand, which had just sprouted a sixth finger.

And then, as they watched, the finger extended—and developed into a full second hand sprouting off the same wrist.

Mabel opened her mouth to shriek. Pacifica clapped a hand over it. "Be quiet, you'll get us in trouble!" she hissed. "See this is why professionals need to apply it!"

Horrified, Dipper asked, "Wait—you knew?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you think they made me sign an NDA just to help advertise the stuff?"

"But—hold on—it can do this? And it's being sold to grow hair? If it can grow limbs, it could revolutionize medicine! It can heal injuries, reverse amputations, produce donor organs—!"

Pacifica shrugged. "Yeah, but the beauty industry paid better, sooo..."

Mabel tapped Pacifica's arm with her double hand. Pacifica shuddered and jerked her hand off Mabel's face. "Ew."

"Dipper," Mabel said, eyes wide. "Imagine all the cool new shadow puppets I could do!"

Dipper stared at Mabel. "I'm glad you're taking this well."

To Pacifica, Mabel said, "Is this why everyone who touches the stuff is covered in hazmat gear?"

"Yes," Pacifica snapped. 

"But you're not! What's protecting you from getting mutated?!"

"Nothing! The first time we tried to film the commercial, I tilted my head at the wrong moment and grew a third ear," Pacifica said. "The danger is the whole reason they hired me: I am super good at staying calm while getting hazardous cosmetic procedures. My mom taught me to never show weakness in front of somebody I'm paying to alter my appearance." She cast a nervous glance toward the locker room door. "And now I'll get in so much trouble for letting you find out—and you're gonna get in trouble just for knowing—"

"Wh—us?" Dipper said. "Why us?"

"You literally just stole product. There's hundreds of dollars of lotion on Mabel's hand right now—"

"Don't worry about it!" Mabel put the bottle back in the box where she'd found it and clumsily closed it up. "We'll just sneak out and nobody will know anything happened!" She took off her sweater and wrapped it around her hands like a muffler. "Ta-da! What do you think!" 

Pacifica grimaced, and looked at Dipper.

He shrugged. "Do you like the thought of losing your job better?"

####

"Hey, Mrs. Le Mónjelo," Pacifica said, smiling politely. "Hi, Mr. And Mrs. Oilbaron, good to see you... Hi there, senator, I haven't seen you since your fundraiser dinner—oh you bought some formula? That's awesome, I know you've got portraits for campaign season coming up soon..."

Trailing a step behind Pacifica with Mabel, Dipper leaned forward and hissed in her ear, "And you don't think you should warn any of them about—?"

Pacifica elbowed him hard. "I signed an NDA," she hissed. "Besides, as long as they read the instructions and let a hairdresser do it, they'll be fine."

"Pacifica!" A woman with red lips and redder hair stopped in front of them, smiling widely. "I haven't seen you here since the badminton club disbanded, what a pleasure."

"Oh hey, Mrs...." Pacifica blinked, drawing a blank. "Uhh..."

"Who are your little friends, here? I don't think I know them." The woman focused on Dipper and Mabel. "Do your parents ever come here? How do you know Pacifica?"

"Oh no," Pacifica said, "they're from California, they're just visiting. Their great uncles, um... own a startup... in the tourism industry."

"Oh, I see," the woman said, disapproval in her voice. "New money. Well, you'll grow into your wealth. It's good to be exposed to it from childhood, I always say. It's a pleasure to meet you." She reached past Pacifica to grab and shake Dipper's hand, then reached for Mabel—

Mabel jerked back, turning her hands away from the woman. "Aaahahah I can't do that! Sorry!"

The woman blinked at Mabel in bewilderment. "W—?"

"Because," Mabel said. "Because—I'm a hand model! Gotta keep the ol' moneymakers pristine!" She shook her dollar-sign-covered "muffler" demonstratively. "Yeah, me and Pacifica met through modeling."

"Oh," the woman said, now looking suitably impressed. "Do you protect them all the time? What remarkable dedication to your craft. Have I seen any of your work anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah," Mabel said, "did you catch the... two page spread in the... spring issue of... Diamond Rings Monthly... For Teens?"

"We should get going," Pacifica said, shooting Mabel a glare. "We don't want to miss your... finger yoga class."

Dipper buried his face in his hands.

"Right! Finger yoga! Can't miss it!" Mabel skipped toward the door. "Nice meeting you, ma'am!"

"A pleasure," the woman said, then mused to herself, "I don't think I've picked up that issue yet."

Outside the country club, an albino peacock glared balefully at Dipper through the wrought iron fence around the property. Mabel glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then unwrapped her sweater, made a mocking three-handed finger-peacock, and blew a raspberry. The peacock let out an offended honk.

"Thanks for covering for me," Pacifica said. "And sorry about your hand. Hands. I can call my mom's plastic surgeon to get that fixed, he's super discreet—"

"No no, it's okay," Dipper said. "Don't worry about it."

Struggling to pull her sweater back on over her double hand, Mabel said, "We know this Hand Witch, she'd be thrilled to take a donation."

Frowning, Pacifica silently mouthed hand witch.

"Buuut," Mabel said, "if you want to make it up to us, maaaybe you can get us a few drops of that stuff—?"

"What?! After all that, you still—" Pacifica stomped a foot. "No, absolutely not! And if anything, covering for me is the least you could do after wasting some product and risking me getting in trouble when they figure out the bottle's off! You don't get it! I can't afford to endanger this job! I have a family to support!"

Mabel and Dipper stared at Pacifica. They exchanged a look.

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you are thirteen."

"What the heck are you talking about," Dipper asked.

Pacifica stared at them, mouth open, face going red. "I—That—I'll—" She groaned. "I'll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret."

They both nodded.

Pacifica whipped out her phone. "I'm texting you an address. Meet me here after seven."

Dipper and Mabel leaned over Mabel's phone together. "That's kind of out of town, isn't it?" Dipper said.

Mabel said, "We can take the long way back from the Hand Witch's cave."

Dipper and Mabel waved bye to Pacifica as they walked off—at which point Mabel realized she could move all ten of her right fingers independently, and she trailed behind Dipper, distracted by making her fingers roll like a wave.

####

Ford said, "All right, what are you up to?"

Bill looked toward the living room doorway. He was sitting on the sofa, watching a Russian-language romcom, with a bowl filled with hard cider and colorful marshmallow cereal.  He'd stuck a neon green straw that had been curled into the word "Queen" in the cider-cereal. "Do you mean the movie or my lunch?"

"I meant Mabel. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're trying to recruit her as your newest minion."

Bill rolled his eye. (Ford wasn't sure if his other eye was still glued shut by paint and makeup—the majority of Mabel's makeover had flaked off—or if Bill had just gotten into the habit of keeping it shut.) "Minion's such a strong word, Stanford! She wants me to feel comfortable here. I appreciate that and I accepted her help."

"And I don't suppose you've been taking advantage of her generosity to manipulate her into doing your wicked work, have you."

"If by 'manipulate' you mean 'telling her what would make me comfortable when she asked,' then I suppose I have." Bill scoffed. "When did you get so paranoid?" He took a sip from his boozy cereal.

"Around the time I learned the monster I thought was my friend was trying to destroy my dimension."

"Well, I have no idea who you're talking about, but he sounds like a real piece of work."

"And it's not paranoia when it's about someone who warrants that much distrust," Ford said. "Now tell me what you're up to with my niece."

Bill scoffed again. "If I were 'up to' something, I wouldn't tell you. And if I was innocent, you wouldn't trust me even if I told you the truth. So why are you asking me what Mabel's doing instead of her?"

Ford's scowl deepened; but he said, "You're right," and trudged off.

"There, see?" Bill called after Ford. "You didn't actually want information from me. You just wanted a confrontation! If you're looking for a little verbal fencing, we could be doing it over chess."

"Not on your life, Cipher."

"Checkers?" he suggested. "Parcheesi? DD&MD? Go Fish? Candy Kingdom? Oui-Oui Spirit Board?"

Ford didn't reply.

Bill shrugged and settled back in his seat.

Ford trudged back. "All right." He gestured impatiently at the TV. "Is this broadcasting from Russia?"

"Sharp as ever, Ford."

"How the devil are you picking it up from here?"

Bill's grin widened. "Want me to show you?"

Ford contemplated the slippery slope of allowing Bill to share his knowledge with him again, said, "No," and trudged off.

Bill was right—there was no reason for Ford to ask Bill what he had Mabel doing rather than asking Mabel herself, except that he'd wanted to talk to Bill. He was frustrated. Since the day they'd locked Bill in the Mystery Shack, Ford had spent every waking moment poring over all the old notes he'd kept during his interdimensional travels, every scrap of research he'd accumulated on Bill that he hadn't burned at the end of last summer, all the data he'd recorded on the portal to the Nightmare Realm and the rifts around Gravity Falls it had left behind, looking for something he'd missed that could explain why Bill was back and what it would take to get rid of him for good.

But so far he'd found nothing. Not a hint. And part of him felt like if he could just face Bill down again, have it out with him, that some stuck gear in his head would finally shake loose—

Obviously, that was stupid.

This morning, Stan had pointed out how exhausted Ford looked. He'd told Ford he wasn't about to kill the triangle if he worked himself to death first. He'd said Ford needed somebody helping him. Stan couldn't help—not considering the kinds of advanced sciences he'd need to master just to enter a conversation on destroying something like Bill Cipher—but he was right that Ford couldn't do this in isolation. Here Ford was trying to futilely provoke Bill into giving something away; what more proof did he need that he was at the end of his rope?

When Soos had finished with the latest tourist group and led them into the gift shop, Ford waved him over from the other side of the room. "'Scuse me, folks," Soos said, with a wink, "it looks like one of our professional paranormal investigators might have something mysterious for me to check out."

(Ford glanced down at himself. He supposed he did look like some sort of mysterious investigator of oddities. Which he was, but knowing he looked like one felt kind of cool.)

Soos went on, "So you guys check out the merch and I'll be right back. We've got a sale on postcards!"

A woman with a fanny pack asked, "Does that investigator have six fingers?" Several tourists murmured appreciatively.

Soos tried to think of an answer that avoided framing Ford like he was part of the Mystery Shack's freak show, said, "No," and left.

"Sorry to bother you at work," Ford said. "I need to borrow your cell phone to text Mabel."

"Oh, sure dude." He fished it out and handed it over. "Is something going on?" His gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door to the living room. He didn't need to mention Bill. 

"Hopefully not, but that's what I'm trying to find out." He went silent for a moment so he could focus on typing on the glassy keyboard.

There. He exited the conversation with Mabel and offered the phone back to Soos, but not before noticing one of Soos's recent conversations was with Fiddleford. "You and Melody go over to Fiddleford's from time to time, don't you? To... watch foreign cinema?"

"Oh—yeah, dude! We've been introducing him to the anime classics! He's gotten surprisingly passionate over Neon Crisis Revelations. Like—really passionate. I think we might have to retire mecha anime for a while," Soos said. "Sometimes Tate watches, too. Not every week, but... they're working on it. We, uh—actually kinda wanted to ask if you might want to come, sometime? When you're not working on the... 'Goldilocks' project? I get it if you're too busy or just not interested or whatever, but you seem like the kind of nerd who'd be really into anime. No offense. I meant it as a compliment, actually—most people consider an accusation of liking anime to be pejorative, but I think it speaks well to their tastes—"

"Soos." Ford offered him a small smile. "I was actually trying to figure out how to politely ask for an invitation."

"Oh. Phew! Mutually awkward social encounter: successfully navigated!" Soos held up a hand. "Up top!"

Ford high-sixed him. He appreciated having the little social successes celebrated. "Let me know if Mabel texts back, would you?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" Soos flashed Ford a thumbs up as he left the gift shop.

"'The Goldilocks project'?"

Soos started. "Oh! Wendy! Wow, I uh... totally forgot you were like... right there."

"Yup." She had her elbow propped next to the cash register and her chin in her hand. "Five days a week."

"Right. Right." Soos tugged his collar. "It's... it's nothing. But it's secret. But it's no big deal."

Wendy blinked at him. "Right."

"Right." Soos gestured vaguely at the tourists moseying around the gift shop. "I, uh, I should... bye."

Wendy watched him go, frowning.

Whatever "crisis" had happened on the first day of summer, it wasn't over. Something was wrong. She felt it every time she was at work, every time Dipper and Mabel made up an excuse to hang with Wendy away from the shack, and every time the Stans ventured into the Mystery Shack to draw Soos aside for a quick conversation. She felt it in her bones. Which seemed like something her dad would probably say, very loudly, so she hated feeling things in her bones.

It probably wasn't her business. Okay. Fine. Sure. Pines family stuff. She was just an employee/family friend, she didn't need to know all about their personal lives.

But—her gaze drifted toward the "Employees Only" door—much more of this, and she might have to start snooping anyway.

####

(Hi! Author here! I appreciate hearing what y'all think and what y'all enjoyed! Thanks! Next chapter and the conclusion of the Hairy Fairy plot arc coming this time next week!)

#mabel pines #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #(for the art) #(also they're the main characters this chapter and next) #bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the overall fic) #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #bill goldilocks cipher #my writing #my art

[exitrowiron]

Business Mike is Back

I was contacted a few weeks ago by a former boss. When I worked for him 13 years ago he was the CEO; now he is the Chairman. In the interim, the company, a global travel management company, has had a hard time. Ownership changes weakened the balance sheet and then the pandemic hit. They went through bankruptcy, more leadership changes and financial restructuring.

The new owners wanted someone to join the leadership team and fix the business. They wanted someone who knew the company and the industry and was willing to take the job, even if the job wasn’t going to be permanent.

I knew I was a good fit but I struggled with the decision. I’ve really enjoyed retirement; spending time with Beth and our new house in the Cascades.

I was intrigued by the offer but couldn’t put my finger on why. The simple truth is that I like doing hard things (and this will definitely be hard). I know what needs to be done and how to do it.

They initially wanted me for a year but I negotiated them down to six months. I want to be all-in for this effort so I rented a house in Plymouth, MN, a Minneapolis suburb just a few miles from the office. I will spend at least 2-3 weeks per month here and Beth will try to visit me when she can.

[yumenoyousei]

Notes for my Sokkla Celebrity AU (Azula's side)

This AU idea came to me earlier this year (like May??) and wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote all the notes related to it.

I then wrote a Sokkla fic based in this universe, which I struggled a lot with. To motivate me to finish it post it on AO3, I decided to share the notes of that universe. 

So here are the Azula-centric notes for it. I'll post the Sokka-centric shortly and in a few days, the fic.

*Note, all the songs/artists are references in style and/or mood/vibe and/or lyrics. I do not think it would be the exact same song if in that Universe Azula would sing it but it just gives an idea

TW: mental health issues and mention of su*cide and attempts

Notes for Sokka's side

Without further ado,

ATLA Celebrity AU (Azula-centric)

Azula 0-12

Azula is a child actor with Zuko, gets more roles than her older brother

The whole Sozin family are renowned actors and/or singers (Ozai was an okay actor, Iroh was an amazing actor and singer, and Ursa was an amazing singer who didn't get that much recognition until she got married to Ozai)

Ozai is still very much a piece of shit, setting his children against one another

Ursa doesn't help as she unconsciously supports Zuko more, gives him his love for music and playing guitar & piano

By the time Zuko is 13 (Azula 11) he focuses on music

Azula being always pitched against him, starts dancing & is good at it 

Still, the fire siblings are closer than in canon; Zuko teaches Azula to song-write and express her feelings through lyrics

Meanwhile:

Ursa is trying to divorce Ozai, but Ozai (and the Sozin family) is having none of it because of the image it would give them

Lu Ten dies (suicide, the pressure of being an actor, Iroh is never the same, remove himself from the limelight)

Azula 13 - 16

At Ozai pressure, forms a girl group with Mai and Ty Lee (think: Morning Musume & e-girls). Mai is a better singer, and Ty Lee is a better dancer but Azula is still made the leader. She puts immense pressure on herself to be better than them. Does fewer acting gigs but is known as an actress.

Ozai hurt Zuko (scar-like in canon?) to the media they say it's an accident but behind closed doors, it gives Ursa the out she needed. She leaves with Zuko (they go stay with Iroh) intending to get Azula too but:

1- Ozai fights her even more to keep Azula

2-Ozai makes sure to make Azula believe Ursa left her because she doesn't want her

Azula dates publicly actor Chan; gives him all her firsts "to get rid of them", and breaks up soon after

Azula 17-18

The girls make more sexual dances/songs. Mai and Ty Lee are not comfortable but Azula thrives in the "sex sells" mentality (Ozai influence)

Azula snaps at reporters that ask her about Zuko which gives her a "bad girl" personality which she also thrives in (somehow her doesn't give a fuck attitude boosts her popularity)

The girls have an ugly fallout making their 4th album and get kicked out of the agency (to the girls, it looks like Azula told her father and to Azula, it looks like they left her, but it is all Ozai) 

Zuko starts a solo career under Avatar Industries (they have the Gaang also and Zuko makes friends)

Before releasing his first single, he tries to contact Azula but she's having none of it: she believes Zuko also abandoned her

Rumours about Ozai's shady money deals come out and Azula has to lay low

Azula 18

Mai and Zuko start to date in the public eye and Mai makes one (1) comment about the girls' split which makes the media go into a frenzy

Azula's mental health starts to slip, stops acting altogether after she snaps at a director

Ozai makes Azula go see Zuko telling her to "check what the rivals are doing" but Azula just misses her brother so takes the occasion

Sokka is there also because of my Sokkla agenda to support Zukko

Azula actually has a good time with her brother, they mostly talk about music, and Azula can mock him (friendly) about his cheesy music (think early Shawn Mendes) She also surprisingly has fun with Sokka

(somehow develops a tiny crush that she destroys as soon as she hears Sokka mentioning his girlfriend)

The next day, a rumour explodes that Sokka cheated on Suki (Olympic Athlete) with Azula because Azula seduced him 

Even if Sokka, Azula, and Zuko deny it, the rumours spiral

Azula writes her frustration in a song about how the media portrays her as evil even if Sokka gets less heat. Ozai made Azula release it as her first official solo single (think Billie Eilish's "Bad Guy")

It explodes and Azula releases her first solo album, the second single from the album is actually about Zuko (think Rihanna's "Bitch better have my money" energy, but saying things like; you left me and I trusted you) and it does very well on the chart

Azula 19

Azula is about to go on tour when Ozai gets arrested for money laundering

Her mental health slips even more as they discover his other shady practices and an "anonymous source" relates the abuse Azula & Zuko got

Her tour gets cancelled

Azula gets into a mental psychosis and believes it's her mother who said it to hurt her career

The media tries to get a scoop about it

Azula almost drowns in her bath; Zuko rescues her last-minute

She gets hospitalized; diagnostic OCD, and stays for 8 months

Writes a lot while she's hospitalized

Zuko visits often, and they get a heart to heart, Zuko is also followed for GAD and PTSD

Ursa visits, the first time it makes Azula slip, the second she screams at Ursa. After, the doctors tell Ursa it's best if she doesn't come

Azula 20

After she gets released, (and followed by a therapist) Azula discovers that a lot of rumours were actually set up by her father, like the cheating scandal

(He wanted to make it seem like Azula was the one trying to reach out while Zuko was the one pushing her away, thus chipping his "cute awkward turtleduck" persona he has but when Ozai sees the pictures of Azula laughing at Sokka's joke, another idea comes to his mind)

And the "anonymous source" was actually Ozai's entourage in an "if I'm going down, you're going down with me" attempt

Azula is 100% heartbroken but also 300% mad

She writes a lot of songs

At some point, Zuko tries to make her reconnect with Mai & Ty Lee and even if Azula knows most of the conflict was amplified by her father, she's scared to contact them

Zuko manages to make Azula meet Ty Lee and one thing brings another, they write a song together which they never did because the agency used to write/decide what they sang

They invite Mai to join and through songwriting, they do an album as a group (think ChloexHalle's album "Ungodly Hours")

They become better friends but decide to officially split as a band after the release of the album (Mai & Ty Lee's careers are going great anyway)

(Mai & Zuko break up and might come back together I dunno, haven't thought that far about those 2)

Azula 21

Before releasing the album, Azula announced on social media her mental health conditions and said it was the biggest reason why she was out of the public eye for 2 years.

She tries the best she can to avoid mentions of her father

The girls release the album and it does well, they are praised for their new maturity and powerful vocals

Azula works on a solo album but even with all she has written, she is stuck.

She asks for help (in a very Azula way) from Zuko and she officially meets the Gaang

Azula and Aang become weirdly fast friends

Finished by releasing an EP that is 100% about her father that she conceals as break-up songs (think Naika's EP "Transitions")

Her mother announces she's pregnant with her boyfriend's baby, it lowkey makes Azula spiral for a few weeks, writes about it

Azula 22 

Azula wins prices for her EP and with the album with the girls

She still has a "bad girl" persona (she loves to call herself a bad bitch) to the media but the way she talks about her mental health makes her relatable - she's flippantly talking about tho which a lot called "refreshing"

As she hangs out more with her brother + the Gaang, her crush on Sokka comes back, especially now that he is single, though she doesn't want to act on it

To her surprise, she writes a love song that is just that, a love song (think Selena Gomez's "Souvenir")

Because in the song she sings about blue eyes, the media/internet speculate that it's about Sokka which she denies (even if it's true)

She does a fun danceable song with Aang (think Bruno Mars & Cardi B's "Finesse remix"), surprising everyone

She does a lot of featuring that summer, with other artists but she cannot see what she wants for an album

Something with her father's sentence happens (it got almost revoked or something) which makes her revisit all the (other) songs she has about him

**Sokkla story** (Link to the fic added !!)

Notes for Sokka's side

#sokkla #fic notes #my fic writing #atla azula #celebrity au #srsly why is it so long #sokka side is so much shorter #atla au

[foxydivaxx]

Chronicles of King Nasty Chapter 3

This will mark the beginning of Heartsteel. You will also learn more about Ezreal.

Ezreal heaves a sigh of relief as he returns to his apartment. He bought himself a brand new apartment, a downgrade from the swanky villa he once lived in. He had cut off all contact with his parents and is now trying to start afresh. He had spent about 3 years in rehab and is now a lot better. Truth be told, he had been going in and out of rehab for the past couple years no thanks to the world triggering him in a variety of ways.

Yes, he is a recovering addict. But truth be told, his parents caused all this shit. You see, his old folks are a part of the industry. His father is a record label exec and his mother is a popstar so the talent is in him. Despite that, he was still a nepo baby that many loved to hate.

The moment his mother discovered his talent, she got in contact with his dad despite their estranged relationship. The two of them then hatched a plan to get Ezreal to debut as a popstar. The plan was simple; get Ezreal to train from a young age and when they felt he was mature enough, then he would debut. Just like his idol, he debuted at the age of 13 with a certain hit single that went platinum within weeks.

Using the momentum of that single, they began working on his debut album. What could possibly have gone wrong? A lot. Firstly, his parents were not that present in his life. Secondly mother dearest decided to not only be a bully but she was also a control freak and had sexually abused him on more than one occassion. Just like Sanji’s situation with his father. Thirdly, that single was not what Ezreal wanted. He wanted to do something as edgy as what Sanji would do but of course his parents vetoed that. Not helping was his toxic ex at the time.

Sure, thee song kind of grew on him. But still. Lastly, the album was a mess and did not reflect who Ezreal truly was a person. Rather it was a disjointed project. As if that wasn’t enough, Ezreal started developing a cocaine addiction at the time to cope with the pain and loneliness that he felt. To cover up, his mother thought it was a good idea to employ some random ghost singer with a similar voice as his to sing a lot of the tracks, living him dazed and confused when he heard the album.

Ezreal was renowed as a powerful dancer back then but the drug use caused him to a rather poor and sluggish performance, causing his parents to disown and boot him out of the company. He remembers that day vividly. The cameras flashing. Reporters screaming his namea nd throwing all sorts of questions at him. Around that same time, Sanji was going through his own nightmare experience that caused him to go into hiatus. Five years have passed since then. 

He is starting on a brand new leaf. Sett, his former labelmate who also got booted out on that exact same day has been keeping in touch with him. They became friends since that day. Right now, he was not in the mood to do anything. All he wants is to properly relax and chill. Good thing he was not in that villa otherwise the pain would have been more unbearable. 

He proceeds to go take a shower, playing one of Sanji’s songs in the background via his phone. 

Hush, just stop

There's nothing you can do or say, baby

I've had enough

I'm not your property as from today, baby

You might think that I won't make it on my own

But

Ezreal finds himself singing along to the song. He remembers this song because it so happens to be his favorite Sanji song. Rumour has it that this is a reference to his father and judging from what he read in the book so far, the song hits a lot more different.

Now I'm stronger than yesterday

Now it's nothing but my way

My loneliness ain't killing me no more

I, I'm stronger

He keeps on singing along, letting the music take control of him. Without realizing it, he even tries to do some dance moves whilst in the shower.Once he was out of the shower, he reaches for a towel and uses it to dry his hair whilst wrapping another one around his waist. 

Once he is comfortably settled down, he climbs intohis bed and lies down, reaching for the book again. He managed to get this apartment thanks to his dear Uncle who greatly disapproved of his parents’ actions. He is the reason he even decided to go to rehab in the first place.

“Now where was I?” He notices the page that he folded and starts from there.

I remember my audition for Popstars vividly. That day was a warm Thursday. Auditions were meant to begin by 11. I got there by 8 o’clock. Ichiji dropped me off and the rest of the family waited outside for me. 

I remembered being intimidated as there was a long ass queue. About 2000 kids auditioned for the show. I had butterflies in my tummy, constantly told myself that I did not stand a chance. Considering my previous lacklustre debut, it should not come as a surprise.

Ezreal knows the show in question as they continue to air re-reruns of it every year. Considering Aogiri’s success and legacy, that does not come as a surprise. Still, hearing him say that is quite funny and Ezreal then remembered those talent shows he was chaperoned to as a kid. He also felt nervous before every single performance so he could relate though Sanji’s case is more large-scale. We are talking live television here.

Either way, I was nervous and got in line and anxiously waited my turn. I did not register my name as Sanji Vinsmoke or Sanji Bernard which had been my legal name since my parents’ divorce. No. I simply wrote Sanji Griffins, Griffins being a reference to Zeff’s rockstar days. Yup. The old man used to be an ace rocker. Still is. Griffins was his stage name.

“So he did not use the names of his parents.” Pretty understandable, given his history. Last thing he would want is for his father to come harass him on set.

Whilst I was waiting in line, I saw a tall brunette guy in front of me wearing a simply blue jumper and a pair of jeans. That guy was my future bandmate Eren Jaeger. Eren was like 2 spots ahead of him. 

I did not think too much about it until the auditions began. They split everyone into groups and we were give dance choreography to learn quickly and we all had to do it on the spot. Imagine having to learn a dance routine within like an hour or 30 minutes and you then had to re-produce that exact dance move on the spot.

Eren and I were placed in the same group. I took the time to quietly observe him and man he was amazing. Those of you that dare to talk down on Eren, let me use this opportunity to give him his flowers.

That boy is a natural talent and has always been. Watching him dance the way he did that day inspired me to be the best that I could be. I was already taking dance classes since I was 3 so dancing came natural to me.

One easily forgets that Eren and Sanji started off on this show. It is great to see him acknowledge his bandmates here.

When it was my turn, I took in a deep breath. Never had I been this nervous in my life. Yet, I somehow managed to open my mouth and began to sing Purple Rain by Prince. Everyone’s jaws dropped once I began to sing. I was soon told that I had made the cut. I remember screaming with joy at this and hugging my family.

Eren came over to me and congratulated me thus beginning our friendship that still endures till this day.

“Great song choice and aww Eren is so sweet.”

The show’s concept was to create a super group out of all of us. Now none of us knew the amount of members that would make it into the group which alone gave all of us enough motivation to want to succeed.

We were trained every single week, day in day out for several hours non-stop. We were taught about singing, dancing, you name it. Every skill that was necessary to be a successful popstar was learned. Basically some sort of training bootcamp, similar to what k-pop idols do.

“Similar to my experience.” It is getting hilarious now just how similar he and Sanji are at this point.

As time went on, word soon gets out about my parents. That naturally got me some attention. The downside? I was looked down upon as a nepo baby who is untalented and only got in because of my looks, a typical notion that continues to follow me all the days of my life.

There are some things  that you cannot control and other people’s opinions of you is one of such things. Unfortunately, the criticism will worsen overtime as we progress with this book.

As the show progressed, I got quite a massive fanbase. I guess all that press did the trick. My performance skills began to manifest here much to the delight of everyone. My Sexy-Dol image showed up in here as I began to do some of erotic hip thrusts and crotch grabs during this time. My song choices were erotic as well.

 That caused a lot of controversy because I was still a minor then.Regardless everyone agreed that I was the best contestant overall. Now special note here kids: Do not let all that early praise get to your head. Why? You will understand why later in this chapter. Also a little controversy here and there does not hurt. So go for it. More on that part later.

“So this was where it all started huh?” He falls over laughing. No wonder his parents reacted the way they did. Sanji was good at what he did. “Might as well start taking notes now.” A lot of young boys wanted to be like Sanji because of his natural swag. Like the whole “I don’t give a fuck” attitude had a lot of appeal to it. Plus he had natural charisma.

Lelouch joined the show halfway, obviously as a ploy by the producers to shake things up. The poor guy was so lost and I do not blame him because why shoehorn a kid like that? He had so much catching up to do that it shocked the rest of us when he did not get eliminated earlier on.

Now don’t get me wrong. Lelouch is talented but at the same time, they put the guy through so much stress. Like the dude got bullied by some of the others backstage. Got so bad that Eren and I came to his defence on more than one occasion.

Ouch. Poor Lelouch. Now he understands why Lelouch often hid in the background. It took him a while to heal from that trauma.

Eventually the day came for the news we were all anticipating, the final lineup. There were ten of us left. The others that got eliminated either created groups of their own or went solo.

Since I was the top contestant with the highest grades, everyone expected me to be in the final group. Unfortunately, that is not often how life works. You guessed right. I got cut. And not just me. Light, Eren and Natsu hit the chopping block as well.

I remember how devastated we all felt that day. All four of us went to my crib, dazed and confused. It was at that moment that mother suggested that the four of us create a band of our own and go head to head with the winning team.

Ezreal remembered watching that scene. The producers fucked up. Clearly there was some form of cheating involved because Sanji had the highest marks and points of all contestants. Heck, some even thought he would go solo instead. Instead, it was those other kids that they gave it to.

Reading the part about the band made him pause. Wait….that’s it!! He grabs his phone and quickly dials up Sett’s number. 

“Yo Ez. Wassup?”

“I’m good. Remember when you asked me what my Plan B was?”

“Yeah. So what’s your plan?”

“Well……”

#ezreal #heartsteel #league of legends #heartsteel ezreal #sanji #one piece #fanfiction

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter Eight: Invisible Threads

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 10,275 Chapter Summary: Boba and Plo make a pit stop, Rex has a talk with Anakin, and Ahsoka learns a shocking secret about Rex.

"This errand should not take long." Plo folded his arms and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "The Baleen travel depot has a wide array of electronic repair stores. We should be able to easily find this…" Plo turned to Boba.

"Seabreeze data filter," Boba supplied. "If you want to get the data off of that gauntlet without triggering the self-deletion protocols, we need to hook a Seabreeze up to it."

"Don't you know the codes?" Wolffe asked, exasperated and slightly sweaty from the warm Tog blanket he was trapped under. Ahsoka lay borderline unconscious on his chest, still out cold from a second dose of painkillers given after her arm was set.

Plo had done something with his powers to her broken bone so it had healed up solid, but the nerve regeneration sleeve hooked around her bicep was going to hurt like a dalgaan for the next eight hours. Togrutas being so damn touchy-feely meant that she would heal faster with full-body contact, though, so as soon as they'd made it into hyperspace Wolffe had shucked down to his blacks and settled onto the salon pod sofa with her on his chest before anyone could tell him otherwise.

"Obviously I know the codes, but if you want to do anything more than just look at the intel then we need a fucking Seabreeze," Boba snapped.

"I just don't see why it can't wait until we're back at Coruscant," Wolffe glowered.

"Because, Commander, time is of the essence." Plo's voice held an undertone of no more backtalk that Boba immediately recognized and snickered at. "We will be an hour at most, and then we will be able to start extracting the data while still in transit instead of having to wait many hours upon our return."

"Yes, General," Wolffe went a darker shade of bronze and he pillowed his chin on the back of Ahsoka's squishy headtail. She nuzzled him in her sleep and purred louder.

"Setting down now," Comet announced over the intercom from the cockpit. "Docking fee is paid by the hour, General."

"Excellent, Comet. One shall be enough. Boba, with me," Plo said genially.

"Sure thing." Boba stuck his tongue out at Wolffe before he followed Plo off the ship.

Baleen wasn't bad for a deep space fuel station. Certainly nicer than Eburnea, it was built into the side of a mined asteroid and reminded him more of the Coruscant undercity more than that neon-coated rust bucket.

"You said the Seabreeze is not a Mandalorian specific gadget, yes?" Plo verified, walking slow enough towards the shopping district for Boba to keep up.

"It's industry standard. Almost any electronic place should have a basic model," Boba replied. He kept a hand on the WESTAR in his pocket and an eye on Plo's back. Plenty of shitheads in a place like this wouldn't mind throwing a suckerpunch at a Jedi just for the sake of being a prick.

Ironically, he would have been one of them only a few weeks ago. He just had to go and get adopted by an overgrown tooka with a lightsaber, didn't he?

"I admit, Boba, there is a reason that I asked the men to stay on the ship," Plo suddenly said.

Boba glanced at him, instantly suspicious. "And why's that?" he asked.

"I owe you an apology," Plo replied. "More than one, in fact."

"Why?" Boba asked. He spotted a Falleen that had a shotgun dangling from his waist watching Plo closer than the average passerby. Boba hardened his stare and waited for the big lizard to make eye contact with him. When he did, the lizard at first snorted, blanched when he didn't drop his gaze, then started walking in the opposite direction. Fucking right, keep walking. Boba kept glaring at his back until he disappeared into the crowd.

Plo hadn't missed the exchange and had his face squinched up in amusement. "I should have followed up with your case instead of assuming that justice had been served." Plo stopped suddenly and bowed his head. "You have my sincerest apology for your imprisonment, Boba Fett."

"Oh." Boba felt his cheeks go hot. "Yeah. Uh, thanks." Boba looked around and patted Plo's side. "Bloody look up before you get jumped, will you?"

Plo straightened, chuckling. "I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I can take care of myself," he rumbled, then resumed walking. "The second apology that I owe is to your family, not you specifically."

Boba felt a weird tingle on the back of his neck. He turned around and squinted at the crowd but saw no one in particular. "Why's that?" he finally asked, looking up at the towering jetii.

"For Galidraan," Plo said softly.

Boba could have sworn that gravity reversed itself. His stomach did a backflip and his heart stopped at the name of the planet that had ruined his father's life.

Galidraan had been a shitshow. Back then Dad had led a sect of supercommandos that refused to bow to the pacifistic Kryze dynasty, but unlike the kriffing Death Watch they had morals and a code of ethics. They actually followed the Resol'nare instead of just talking about it and they'd stayed loyal to the real Mand'alor; Boba's ba'buir, Jaster Mereel.

After Jaster died fighting Death Watch, his father had taken command of the True Mandalorians. A few years later he'd responded to the Governor of Galidraan's call for aid to help put down an extremist uprising on his planet, but it was a trap. Death Watch had been running around commiting all of the acts that the fascist Governor was blaming on protestors, and he'd secretly contacted the Jedi to beg for help in stopping Jango Fett and the True Mandalorians' attacks on innocent political activists.

The Jedi had slaughtered almost every single True Mandalorian to a man and the Death Watch had taken care of any allies they had left on the planet. Dad had once told him when he was at the bottom of a bottle of tihaar that out of the eleven Jedi he'd killed that day, six of them were with his bare hands.

Back then, Boba had wondered if he would have killed all of the Jedi if he had known that Death Watch had already killed Gavin and captured Mama, or if he would have just let himself die.

"I was not present for the massacre," Plo said solemnly. "And it was a massacre by both parties, do not think that the Jedi are ignorant of their own responsibility. A horrible mistake was made that day by both sides."

Boba didn't dare move his feet. His locked knees were the only thing keeping him from falling up into the rafters.

"After Master Dooku returned to the Temple and gave his report, I made for the planet with a small task force in order to provide burial rites for the fallen and to return their beskar'gam to their families," Plo continued. "I was denied by the Governor, but I want you to know that I did try." Plo sank to one knee and placed a hand on his arm. "And you should know, Master Windu was the first to volunteer to accompany me."

Boba stared at Plo. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I believe that the time you have spent with Ahsoka and I has opened your mind enough for you to understand that we Jedi are but people, trying our best to follow the will of the Force," Plo said softly. "You have scars on your heart not just from what you have experienced, but from what your father endured at our hands." Plo stood and began to walk slowly again, keeping an encouraging hand on Boba's back. "I remember a True Mandalorian survivor of Galidraan that approached the Council a year after the battle. Her name was Kaisa Skirata, if I recall. A relative of Kal Skirata, who you do not seem to remember with any sort of fondness."

Boba balled his fists at his sides and tried to breathe normally.

"She informed us that the Governor of Galidraan had sold both of them into slavery after the Jedi departed, though she was able to escape. She wanted help in retrieving your father, but after the scandal the Council was hesitant to interfere in any more affairs outside of Republic space." Plo looked sadly down. "The Council voted against it, but I secretly asked a Jedi Shadow to assist her in her search. They scoured the galaxy together for about a year, if I am not mistaken, before parting ways. I was told that Lady Skirata returned to Mandalore, but the Shadow, Quinlan Vos, did not give up. He did eventually find your father, and he arranged for a group of pirates to attack the spice freighter he had been enslaved on. Jango Fett was able to escape, but I don't believe he ever knew of Quinlan's involvement."

"So the Jedi got him locked up and then freed him," Boba murmured to himself. "Fucking ironic, that." He felt that tingle on the back of his neck again and looked behind him; this time he was almost sure that he saw a glimpse of ghostly white skin and red armor.

He shook his head. He was imagining things. He had to accept that Aurra was long dead, and even if she'd survived the crash he wanted nothing to do with her. His eyes were open, now. She had never given a damn about him, she'd just wanted what he represented. She'd told him she loved him and then hurt him whenever he had reached out for her.

He'd been such a sniveling, needy baby after Dad had died that he'd latched onto the first thing that made him feel wanted. He was older now, he knew better. The conked-out tooka back on the ship had helped him remember the difference.

"Indeed," Plo agreed. "But I thought you should know. I always felt that I could have done more for your father. I hope that by ensuring that you are taken care of, that generational wound may begin to heal."

"That's, um," Boba cleared his throat and shook his head. He couldn't keep an eye on their backs if his head was in Cloud City. "Thanks. That's good to know."

Plo paused in front of a Proton Diva storefront that had a shimmering set of ray bars projected over its windows to keep out burglars. "I believe we are here," he said pleasantly.

Boba nodded. "I'll watch the exit," he said, turning to stand guard over the doorway.

"You may accompany me inside, Boba," Plo said, his face crinkling up again in a smile.

Boba shook his head. "We don't need to both go in," he pointed out. "I'll stand watch. It's fine."

"As you wish. I will be quick." Plo walked into the store humming under his breath while Boba kept an eye on passersby.

The mercs on the street were easy to spot from a hundred paces, they all walked with a little kick from the sidearm universally kept in their boots and had a look on their face like they held a grudge against the universe. Most of the people on the street seemed to be civilians, though, and mostly unarmed. Neon seemed to be the favored light source on this street, and it made an annoying buzzing sound–

"Hey, Boba."

Boba immediately spun and drew at the pleasant man standing in front of the Biscuit Baron next door. He kept the blaster under his jacket so the civvies didn't get spooked but the man could clearly see it.

"Keep fucking moving, chakaar," Boba growled. "We've got no business."

"Sure we do." The man slowly reached into his left jacket pocket and retrieved a small, folded pocket knife, maintaining eye contact and revealing the butt of an RSKF-44 heavy blaster in his holster. "I'm a friend of a friend. Name's Tobias Beckett." He grinned, showing off the gap between his teeth. "She asked me to give you this. Said you'd recognize it."

He tossed the knife to Boba, who caught it one-handed and glanced down. Thin, red, and with a wickedly twisted blade like a corkscrew, he recognized it immediately. Aurra had used it to carve her initials into his body a long time ago.

"You didn't cry this time," Aurra murmured into his skin, licking up the blood between whispers. "You're my good boy, aren't you Boba?"

"Now's your chance to dump your Jedi," Tobias continued, still smiling. "Come on. I'll take you to her."

Boba slipped the knife into his pocket and kept the blaster under his jacket aimed at the merc. "I'm good," he said flatly. "Now fuck off."

"Come on, Boba, don't make this difficult." Tobias took a step towards him. "The fuck have the Jedi ever done for you? You belong with your people, kid, not the goodie-goodies with laser swords." He took another step. "Let's get out of here. She's waiting for you."

"She ever fucking comes near me again and I'll skin her alive, you got that?" Boba snarled. The scar on his ass pulsed. "She's a fucking psychopath and a nonce. I don't want anything to do with her."

Tobias tilted his head. "Now now, kid, you don't mean that." He took another step.

"Take one more step and I'll put a new asshole in you," Boba snapped. "Fuck. Off."

Tobias sighed. "You're really gonna make me–"

The Proton Diva door behind him chimed and Boba turned around. Plo had a medium-sized box in his arms and when Boba had spun back around, Tobias was gone.

"What's wrong?" Plo quickly put the box down at his feet and put a protective hand on Boba's shoulder, looking around for the threat. "What happened?"

"Just a creep," Boba mumbled, slipping the WESTAR back in his pocket after switching the safety on. "I handled it."

Plo searched the street, then picked up the box with a sigh. "Stay close to me," he said quietly.

"Don't need to fucking tell me twice." Boba kept his hand on Plo's elbow and his head on a swivel as they walked back to the dock, just in case he saw red armor again.

Still tacky with sweat from two hours of PT and trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his temple, Rex reclined on his elbows and took a moment to appreciate the warm sun on his bare upper body. After a decade of black skies and crashing thunder, sunlight almost felt like a forbidden luxury.

"You up here, vod?" he heard Fives call out.

Rex sighed. He didn't resent his brother, but was it really too much to hope for just a few minutes of quiet? "East side," he called back, not moving.

Plastoid bootsteps echoed on the concrete, loud on their journey from the rooftop's turbo-lift to where Rex had sprawled himself in the sun. "Copaani kov'pelid?" Fives snickered, then tapped Rex on the head with the datapad before putting it on his bare chest. "I'll have you know that I had to cash in three separate favors for this. Blackout says hi, by the way."

Rex sat up and nodded, not really listening, and opened the uncensored report for the Hardeen op. He scrolled past the irrelevant osik to get to the crash that Ahsoka and Skywalker had been in while chasing down Cad Bane's ship.

On [32:04:980] at [01:40 GST], I and General Skywalker arrived at the Orondia Fuel Depot and positively identified Cad Bane entering a HCT-2001 Dragonboat-class Reugeot 905 type freighter. We engaged in a high-speed chase over the fuel lines [Ref: Page 14-21 for detailed damage report] that lasted approximately 15 minutes. General Skywalker left The Twilight to attempt to forcibly land the Reugeot 905 of Bane and his associates, Rako Hardeen [Obi-Wan Kenobi] and Moralo Eval. The chase ended after Hardeen [Kenobi] performed a pit maneuver that forced me to crash land The Twilight and threw Bane and General Skywalker from the Reugeot 905. I hit my head on impact and was unconscious for an estimated 5 minutes. Upon awakening I evaluated my injuries, determined I was able to safely continue, and immediately left The Twilight in pursuit of General Skywalker. I witnessed him unconscious on the ground and was able to repel Bane, Hardeen [Kenobi], and Eval, but was not able to take them into custody without putting General Skywalker at risk of immediate bodily harm. Bane, Hardeen [Kenobi] and Eval fled the chase location, and after General Skywalker regained consciousness, we determined that the suspects had fled the planet. We solicited repairs [Ref: Page 28 for itemized expense report] at the fuel station and left for Coruscant at [04:12 GST].

He read the pitifully brief section three times and let the datapad fall to his lap with a frustrated huff.

"Bad news?" Fives asked, peering over Rex's shoulder.

"Not exactly." Rex fished the top half of his blacks out from his pile of armor and slipped his arms inside. He'd been hoping that she hurt it in the crash, and because the mission was unsanctioned they were covering it up. There went that theory.

Fives raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you look like you just bit into a citron?" he asked wryly.

"It's–" Rex smoothed out the flat seam of his top half. "It's complicated."

"This have anything to do with her arm?"

Rex's head twisted like a parakeet to look at him. "What do you know about that?" he asked sharply.

"She's favoring it. Wasn't sure why, didn't get a chance to ask." Fives put his hands on his hips. "You think something fishy happened to it. Something went down on that mission that she doesn't want anyone to know about."

Shabla osikett'se, Fives was too smart for his own good. He had a light heart and a wicked sense of humor, which made it easy to forget that he was also sharper than the edge of an akul tooth. They didn't make ARCs out of idiots. "I didn't say that," Rex said quickly. He reached for his plastoid to keep his hands busy.

His brother rolled his eyes and sprawled on the concrete beside him. "Then why not just ask her about the report that she wrote? Obviously something happened that she doesn't want you to know about."

Rex flushed and kept kitting up. "Keep it to yourself for now, until I can find out more," he told him quietly. "If I'm going to investigate this–"

"Investigation implies a sanctioned action," Fives smirked. "You're not investigating, Rex, you're mad that your vod'ika didn't tell you that she was hurt and you want to know why."

Rex huffed and snapped his cuirass on. "Whatever you say, Fives." He punched him in the shoulder and stood. "I'll be back later. I've got a meeting with the General."

Fives put his hands behind his head and tilted his head back. "Have fun. Shab, I can never get enough of this. Sunlight."

"You're late!" Skywalker waved at him from beside a roofless speeder. "Let's get out of here, we've got a long flight ahead of us."

"General?" Rex checked his chrono and couldn't believe it. He was one minute late, yes, but more importantly, Skywalker had been early.

"How're we doing, Captain?" Skywalker asked genially.

"I'm doing well, Sir." Rex tried to ignore the anxious knot in his stomach. "Are, you, um, doing alright?"

"I'm great." Skywalker flashed a slightly manic grin. "You're going to like where we're going."

"Where's that, Sir?"

Skywalker vaulted over the edge of his speeder and started it up. One side was turquoise and the other was white, and it looked like it had been welded together from two different bodies. Rex had to wonder if it was actually sky-worthy, but he supposed he was about to find out. "You ever hear of Thirumagal?" Skywalker asked.

"Uh, no, Sir." Rex strapped in and braced himself for a Skywalker takeoff.

"It's a district about an hour away from here," Skywalker said, hitting the thruster hard enough to slam Rex back against his seat. "Biggest population of Togrutas anywhere in the galaxy outside of Shili."

"Oh." Rex thanked the tides that he had skipped breakfast since an hour of his General's driving was enough to turn the stomach of a rancor. "Why're we headed there?"

"I want to get a present for Ahsoka." Skywalker flashed him another grin. "Yeah, I know, we're not really supposed to do material possessions, but she's had a rough week."

"Can't argue that, Sir," Rex agreed.

Skywalker took a sharp right turn and dove through six vertical lanes of traffic to get to their exit. "Let's put some music on," he said pleasantly. Something with a heavy drumbeat, electric quetarras and Huttese lyrics started blaring out of the speakers. Skywalker took to the upper skylanes and hummed under his breath.

Rex alternated between looking at the city below and looking at his General as they passed over districts he'd never seen before. Now was obviously the perfect time to ask about Ahsoka's injury, so why wouldn't the words come out? He opened his mouth every few minutes to ask but immediately lost his nerve every time.

On some level, Rex knew half the reason was because he didn't actually want to know. He trusted Skywalker more than almost anyone else in the galaxy. As far as he was concerned, Skywalker was as much of a vod as Ahsoka was, though as their General he did have to keep a bit more distance from them for propriety's sake. The thought of that trust being betrayed in such a way turned his stomach.

On top of that, it just didn't make sense. Skywalker adored Ahsoka and she idolized him in return. He would never hurt her on purpose. Whatever had happened had to have been a terrible accident, and all Rex could figure was that it had been Skywalker's fault for them to both be so shifty about it.

He didn't like the way the general was avoiding his eyes, though. For all his smiling and joviality, Rex had noticed that he hadn't looked him in the eyes once since he'd picked him up.

Skywalker turned down the Huttese skonk music that he'd had blaring for the past hour and squinted over the side of his speeder. "I think that's it," he said casually before cranking their speeder out of the skylane and descending in a sharp diagonal through six lanes of traffic.

Rex closed his eyes and pretended he was in a simulation until the speeder evened out.

They flew over brightly-painted walkways that were lined with hundreds of free-roaming tookas. Vivid green and blue birds twittered down at the cats, safely out of reach on balconies and rooftops. Hibiscus and marg sabl flowers in every shade of the rainbow hung on garlands surrounding painted doors.

Skywalker parked in a cramped lot and hopped over the side of the speeder. He glanced back at Rex and snorted. "We've got to see about getting you guys some civvies for leave. People are going to think you're my bodyguard."

"Aren't I, Sir?" Rex asked wryly, getting out of the speeder.

"No, Rex." Skywalker clapped him on the pauldron. "That's not why you're here."

Rex felt sweat bead up on his temple.

"Come on. Let's find her something nice and then we can talk." Skywalker patted him twice then started walking.

Rex gave a sleepy orange tooka on the wall of the parking lot a scratch before following Skywalker around the corner and into walking traffic. The General took a sharp right down a flight of stairs that opened up to a crowded bazaar. There were countless stalls set up on either side of the labyrinthine walkway; artisans selling hanks of brightly-colored yarn, incense pressed into dozens of different shapes, intricately beaded caftans, colorful plants that Rex didn't recognize in handmade pots, and giant baskets of spices that made his eyes water when he leaned over to smell them. They walked by a kettle large enough to boil a blurrg in that smelled strongly of spiced meat and was manned by an ancient, hunchbacked Togruta man with no shoes.

"Hey, soldier boy!" a Togruta woman dressed in red silk crooned at him from a table full of crystal and stone beads. "Want a good luck charm?"

Rex smiled awkwardly and shook his head.

"No charge," she said, smiling flirtily. She had yellow skin, white markings like vines around her eyes, and violet-striped lekku that reached her knees. Tiny chips of quartz lay tied to a braided red net around her montrals.

Rex glanced at Skywalker, who was grinning. "Never say no to good luck," he snickered traitorously, then gave Rex an encouraging pat on the back and pushed him towards the table.

"Ma'am," Rex greeted her with a nod. He threw a begging look back at Skywalker, who gave him a double thumbs up.

"You got a sweetie, sweetie?" the woman asked, tilting her head at him with a smile. Her hand slowly stroked her left lek.

"No." Rex had no idea what to do with his hands.

"Well, then. Let's change that, shall we?" She fished through a pile of colorful stones and picked out a bright orange bead. "Do you know what this is?"

"A bead, ma'am." His hands were sweating inside his gloves.

He shot Skywalker another pleading look over his shoulder. The Jedi crossed his arms, smirked like a lothcat, and shook his head.

"Yes, it's a bead," she laughed softly. Her accent was soft and lilting. "Orange carnelian." The woman snipped off a length of red string and tied a complicated knot on either side of the stone, then sauntered around her table. "Our ancient armies used to wear it around their necks as a token to endow them with great physical strength so they could overcome their enemies."

"Oh," Rex said. "That's good."

She circled behind him, chuckling throatily. "It inspires bold energy and energizes the spirit." Her lek rested against his face as she brought the string around his neck and tied it. "It also stimulates passion and enhances fertility," she breathed into his ear.

Rex jumped a foot forward like he'd been poked with a nerf prod. "Thank–" he cleared his throat. "Thank you, ma'am. That's very kind of you."

She looked amused. "No, thank you for your service." She patted him on his chest before swaying back behind her table with a wink. "Stay safe, soldier boy. And good luck."

"Do you feel more fertile yet?" Skywalker deadpanned after Rex had practically run back to his side, feeling like he'd just been a part of something borderline obscene.

"I'll keep you updated," he replied, flushing puce. He had doubts about a bead undoing the surgery that the Kaminoans performed on the troopers to protect their intellectual property before shipping them out to war. Logically, Rex knew it was for the best; it probably was a bad thing to flood the galaxy with genetically identical men who could father tens of millions of half-siblings in a single generation, but he still resented the hell out of it.

"I'll be honest, I don't have anything specific in mind." Skywalker thumbed a silk scarf as they passed a stall. "Feel free to shout out if you see something."

I saw nothing in the Hardeen report that would explain her arm. Rex swallowed the words before they could leave his lips, though he could tell by the way Skywalker's shoulders stiffened that he heard him anyway. He needed to ask. Why couldn't he just shabla spit the words out?

"Did Ahsoka ever tell you the akul creation myth?" Skywalker asked suddenly.

"I don't think so, Sir," Rex replied.

"It's pretty sad." Skywalker trailed his hand over a collection of delicate copper chains hanging from a wall of hooks. "So it starts with Ashla and Bogan, right? The creator gods of Shili. They had four daughters. Sara, Aditi, Kali, and Tara. They've all got different… jobs, I guess, but Tara was the youngest and in charge of making different animals for Bogan to hunt."

Rex nodded without a single inkling of where the hell his general was going with this.

"So Tara comes up with all of these amazing animals – all of them have four eyes for some reason, I don't remember why that's important – and Bogan hunts them, but none of them are a real challenge. He's getting bored, she's getting frustrated because she's his favorite daughter and she's afraid he'll stop loving her if she doesn't impress him, so she asks her sister Kali what to do." Skywalker moved on to a new stall and started examining a rack of leather belts. "Kali tells her to make something terrifying that even a god would have trouble taking down, and then he'll appreciate her other creations more." Skywalker suddenly smirked. "Kali is the goddess of wildfires and change, she's a little volatile. And I think she was jealous of Tara, if I remember right."

Rex almost tripped over his own feet trying not to step on an ancient shunka that had fallen asleep in the middle of the crowded street.

"But Tara takes it to heart and creates the akul. In the myth it's as big as a mountain, so on top of having four eyes and a meat grinder for a mouth it also blocks out the sky. Problem is, it gets hungry and starts eating Togrutas while Bogan is on his way to hunt the thing. And Ashla, her mother, she made the Togrutas so she's upset, and when she intervenes the akul injures her and she has to run away and hide. She gives some of the Togrutas snakes to wear on their heads to scare it away in the meantime, and they're the only ones that survive the rampage. That's where their lekku come from." Skywalker leaned down to pet a black tooka bunting against his boots. "Once Bogan gets there, he rips the akul into a million pieces – that's why they're not mountain-sized any more, I guess – but he's so amped up from the fight and so pissed that Ashla got hurt that he punches Tara right in the mouth. He knocks all of her teeth out with one hit and sends her back to the stars. That's why Tara's moon is that little white one with the crater on it."

"Is that who Taarak is named after, Sir?" Rex asked. He stopped in front of a stall that had a selection of little leather pouches strung on cords, clearly intended to be worn around the neck. One with a lily stamped on the front caught his eye, though he knew Ahsoka didn't care much for them. They had some biochem that he couldn't pick up that smelled off to her.

"Yeah, I think so." Skywalker joined him in looking at the pouches. A friendly-looking Togruta man babbled something in Aagani that neither of them understood. Skywalker picked up a pouch with a marg sabl flower embossed on it. "This is nice."

Rex waited for him to continue, still confused.

Skywalker handed the Aagani man his credit chit and smiled at the pouch. "Bogan always regretted hurting Tara, though. He still loved her. He kept one of her teeth to make fangs for the Togrutas but he threw the rest in the ocean to make that island chain by the equator to apologize to her." He looked up at Rex and finally met his eyes. "How am I doing with this allegory thing?" he asked wryly.

Not well, since Rex had no idea what the hell his point was. "Sir?" he asked.

"Bogan loved his daughter. He didn't mean to hurt her, he just lost his temper." Skywalker accepted his credit chit back and pocketed the pouch. "She'll like this."

"I'm sure she will, Sir," Rex agreed.

Skywalker stilled and gave Rex a thin smile. "What happened between Ahsoka and I is private, but the important thing that you need to know is that it was an accident. I would never, never hurt her on purpose."

Rex felt a trickle of sweat trail down his spine like a cold finger. "General–"

"It was an accident," Skywalker repeated, and this time his voice cracked. "It will never happen again, Rex. I'll rip this fucking thing off before it does." He stared down at his mech hand, clenched in a fist.

"You gave me an order to protect her, Sir," Rex said quietly. "To watch her back when you couldn't."

"Not from me." Skywalker put his hand – his living hand – on Rex's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "I swear to you, you don't need to protect her from me."

Rex hesitated. He wanted to believe him more than anything, but something just didn't feel right.

Skywalker's eyes were hollow, desperate. Whatever he'd done, it was haunting him. "Akay karase dar'hettir," he said quietly. "I swear, Rex."

"As you say, Sir," Rex said, making his choice with a nod.

Plo's lap was a comfortable pillow. It always had been, especially back when Ahsoka was still small enough to curl up into a little ball on him like he was a lilypad while he'd do his floating meditation.

Coming to the Temple had been hard. She didn't know who or what anyone was, the smells were foreign and intense, and she didn't understand the colors that she saw so vividly around people in the Force. She was accustomed to the ones around her clan, but once she got to the Temple it was a tidal wave of overstimulation that she had no idea how to turn off. Plo had understood that, correctly pegging her Empathy almost immediately and shielding her constantly, and he'd let her caretakers know that they needed to do it for her until she was old enough to do it herself. Nobody else had thought to shield her besides Plo and Obi-Wan. His was the other lap that she'd practically lived in, as the Geonosian shaman had unfortunately reminded her. It was Obi-Wan who had found her when she ran out of quarantine, scared and hungry and alone and searching for anything familiar.

She had thought that she'd found it when she finally reached the aura that was the same color as her father's.

"Are you awake, little 'Soka?" Plo's talons scratched delicately between her montrals.

"Mm." She nuzzled his knee and spared a moment to wonder if Wolffe had eaten all the nerf jerky yet.

"Your commlink has been going off for the better part of an hour. I believe your Masters have become aware of my report on Geonosis."

Her eyes cracked open and focused on the flashing white light of her commlink, sitting on the holoconsole in the center of the salon pod. "Did you take that off of me?" she croaked. The words scratched her dehydrated throat on the way out.

"You needed to rest." Plo held up a hand and summoned the commlink. "But you should assuage your Masters. You know how they worry."

Ahsoka sat up on the sofa and took the commlink reluctantly, not missing the way he had emphasized Masters.

Her message center had exploded into shabla madness. She had messages from Anakin, Rex, Jesse… half the damn 501st actually, Cody, Wooley, even Fox wanted to know if she'd gotten Boba killed.

And of course, the bane of her current existence.

– [𝟶𝟺.𝟶𝟻.𝟿𝟾𝟶} – [𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟷] 𝙹𝙶𝟽𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟹𝟷𝟶𝟹!𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙾𝙱𝙸> 𝙸 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 [𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟸] 𝙹𝙶𝟽𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟹𝟷𝟶𝟹!𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙾𝙱𝙸> 𝙰𝚑𝚜𝚘𝚔𝚊, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘.

Ahsoka felt a stabbing pain like a nail being driven through her heart. She'd been firmly blocking their bond since his dramatic return, but now she could feel frantic energy beating at his side like it had closed fists. She bit her lip and started typing.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟺] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗. 𝙼𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢.

She saw his typing ellipsis and quickly backed out before she saw his response, then went to Anakin's thread.

– [𝟶𝟺.𝟶𝟻.𝟿𝟾𝟶] – [𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟹] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙾𝙺 [𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟹] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁>~ [𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟺] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁>~

She scrolled down thirty more pings, wincing the whole time.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟻] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝙸'𝚖 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚁𝙵 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚆𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙸 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙿𝚕𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙.

Anakin's ellipsis immediately started flashing.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟻] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝚆𝙸𝙲𝙷 𝙰𝚁𝙼 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟻] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚞𝚜. 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝. [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟼] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟼] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> ? [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟼] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙿𝚕𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎.

She could feel motes of his distress and guilt leaking through their bond, even over all of the light years that separated them.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟽] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝙸𝙼 𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚁𝚈 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟽] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝙸'𝚖 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎! 𝚆𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗. [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟽] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝙾𝙺 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟽] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴𝙵𝚄𝙻 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟾] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙶𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚊𝚔 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟾] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> 𝚈𝙴𝚂 [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟾] 𝙹𝙲𝟽𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟻𝟶𝟿!𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙾> 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙱𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗. :) [𝟷𝟷:𝟷𝟾] 𝙹𝙶𝟾𝟷𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟺!𝚂𝙺𝚈𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙺𝙴𝚁> :)

"I do believe Master Skywalker is taking me to Naboo," Ahsoka smirked, closing her message center and crossing her legs underneath her. She'd have to get to the boys' messages when her eyes were less blurry, but Skyguy could at least update them.

"How delightful." Plo's aura flared out in rich copper affection-encouragement and he helped her slide the nerve regeneration sleeve off of her arm. "Master Kenobi very much enjoys the botanical gardens in Theed. Perhaps the three of you could visit one while you're there."

Ahsoka looked away. "I should go check on Boba," she said, getting up.

Plo hooked a talon in her belt and gently tugged her back down. "In a moment," he rumbled goodnaturedly.

Ahsoka picked at her cuticles until Plo pulled her hands apart.

"Boba told me that the shaman imitated his father's voice in order to lure him out of the sunlight," he said gently. "And that you had been trapped in some sort of Force vision. I presume it was to keep you pacified until they could insert one of those worms."

Ahsoka shuddered. "That makes sense," she mumbled, feeling her skin crawl.

"May I ask what your vision entailed?" His aura was still copper, giving nothing away.

She opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. Plo rubbed the hand he'd captured. "Was it Master Kenobi?"

She shrugged.

"I sense a great deal of turmoil in you, little 'Soka," Plo said softly. "What happened in your vision?"

I fear that his darkness is infecting you. The memory tasted like vinegar. What a damn joke. That bug knew nothing about her Master, nothing, and it had the gall to wear Obi-Wan's face while insulting him–

"Ahsoka." Plo's firm voice interrupted her thoughts. "I must be blunt with you. You should not have fallen prey to that trap so easily."

Her eyes snapped onto his face. It was steady, serious, and his aura had gone firm silver with trust-authority. "You are unbalanced, off-center, and you risked everyone's lives by going down into the catacombs in such a state."

"Master?" she asked, as stunned as if he'd slapped her across the face.

"I am saying this because I care for you, Ahsoka." Plo gently stroked a talon down her cheek. "But you have lost sight of the bigger picture."

Ahsoka's breath caught in her chest and she dropped her gaze, humiliated.

"It was unfair for Master Kenobi to have involved you in such a way in his mission. I have never disagreed with that. But Ahsoka, you are acting as though his one and only motivation was to cause you and Anakin as much pain as possible for no reason at all. His goal was to save the life of the Chancellor."

"But–" she tried.

"No buts," Plo said firmly. "You must not continue to obsess over this. You cannot release the anger and pain it has caused you because you refuse to close the wound for a reason I can't comprehend. What good does it do you to hold onto this anger? All I see is it compromising you. You need to be better than this. If not for your own sake, for Boba's. You are his guardian. He is depending on you to protect and support him."

Ahsoka stared at her knees and tried not to cry.

"I am not saying that you must forgive him for what he did, though I do encourage it. But you must move on. What is done cannot be undone, though I am quite sure that he wishes it could be." Plo opened his own commlink and showed her his message center. "Forty messages from Master Kenobi over the last hour," he said softly. "He's been frantic with worry over you because whether or not you want to believe it, he loves you very much."

How could he do that to me if he loved me? She choked on the question before it could escape, but Plo's aura went a deep purple with sadness-sympathy and she knew he'd heard it anyway.

Plo's aura lightened to orange with determination. He squeezed her hands and brought his legs up on the sofa to match her cross-legged pose. Facing her now, he took a deep breath. "I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me," he said softly.

She repeated the mantra dutifully, following his lead into meditation.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," he continued. His thumbs stroked the tops of her hands. "What does that mean, Padawan?"

"That we cannot feel the will of the Force if we allow our emotions to distract us, Master," she replied.

"Yes. I want you to gather up all of the hurt that is festering inside of you and look at the source. Let the memories flow by you but look at them, Padawan. Truly examine them. What is the true root of this pain?"

She obeyed, watching the moments pass by her like she was skipping through a holoprojector. The blood from Obi-Wan's heart soaking through her leggings. Anakin howling and dropping to his knees. A raw hurricane of black-crimson agony-despair spinning across their bond that sucked the air from her lungs and blinded her with its intensity. Obi-Wan's head flopping on his neck when Anakin silently tugged him from her arms.

Cold, wet sand against her legs and Aada's head in her lap, staring at her with sightless eyes and blue lips.

She turned away. She'd seen enough.

"There is a wind within you, Padawan," Plo rumbled. His rich, warm smell intensified as she sank further into a state of meditation. "The tide of the Cosmic Force flows through us all. It is what makes our cells divide, it carries starlight on its waves. Open yourself up to it, dear Padawan, and let it bear the burden for you."

"There is no emotion, there is peace," she murmured. Her body tingled and her heartbeat slowed. The memories fluttered like they had wings and the flow of the Force guided them up and away from her. She watched them spin off into the distant glow of the galaxy and felt calm fill her up like warm water. They were not forgotten, but their distance made them easier to bear.

Plo was right. Plo was always right. She was poisoning herself and she had to be better. Her vod'ika needed her; now that she was more centered, she could feel Boba's quiet sadness echoing in the Force like a bruise. She'd been too caught up in her own self-pity to notice his distress.

"Good, Padawan. Very good." She matched Plo breath for breath and they quietly surfaced out of their meditation in tandem. "I am proud of you. We will do this as many times as it takes for you to heal. The hurt runs too deep for this process to happen overnight."

"Thank you, Master," Ahsoka whispered. She wiped at her wet cheeks, though she wasn't sure if the tears were from sadness or relief.

"It is my honor to guide you, little 'Soka." Plo leaned forward and embraced her. "Boba is in the hangar with the Wolfpack. They've been helping him refit the armor."

She sniffled. "Has Wolffe broken through the encryption yet?"

"There was no need," Plo smiled and leaned back. "Boba knew all of the passwords. We made a brief stop to acquire a data filter, but have made much progress since then."

"Have they found anything on the Cuy'val Dar?" she asked, hopeful.

"Wolffe is still analyzing the data, but not yet," Plo said regretfully. "We… we will need to discuss Boba's future if there is nothing to find, Ahsoka."

She nodded sadly. "I know. I'm not under the illusion that he can stay with me forever, Master."

Plo went green with sympathy-pride. "I know you aren't. You have been very mature and responsible throughout this journey, Ahsoka, even on Geonosis. I am impressed at how successful you have been in coaxing him out of his shell in such a short time."

"Thank you, Master. I'll go see him now." She got to her feet, bowed, and exited the pod, her heart somehow lighter and heavier at the same time.

Ahsoka was surprised by the music playing in the hangar. Not that there was music, no, but Wolffe usually just played whatever Master Plo enjoyed. This was music she'd heard before, but only from Rex.

"Is this skiffle?" she asked Boba, approaching on bare feet.

Her vod'ika's aura spiked out with white surprise and he jumped a foot in the air. He'd spread a blanket down and sat cross-legged with naked beskar plates in front of him, polished to a mirrored shine. He was in the process of rewiring something in the front of the cuirass. "Fucking tooka," he grumbled, going yellow with embarrassment before fading into bronze affection-humor. "Yeah, it's skiffle. My dad had a few mixes saved on his drives."

"Nice." She sank down onto her haunches beside him. Robert the Rancor and the little crocheted tooka doll had been propped up on a crate so they could watch him work.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" Mangle called from across the hangar on his own little blanket island.

"Shabla hold still, di'kut," Wolffe snapped, slapping the medic's arm in annoyance. He held a gray-tipped brush and looked to be carefully painting wolf teeth along the edge of Mangle's plastoid jawbone.

"Perfect, vod, thank you." She sent a tendril of russet gratitude in his direction. "Where are the others?"

"Comet's in the cockpit with Arseven going through metadata, Sinker and Boost are asleep in the bunkroom." Wolffe pointed at a beskar gauntlet plugged into a small, blue-green box that fed into a field data extractor. "I've got alerts set up for all the names we can remember. Between us and the other CCs we've got most of them keyed, but we don't know anything more than that and for all we know the names they used were fake."

"Good point." She turned back to Boba. "Plo said you opened up the drives for Wolffe."

"Yeah, well," Boba shrugged. "The cost of getting the beskar'gam back, 'lek? I kept my end of the bargain."

"Boba, that was never a requirement," Ahsoka said gently, then leaned in closer. "If I'm being honest, it was just an excuse to go get it," she continued in a conspiratorial whisper.

He flushed a dark, rich blue that was veined with copper, affection-contentment-happiness flowing equally together like three streams at the lip of a lake. "What kind of fucking Jedi are you?" he snickered.

"An unconventional one," she grinned, bopping his shoulder. "Runs in the lineage."

"Odd way to pronounce a disaster," Wolffe grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Ahsoka called.

"Nothing," Wolffe said innocently.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Ahsoka bit her lips and waited.

"Is it now?" Wolffe carefully put the paintbrush down and got to his feet, his aura going vivid orange with excitement-humor.

Ahsoka blinked porg eyes at her vod as he approached. "Need something, Commander?" she asked sweetly.

Wolffe bent in half at the waist and touched her forehead in a gentle kov'nyn. Her grin grew. This wasn't a delicate brain-kiss of affection, it was the opening salute of a spar.

"Please don't fuck up my soldering," Boba said tonelessly, his aura vibrating with golden humor.

"Wolffe, Ahsoka, I believe I made myself quite clear on our way to Kamino," Plo said mildly from the entrance of the hangar. He carried a small meal tray piled with meat sticks, grasser cheese curds, pink-shelled eggs, and a tea kettle. "If either of you damage this vessel because of your incessant need to wrestle, you will be writing a personal letter of apology to the Dorin Ambassador."

"Yes, Sir," they both mumbled, separating foreheads.

"Now, Wolffe, how is the data extraction going?" Plo carefully placed the tray down and took a seat beside Ahsoka.

"Haven't run into any deletion traps yet, and we're 95% complete." Wolffe plopped back down and picked up his brush again, a little gray with disappointment. Mangle patiently held still and let him continue his art project. "The Seabreeze panned out."

"No shit," Boba deadpanned, then put his soldering gun down and stretched his back like a tooka.

Ahsoka shelled a pink tam-tam egg and bit it in half. She offered the other half to Boba, who took it after giving it a curious sniff.

"I thank you again for your help, Boba." Plo reached around her and squeezed his shoulder.

Boba smiled at his boots. "How's your arm?" he asked Ahsoka, poking it.

"All better." She didn't let the jolt of lightning that shot up her arm from his poke show on her face.

"That's good." Boba fiddled with the cuff of his canvas pants and looked at the datapad plugged into his helmet, his aura flooding a pale yellow-orange with anxiety-anticipation-indecision.

Ahsoka bit her lip, thinking, then glanced at Plo and silently projected a request to be alone with Boba through the shimmering thread of their Force bond.

"Wolffe, would you assist me in beginning the data transfer to the Jedi Temple?" Plo asked pleasantly.

Wolffe put his paintbrush down immediately. "Of course, General. Come on, vod, you can do my Geonosis report while you dry."

"I can?" Mangle raised an eyebrow that disappeared into the curls hanging over his forehead.

Ahsoka, who'd been wondering when the hazing would begin for Mangle, stifled a snicker.

Wolffe hauled the gauntlet and extractor into his arms. Plo winked at her and followed the troopers out.

"What's got you all fidgety?" Ahsoka asked softly once they were gone, falling from her haunches onto her rump.

Boba snorted. "You reading my mind again, Tano?"

"No, di'kut, I'm an Empath. I can see that you're anxious about something." Ahsoka watched him calmly and waited for him to take the first step.

Boba opened his datapad and turned off the music. "Wolffe doesn't have everything," he mumbled. "Not– I'm not trying to hide anything, it's not intel, it's… private."

"Okay." She sent a cool green wave of serenity in his direction until his aura slowed its nervous vibration. "You don't have to share anything that you don't want to, vod'ika. As long as it's not something that'll end the war, you're entitled to keep it to yourself."

Boba opened up a folder and brought up a holopic. In it was Jango and a dark-haired woman, both of them laughing out loud at something. The perspective was almost from the floor, like it'd been taken by an Ugnaught.

Or a child.

"That was my mama," Boba said quietly, going soft purple with sadness. "Kaisa Skirata."

"Your–" Ahsoka leaned in closer and stared at the holopic. She was pretty, with curly black hair that went to her shoulders and skin almost the same shade of copper as Jango. "But I-I thought you were a clone," she finally managed after a few moments of stunned silence.

"I am a clone, di'kut." Boba rolled his eyes. "She was Dad's riduur. She adopted me."

"Oh." Ahsoka stared at her. She was short, barely coming up to Jango's shoulder, but she could see how muscular she was under the close-fitting flight suit she wore. The woman was a warrior, there was no doubt about that.

Boba flicked to a new holopic, one with a toddler that Ahsoka would have pegged as a chubby clone cadet if not for his bright gray eyes shining through the screen like polished beskar. "And that's Cassus," he continued. The purple sadness in his aura deepened. "He was my brother. He was a month older than me. He wasn't a clone, he was Mama's."

And Jango's, clearly; his round little face spoke to the strength of those genes. "I had no idea he had a natural-born son," Ahsoka said softly, examining the holopic curiously. "What happened to them?"

"They died." Boba flicked to a new holo before she could ask how. Jango lay asleep on the couch, his head tilted back over the arm and his jaw wide open in a snore she could almost hear with two small babies and a third, larger baby asleep on his chest. All three of them wore matching pajamas with little fluffy banthas on them. The oldest baby was bald but the two little ones both had thick, luscious mops of black curls. Boba glanced at her and waited for her reaction.

"Who's that?" Ahsoka asked, pointing to the oldest. He was twice the size of the littles but he slept just like them, with his feet tucked under his body like a frog.

Boba bit his lip and scrolled to a new holopic. This one was of the woman, Kaisa, in full Mandalorian armor minus her bucket with a grinning baby Cassus tied to her chest and the bald now-toddler clinging to her back. He held the silver tooka doll in his hand that stared at them from the crate next to Robert the Rancor.

Ahsoka squinted at the boy and realized he wasn't bald, he had an almost invisible layer of white-blond curls sticking up from his head like a halo. Her heart skipped a beat; she knew exactly who he was, now. "Rex," she whispered.

"Tiarek, back then." Boba said quietly. "Mama named him that 'cause he was blond. She made the doll for him, too." He scrolled again. In the next holopic, Jango sat at a table with Rex on his lap behind a dense, nutty cake topped with two candles. Rex's cheeks were puffed up, preparing to blow them out.

Ahsoka gripped Boba's hand, feeling dizzy despite sitting down. "It wasn't just a few weeks, was it?" she asked.

"Three years." Boba flipped to a picture of the three boys on a sofa that had a large bite mark taken out of one leg. Boba was in Rex's lap and had a wailing Cassus's arm between his teeth. Kaisa sat off to the side, reaching for Boba with a stern look on her face. Boba smiled. "Mama stopped the kaminiise from gassing him and raised him with us. They euthanized the rest of his batch for coming out blond but she grabbed him before they could get him."

Ahsoka gaped for a few seconds like Hinata begging for pellets, too stunned to do anything else. "For being blond?" she managed after a few seconds. "They were going to… to kill him for being blond?" She was going to be sick. They'd killed his batchmates, and would have killed him all because of his hair color.

"Yep." Boba flicked to a new picture. Kaisa was holding up Rex and kissing his neck. Rex had his eyes closed and his mouth open in what she imagined was a tickled shriek of laughter.

"Why… why did he never say anything?" she whispered. "Why does he keep saying there was a training accident and–"

"Mama tried to leave with Cas when we were two." Boba shut the datapad off and flipped it.

"Why?"

Boba's shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But something happened with her and Dad. They had a big fight. She tried to take us with her but…" Boba trailed off and shook his head. "I don't know, I was only two. It was storming and there was screaming and I don't remember what happened, just that it was bad, and then she left us and got on her ship with Cas." He was trembling. "Dad shot it down."

Ahsoka took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.

"After that it was just me and Tiarek." Boba smiled sadly to himself. "Reks'ika."

Reks'ika… Rex. Ahsoka put her face in her hands. "Oh Force, Rex," she murmured, overwhelmed.

"After Mama and Cas died, Dad put all of their things in a lockbox and kept it on the top shelf of his closet," he said. "He came home from a job and found us looking at them and he got mad." Boba's eyes welled up with tears and his aura bloomed deep violet again with the bruised tone of grief-regret. "I don't think he meant to hurt him like that but he… he smashed Tiarek in the face with the box." Boba touched his chin. "That's how he got that."

"It doesn't matter how angry he was," Ahsoka snapped. "He never should have–" she cut herself off and stifled her anger. Boba needed her compassion, not her outrage. She was his guardian and she had to be there for him, as Plo had reminded her.

There is no emotion, there is peace. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, surrendering her rage to the Force at the same time.

"And then after, he wasn't my brother anymore," Boba continued. "He forgot me."

Ahsoka had asked Rex about his scar once and he said he couldn't remember, just that he was young. "Rex has hit his head plenty of times," she said after a few moments of spinning, trying to make sense of it all. "It's not like in the holos where you just get amnesia from bonking your head."

His tears finally lost their fight and fell from Boba's eyes. "I think they reconditioned him," he whispered. "He doesn't know because they made him forget. I… I don't know why. Kal told him that osik about the training accident while he was getting better and Dad told me to forget him because he was going to be a soldier again." His face crumpled and his shoulders slumped. "They took my brother from me and I don't know why."

"I'm sorry," Ahsoka whispered, knowing it wasn't nearly enough. She wrapped her aura around him like a warm copper blanket of safety-comfort and opened her arms.

Boba climbed into her lap like the child he pretended he wasn't and tucked his face into her neck, shuddering silently. His aura was throbbing like a wound with purple grief but there was also a thin blue ribbon of relief around the edges, and Ahsoka couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been holding that secret in.

Notes:

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS Resol'nare: Mandalorian code Mand'alor: Leader of Mandalore (not just the planet but all Mandalorian space) Ba'buir: Grandfather Chakaar: asshole Osik: shit Copaani kov'pelid: need a pillow? Shab/la: fuck/fucking Osikett'se: shitballs ori/vod/ika: big brother/brother/little brother Akay karase dar'hetti: until the stars no longer burn (mandalorian oath) Di'kut: dummy OTHER NOTES I don't plan on going very deep into the Galidraan/Jango being technically the heir to Mandalore thing outside of a few infodumps for context, but just as an fyi, timeline's been adjusted to make it a little more logical. Jango was in his 20s when he took over the True Mandalorians (because like… this isn't Game of Thrones, a 14 year old ain't taking over a battalion of supercommandos, sorry), Galidraan happened 11 years before Geonosis, not 22, and he wasn't enslaved as long as he was in Legends. Legends canon time again 😎 so apparently the Kaminoans did try to genetically engineer infertility into the clones, but "clone prototypes displayed much higher rates of mental instability, poor unit cohesion, an inability to adapt and think creatively, and decreased aggressiveness in battlefield simulations." so in this AU they give them vasectomies instead to prevent the proliferation of their superior genome into the disgusting normie galaxy 😃 but of course, vasectomies are only 99% effective *coughs* DARMAN *coughs* INTRODUCING KAISA AND CASSUS WOOOOOO. Both are ocs created by Squid_Ink, she is letting me play with them because she is lovely and you should all go check out her fic on Kaisa's backstory Tam-tam: a blue and pink quail-like bird native to Felucia known for laying up to 8 eggs a day depending on the moon cycle Shunka: canid species native to Shili (the dogs in Ahsoka's village from TOTJ)

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

#star wars #star wars fanfic #tivaevae #lamaenthel #ahsoka tano #boba fett #captain rex #plo koon #commander wolffe #arc trooper fives #arc trooper jesse #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #tcw #clone troopers #starwarsficnetwork #star wars tcw #mandalorian #jedi #my writing #dngg

[usafphantom2]

NATO intensifies patrols in the Baltic Sea after damage to submarine infrastructure

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 10/20/2023 - 4:00 p.m. in Military

NATO and the Allies are intensifying patrols in the Baltic Sea, following the recent damage caused to the region's submarine infrastructure.

The added measures include additional surveillance and reconnaissance flights, namely with maritime patrol aircraft, NATO AWACS aircraft and drones. A fleet of four NATO mine hunters is also being sent to the area.

“We continue to closely monitor the situation and are maintaining direct contact with our allies in Estonia and Finland, and with our partner Sweden,” said interim NATO spokesman Dylan White. “NATO will continue to adapt its maritime posture in the Baltic Sea and will take all necessary measures to keep the Allies safe.”

Since the sabotage of the Nord Stream in September 2022, NATO has intensified patrols near critical submarine infrastructure and promoted technological innovation - including with drones - to better detect any suspicious activity. Earlier this year, NATO created an underwater infrastructure coordination cell to deepen ties between governments, military, industrial actors and NATO, and since then created the NATO Maritime Center for the Security of Critical Underwater Infrastructures under the NATO Maritime Command.

Tags: Military AviationAWACSNATO - North Atlantic Treaty Organization

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[ctrsara]

Fanfic asks

Thanks to @mossrose10 for tagging me!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

83

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

665k

3. What fandoms do you write for?.

Only Marvel (so far) and mostly just Irondad.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emergency Contacts Flash gets a hold of Peter's phone at a party, and can only access the emergency contacts. Parker has a "Dad" listed in there, but Flash knows his dad died. As a joke, in the heat of the moment, he texts a ransom message to that contact. He didn't expect a very angry Iron Man to show up minutes later.

Cutting Remarks Peter Parker's field trip ends up being at Stark Industries, thanks to a little push from Pepper. Peter makes Tony promise to stay out of it, but Tony has never been great at keeping his distance. FRIDAY basically calls him a stalker. Kids are mean. Peter is self-sacrificing. You know, the usual.

Better Than I Was Rhodey makes it down to the Tower for a visit, and to meet the "intern" Tony has been so busy with, and is surprised by what he finds there.

Sick Day Shouldas Tony gets a call from Peter's school, asking him to pick Peter up because of a migraine, which turns out to be a result of his senses being haywire.

Outside Insights Since he had a head injury that prompted observation for 24 hours, Peter ends up having to shadow Tony as he attends to some SI business. It happens to be "Family Day," and lots of people are confused about the relationship between Mr. Stark and the kid he brought with him.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try hard to respond to every comment. But sometimes I get woefully behind! :( (Like right now!)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Do any of my fics have angsty endings? Not really... Maybe Near-Arctic Adventures would count with Rhodey's musings at the end, and looking at the series possibly ending in "Infinity War" happening.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings... I'm going to randomly pick Birthday Breakout.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far. A little constructive criticism here and there. :)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not. I don't usually read them either.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, though we've talked about it a bunch of times, haha. I've co-brainstormed a bunch, and written a few of those!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

The platonic Peter Parker & Tony Stark one is probably my favorite, but I've liked lots of them in the past. :) Lois/Clark in Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, Edward/Bella, Jasper/Alice, Spock/Uhura, (that was cheating, wasn't it...)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't have any WIPs I don't think I'll finish, unless it's the AU of my soulmates AU that I started. I don't know if I'll ever post it, therefore I'll probably never finish it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Grammar and spelling, attention to body language, fun dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Rambling about things that aren't that interesting, not great at cutting stuff out after I write it. (I'm crap at "killing my darlings.")

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do some in Italian for Peter and Tony in Hardly Coincidence and the rest of the soulmate universe, but I usually switch to English and just indicate that they're speaking Italian for anything very long. (It has also inspired me to study Italian on Duolingo though, and I have a 225 day streak!)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I tried writing a Pern fanfiction (Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders) at least 20 years ago. It wasn't good. I didn't make it past the first chapter, and didn't try again until I was almost 40...

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

How am I supposed to answer that? If I was cheating I'd pick the whole Strands in the Rope series, but maybe Visiting Hours is my favorite standalone.

No pressure tags: @fotibrit, @spagbol99, @asyouleft, @opal-earrings, @niniblack and @cajun-fangirl (and anyone else who wants to do it!!!)

#fanfic asks #author games #writer games #fanfiction

[nicklloydnow]

“‘The hope that political action will gradually humanise industrial society has given way to a determination to survive the general wreckage or, more modestly, to hold one’s own life together in the face of mounting pressures.” American historian and cultural critic Christopher Lasch’s pessimistic prognosis of the shifting relationship of individuals to society and to each other in The Minimal Self was published 40 years ago. It might have been written yesterday.

From the late 1970s, Lasch published a series of books, most notably The Culture of Narcissism, The Minimal Self and The Revolt of the Elites, that prefigured many contemporary debates, about culture wars, the rise of a “liberal elite”, the corrosiveness of individualism, the encroachment of the market into social life, the creation of a celebrity culture, the rise of a “therapeutic” mindset.

(…)

For Lasch, the combination of consumer capitalism, competitive individualism and the abandonment by radicals of campaigns for material change in favour of demands for cultural transformation, had led to the emergence of a new narcissistic personality type. Lasch did not mean narcissism in the colloquial sense, such as a Trump-like figure, bursting with “self-centredness, boastfulness, feelings of entitlement and a need for admiration”, as one profile put it. Rather, drawing on psychoanalysis, Lasch was describing an individual who could not distinguish between themselves and the world beyond and so came to “see the world as a mirror, more particularly as a projection of one’s own fears and desires”.

It was a beleaguered self rather than an overbearing one. “The new Narcissus,” Lasch wrote, “gazes at his own reflection, not so much in admiration as in unremitting search of flaws, signs of fatigue, decay”, seeking “relief from the burden of selfhood”. He described people as increasingly yearning for contact and intimacy with others, yet fearful of the pain of engagement.

(…)

Perhaps the current theme that speaks most to Laschian fears is the growing concern about what a report last year from the US surgeon general called “an epidemic of loneliness”, an alarming rise in the social disconnectedness of people. In Britain, Tracey Crouch was in 2018 appointed as Britain’s first minister for loneliness following a report from the Jo Cox commission on loneliness.

Against this background came a study last week that compared perceptions of loneliness among middle-aged people in the US and 13 European nations, examining data over the past two decades from surveys. It found, perhaps unsurprisingly, that Americans seemed the loneliest, followed by Britons. It is a finding that fits in with the general perception of Britain and the US as societies with the greatest stress on individualism and therefore more likely to nurture a sense of loneliness.

(…)

There is a deeper issue, too: the tendency to individualise social issues, whether poverty or unemployment, to view them as psychological dispositions or even as moral failure. Loneliness, too, is frequently framed as a psychological condition, or mental health problem, the product of narcissism or self-obsession.

Forty years ago, Lasch was trying to show how social changes were distorting relationships, and to describe people’s attempts to negotiate a new world. But his psychoanalytical eye often overwhelmed his social vision and what many took from his work was less his social critique than his delineation of a new, narcissistic personality type. The end point of his analysis (the emergence of a public disconnected from one another and so more self-centred) became, instead, the starting point for explanation – that people’s narcissism and self-obsession explained their disconnectedness and the erosion of communal bonds.

This is even more true today. Too much of contemporary discussion about the impact of social and technological changes on people’s psychology – from the influence of social media on the wellbeing of the young to the effect of hyper-individualism on our sense of self – fetishises the psychology at the expense of social analysis. We look for loneliness inside our heads when its source lies all around us, in the destruction of collective life, the erosion of communal bonds, the ruin of civil society, the squeezing of public spaces. We could do with obsessing less about personality types than about the obsession with the psychological at the expense of the social.”

#lonely #loneliness #chritopher lasch #lasch #psychoanalysis #culture #society

[hexenmeisterer]

Not Me politics+art links from Nuchy

here are some cool political/artistic Not Me things I’ve learned from scrolling through Nuchy’s twitter, and then watching this 2+ hour long english subbed interview with Nuchy and the two other writers of the show, Noolek and M:

The van liberation scene in episode 14 was heavily based on a real-life thing that happened (video of the real-life event is included in this tweet) (I haven’t found any info beyond this video, so if you know when/where it happened or have a news article about it or something please share, I’m so curious!) - Nuchy tweeted “The scene in the series seem to be like a miracle but actually it's  inspired by the true event. We cant film an extravaganza people chasing the van scene, so I changed to the pov of the gang in the van instead with a new perspective and artistic approach.” - Noolek tweeted (this one’s just run through google translate though) “You guys are our inspiration in this scene. The scene is gone and I cry every time I watch it. It triggers us a lot. We pecked ourselves with a million swearing in our heads. but when the fire has been ignited The candle flame will never be extinguished again. because sovereignty truly belongs to the people” - Nuchy held a Twitter Spaces event with Amnesty Thailand talking with families of victims of forced disappearance.

the speaker on the megaphone at the protest in ep 13 is Thatchapong Kaedum AKA Boy, a Thai activist who does a lot of work - against the Chana industrial project (”which includes the construction of industrial facilities, deep-sea ports, and biomass power plants. However, the approval was made without any local participation and many questioned the government for its lack of inclusion and transparency.") -in support of Karen people’s right to return to their homeland in Bong Kloi in the Kaeng Krachan forests in Thailand, after being violently displaced to create a national park there

... you may recognize the details of this story from a combination of Not Me plot points: a) the native people who were forced off the same land Tawi built his house on because they couldn’t “prove” residency on that land b) the diplomat interview question White gets about UNESCO refusing to grant world heritage site status because of Thailand’s human rights abuses-- this notably did NOT happen here-- UNESCO granted Kaeng Krachan Forest Complex a spot on the World Heritage List despite human rights advocates saying they shouldn’t.

Nuchy invited real activists to be part of the crowd in multiple protest scenes as well-- the crowd from that scene in ep 13 were from Talu Fah, a pro-democracy protest group, and the pride rally crowd were real LGBT activists.

The rainbow flag scene was not originally going to be a whole pride thing, it was going to be a mostly Tawi-centric protest. But then, like 3 days before they shot that scene, the Constitutional Court upheld section 1448, which defines marriage as only between a woman and a man, so Nuchy decided to gather up her LGBT activist contacts real quick to add in that element.

this June Nuchy shared a video from Thailand’s first official Pride parade in 16 years: people jumping and dancing under the flag just like the scene from Not Me 

Nuchy highlighted some artists featured in the series!: - Rap Against Dictatorship, from the scene where Eugene dances, are here on twitter and here’s an English-language article about their song “16 years” (I can’t find the lyrics translated into english sadly, but I do really like this song! and the article gives you a vague outline of what they’re talking about.) - Oat Montien, who did Yok’s art! He is a friend of Nuchy’s, and she mentioned she chose him because his art explored homoeroticism. He actually came on set and worked with First on how to pay attention like an artist would for his drawing scenes. - KNN.5 who did Namo’s art! - Baphoboyz, who did the UNAR art! 

Also: upcoming Nuchy projects!!

Forbidden, the first Thai-language HBO series, will be coming out sometime this year! it’s a supernatural thriller show directed by Nuchy and Josh Kim.

Nuchy will be directing a Hollywood film with producer Dean Altit and the writer JittiRain. The article says there will be one lead actor from America and one lead actor from Thailand!

#not me #not me the series #p'nuchy #anucha boonyawatana #thai politics #that interview is SO juicy this is just the politics + artist stuff from it #there's a bunch of detail about what it was like to produce the show #and tasty actor and character tidbits

[sharkneto]

pretending for a second that theoretical TUA S4 is going to be real, any predictions you wanna share about it whether its stuff you want or stuff you just think is gonna happen?

This feels like the perfect time to finally get around to answering this, with our now non-hypothetical S4 on the way!

I haven't thought too much about S4, just sort of rotating things in my head, microwaving them. The two thoughts I've really had are:

I want Abigail to be terrible. I want her to be even worse than Reggie. We can have a twist where she's kind and we think she's good with the Umbrellas but then BAM! she's been manipulating them the whole time. None of this "Oh, Reggie used to be such a good person before he was twisted by his grief to get his dead wife back", "oh, Abigail is Good and if only she hadn't been trapped in a box the Umbrellas would have had such a better life". No! I need her to be fucking evil. Please.

I'm really open to whatever the Umbrellas are doing with their New Normal Lives. They're bumbling along, they're figuring it out. I hope they're in contact with one another. What I want that to be for Five is a nice montage of him having no fucking clue what to do. Bouncing between siblings, trying hobbies, trying to figure out how he fits in the world as a 58-year-old-13-year-old, and failing badly at it. Around this, he's drinking. His liver may not see 14, it's a real problem. But like, how does a man that's lived the life Five has had just... Stop? Klaus said it S1, he's "addicted to the apocalypse", and I think it's more Five doesn't know how to live without the apocalypse, as much as he'd rather otherwise. Where I think this settles is eventually him finding a new purpose in investigating the monopoly Reggie seems to have over every industry in the world - he needs something and he doesn't trust Reggie.

A tangent of the above, the thing that Cannot Happen is Five in high school. I'm sorry to those of you who like those fics, that concept, you do you but I fucking hate it. It makes me so uncomfortable. I will riot if they do a "haha! he's a kid so he's in school!". He is a 58-year-old man, just give him his GED and be done with it. I'll beg, if that will help make this not happen. The flip side of this that I dislike but don't viscerally hate is Five doing some normal, adult job and no one is blinking an eye that he's a kid. Let there be an actual consequence to the fact he's a kid, because that is genuinely a very traumatizing thing to have have happened to him and it deserves at least some acknowledgement for how much that would fucking suck.

Adding an unplanned part four, in that I think it would be interesting if Allison is the only one still with her powers (until they do some whatever to get their powers back because there's no way they go an entire season with no powers). She's going to have a redemption, reunite with the siblings. I think there's going to be some Realizations on her end that she is not in the perfect life she thought she was when she got Ray and Claire - she's changed both their contexts and lives, there is going to be things that aren't Quite Right to the versions of them she knows. She loves them, they're real, but they are Different.

We're in uncharted territory with S4, no comic book we can read for the season to be very loosely based off of. It could be literally anything. But neat you wanted the few thoughts I've had about it :)

#thank you for the ask! #i feel like i need to rewatch s3 again to get a better handle on where everyone is in relation so one another for further thoughts about s4 #and to write that post s3 fic i keep poking at with five and allison #tua #ask response #shark's tua thoughts

[redandyellowziam]

Re: Zayn to Mercury and freedom.

So, what does this mean? In my opinion, freedom. In a cutthroat, devious business like the music industry, where significant profit reigns supreme, you do not let your golden goose your money train i.e., 1D just walk away with no strings attached. Especially with a contact still in place. The public was led to believe that Zayn left because of difficulties/differences within the band, and he went to RCA. Just like that? With no breach of contract lawsuit demanding millions from Zayn, really? Convenient that Sony is the parent company to RCA. The strings, money stays in house, narratives stay in place. They were not going to let him get away (and the profit he would generate) to another label they did not control.

So, Zayn recently returns to social media. He thanks his fans for their support. Pictures of him appear showing off his tattoos. It is noticed that a tattoo said to represent a passed relationship/narrative has been altered. Significant? Yes, the freedom to alter. Shortly thereafter, it is announced that he has signed with Mercury Records a subsidiary of Universal Music Group - UMG. Known to be the biggest label in the music industry, Sony is second. So, Sony lost Zayn to UMG not how they wanted this to go. The public narratives about the lads over a long period of time were supposed to make the members of 1D (except for Harry) less desirable and less profitable to competing labels. Harry, still with Sony is how they are able to maintain any significant profit for themselves after 1D refused to renew their contract with Sony/Simon. Harry is also, the exception that proves the rule. The shinny object that the public is supposed to focus on, rather than the sabotage they were conducting on the careers of the other lads. The classic divide and conquer. The vaunted 1D fanbase left in shambles. That was one of their goals.

So, Zayn now with Mercury, Liam with Capital but not without strings. The narratives remain. Both however, are under the same parent company of UMG. They have stated from the beginning that their musical tastes are very similar. Management stunted their musical expression while with 1D. They have both stated recently that new music is coming. The question is are they both free enough now to be seen together in public and free enough to collaborate with one another? Are they free enough to no longer need to hide behind lyrics and tattoos? Decipherable only to those who know the back story and are paying attention to what they are trying to say. Note that none of the tattoos that are said to represent their relationship with one another has been altered by either of them. As I sated in a post several months ago, I have subscribed to the view that there is a contractual obligation is in place that holds 1D in a managerial contract for up to 13 years. If this is true, the contract would end this year. This could explain all of the recent activity and anticipated actions to come. The question is how do you untangle this web of lies? These narratives. The most difficult being the "baby daddy" narratives.

It is my belief that the 1D saga is well known within the industry. The profit behemoth that 1D was demanded it. Everyone wanted a piece of them. What they could have been, and the sheer profit Sony/Simon could have garnered if they had managed 1D properly and respectfully would have been astounding. A primary reason why Sony/Simon parted ways, by the way. What Harry has been able to generate profit wise pales in comparison. The industry knows what they have been put through and what the relationships within the band are. As such, I believe that once their contract finally ends, they will have a great deal of support to reestablish themselves individually and if they desire it as a group and to correct the record. It could be as simple as letting the media know that they will no longer be allowed to ask about children or as complicated as a slow build through whispers of gossip from distant parties far removed from the 1D lads themselves to begin to ask questions about parentage. Thus exposing the false narrative. I don't know which way it will go but I don't believe that Louis, Liam and Zayn will allow this narrative to stand past the contact expiration date.

Unlucky 13, may turn out to be 1D's luckiest year of all. The year they finally find themselves no longer bond to a hideous contract. If so, let the collaborations begin. Looks to me like the next few months are going to be quite eventful, buckle up.

Oh you're back. Why?

I don't know if any of them are 'more' free these days, because it certainly doesn't feel like it. With Gigi and Selena (thank god) gone, I can't help but think that he'll get another beard. Isn't it always like this? They release new things and they get beards or pr sh*t to promote the music. Why should it be different now?

It's always the same thing, every damn time. '& with Liam commenting on Zayn's post. Why? What does he have to do for it to actually be happening? More stunting with Kate. A friendship narrative? No lol, we've been here before and it just feels wrong to hope for better things. And if Liam can do these things, why can't Zayn? Is he still 'untouchable'? Ridiculous

#shady

[blossom-adventures]

15 Questions!

I’ve been tagged by @thequeenofthewinter & @oblivions-dawn to answer these 15 questions, thank you for the tags my dears ☺️💙🌸

I’m going to tag… @bostoniangirl21 @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @seradyn @savage-rhi @andywinter16 & @hauntedadagium but there is absolutely no pressure to do this yourself, I hope you’re all ok and are having a good day ☺️💙

1. Are you named after anyone? I share my name with a famous TV character (which has helped some people spell it in the past) but no I am not named after them. Long story short… when my mum went to the doctors when she was pregnant with me, she heard another mum call out to their daughter, who had the same name, and she decided that day that she loved the name and wanted me to have it too

2. When was the last time you cried? Tuesday morning, a friend on here, that I’m meeting at KupoCon in September, offered me their spare ticket after I had a panic the night before (the ticket I had didn’t have access to meeting the guests) I was that shocked at the kindness they showed that I cried when I started explaining to my mum what had happened (they know who they are ☺️💙)

3. Do you have kids? No

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Noooooo… 😉 honestly though, yes, all the time. Sometimes though, people don’t realise I’m being sarcastic, which has lead me to have to explain it

5. What sports do you/have you played? I played football (soccer) for 5 years with a women’s team based in Derby, I was the teams goalkeeper, I enjoyed playing so much, but chose to finish when the manager and coach retired. I also played contact rugby for my last year at school, although my goalkeeping coach noticed I was catching a football like I would a rugby ball so he told me to finish that 😆

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people? I… don’t really “notice” things in that regard… however, if it’s a man, I’m generally being drawn to their arms… I’m very much an arm person 😉

7. Eye colour? Blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings? As some of you know from talking to me on streams, I am not a horror fan, I would much rather have a happy ending than a scary movie

9. Any special talents? I’m not bad at singing, I was in the school choir for 4 years. And I’ve been surprising myself just recently with my skill with textiles, sewing in particular

10. Where were you born? Nottingham, England

11. What are your hobbies? Reading, writing, video games, watching films and - at the moment at least - working on my cosplay

12. Do you have any pets? My dad kept fish, really big fish that we keep in the pond at the top of the garden, when he died, I said to my mum that I wanted to keep them… so I have a pond full of massive fish

13. How tall are you? 5’10”

14. Favourite subject in school? Photography

15. Dream job? Film industry, being a set decorator would be amazing! I love watching the behind the scenes of the Hobbit films (I have them on the extended edition of the films) and it’s so interesting to see all the sets and props

#blossom rambles #get to know blossom #💙🌸

[zet-sway]

I posted 1,641 times in 2022

225 posts created (14%)

1,416 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@callista-curations

@angstyastro

@hanar-spectre

@dr-ladybird

@pigeontheoneandonly

I tagged 1,458 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#shepard - 356 posts

#zet queue tag - 343 posts

#thane - 244 posts

#garrus - 190 posts

#femshep - 140 posts

#zet things - 120 posts

#q - 103 posts

#shrios - 90 posts

#shakarian - 80 posts

#shepard thirstposting - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀🍑👀

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

95 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#4

mass effect conspiracy theory time

Rakhana was not a barren world, the drell were not "saved" by the hanar, and the war on Rakhana was caused by hanar intervention.

DISCLAIMER: This is just headcanon. I am not intending to piss on anyone else's headcanons or ocs. These are my thoughts after revisiting the codex and comparing it to what Thane tells us.

"Our homeworld had few resources."

Rakhana is also said to have been "bursting at a population of 11 billion." For context, Earth has a population of 8 billion. If we assume Rakhana was a relatively earth-sized planet, their planet must have been fertile and resource-rich enough to support an earth-sized population.

That doesn't mean the drell weren't heading toward resource catastrophe. With their eidetic memory it's entirely likely they experienced a massive industrial boom that led to the acidification of their oceans and failed agriculture before they realized the consequences of their expansion. But to start with, they were likely living on a garden world with a hot, arid climate. I imagine Rakhana's typical geography was deserts and jungles.

They were headed toward a resource crisis, why wouldn't they need saving?

If aliens showed up to earth tomorrow and said they were going to save us from climate change, would you go with them? I imagine you'd have to be a special kind of desperate to trust them. The drell apparently though the same.

The codex says the hanar evacuated a little under 400,000 drell.

At a population of 11 billion, that means only 0.0036% of drell actually emigrated to Kahje.

Whether Rakhana was truly doomed to ruin or not, very few drell were keen to live on Kahje.

As a side note - It's also possible that the hanar simply didn't possess a fleet of ships large enough to evacuate more drell. That's why this is a headcanon post lol

How did the hanar cause the war on Rakhana?

I'm entering the realm of pure speculation here. I don't think the hanar even visited Rakhana for the benefit of the drell in the first place. I think they landed there because they detected artifacts of the "Enkindlers" (the protheans). The presence of prothean artifacts on Rakhana is not mentioned anywhere that I could find - I'm just making shit up at this point.

On surface level, first contact would have been an enormous and terrifying event for the drell. Literal aliens landed on their planet and even if the hanar opened with "we come in peace," they undoubtedly had greater technology capable of forcibly enacting their will on the drell.

To put it simply, I believe that hanar intervention was the straw that broke the camel's back. Nations that were already strained by Rakhana's overpopulation fought over how to respond to hanar visitors for years - the hanar evacuation of the drell is said to have lasted a decade. In the end, I believe the hanar accelerated the proverbial drell "doomsday clock" rather than delaying it.

Why does Thane insist the compact is not slavery?

Because he was taken from his parents at the age of six and fed revisionist history in an assassin training camp.

I would also like to point out that the codex says the drell were evacuated 200 ago, but Thane tells us it was "a century ago." This is such a glaring inconsistency that I'm inclined to believe it's a developer oversight. But it does make me wonder - how much of what we know of Rakhana is true?

TLDR the hanar are punks and I'm mad.

95 notes - Posted September 5, 2022

#3

What if calibrations is actually the name of a really popular mmo rpg in the mass effect universe and garrus is a level 190 sharpshooter selling carries under the username AriaTloaksFeetPix whenever we think he's calibrating the main gun

104 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

#2

See the full post

116 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Today on great things we talk about on discord:

What if every Mass Effect villain had a hoverboard like Saren?

The reapers enticing humanity to join their side by offering free hoverboards

Kai Leng car chase with hoverboard

Shepard's clone on a hoverboard: "lmao I'm you but cooler"

The Illusive Man's chair lifting off like a hoverboard

Husks on hoverboards

Geth platforms as hoverboards

A collector rides by on a hoverboard: "I know you feel this"

Marauder Shields intercepting Shepard at the beam with a hoverbaord

Donnel Udina on a hoverboard

116 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #Longest tag is 10000% on brand lmfao #long post

[incarnateirony]

Idk why everyone is so unpleasant here, your anons are rude and bitchy constantly and you're patronizing and angry at everyone. Is running this blog even fun anymore?

Incorrect. I am rude to whiny assholes and trolls that feel entitled to share nonsense opinions. I don't just bite. I rip their face and nuts off, kick them, then throw them in an acid container so nobody can find the body.

I'm actually a big puppy to anyone willing to learn. If this is some weird reverse psychology of like trying to jedi mind trick me into not blogging, good luck, chuck.

I do quite enjoy posting ratings, shows, teaching fun mythology, pulling back my old meta, making amends with folks like cyn I didn't get along with or jenn who came back to the server, or other recent rebuilt contacts that came back with apology or awareness. I love teaching people how the industry works, where the money goes, I love people who ask questions without thinking they have a gotcha that always ends up stupid. I love it.

And honestly? At this point? Yeah. I do love ripping off asshole faces. They got too comfortable, sat too long, abused too many people, and are now in meltdown mode realizing that while they were busy pissing around on twitter and annoying jensen with barn photo ops, other people were moving shit, and moving it hard, and it's about to move up their ass so far it comes out their mouth. And good. They can fucking leave. It's not just Robbie's revenge. It's not just Jensen's revenge.

This isn't some world of Everybody Pls Just Get Along. No, this is a world of a show that was directly designed to shred certain people's arguments ground up. This is a world where the old corporate shackles dropped, and new kids are making the rules, and these oblivious bitches didn't realize the pen that got built around them. And there's a few rabid bears about to be set loose in the enclosure. For after I tear their faces off. Just to make sure they smell the blood and go in for it.

Yeah. I'm havin a fuckin blast watching the motherfuckers that abused me and many others watch their worlds burn. For all the times they dismissed my friends hurt by the CW and tried to claim it was just about ship wars, for all the times they grazed over, or disregarded, or thought they could personally Wish away my history by badly doxxing me and, just like this Ari nonsense, not realizing it didn't prove a goddamn thing about production

(and, actually corroborated it, as I openly discussed my escape through texas with kids, my rebuilding, how I was talent scooped, the ongoing rebuilding struggle, and the days my blood ended on every wall, I was almost thrown off a balcony, and every product in my house was upside down. Trying to hold CPS against me in that case or the fact that I adopted my kids out so they didn't have to deal with that? That's legit psychopath shit. But yeah. Then. Around then. Congrats you found the period I said I ditched my media shit to flee the state to Not Die, great detective work)

yeah honestly. having the time of my life here laying on the floor while motherfuckers burn slowly and painfully. I put years of labor into that torment. First them not realizing nobody could hear their screaming; then not realizing the worst of their worst shit talking was fed to jensen as a pipeline that skewed him into spite shipping just to see their reactions LONG before he actually fell into the can in 15.18. But he started playing in season 13. cuz damn the looks on your faces. I've moved shit and pushed shit and blacklisted people and pulled levers and targeted boycotts and all kinds of shit. And now i just enjoy their screaming.

I love watching Suzanne be on her best behavior because the fear of god has finally been put into her.. Given that still comes with tequila, but nobody caught her opening it, threatening anyone, etc, so that's progress. You all keep that up you might get to cling to your shitty little corner of M&Gs nobody's even buying anymore. Enjoy your exclusive elite club of like 6 miserable assholes. I love watching my ravens distribute gifts raised by the hundred in unison while my crows fly in uniform.

Indeed. Best time of my life. Rarely does work pay off so well.