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soosthesoul · 1 year

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spoilers for part 2 murim arc +++

while i understand that the common take on sui is that by far he's more or less a flat character that the author doesn't really know what to do with and hence uses him as more or less of a laugh track — and while i think that's hilarious, i also think there's deefinitely a little more to it from where that came from.

i also desperately want you to keep in mind that almost everything that kim roksoo - now cale has learnt is directly from his experiences at team 1 under soohyuk - now sui's wing. we know this from the test at the sealed god's temple where cale had tried to communicate with his gang via sgt!krs using the cintamani. that poor boy was so awkward.. my sgrungly crimblo...

let's start with how he's introduced! he finds cale in orsena's duchy and they essentially just have a staring contest for a while before sui joins the party. i.. i am not going to lie, while i was a tiny bit disappointed that they didn't have an emotional reunion, a little reflection on their situation and dimensions as characters made me quickly realise that it was no time or position to have a touching re-contact with each other.

mainly, i think this is because sui khan is guilty. he lives with the guilt of leaving cale behind, and he lives with the guilt of knowing that he eventually has to ask for cale's help regarding his own bird clan — as briefly touched upon in one of the earlier chapters.

his existence in xiaolen was barely there, he'd mostly spent his time with the kids, and volunteered to go spying without even having to be asked — while this may be perceived with the idea that lee soo hyuk prided himself in his abilities of stealth, it's also...

"our little sui wanted some air." maybe i'm looking too deep into this, but it seems that even cale picks up on the fact that sui is restless and uneasy for whatever reason and used it to jab at him as a joke.

skipping forward to when cale had to choose a party for his trip to jungwon, he more or less truly did not require sui's presence there besides for the fact of moral support.

and i think.. sui picked up on that, because he suddenly has this air of mischief to him, and while i definitely don't think that he's by any means faking his laughter, i also think he's genuinely masking his worries, concern and guilt by throwing lighthearted jokes to jab at himself and at cale, more or less as a silent apology of sorts.

he's also mentioned to be by cale's side much more often, whether or not this is because cale is in the body of the weak kim roksoo, nobody really knows. but i think cale thinks that's the real reason.

and while i seriously might be looking too deeply into things; these three instances 100% stood out to me.

(forgive me for the off-quote as i am going off of angie's summaries + poor machine translation via google lens)

1. when the emperor of jungwon had asked cale his name, it's specifically mentioned that he glances at sui who nods his head to encourage him. cale then smiles and states that his name is cale henituse

2. when the whole gag of sui making up murim versions of the entire team's names were going on, it's mentioned that cale had originally thought sui was going to give cale the name "kim roksoo", and its further mentioned that sui paused before saying gae-il (as a joke) then settling with hae-il instead.

3. after that whole exchange is over, they'd joked around with each other, "young master kim", "noble warrior lee". further proceeding past this instance, cale's little shit switch finally turns on and he monologues about how he begins to ignore sui's comments and even contemplates if he should call sui "young warrior lee" instead.

now, don't look at me like i'm crazy, please!! cause i'm well aware these are more or less the most normal instances to mankind that yrh may have just put in here to keep the mood lighthearted. but since when has yrh ever written fluff without the underlying gut-wrenching angst? keke

i seriously think this exchange between the two is their whole "reunion" talk, between two clearly emotionally distanced men, between them who were once best friends, but are now still finding the middle ground to interact with each other. their care and trust in each other remains the same, perhaps has even grown greatly, but in order to avoid accidentally doing damage, they try to find their own little safespace in the dynamics they've created with each other in earth 1 before lee soo hyuk had passed on.

i think sui definitely is bottling up a lot of things he'd rather not say to his dongsaeng who is still definitely struggling and has his plate full with the concerns of his own family and other dimensions. i think sui will finally get the push he needs soon, and i think that rereading part 2 with sui's inevitable arc in mind will be a juicy heartbreaker due to all the subtle and nuanced instances the author littered here and there.

while i agree that murim arc is most certainly sort of dragging on in the last 5 or so chapters, i still really really enjoy the direction part 2 is going in, and am eagerly waiting for more. choi jungsoo's appearance is going to break me in 10 halves, i'm most certainly not ready.

here's to manifesting soos reunion on monday chapter 900! here's to law of the hunt already reaching a 100 chapters!!

tl;dr - sui is a pro at masking. the soos.. definitely need closure, and the foreshadowing of it happening soon is driving me insane enough to theorise about it!!

#i cant believe the soos are making me write those theory posts that i detest reading..#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf lee soo hyuk #cale henituse #tcf #tcf choi jung soo #lee soo hyuk #tcf spoilers #tcf part 2

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y-rhywbeth2 · 5 months

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Is there any thoughts and musings around Vel and the other chosen of Bhaal (idk if you keep the choice of Torlin Silvershield or not!)

(I should probably note that I would prefer never to read Murder in Baldur's Gate and am basing my headcanons and understanding of the characters on their wiki page alone)

Running on the assumption that Bhaal returned at his original status of Intermediate Power before the end of the Second Sundering, and was capable of having more than one Chosen, I'd have that category include Torlin Silvershield, Rilsa Rael, Orin the Red and Vel himself, all empowered in 1482 DR. I guess it'd be hard to include Ulder and keep it canon compliant, but I do think it'd be funny for Vel to be aware of that Bhaal considered it - would Wyll or Ulder ever believe him? Probably not. But he remembers... The Dark Urge is described alternatively as Bhaal's avatar and his prophet, so I assume Vel was warned before hand and prepared for both Bhaal's return and the potential candidates for his chosen.

Vel's general opinion on the concept of other Chosen, regardless of who they are, is that they aren't any different from any other servant of his Father. They are favoured, and high ranking and he expects them to serve the interests of the church and their god above all other things - and answer to him. As Bhaal's walking avatar upon the mortal world, obviously he outranks them. His relationships remain personal and professional, regardless of his own opinion on them as a person. He does look down on Torlin and Rilsa a bit, because they're not true faithful, but whatever. It's not for him to question Bhaal's will in deciding who serves him... even if he is killing and mutilating Torlin in his mind every time he perceives him.

I'm thinking that both Torlin and Rilsa were allied to the Bhaalist cult before Bhaal's return, and lived their lives indirectly (even unknowingly) strengthening the deity and his temple.

Starting with Grand Duke Silvershield: Torlin would have told you that they were such very good chums, and he would've believed it. Vel would smile politely and tell you the same thing, while stabbing him in his mind. Growing up below the poverty line, then being homeless between the ages 8-15 and so desperate for food he was driven to discover the joys of cannibalism (unaware of the fact that he can't actually starve to death) has certainly not given him a chip on his shoulder about the rich and powerful, nor has he ever taken "eat the rich" literally. Nope.

Torlin ties in nicely to my headcanon about the Bhaalists running red rooms in the Undercellar; a headcanon slightly inspired by Pillars of Eternity, where there was a performing troupe doing literal snuff plays for depraved nobles who could hide behind their wealth and privilege. Torlin was introduced to Vel and Bhaal when he was young, visiting the Undercellar to bask in its bad reputation and look edgy and grown up, as teenagers do. Unlike some of his friends, Torlin's interest of the sick, evil crap that was rumoured to be happening down there was genuine. The Bhaalists use divination magic like detect thoughts and detect alignment in order to pick out potential clients/converts in the crowd (as well as trading notes with the Loviatans and the Sharessans (more discreetly) for who amongst their clientele really likes the bad stuff).

And they picked up on Torlin, and a nice heavily veiled person offered him a mask and asked him if he'd like to see a private show, because he seems like he'd really fit in with their exclusive clientele, and edgy, genuinely kind of fucked up teenage Toril agrees. (It's ok! the "guest actors" are all criminals, monsters, vagrants, adventurers... nobody "important.")

As far as Vel was concerned, Torlin was evidence that the world was an inherently terrible place when you look closely enough, and he was doing people a favour by sparing them from living in it.

And so the future Grand Duke grew up visiting red rooms and snuff plays and maintaining an interesting circle of friends, who he was happy to help make even more connections in government. He often mentioned during his little chats with Vel in his drawing room about a young man making waves amongst the halls of power, incredible knack for invention young Enver has... Vel made a note to keep an eye on him in case Gortash became somebody useful, or a hinderance, but mostly ignored this.

As far as my own canon goes, Torlin retained Gond as his patron deity, and was genuinely Master of the Hall of Wonder, but he certainly worshipped Bhaal through his actions and was a great friend to his temple. When he died, the temple saluted his memory during the Feast of the Moon that year - Vel was uncharacteristically enthusiastic about it.

Rilsa was a little more on Vel's level, though he'd loooong since given into depression and stopped giving a shit about anything except the pleasure Bhaal could give him. He lost her idealism and belief that getting rid of those in power would do anything at all to improve things before he hit 20, but hey, she's happy to work with and be sponsored by the shady assassins and we do so admire a creative butcher. He certainly wasn't above using his miserable childhood experiences and legitimate bitterness and dislike of the wealthy to play on her sympathies and get her to see him as an ally. If they'd met when he was young, he would've seen her as a genuine ally.

And Rilsa did see him as an ally, she maybe wasn't completely up to date on what her allies were (beyond one of those oddball cults who refuse to move on after their gods' deaths) but they were very useful. Any maybe they did tend to push her towards the more murderous options now and then... Rilsa maybe enjoyed killing and hurting the oppressive classes a little more than was healthy.

Where Torlin was an advantage in getting the temple connections and worshippers in the upper ranks, Rilsa was one of their best connections on the street level.

Rilsa, an idealist willing to take creative and "ruthless" measures in achieving her goals, often worked with the crazy murder cultists worshipping their dead god. She provided the Garden of Whispers for the Bhaalists to have their clandestine meetings in, when the Undercellar or the Undercity weren't ideal. The unofficial public forums in the Calim Jewel Emporium were useful for identifying sacrificial targets who had pissed everybody off so much that wouldn't make too many waves - some would even put you in public favour if you offed them.

The fact that she was buddies with Ettvard Needle and may have been able to sway his opinion before writing incriminating things about her allies certainly helped in making her allies fond of her.

Rilsa doesn't strike me as the type who'd work well in the temple for the long run (too much cosying up to nobility and preying on the poor and powerless), so I'd guess that Bhaal withdrew his power and revoked her Chosen status after the Sundering was done. She might still be an ally, if she's not aware of the Bhaalist's other friends.

Between Torlin pulling the strings in the halls of power, and Rilsa disrupting law enforcement, the two of them (unwittingly) managed to work together to secure Bhaalist holds on the watch and the Flaming Fist.

Ulder Ravenguard, obviously, never became a Chosen, but he could've been. He didn't become one, so Vel never paid him any attention, and post-game Vel and Bhaal aren't on speaking terms and Vel doesn't live in Baldur's Gate anymore, so it's not his problem. He still has to bite his tongue and fight to roll his eyes at the mention of the man and his virtuous nature.

Ulder remains blissfully oblivious to all this.

Orin would be in her own category, which would come with content warnings for horrible fucked up shit that comes from being raised in a cult with a fixation on keeping holy bloodlines "pure" that neither of them were happy about.

Mostly their relationship consisted of Vel ignoring her (he did not expect her to live to adulthood) and little Orin trying to get his attention/upstage him for Bhaal's attention and accidentally gaining a smidgeon of Vel's condescending respect/affection for her drive, skill and attitude (she doesn't care - die and acknowledge my worth, damn you!)

I'm so proud of her for stabbing him.

#Ulder Ravenguard; Chosen of Bhaal is a hilarious concept #OCs #Vel #long post #the problem with long posts is that it starts to be hard to track what I have or haven't said and whether it's on topic #edgelord hours

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lunarosewood23 · 2 years

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FFXIVWrite2022 Prompt 6: Onerous

Melisie Valhourdin can see her son suffering, and wants to do what she can to ease his burden.

Content Warnings: Talk of depression and bad mental health. I have a lot of sad HCs for Zephirin that I have been doing my best to portray them as realistically as I can.

Note: FT my personal HC of Zephirin’s mother, who I have decided is alive bc why not? This is what she looks like!! Also mentions @inkblood-mistrieu’s lady Kaia Jiang, who we ship with Zephirin.

~~~

“Mother, I'm fine. What is it you need?” Zephirin asked while trying to wave off his mother’s concerns.

Melisie sighed and rubbed her temple, her son had gained many of his father’s traits, his overwhelming devotion to those he loves and his desire to do good.

He had also gained his father’s stubbornness, and his need to value his worth by his usefulness to others, even at the cost of his own health and sanity.

“You’re not alright my boy, I know you’re not. I’ve been trying to not press on it because I know Kaia’s been helping you, but it’s clear that you’ve been dealing with a great deal, and I wish not to make your burden more onerous.” Melisie replied as she pulled her son into a hug.

Zephirin sighed, sometimes he hated how easily the people closest to him could so easily read him. It had been difficult lately, there was work in the forge that he needed to do and he still had to adhere to whatever social obligations his mother needed of him, to spending time with his friends and making sure they were alright after everything.

And of course, of bloody course, all this had to come while in a series of Bad Days, or what he referred to when the weight of everything that had happened was too heavy to just throw into the back of his mind and ignore. Talking with Kaia had been helpful and he started to recognize when his depression was creeping up, but he also had been slipping back into old habits of trying to take on everything at once because he felt like he was obligated to. That if he said no he was letting people down.

And it was especially hard to say no to his mother.

“I’ve been dealing with my own issues, but it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with Mother, I promise.” He explained, trying to downplay it so she wouldn’t worry too much, but he could see she wasn’t buying it.

"Zephirin. My boy, my sweet sunset wind." Melisie soothed as she squeezed him in a tight hug. "No obligations are worth losing yourself. You deserve rest too. I wish you would tell me no to my nonsense more often. I can see that you're miserable."

"The thing is mother, is that I don't mind attending, at least not for the acceptable time allowed, especially when I'm prepared to deal with it. When I feel normal enough to function that is..." He replies with a sigh, and then clenches his fist. "When I'm most miserable I'm more often than not having to bite my tongue because the nobles continue to shamelessly slander Kaia’s good name, listen to them claim that she seduced me and paint me as though I do not know what I want in a partner and have no agency in my life."

Melisie was startled as he continued. "I don’t care for any words said against me, they can scream and shout their baseless slander all day and it wouldn't phase me. But Kaia...Kaia is my world, and on my honor as a knight I won't let anyone speak ill of the woman whose presence has given me peace, joy, and safety.”

Melisie couldn’t help but smile at how her boy spoke of the woman he loved, but schooled her face as she processed his words. “If you’re able, point them out to me at the next outing.”

“Mother, it's really not worth it.”

“It absolutely is. Nobody is going to speak so ill of my daughter. I want to ensure that they know it is far more of an onerous task to cause such trouble in my house.”

#FFXIVWrite2022 #Melisie de Valhourdin #Zephirin de Valhourdin #TW: talk of depression #Funfact! Melisie calls Zephirin her sunset wind bc I HC he was born at sunset in late spring/early summer!

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woulddieforloki · 2 years

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oh btw I have decided that Taylor Swift's new song Carolina is about Loki post-Thor (2011) on his own on the run and trying to make it in the cold abyss of space and his journey into becoming who he was in The Avengers (2012) and Carolina itself is a euphemism for Asgard and here is why:

"Lost I was born, lonesome I came, lonesome I'll always stay."

Loki was lost in Jotunheim. Like there was a solid chance Laufey left him in the temple to come back for him after the war, but as far as Loki's concerned, he was lost the moment he was left there. He's been alone since day one, and now he's alone again in space.

"And you didn't see me here. No, you never saw me."

Because he's on the run. He's royalty of two realms, and, perhaps more importantly, he's a wanted criminal in two realms. He can't let anybody know who he is. He can't let them take him back. Not now that he knows he's unloved and unwanted by the people he once called family.

"And she's in my dreams..."

Frigga, the only person who loves him, the only person he loves back, whom he can never return to but he can never forget

"I make a fist; I'll make it count."

Loki learning to fight back. When Thor told Darcy "space is good," he fucking lied. Space sucks. Space had bad guys. Space had Thanos and the Other — and space has people like Loki; terrified, alone, and willing to do anything to stay alive. And that means fighting. It means constantly being aware of your surroundings and ready to lash out at a moment's notice.

"Indelible scars, pivotal marks, blue as the life she fled."

He fled his life in Asgard, and it's left scars on his heart and in his mind — marks that have changed the course of his life and led him here.

and then there's a long break for the chorus and the bridge and the ooohs and nothing new happens in the song because it's just more of the same, and then there's a pause in the music. and then it comes back.

"Carolina knows why for years they've said that I was guilty as sin, and sleep in a liar's bed."

Because he's been out there for so long, long enough that he's lost track of time, lost track of who he is, and all he knows is that Carolina — Asgard — thinks he's guilty.

"But the sleep comes fast, and I'll meet no ghosts."

He may sleep in a liar's bed, but he doesn't care. It doesn't bother him. He won't meet any ghosts. He won't feel any guilt. This is his life now. He's come to accept it.

"It's between me, the sand and the sea, Carolina knows."

And that's his the song ends. Nobody knows what's happened to him. Nobody will ever know what's happened to him. It's between him and the worlds he's traveled, and he'll never tell another soul.

#Taylor Swift #where the crawdads sing #loki #loki laufeyson #loki meta #thor (2011)#the avengers (2012)#back on my bullshit #go listen to the song it's hauntingly beautiful

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 2 years

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 3 * PART 2 * BOOK 57 Water and Blood - Part 2 I John 5:1-7 Okay, we’re going to go right back into I John chapter 5, and we’ll probably pick up verses 3 and 4 somewhere in there. For those of you again joining us on television, we want to thank you. We just can’t get over how you support us, not only with your prayers but with your financial help. We appreciate your letters. We know there are a lot of folks out there that are hurting. And we appreciate your prayer requests and the knowledge that you’re praying for us as well. For those of you who don’t know, we’re just an informal Bible study and we’re just going to keep on going verse-by-verse and I don’t teach with any denominational slant, or any heavy hand of trying to please somebody. We have been fortunate so far. We do not get a lot of flack. And if I do, why there’s not much I can do about it. Okay, I John chapter 5 verse 3. I John 5:3 "For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments: and his commandments are not grievous." Now we can certainly agree with that. God never lays something on us that is unbearable or anything like that but I’m going to give you another crutch to lean on - that this is still all part and parcel of the Jewish program; these are Jewish believers to whom James and Peter and John are writing. Come back with me to Matthew 19 verse 16. And remember what you just read, as this is the whole idea of teaching - I’ve got to keep your mind on what we’re talking about. John writes back there that "we keep His commandments." Now look what Jesus speaks in His earthly ministry, which is under the same Gospel of the Kingdom that John is writing from. This is still to Israel under the Law. Remember the Temple is operating, and nobody has ever been told to stop Temple worship, or to stop the sacrifices. That’s all continuing as it has been from way back in the Old Testament. Remember the Four Gospels are just an extension of the Old Testament to fulfill the prophecies concerning Christ that were foretold by the Old Testament prophets. Matthew 19:16-17 "And, behold, one came and said unto him, Good master, what good things shall I do, that I may have eternal life? 17. And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good? there is none good but one, that is, God: (that I can’t quite comprehend, why Jesus said that. I don’t have the answer for it. But this part I can) but (Jesus said) if thou wilt enter into life, (that is eternal life, what was it?) keep the commandments." Keep the Law. Now that’s as plain as English can get it. There’s no strings attached. It’s just, "keep the Law." And that’s what every good Jew understood. And Jesus didn’t change any of that for the Jew. Keep the Commandments. All right, now come back to John’s little letter again and we’re under that same set of circumstances - that we’re dealing with Jews who have been saved by believing that Jesus of Nazareth was that Promised Messiah. And that He was now getting ready to come back and set up His Kingdom. You know I read an interesting little anecdote some place (you know I read a lot. I’ve got three or four news magazines). But somebody had suggested to Time Magazine (I think) that they put Muhammad and Jesus Christ as the men of the year. And Time Magazine’s response was, "We never put dead people on the cover – although (he says) the one is coming back." That surprised me. So anyway, sometimes things surprise you! But here we have these Jews now believing for salvation, that Jesus was Who He said He was. They’re trusting that "Name" of Jesus as their Messiah and they’re getting ready for the coming Tribulation; but following that they’d have the Kingdom and all the glories of it. And it was going to be worth the suffering. All right, so now John, right along with James and Peter, is admonishing these Jewish believers on how to enhance their belief system. All right, now then verse 4. I John 5:4a "For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world:.…"

Now I went back into my Strong’s concordance the other night, because I had something "ringing" up here. Paul never uses the word "overcome" like Peter, James and John do. And when you get into Revelation and the church letters, you see it over and over and over. "He that overcometh. He that overcometh." Paul doesn’t use the word. Now he does use it once - that through our Christian experience we can overcome the temptations of the world. But he never uses it in the same light that these Jewish writers use it. And so here it is again, that if this Jew is born of God by virtue of having believed Who Jesus of Nazareth really was, he would be an overcomer. And you can just take your own concordance tonight or whenever, and just check me out, that all through these Jewish writings; it’s a rather common word. Overcome. Look at verse 4 again. I John 5:4 "For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." Now here’s where I always have to stop and repeat and repeat and repeat. You have to remember that from the very onset of the human experience, the only way to be restored into fellowship with God, or to receive His cloak of righteousness was by what? Faith. It’s always been the key. You take Hebrews chapter 11, goes all the way back to Abel, "by faith he offered a more excellent sacrifice than Cain." Noah, "by faith, when he was told of the deluge to come, built the Ark." Abraham, "by faith when he was told to leave Ur. He left!." Israel, "by faith went through the Red Sea." And so it’s always been by faith. But, there have been other strings attached. It wasn’t like it for us today – Faith plus Nothing! And then let God do all the ‘doing.’ Before the Church Age, they had to enter in by faith and then ‘do’ what was required. Now this whole concept as we saw with the rich young ruler in Matthew 19, "what must I do." See that was typical Jewish language as well. Come all the way back with me to Exodus 19 where I can find one of them. I just want you to see how that from day one the Nation of Israel has been stuck on that premise – what do we have to do? And that was the language of the rich young ruler. "Good Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" And Jesus said, "Keep the Commandments." Well that was appropriate in that dispensation or administration. All right, but now look in Exodus. They’ve just come out of Egypt, and they’re gathered around Mount Sinai. Exodus 19:7-8 "And Moses came and called for the elders of the people, and he laid before their faces all these words which the LORD commanded him. (Now watch it.) 8. And all the people answered together, and said, All that the LORD hath spoken we will (what?) do. (we’ll do it! You just tell us and we’ll do it. Little did they know that that was impossible) And Moses returned the words of the people unto the LORD." And of course, the Lord was merciful enough to accept that promise, knowing that they would never do it. All right, now then, let’s flip once again to I John chapter 5, now verse 5. Now here get ready for a Pauline run again. I’m going to take you back because I want you to see constantly the comparison now. Here we have John the Apostle who wrote John’s Gospel, who wrote the book of Revelation, and all of that is tied to what we saw in the last program, it was in that agreement that James and Peter and John would continue only with the Nation of Israel and so all their writings are directed to the Nation of Israel, and the Scriptures never showed they ever broke that agreement with Paul and Barnabas. Now we can glean from it their writings. You know I love to teach Revelation. There’s a lot of interesting things. But I’ll never teach it as Church doctrine. It’s Israel’s future. All right, but now look at this verse. Verse 5. I John 5:5a "Who is he that overcometh the world,…." Now remember, what is the word ‘overcometh’ implying back here in I John? A salvation experience. To overcome was to gain salvation. All right, so verse 5 again.

I John 5:5 "Who is he that overcometh the world, (who gains salvation?) but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" No other strings attached. Now that’s why in the last program I started off the afternoon with Paul’s Gospel. This isn’t Paul’s Gospel, but rather the Kingdom Gospel for Israel. Now this is the very first part of it. Naturally it’s implied, when Paul writes in I Corinthians that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures. Who was Christ? The Son of God. Absolutely. That’s implied. That’s a given. But you see, where John stops Paul’s Gospel keeps on going. It’s not enough today to believe just Who Jesus was, and is. We now have to look at the finished work of the cross. And again like I said in the last program - recently I was reading a several step process of salvation - it never once mentioned the cross. Never mentioned His resurrection. Never mentioned His shed blood. Well, like I said last program, we hope that God is merciful and will somehow be able to see that they’ve got faith enough to believe. But I’m not going to sit here and say they will. Because I think God is absolute and when He says we have to believe that Christ died and rose from the dead, I think that’s what we have to believe. And you can’t take away from it. You can’t add to it. All right, but read it again, and you won’t see any of that I mentioned, and what is in Paul’s Gospel for the Church. I John 5:5 "Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?" Now we did this just a couple of programs ago, but I’m going to do it again because I want you folks out there in our television audience to know how all of this fits so perfectly if you leave it where it belongs and don’t try and mix it all up and do what most of Christendom does. They put the whole Word of God into a symbolic blender, they turn it up on high. They make a total mush of it all. And then they pick out what they like. And then they wonder why people get spiritually sick to their stomach. In fact I read a book a couple years ago, written by a fellow over here in Oklahoma City. "Why So Many Churches?" Well that was the answer, because Christendom has totally mixed up all the Scriptures. Picked here and picked there. One denomination says I can use this verse and I can use that verse. I can’t use that one. Well, the other denomination comes along and says but that’s the one I lean on. Well, you can just see how it just causes all these various interpretations - whereas if they would just simply divide it as I hope to do, there’s not a lot of room for argument. It’s as plain as you can get it – that it’s not by works. (Romans 4:5) It’s not by doing. It’s by believing that Christ has done it all. But that’s not the way it always was. That didn’t start until Paul was revealed all the mysteries and truths by the risen Lord. In fact, as I’ve shared with you before on several occasions, when Paul tells us, "To rightly divide the Word," Paul is telling us to separate the epistles he wrote from the rest of the Book. And when you do that and don’t mix and match with other Scriptures, then you’ve got it right - then there really can just be one True church, "The Body of Christ." All right, come back with me again. Like I said, we did it here a few programs back, but we’re going to do it quickly again. Matthew 16, and I’ll have to do it every time I see that Peter, James and John merely speak of believing Who Jesus was. Because that’s exactly what Peter says. Matthew 16. My, some of you should be able to do this in your sleep. Matthew 16 starting at verse 13; the end of Christ’s earthly ministry up there in northern Israel, north of Galilee, Caesarea Philippi, way up at the headwaters of the Jordan. And at that point He says to the Disciples: Matthew 16:13b-14 "…Whom do men say that I the Son of man am? 14. And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets." Now, again,

can you imagine how disappointed the Lord would be (except that He was God, He knew that this is the way it would be, but) from His human standpoint, how disappointing, that after three years of miracles and signs and wonders they should have all known Who He was. They had the Scriptures; they had the Old Testament. They should have known that this was the promised Messiah. But instead of that, look at the answers. "Oh, some think you’re John the Baptist." Well, John the Baptist had been beheaded a long time ago. "Some think you’re one of the prophets." They, too, had been dead for a long time. "Some think you’re Jeremiah or Elijah." Ridiculous! So then look at verse 15. Matthew 16:15 "He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?" Do you guys know any better? All right, then Peter answers. Now watch how this fits perfectly with what we just read in I John – word for word. Matthew 16:16 "And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." Identical! Now why can’t people see that? I can’t comprehend it when it’s so plain that Peter says the very same thing in Christ’s earthly ministry that John is now repeating to these Jewish believers back there in his little epistle. But we’re finding so many don’t have a clue - the difference between the Gospel of the Kingdom they preached to the Nation of Israel, and the Gospel of Grace that Paul preached to us. Now if it was all mixed up in different languages, then I could understand. But when it’s plain English. The same words. "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God." Now I trust you all know what the Christ was. That was the Messiah. The Promised One, out of the Old Testament promises. The Son of David Who would come and rule and be King over all the earth. That’s what they were looking for. All right, come on over to John’s Gospel, chapter 11, and again the setting. Lazarus has died (the brother of the two sisters) - a household where Jesus no doubt spent a lot of time. He loved Mary and Martha and Lazarus. But He had purposely left. He had purposely permitted Lazarus to die because He knew that He was going to raise him from the dead as another one of His miracles. But, Martha doesn’t know that. And so she’s rather upset. Verse 21, if you wonder where I get that idea. Can’t you just hear her? John 11:21 "Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died." You see that? "Why weren’t you here? Why were you someplace else?" But he died. Well, Jesus of course says, that it was for a purpose. All right, now verse 22, but Martha says: John 11:22-26 "But I know, that even now, whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God will give it thee. (she knew that Jesus had the power. She knew Who He was.) 23. Jesus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. 24. Martha saith unto him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day. 25. Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: 26. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?" Well does He say anything about the cross? Of course not. Hasn’t happened yet. They had no idea He was going to be crucified. All right, but now continue on. When He says, "Do you believe this?" Now here’s her answer, and again, almost word for word with Peter and I John. John 11:27 "She saith unto him, Yea, Lord: I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the world." Now a little different wording but the same words. "I believe thou art the Christ the Son of the Living God." And again Jesus gives His stamp of approval. All right, I can go on, but that’s probably sufficient for now, but you see that’s the whole idea of the Jews recognizing Him. Okay, I’ve got another one. Acts chapter 3. You people who want to share these things, practice on somebody. Just sit down and go through these verses so that you can show it. My, we had the sweetest letter again yesterday.

And Laura’s already told us this morning, she thinks it ought to be in our newsletter. We’ll delete the personal part, but here this 38 year-old young mother - in fact a lot of you have met her - she and the family were here at taping a while back, and she’s decrying the fact, "Why didn’t anybody ever share the Gospel of salvation with her?’ But no one did. And she was pretty sure that some of her friends should have known. And what a letter of condemnation to the average Christian, who never, never even try to share their faith. But nevertheless, evidently the Lord knew I was ready and that’s when she happened to catch my program and within a matter of one or two programs that gal was saved and out of her religious background and, my, what an instrument she’s become. But, what a sad commentary that here she’d reached the age of 38 and not one of her friends whom she feels were probably believers, ever approached her about the subject. And I imagine that’s typical all across America. What a sad commentary. Well, I’ve always blamed it on the fact that most believers are so ill-equipped; they are so basically ignorant of the Scriptures that they’re afraid to say anything. And they’re afraid they’ll get hooked with a question they can’t answer. So my whole idea is – teach and teach and teach. Repeat and repeat and repeat. So that you’ll be comfortable sharing these things. You know I’ve always used the simple old illustration. If there’s something wrong with your car and you know there’s something wrong but you really can’t figure it out on your own, but you’ve got a good friend who is a tremendous mechanic - well, as a friend, you could go and ask that guy "What’s the matter with my car?" Would he shrink back and shut up, ashamed of the fact that he was a mechanic? No! He’s going to lay it out, everything he knows and he’s going to be proud of the fact that he can tell you what’s wrong. Now that’s the way we believers have to be. We have to be ready to show people from the Word. Not from what we ‘think.’ Doesn’t make a nickel’s worth of difference what I think or you think or anybody else thinks. What does the Book say? That’s what counts. All right, now here it is in Acts chapter 3, and Peter has just healed the lame man - a fellow who laid at the Temple gate all during Christ’s earthly ministry and Jesus didn’t heal him. But now Peter, James and John going up to the Temple, still in Temple worship, they go at the ninth hour, the hour of prayer, and this fellow gets their attention and you know the account. They heal him. And he’s jumping and leaping for joy. All right, all the Jews now, here it is just a few weeks after Christ’s earthly ministry, are full of consternation. What did you guys do to raise this lame man? And, of course, that upset Peter - why should they be so full of consternation that they had healed the lame man. And so now he comes on and he explains; and let’s just jump in at verse 12: Acts 3:12-15 "And when Peter saw it, (that is the great wondering of the Jews up there in verse 11) he answered unto the people, Ye men of Israel, why marvel ye at this? or why look ye so earnestly on us, as though by our power or holiness we had made this man to walk? 13. The God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob, the God of our fathers, (see how Jewish this is?) hath glorified his Son Jesus; whom ye delivered up, and denied him in the presence of Pilate, when he was determined to let him go. 14. But ye denied the Holy One and the Just, and desired a murderer to be granted unto you; 15. And killed the Prince of life, (now remember this is Peter speaking) whom God hath raised from the dead; (not for your salvation, but to fulfill the promises that He could still be the King. All right) whereof we are witnesses." Now here comes the whole crux of the afternoon, on what basis was this man healed? Acts 3:16a "And his name through faith in his name hath made this man strong,.…" Not a word about the cross. Not a word about the shed blood.

Not a word about the Body of Christ. Not a word about the indwelling Holy Spirit. This is all Jewish. And so you don’t bring Church language in here. You fly in the face of Scripture when you do. But all this man believed was that this Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God, the Messiah of Israel. And on that basis Peter was able to heal him. But what I wanted you to see was, what did he place his faith in? Not a death, burial and resurrection. He placed his faith in the "name of Jesus of Nazareth." All right, now let me bring you back to John’s Gospel chapter 3. And in the words of the Lord Jesus Himself, see if that doesn’t fit the same scenario. And, again, whenever you read these verses, always be looking - is there anything about this work of the cross that we must believe for our salvation during this age of Grace? Is there anything about the death, burial and resurrection? Is there anything concerning His shed blood for our price of redemption? No. But rather it’s just to prove it Who Jesus really was and that’s all the Nation of Israel had to believe with all their heart for salvation. John 3:16-18 "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. 17. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved. 18. He that believeth on him is not condemned: but he that believeth not is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God." See how it all fits?

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beck-a-leck · 2 years

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I needed 3 business days to recover emotionally and mentally from Episode 5 of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and truth be told I'm still reeling from the episode every time I think about it (or rewatch it lmao) but I still got the chapter done for it!

Somehow, possibly, I made an already emotionally devastating story worse with more angst and pain. 😭

Snippet from the chapter below the cut for spoilers

“If this is you stalling for time, it won’t work. Lord Vader will have you at any cost.” Have him not Leia. Which meant Vader hadn’t seen her, didn’t know. Obi-Wan swallowed, and said, “You mean Anakin? You knew who Lord Vader was. Back on Daiyu, how did you know that?” Obi-wan had been paying attention over the last couple days. Nobody called Vader by her name, nobody even referred to her with female pronouns. As far as the Empire and The Way was concerned, Darth Vader was a ‘he.’ “Vader has kept her past hidden. And you’re too young to have known her. Unless…” The realization dawned on Obi-Wan suddenly. There were so few people alive these days who had known Anakin Skywalker’s true fate. “You were there. That’s how you knew, you were there the night of Order 66. You saw her!” “Stop.” Horrified and thrilled and sickened at the memory, at the pieces he had put together, Obi-Wan kept talking. “She killed the others. She killed the younglings. But you survived. You –” “Enough!” The Inquisitor was quiet for a long moment, and Obi-Wan did not break the silence. In a quiet, almost broken voice, she said, “We thought she was there to help us. Anakin Skywalker, the hero. Come back to save us. She was always so nice to us, and then…” Another long pause. “I couldn’t help them. I was too weak. When she left, I played dead. Hid with the bodies. Felt them go cold.” Obi-Wan stopped, seeing in his mind his own memories of the Temple after Order 66. The bodies lying too still in the morning light. How many survivors like Reva had lain there amongst their slain family, afraid to move, afraid to be spotted by the clones that continued to sweep the Temple. How many younglings had he walked past, too blinded by grief to see they still lived? The Inquisitor’s voice was thick with rage. “They were the only family I knew. And she slaughtered them.”

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #becky writes things #echos obi wan kenobi #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi spoilers

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bokugaos · 3 years

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Territory

＞﹏＜ koutarou-nii just has to be the first here!! @aoyukai @kiyokens @shoyokuns for this nd helping nd encouraging me yesterday ILY’ALL MWAH

length: ~2k

warnings — yandere!bokuto, pseudo-incest, virgin reader

Bokuto can’t get enough of his pure and perfect little sister. So sweet, so soft, and untouched. Like an angel.

He knows about the things you talk about with his two older sisters. He tunes in to your conversations a lot; to keep tabs on you, he insists! As a responsible older brother, he has to know everything about you.

He’s seen the way other men look at you—his old high school classmates and teammates, strangers on the street, hell, even his current teammates. Everyone knows you’re off limits, he always makes sure of it. Nobody has the right to take you away from him, to be the reason that you’re going to cater to someone else’s attention but his.

You belong to him and only him.

But you’re simply too stubborn for your own good. You just have to go out and make your own friends, and now you have some suitors that he’s concerned about. You’ve dated some of them and of course Bokuto is spending more than half his time worrying about you and the things you do with them.

The thought of one of them, thinking they have the right to take away your virgin flower. He’s not even entitled to have you, let alone all those scumbags. He can’t bear the thought of someone snatching your innocence away—you’re so precious to him that he doesn’t even allow himself to have it. He would never ever let anyone else take it, not under his watch.

He is more than delighted when you announce to him that you’re going to stop meeting and dating people. You’re now finally seeing eye to eye with him! You haven’t been hanging out with other people, spending most of your time with him, as if living together is not enough for you.

You’ve voiced your complaints before, how you’re getting weird comments from your friends. They told you that it’s not normal for siblings to be that close. But he understands; they hate that you’re no longer so attached to them since you go out to see them less and less. He tries to explain to you that they are simply jealous.

You don’t need anyone else after all; he’s the only one you need, and he’s the best man you can ever find in this world.

But he’d be lying if he says he’s never had a lapse of judgment. You’re not making it any easier for him either, even though you don’t know just how weak he is for you. He’d catch you with your eyes closed, so relaxed and unguarded… what are you thinking? Do you lose your imagination, like he often does?

Are you fantasizing about him caressing you as he’s lowering you to the bed? Because he’s done it a few times you know, putting you to sleep like that. He has just never made any moves beyond. Maybe you unconsciously wish for him to all the same and that’s what you’re thinking about

Do you want him to pull the underwear down your thighs, slowly rub his fingers over your sex, smear your love juice to make sure you’re at least a little prepared for him, before he presses the head of his cock to your entrance? Do you want to feel him, inch by inch, as he sheathes himself deep into your tight, hot, virgin space? Because he would love nothing more than to listen to your moans, all your cute squirms underneath him and your delicious whimpers.

When you call out, “Kou-nii”, his heart jumps—he knows you’re definitely not thinking of anyone else. This is the only time he’s giving into a moment of weakness. He’s got you pressed up on the wall, your clothes hiked up just enough for him to have more of your thigh to grind against. You’re asking him—practically begging him to sink himself into you. “Am I not worthy?” You are, and your mewls, his sister gift wrapping it for him in the prettiest show of doubt and hesitation, can break his fixation.

Bokuto glides his hot, needy cock against your skin. His wet, leaking tip is leaving glistening trails, beautifying you even more. You keep your hands to yourself, both pressed on the surface of the wall. Your eyes are starting to close with each rock of your body, while musical little hums resonate behind closed lips.

He growls, having worked himself into a heated madness. He spins you around, and you instinctively close your legs tightly together for him. With slight difficulty, he wedges himself between the pillowy parts of your thighs, the softest portions, just underneath your crotch. He ruts in between them, with fervent quick snaps.

His hands plant onto the wall on either side of you. His cock briefly grazes the cloth of your underwear, feeling the moist there. He can’t tell if he’s simply leaking that much, or if you’re truly that wet for him. He pulls back to peel your underwear down in a flash and the next thing you know, its head is rubbing against you, earning him a soft moan bellowing against his ear.

The bedroom is a tad too far, but he won’t let himself be the reason his whole fantasy, the one he’s been dreaming around his fist about, to be ruined. He ups and carries you to the room, restraining himself from throwing you against the mattress and start fucking you senseless.

He crawls on the bed and hovers above you with heavy breaths, unable to calm himself down no matter how hard he tries. You’re so beautiful for him, laying on the stark white sheets as pure as you. He opens up your legs, marveling at how you look like a goddess in his bed. You’re so, very perfect. How is he so lucky to be the one who sees you like this?

Thankful that you’ve waited this whole time,—for him!—and let him take you. He gives you a kiss on the forehead and slowly pulls his hips back, cock leaving a wet trail from navel to mound. He angles his hips so that his bulky head lines up perfectly with your hungry cunt. Your inner, velvety walls hug him, just the tip this time, like a vice grip.

The last bits of his moral center shut down.

All Bokuto wants now is to fuck and fuck fast. To bury himself to the hilt, over and over. However, he’ll need to ease you up even more, as he’s barely even a quarter in but you’re already milking him so tightly that his eyes might actually roll back in pleasure. With an adorable cry—he’s unsure if it’s a surprised one or a pained one—your slack hands move his forearm to his biceps, clinging tighter and tighter the rougher he is. He loves that. It feels as if you're returning some of the passion, so he gives it even more effort.

He mercilessly plunges inside with a few rude thrusts of his pelvis. You wail at the sudden stretch, the burn that careens through your silky, slick walls. Flowering up into your chest, taking the breath from your lungs.

Though his hands are caressing you all over, it seems as if he is not paying any mind to any of your other reactions. Your wails, or the heavy flow of tears that roll down your temples. The whimpering or the continued pleading.

“Hey, pretty girl, don’t cry, huh?” one of his trembling hands smooths over your cheek, trying his best to comfort you despite the raging need in him to thrust faster, harder. “I-it hurts! and they… they said this is-”

“Just ignore them.”

A thumb hooks around your chin gently but insistently, leaving no room for argument, and you look up to meet his gaze. Bokuto only realizes he’d been slowing down, staring deeply into your eyes when a sob bubbles out of your mouth. Your eyes are half-lidded as he grazes his nose against yours. Kitty kisses, he always calls them. This seems to soothe you the smallest bit. His consciousness is blurring like watercolor now. He has to focus on the more important part of this, he realizes. And it’s you. “How bad does it hurt?”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

“I know, baby, I know…it hurts the first time, remember? But d-don’t be scared, I-ah, fuck! It’s nii-chan,” Bokuto’s hips buck faster and harder, “Nii-chan’s got you.”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath in through your nose. One of his hands is roaming your body, trying to distract you. The very tips of his fingers, gliding over the slopes of your breasts, teasing your nipples. Sending sharp shivers through your stomach into your pussy. Accumulating a new bout of slick, your cunt feeling hot and needy, you clench around him.

Your fingers come together in a fist over your head. All you can focus on is how deep his cock is hitting you, how filled up you are. The unbelievable heat, how your pussy continues to salivate all over his cock. Slick seeping in between your cheeks. Thighs shaking, as your velvet walls clamp down on his length. “Ah!– Nii-chan! Fu-fuck… oh– oh my god…” Your whole body quakes with your intense orgasm.

You throw your hands back over your head and arch your back. Your breath is fevered, chest rapidly rising and falling. Shaky meek whines that accompany every exhale. But that’s now, because your body is begging for it, pleading to get filled and creamed.

Bokuto continues to piston into you long after you're done coming. He fucks you until you’re a sweaty, grimy, whimpering mess. All muscle strength lost to it, becoming a rag-doll being puppeted by his big, unrelenting figure.

A deep-seated growl in his chest, not yet, he thinks, maybe you need some more practice before you can take him all the way inside. He’s too inside himself to recognize the wail you give, hunching over and burying his face in your neck, tasting sweat and fear and wholly unable to stop himself at all. He grunts like an animal, punctuated by loud, slick smacking sounds, overwhelmed with the pleasure of your burning hot, resisting walls clutching at him like a fist.

You turn him on so much. The tight constriction of your heavenly, virgin cunt. The heavy, moist breath on his neck. Nothing else matters, nothing except catching his end. Filling you up and making you his.

Your nails dig into his biceps and he comes. “Oh! Shit– It’s am– amazing.” His cock, aching and twitching inside of you. He’s coming hard, thick and heavy. Seated all the way inside, spurting deep within you, causing your belly to feel flooded. Marking his territory, you’re his.

He slowly pulls out of you, his cum spilling out of your cute, used up hole. “How’s it feel, angel?”

“ ‘s so good...” You weakly roll your head, face digging into the sheets. You have no strength to lift up your head, but you hope he’ll see your dazed smile.

He chuckles, “Silly baby, of course it does.”

You try to turn over, but he won’t allow it. “No, no. Don’t move. I’ll get you cleaned up!” He comes back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleans off the sweat from your forehead, wipes up stickiness from between your legs. Then he lets you move just he hugs you close to his chest, as he lays down with you in his arms.

Bokuto nuzzles his nose along your cheekbone, humming in approval. He is massaging circles, nibbling on your earlobe. You let your eyes fall shut again, trying to concentrate.

His body is so big, his musk so familiar and homely. You sigh as you finally start to relax, “...Kou-nii is the best.”

He is, and in fact, the only one you need.

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader smut #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #.bokuto!#koutarou nii ♡#.fics!

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Text

i left a little something on the table for you

Saints and Sinners isn’t the only club in Vapolis, but most of them have the same or similar protocols, to varying degrees of diligence. Still, everyone should know the game by now, no matter where they go. It’s all the same general gist: check your ID, check you for weapons, get the cover charge, then send you in to get wasted and be stupid without the threat of a disembowelment on the dance floor.

Most people don’t want the trouble. They just obey the rules and leave their weapons at home or in their car, though plenty of others do try to conceal a piece regardless, and either let the bouncers confiscate it to give back when they leave, or kick up a fuss and get thrown right back out the door. If they do manage to slip under the radar, most people have the sense to keep quiet about it.

Coyote Knox isn’t most people.

The merc’s clothes are almost always pretty shredded, and Jax knows him well enough by now to know that, while he does wear them like the damage is all intentional, most of it isn’t. It means he’s rarely fully clothed, which makes it pretty easy to pat him down and send him on his way, with several shiny new knives for the trouble.

Well, some of them are new, anyway.

Some of them still have blood on them.

This time, it wasn’t Jax at the door. It should be his night off, and while he usually has better things to do with his free time than hang around the place, Orla wanted him to pop in for a brief consult for some job coming down the line.

He goes to the bar for a quick drink before he heads out, the crowd parting around him like water the second they see who he is, flags down a bartender, and waits.

And then he hears that loud fucking mouth.

“It’s not the size that matters, babe,” Knox is saying, his voice a rough purr. He never smells like tobacco, and Jax has never seen him smoke, so he’s not sure where that rasp could come from, but it’s there regardless, like vodka and broken glass. “It’s what you do with it.”

“Uh-huh,” the bartender laughs indulgently. Jax can’t remember their name, but clearly they know Knox well enough to be comfortable with him. Speaks to their mental state, he supposes. “I still think you’re compensating for something.”

He knows he’s going to regret it, but Jax turns his head to the left, and it’s easy enough to see Orla’s rabid pet merc even through the crush of people vying for the attention of the bartenders darting about like bright dragonflies in neon and mesh.

He’s sitting on the bar with his heavy boot propped up on a vacant stool that several people are eyeing with furious envy, but none are brave enough to try for, considering the little bastard is twirling around a bowie knife like a fucking baton.

“Compensating for what, doll?” the masked merc chuckles, leaning back on his elbow. He’s practically lying across the bar, head tilted back, choppy hair hanging down as he smiles winsomely at the orange-haired bartender who twists nimbly around him to top off glasses and gather orders like they’re used to his bullshit. “I know what I’ve got and how to use it, I just feel like it never hurts to have plenty of options at my disposal.”

“Let a bouncer catch you waving that thing around, and I’m sure Orla will remove a few of your options for you.” The bartender clears some empty glasses from the bar and drops them by a nearby sink, taking a clean shaker to begin mixing cocktails.

Jax is off the clock. It’s none of his goddamned business. He drums his fingers against the sticky bartop and immediately regrets it, scowling and wiping his hand on his jeans. They’re expensive, but at least they’re dark. He can have them cleaned later.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Knox croons, sitting up and raking back his hair. Someone leaves their drink alone for a second, and he snatches it up and knocks half of it back in one go. Disgusting. “I know when to test my luck. I nicked the bouncer rotation from her office last time I was in. Jaxxie’s not on duty tonight, so I’m in the clear. The other muscleheads know not to fuck with me if they’d like to keep their own options intact.”

It’s a good thing Jax hasn’t gotten his drink yet, because he’s pretty sure he’d slam it down on the bar and shatter the glass.

“I’ll have to have a talk with them, then,” he snarls, loud enough to be heard over the noise, and to make the people around him clear the hell out.

The bartender yelps and nearly drops the shaker.

Knox just groans. “Speak of the devil.”

Jax pushes off the bar and stalks through the crowd, and saints and sinners alike practically throw themselves out of his path. Knox doesn’t move from his graceless sprawl across the bar, though he does sit up a bit to watch. His bright yellow eyes track the bouncer’s every move, his pierced lips kicking into a smirk.

The bartender, predictably, makes themself scarce.

“You must be stupider than you look,” Jax says, crossing his arms across his chest.

Yellow eyes flicker down to the open vee of Jax’s silk shirt, and that lazy smirk spreads wider. “Mama always told me smarts weren’t the way to catch a husband anyhow,” he drawls. He taps the tip of the blade against his temple like he’s imparted some deep wisdom and takes a pointed sip of his stolen drink.

Jax curls his lip and doesn’t deign that with a reply. “Hand over the knife, and I won’t throw you into traffic and tell Orla she’ll have to pick up a new poorly-trained housepet from the pound.”

The merc’s quick, Jax will give him that. In the blink of an eye he twists the knife away and arches off the bar, slipping it into some hidden sheath behind his back. He also manages to do so while slurping down the last of his stolen drink, and sliding the empty glass down the bar for the original owner to find. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand, before he raises them both and wiggles his fingers so the rings on them click together. “You must be mistaken, Sir,” he simpers, fluttering his eyelashes, “I don’t have any knife. I’m an upstanding citizen, and I would never disobey the rules of this fine establishment!”

A frisson of something shoots down Jax’s spine, but he chalks it up to anger, because that’s generally what overwhelms him when he has to see this smug little fuck’s face. He can’t be that useful to Orla, the way she bitches about him.

But he’s still around being a thorn in Jax’s side, so he must be good for something.

It shouldn’t be his problem. He’s off the clock. But he knows Orla would find some way to blame him if Knox got out of hand while Jax was around to stop it. So he grabs the merc by one stout shoulder and starts carting him towards the doors.

Knox, to his credit, doesn’t struggle. What he does might be even more annoying, cackling like a madman and blowing a kiss up at Jax. “Baby, at least buy me dinner first!” he crows as they carve through the crowd, stumbling a bit to compensate for Jax’s much longer stride.

The two bouncers on duty leap out of the way when Jax shoves him through the doors, and the look he gives them both has them cringing away. They must be some of the new hires Orla mentioned. “We’re going to have a talk later,” he promises grimly.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on them, Jaxxie,” Knox coos. His mask is slipping off, and he fumbles to peel it away and toss it to the ground while being dragged along by the arm, “they don’t know any better.” He laughs again, grating and sharp, and he keeps laughing until Jax hauls him out the door and lets him go so suddenly he goes staggering into the hood of someone’s car. Thankfully, the car doesn't seem to have an alarm. Knox raps his knuckles against the dented hood and raises his eyebrows, apparently making the same observation. “Noted,” he says wickedly.

“Next time, I won’t be so gentle,” Jax snarls, the back of his neck still prickling at the nickname.

Coyote flicks his tongue out, wiggling the split prongs, the silver ball embedded in it catching the dull light of the dirty street lamp overhead. “Ooooh, do you promise?”

As far as Jax is concerned, the problem is handled. He gives the merc one last withering look, eyes narrowed and lip curled, before he stalks away to find his own car and get the hell out of dodge before he’s roped into more nonsense. Knox’s raspy cackle follows him the whole way.

He’s halfway home when a sudden, niggling suspicion tickles at the back of his mind. He waits until he’s at a red light to pat down his waist, which feels notably lighter than it should.

“Motherfucker!” he snaps when he realizes his gun isn’t there. He’s not the type to lose things, especially not important things.

Orla warned him on day one the merc had sticky fingers, and he didn’t listen, thinking nobody would be stupid enough to try him.

A part of him, though, is sort of… grudgingly impressed. How’d the crazy little bastard manage to take it? When?

Jax drags a hand over his mouth and grumbles to himself. He’d shake the truth, and his damned gun, out of the merc next time he saw him, no matter what.

A rough voice that sounds suspiciously like Knox croons in the back of his mind.

Sounds like a date.

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levitatingbiscuits · 3 years

Note

How would Anakin and the others react if they ever found out the truth about OB-1?

Kenobi was a cockroach. A thorn in Sidious’s side that never fell out no matter how many deadly missions the kindly old chancellor personally requested that he take. One might think that the exhaustion would make him sloppy, if nothing else, but Kenobi handled everything Sidious threw at him with a dogged determination and competence that seemed beaten into his DNA. At times he acted more like a droid programmed to be the perfect Jedi than a real, flawed sentient; obedient and selfless to a fault, utterly unwilling to advocate for himself but frustratingly eager to advocate for others. His Force signature never wavered, never fell out of balance no matter how Sidious stacked the scales.

Surely Kenobi must have some weakness, a psychological hangup to exploit or some emotional scar to rip back open. Sidious hired someone to slice into his Temple records, then hired a bounty hunter to take care of the slicer.

What he found was intriguing, but frustratingly incomplete. Wide swaths of the record from his time as a padawan were vague to nonexistent. There was nothing indicating why Jinn had taken him on in the first place, nor why he hadn’t returned to Coruscant at all for the first few years of his apprenticeship.

Sidious knew how to hide things. It made him very good at sniffing out others’ secrets.

Weeks of snooping eventually led to Halle Burtoni, the senator from Kamino, who told him the delicious truth of the matter without even having to be bribed or threatened for it. She was eager to brag; the Jedi clone was Kamino’s most successful product.

And so Sidious kept the truth to himself, waiting for the most opportune moment to twist it to his will.

Rex shares an eye roll with Cody when Skywalker steps out of the command tent to take a “very important comm message.” It’s either the chancellor or Senator Amidala; Skywalker never answers that quickly for anyone else.

General Kenobi stands hunched over the holotable, projecting the terrain where the newest Seppie stronghold is. The locals are, as usual, worse than useless when it comes to defending their own planet, so Kenobi’s brow is already pinched even though they haven’t yet seen combat.

Rex is never sure how to help his oldest brother when he gets like this. With any other brother he would; ages hardly mattered among the rest of the vode, but Kenobi holds both seniority and authority over the rest of them. He takes his role as ori’vod, as their protector and leader, seriously, even though most of the GAR don’t realize the meaning behind it.

Rex can’t understand it. His brothers are the most important thing in the galaxy to him, but Kenobi gets all of the responsibility with none of the brotherhood. He’ll respect his wishes to keep it quiet, all the same.

Skywalker comes storming back into the tent, scowl thunderous and saber ignited, and Rex jumps to attention--has there been an attack?

“Anakin?” the general asks, straightening up. “What’s--”

And then Skywalker levels the saber at a startled General Kenobi.

Cody’s hand is immediately on his blaster, but he doesn’t draw. Rex doesn’t either. He has no idea what to do.

“What in the Force’s name has possessed you now? Were you eating strange bugs again?” Kenobi demands irately. He makes no move to draw his own saber. His trust in Skywalker is, even in this situation, absolute.

“Shut up,” Skywalker snarls. “Captain, Commander, restrain this man.”

“General Skywalker, I cannot allow you to do this,” Cody snaps, shoulders tense with anger.

“He’s an impostor!” Skywalker yells. “A clone!”

Rex’s stomach sinks like a tubie learning to swim. If Skywalker hadn’t known Kenobi was a clone beforehand--if nobody had realized but him--

“He replaced Obi-Wan for kriff knows how long, and no one noticed!” Behind the mask of rage, Skywalker’s eyes are frightened. “I didn’t notice!”

Rex had. Rex had noticed almost as soon as the damn war started.

Cody, who doesn’t know that it was the clone who had earned his loyalty instead of the natborn, jumps to cuff him after that. Kenobi doesn’t struggle. Rex starts to help a few seconds later, mind a screaming void of panic and guilt, and his heart clenches when Kenobi cuts him a concerned, questioning glance.

This may be a Seppie spy, may be an enemy that Rex helped, but he’s still acting like a brother.

“I suppose I always knew it would come out eventually,” Kenobi says once he’s chained to the center tent pole. He doesn’t sound mocking or angry or even worried. He sounds resigned.

“Drop the act,” Skywalker orders. “You’re not Obi-Wan, stop pretending to be him.” He looks deeply unsettled. Rex has only ever known the clone Kenobi, but Skywalker must have grown up with the original.

Kenobi meets his eyes steadily. “This is what I was made for. I’ve always been him.”

“I don’t care what the Separatists told you, you are not him,” Skywalker says.

For the first time, Kenobi looks surprised. “The Separatists? I wasn’t commissioned by the Separatists, that’s ridiculous.”

Skywalker is incensed, but Cody looks ashen. This must be overwhelming for someone who thought Kenobi was a natborn until a minute ago. There’s also the sobering implications of a third party with the power to dispose of, and replace, a Jedi Master, without anyone noticing. How many more Jedi could be plants?

Surprisingly, it’s Kenobi who breaks the silence. “I understand your... reservations, but this frankly seems like an overreaction. We are in the middle of a campaign, Anakin--”

Skywalker backhands him across the face. The loud crack that reverberates through the tent tells Rex that it’s with the metal one.

“Shut up, meat droid!” Skywalker roars. Rex feels sick and hot hearing that term from his general. “You aren’t him, so stop acting like it.”

Kenobi breathes deeply through his nose for a second. His lip is split. “I understand that my discovery means that I will be decommissioned, as per contract, but I must advise that doing so in the middle of a war is a waste of resources.”

It is very, very strange to hear High General Kenobi talk about being decommissioned so frankly. Every other clone is terrified of being decommissioned, of being recycled into raw organic matter for more clones to be grown from, like natborns are of death. Kenobi talks like he’s always known it would happen eventually.

“You are vastly overestimating your own importance, clone,” Skywalker says, and Rex has to fight not to flinch at the anguish that darts across Kenobi’s face. “Tell me where Obi-Wan is.”

“Dead,” Kenobi says, the word as loud as a detonation. “He’s been dead for years.”

Skywalker stumbles back. “No,” he says, voice trembling. “No, I would have known. I would have felt it.”

“How could you have felt it?” Kenobi pleads, “Anakin, you have me.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The interrogations continue for days. The men are confused and restless, the campaign indefinitely put on hold. The 212th are especially restless, having gone days without word from their general. Even Cody drifts aimlessly around the camp without saying much to anyone. Rex thinks he’s mourning, but doesn’t know how to tell him that he probably never even met the prime version of his general without getting decommissioned himself for not reporting General Kenobi’s clone status sooner.

Rex and Skywalker are the only ones who go into the command tent, now. Rex technically isn’t supposed to, but Skywalker definitely isn’t following POW protocol and Kenobi won’t be able to answer any questions if he doesn’t at least get water.

Rex goes there now, once it’s past dark and Skywalker is holed up in his own tent. The 501st clones guarding the tent look just as conflicted as he feels; he doesn’t envy them for having to listen to the interrogations. Not many of the men know who’s in there, because if too many of the 212th find out there will be a real risk of widespread mutiny. Hell, learning that their general is a clone would just make them more loyal, not less.

Kenobi’s face is so bruised, beaten, and bloodied that it’s almost unrecognizable. He thinks that’s probably why Skywalker did it in the first place.

Rex kneels next to the tent pole to help Kenobi sip from a canteen, and is shamefully relieved that he doesn’t bother opening either black eye. His hands are still bound behind his back; it looks like Skywalker’s broken a few of his fingers. From the way he winces when Rex touches him, he’s probably broken more than just that.

“Sir, you have to answer his questions,” Rex whispers, both to avoid being overheard and to keep his voice from wavering. “I... I’m worried Skywalker is going to kill you.”

“Oh, he definitely will,” Kenobi rasps once he’s chugged the whole bottle. His chuckle is wry and forced. “No use denying the inevitable.”

“Why can’t you tell us who commissioned you? Are they a threat to the Republic?”

“No, he was just as loyal as you or I,” General Kenobi says. That’s all he’s said to Skywalker for the past few days: I am loyal to the Republic. He learned pretty quick that saying anything else that wasn’t an answer to a direct question wouldn’t end well. “And even if he weren’t, he’s long dead.”

“As long dead as your prime?”

“No,” Kenobi says, beaten face unreadable but body tense, “Not quite so long as that.”

Rex scrubs a hand over his shorn head in frustration. “Why are you protecting him, if he’s dead? You’re the only one who will be hurt if you refuse to talk.”

“Because Anakin would be hurt,” Kenobi says softly. “Anakin worships him. Loves him far more than he loved me, if he ever truly did.”

Rex wants to refute that. Anyone who’s seen them interact before this fiasco would know just how deeply Skywalker respects and trusts his master, but...

All those feelings are for the prime. They are not for the clone that took his place, so fully and flawlessly that even the man who loved him best never noticed.

“So Skywalker knew him?” Rex probes. The general’s silver tongue is looser than normal today.

“I doubt anyone truly knew him but me. No one ever suspected... no one cared enough,” Kenobi murmurs, head slumping to the side. Rex puts a gentle palm on the least bloody part of his forehead, and hisses when he finds it hot.

“Kriff, you’re burning up, vod. You need a medic.”

Kenobi doesn’t respond. He might be unconscious.

Rex sits in a dark tent with a cloned Jedi, a brother, who might be dying right beside him, and makes a choice.

The comm takes a while to connect (come to think of it, Rex has no idea what time it is in the senate district on Coruscant) but then there’s Fox, looking sleep deprived and livid, as always.

“CT-7567? What the hell is going on with the Open Circle fleet? You haven’t contacted the Order in a week, the senate thinks you’re either dead or MIA.”

“Vod, you have to help me,” Rex begs, surprising Fox into silence. “Contact the council. Tell them Skywalker is killing General Kenobi.”

#Anonymous #clone obi-wan au #whump #torture #abuse #interrogation #misunderstandings #miscommunication #my writing #obi-wan whump #sorry about the wait y'all

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

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#my fic #my writing #Mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #togruta reader #ahsoka tano #the last mandalorian #pedrostories #art

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moon6shadow-my-writing-bookmark · 3 years

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Anakin spending the first few months of the war fighting with his left hand while his right arm recovers enough to first bare the weight of a prosthetic and then enough fine motor control for a fully fledged war zone.

(Because I’m a Fullmetal Alchemist Fan and Star Wars might have bacta and Force Healing but I’m still looking at the timeline and begging it to make medical sense.)

Cody isn’t not sure whether he should be happy or cursing that Anakin’s brain’s previous experience with prosthetics means he adjusts far quicker to Sidious’s ‘upgrades’. (Not that that is saying much considering how much Sidious mucked with literally everything _including_ Anakin’s height.)

All he knows is that there is no way in hell he’s letting his General Supreme Commander whatever go on the battlefield like this and ‘someone get me a karking lightsaber already’.

In which Senator Amidala and her Handmaiden’s have worked with Cody and the others enough times for them to know what’s up and the clones have helped their Jetii practice often enough for them to pull off a switch in a pinch.

Meanwhile Anakin l Vader found Kix’s location when he went to kill the Separatist Council and tells Fox.

Fox would like to know how exactly he ended up with a almost dead yet powerful as hell Force Sensitive clinging to him (to the point Fox is sometimes worried Skywalker is going to bleed his brains out) but Skywalker just got left to burn alive by his vod and kark that. Skywalker may not be a jetii ade struggling with nightmares or flashbacks but Fox can grit his teeth and bare with it.

In which Fox is at ground zero and amongst the first to find Anakin and Sidious is too busy being distracted by his Chosen One being irreversibly damaged and frantically reshuffling his plans and then doing Sith stuff to keep Vader alive, to notice Anakin latching onto the first person that gives him the slightest hint of affection (Fox: try basic compassion towards an injured fellow soldier) towards him.

Fox is also doing his damn best to convince Skywalker to convince a heap of his vod not to commit mutiny when Sidious locks Skywalker into his Sith Tower and torturers operates on him without pain meds or a healing trance for days.

Because Fox doesn’t know what the karking new Emperor is thinking but Skywalker’s vod can feel that and they are not happy.

Fox really doesn’t want to be ordered to execute an entire battalion of his vod for treason. No make that two battalions because here’s Cody and they found Kix and neither of them are happy.

In which Anakin has been doing a hell of a lot of group battle meditation and repeat exposure to that plus Anakin being the literal Child of the Force tends to leave impressions on people aka Anakin has a hell of a lot of Force Bonds going on and he’s sub/consciously screaming for help in the Force because he has no idea what’s going on only that he’s in agony, so yes the 501st can feel everything.

As Ventress says the 501st are loyal to Skywalker above all else and unlike the rest of the Jedi their General hasn’t been branded a Traitor via Order 66 and so they are going to react exactly the same way they would normally have done.

Aka perfectly happy to commit treason against the Emperor to get to their General even right after the Clone Troopers across the galaxy shot their Jedi Leaders in the back for being Traitors and the Emperor was almost killed by Jedi. Fox has a very legit concern for _any_ of his vod making the slightest hint towards going rogue or waving a weapon in the Emperor’s general direction right now. It wouldn’t take much for them to all get written off as having lost it after clearing out the Jedi Temple.

Fox manages to get Anakin into a healing trance or rather Fox’s mind is a mess as he mentally pleads not to have to kill any more vod. Anakin hears him and goes ‘fuck that’ to every single agony that is keeping him awake and practically _forces himself_ into a healing coma. Fox and the 501st are _relieved_ Sidious is a mass of fury at his apprentice escaping his punishment/torture/feeding session of The Dark Side.

Of course getting Anakin back _out_ of the healing coma makes for fun times further down the track but shhh he’s resting. He also gets way more recovery time than Sidious would have otherwise given him because of it so bonus.

Fox almost smothers Skywalker in bacta the moment he realises nobody bothered to give him a bacta bath because maybe ‘there isn’t time for a bacta bath’ but that doesn’t rule out field treatment and he’s no stranger to filling up someone’s blacks with bacta when bacta tanks are out of the question. The rest of the clone medics are more than happy to help him do it.

Fox and the part of the Coruscant Guard that are Kaminoan Clones are promptly transferred to Skywalker Darth Vader’s command for ‘bodyguard duty’ along with all the other Kaminoan Fett clones.

Fox and Cody looks around at the politians and especially military people that may praise the clones for killing the Jedi Traitors but no longer trust them after they shot their leaders in the back as well as the fact the new Emperor almost died under the Coresant Guards watch from the Jedi, and get their vod the hell out of dodge.

In which people are people and are probably going to get skittish around troops that opened fire on their leaders without warning, no matter how ‘justified’ it may have been. Sidious also likely isn’t too keen on keeping the Kaminoan Fett Clones around him for any longer than he has to either now they have fulfilled their purpose.

He also has other Fett clones that weren’t raised on Kamino or to worship the Jedi as well as the natborn army he helped put together during the war. So he no longer needs Jedi Loving and booby trapped clones, far better to arrange them around his new apprentice instead, just in case.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #commander fox #commander Cody #clone trooper kix #Anakin & fox #fma/Star Wars elements #fantasy medical realism #automail #injuries #medical trauma #operated on while awake #tw torture mention #fix it of sorts

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vagabondreamer · 3 years

Text

After the Fall (5)

Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC

Word Count: 2.3k

Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.

Chapter Summary: MC finds out what Lucifer's been hiding.

CW: panic attacks, attempted murder, PTSD

Author’s Note: Sorry it's been a hot minute; school has been keeping me busy.

***

Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off and your eyes burned from not blinking. The room was so dark you weren’t sure how long you had been in here. The bright screen was your only source of light, and it was no wonder Levi was so pale. You looked over at him, he was hunched over his controller, his eyes glued to the tv.

“MC are you not even trying?” He exclaimed, a tint of anger in his voice. You looked back at the screen, a giant ‘K.O.’ flashing before your eyes.

“They don’t have these games back home.” This felt like your hundredth loss against him. “You’re just way too good.”

He blushed at the small compliment - not used to the praise. You looked at your DDD to see the time, it was already 3 in the morning.

“Geez! I need to get to bed.”

“Already?” He pouted, not wanting you to go to your room yet.

“Let’s do this again.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, but the small smile on his face was enough to show he wasn’t mad.

You said goodnight to him and his fish - you learned the name was Henry based off of his favorite fantasy novel - and walked out the door into the hallway. It was pitch black, you couldn’t see a thing. Standing still, you tried to let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Barely, you could see the railing of the stairs, and some decorative paintings on the wall. You started walking towards your room when you heard a small voice coming from far behind you. Didn’t Satan say this house was haunted? Surely, you thought he was just trying to scare you. Again, you started walking towards your room - hoping to not run into whatever was making that noise.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.”

The voice was stronger, more distinct sounding. You recognized that it was the same lullaby from a week ago. You recalled that there was a set of hidden stairs, that Lucifer forbade you from going up. Debating whether or not you should risk it, you turned around and headed down the hall. The darkness didn’t help, you couldn’t remember how to get to those stairs - last time, you had found it by chance.

“And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.”

There it was again! You followed the sound, trusting your ears rather than your sight. It was strange how clear the voice was, considering that you had to walk through several doors and halls to get to the base of the stairs.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.”

If Lucifer ever found out - no - he would never find out. And if he did? So, what. You were tired of obeying him - who was he to you? A nobody. Slowly, you ascended up the spiral staircase. The voice was masculine, yet soft, almost sleepy sounding.

“You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, you see a door that is barred up. Peering in, you see a man laying down, lazily humming the rest of the tune. His head turns, feeling your presence.

“Hmph. They went along with the exchange program, I see.”

His aura was strong - purple and luminous - he was a powerful demon. He must’ve read yours as well.

“Who are you?”

“Belphegor. Who are you?”

“MC. What are you doing here?”

“Lucifer locked me up.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing - you absolutely knew Lucifer was mean, but to lock up his own family? That was beyond evil. “You have to help me out of here.”

You took a step back from the bars, taking a moment to think about the situation you landed yourself in. It was no wonder Lucifer didn’t want you up here, but was it justified? From what you had gathered, he was mean but not without reason, right? He insulted you, but only because you were acting like a brat. He was also the same man that saved you, and he was highly respected by Michael - even as a demon.

“Why did he lock you up?”

“I didn’t agree with the exchange program.”

Was that really the only reason? Something as simple as disagreeing could end up in imprisonment? Belphie must’ve seen the look on your face - a war raging inside your mind.

“He’s horrible, you know?” You looked up at him. “He locked up his own brother, and he dismissed Lilith’s death like it meant nothing!”

“Lilith.” You repeated to yourself. You were told she was the start of the Great Celestial War.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember you at all.” He eyed you carefully.

“I wasn’t created until after the war. I’m Lucifer’s replacement, basically.”

This statement caught his interest.

“So, you’re powerful; I think you can get through this magic.”

Touching the bars, you felt a powerful magic radiating off of the metal. Lucifer must’ve put a spell on the door, to ensure he’d never escape. He was right, you were a powerful angel, this shouldn’t be an issue, but you were still hesitant.

“What are you going to do once you’re out?”

“I just want to talk to him.” If that was really all he wanted to do then you were ready to let him out.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath in, hands still gripping the metal. It had been weeks since you last transformed into an angel, ever since your failure you had been hesitant to even try. Slowly, your white wings sprouted from your back and your magic flowed through your fingertips. The bars began to glow, and gradually disintegrated from existence. A smile spread across his face, and he stepped out for the first time in who knows how long. You transformed back to your normal state.

“Thank you.” He opened his arms, you gladly accepted his hug. You had begun to appreciate how touchy-feely most of the brothers were. His grip, however, was a bit too hard for your liking. You stopped hugging him back, this time placing your hands against his waist trying to push off - but his grip was relentless.

“What are you doing?” It was getting harder to breathe; your ribs felt like they were being crushed.

“I’m doing the world a favor, Lucifer’s replacement.”

He hadn’t bothered addressing you by your name - it suddenly clicked in your head. Lucifer was part of the blame for his sister’s death, and to him you were just another Lucifer in the making. You pushed him and tried to transform but you had exhausted yourself trying to break him out. The trauma from weeks ago was just beginning to heal, and now you were reliving it. You could hardly breathe, but now it was becoming even more erratic - you were having a panic attack.

“Please -” The words were barely coming out. “Lucifer.”

The room was spinning, and darkness crept in.

***

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. The bed was spacious, a huge chandelier hung down in the center, and soft music could be heard. You take a deep breath in - you notice the smell - notes of sandalwood wafting in the air. Trying to sit up, a sharp pain erupts in your ribs. Glancing down, your torso is wrapped up - unexpectedly, the memories flash in your mind. You released Belphie, and he tried to kill you. How the hell did you make it?

“MC, you’re awake.” Lucifer walked in, holding a tray of food. “How are you feeling?”

His face held a concerned look, but he was hard to read. There’s no doubt he was upset, he told you not to go up the stairs and yet you disobeyed orders.

“Where’s Belphie?” Lucifer sighed, and put the tray down on the nightstand.

“Why’d you let him go?”

“Did you hurt him?”

The both of you were getting nowhere. Too many unanswered questions and so much distress, you couldn’t take it anymore. You moved to get out of bed, Lucifer tried to help but you slapped his hand away. Standing, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“What is going on here?” Lucifer stood his ground.

“You’re prying. This isn’t any of your business.”

“I almost died. I think it is my business.”

“You didn’t die twice because of me. A thank you would be nice.”

You couldn’t believe him.

“I didn’t ask you to save me.” That was a lie, and he knew it. Your eyes watered up. “I’m capable. You might not see it, Michael might not see it, but I know I am!”

You walked to the door before the tears could spill down your cheeks. You were tired of feeling weak in front of him.

“MC.” You stopped without turning around, waiting for him to continue. “I think you’re plenty capable, but I don’t regret helping you.”

Wiping the tears away, you turned to look at him. He was seated on his bed, elbows rested on his legs, looking down pensively. You walked to him, standing directly in front of his form. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up, and the top buttons were undone revealing his collarbone. The locks of his hair were messy, like he had been consistently running his hands through it. Subconsciously, you raised your hand and began to smooth out his hair, putting each strand back in its rightful place. He looked up at you, curiously. His eyes were sunken, the darkness underneath visible to you from your proximity.

“I’m sorry," you whispered.

Ever since your arrival, you had become another burden to Lucifer. Before coming to the Devildom, you had a preconceived notion that he was the reincarnation of all things evil, but it didn’t take long to realize how complex the man in front of you really was. Your internal battle with yourself didn’t help, and you were taking it out on him. And now, with Belphie’s appearance, there’s no doubt in your mind that Lucifer would never forgive you.

“I just wish you’d understand I have your best interest at heart.”

“I guess it takes a near death experience to see that,” you joked. “Thanks. For both times.”

You fixed the last strand out of place, framing it against his temple. Your fingers lingered, tracing down to where his jaw curves. It was as if an electric current ran from him to you.

“You’re welcome. Both times.” He went to grab your hand, but you removed it yourself.

“Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yes. You’ve been out for a few days, and everything’s been taken care of.”

“Everything?”

“School, home, here. Everything.” He got up from his position, leaving you little time to take a step back, his chest is nearly touching yours. “I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, and in that moment you felt so small. You vowed right there and then to be less of a burden to Lucifer. You had already caused so much damage, now you were going to make things right.

“Michael wants to speak to you.”

“What? You’ve spoken with Michael?” Oh, crap.

“No, Simeon has. Michael requested you take a brief trip back home after you wake up.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll open a portal, if you’re ready?”

“You can open a portal?”

“Yes, can’t you?”

“No…” Guess Michael decided you weren’t good enough for that ability. “I’m ready.”

Lucifer performed his spell, which allowed a little portal to open up. You thanked Lucifer once again, and stepped in; a bright, white light blinded you. The portal had transported you to right in front of Michael’s office. You gave two knocks before being called in.

“MC. Who knew it only took sending you to the Devildom for you to finally learn how to knock.” You laughed dryly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I -”

“What happened?”

“Well -”

“Don’t answer. I already know.” Ah, so you were here to be reprimanded. “Why are you causing so much trouble? Did I not tell you that you represent the Celestial Realm?”

“Yes sir, but -”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s embarrassing that I even have to do this.” You bite your lip, too afraid to make him angrier. “You’re going to go down there and apologize to Lord Diavolo and Lucifer. And you’re going to stop causing trouble, do I make myself clear?”

You opted to nod your head, not trusting your own voice. As quick as you had gotten there, you were sent away just as quickly. The portal reopened back in Lucifer’s room, he was standing there waiting for your arrival. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“What did he say?”

“He said I need to apologize to you and Lord Diavolo, but can I please do that later? I just - I need to get out of here.”

“MC…” He reached out to you.

“No, I’m serious - I feel like I can’t breathe.” It was happening again. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, and you saw the room spinning. Why was this happening?

“MC!” Lucifer held the sides of your face. “Okay, you’re okay. Let’s get some fresh air.”

His words were going in one ear and straight out the other. He held you in his arms, and you could feel him moving, but your dizziness made it hard to decipher what was going on. It wasn’t until he sat down, you were still being held by him, that you became aware of your surroundings. Somewhere deep in the forest lay a small lake, and a singular bench. The air was fresh, and the serenity filled your soul.

“I come here when it feels like everything is falling apart.”

After the Fall Tag List @ptv-hades @everyday-girl9041-blog

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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How about Aizawa, Present Mic, Toshinori and Midnight with an S/O who's a super light sleeper due to anxiety and they get freaked out by sudden loud noises that wake them up and one night they hear something so S/O wakes them up to shyly ask if they'll do a sweep of the house with them to help them feel safe enough to go back to sleep?

me walking around my tiny ass apartment w my huge ass dog as if either of us r gonna do something if we happen upon an intruder

Aizawa Shouta: You were probably just hearing things. Shouta wasn’t an unusually deep sleeper, you were sure if it was a concerning noise he’d wake up too, you were just a freakishly light sleeper. You told yourself that over and over to calm yourself down. Seriously wind outside wakes you up, Shouta snuffling into the pillow beside you has woken you up before, your neighbor closing their door too loud upstairs has woken you up. Whatever startled you just had to be one of those things, or something similar. So go back to sleep. You think that but you just stare at the slightly ajar door of your bedroom..what if someone...or something was out there? You should get up and check, right? You hear another creek. Nope. No way. Not alone. You’ve seen what happens in the movies, and besides this is what dating a pro hero is for, he can do it. You look over to the man sleeping beside you, he was on his back, one arm still partially outstretched to accommodate you where you’d been laying against his side, the other behind his head. His chest was rising and falling with long sleepy breaths, the low bun he’d pulled his hair into tufted up behind him on the pillow. Gee. You felt sort of bad waking him up when he looked so comfortable. But also there could totally be a killer in the kitchen, or worse. Something way worse could be in the kitchen. You watch his nose twitch. But he looked so sleepy, even now he had bags under his eyes. Another creak. “Shouta.” You hiss, you don’t know why your whispering, you live here. He just snuffles under his breath, but doesn’t seem to wake up. “Sho..” You plant a hand firmly on his chest and shake him a little, his skin was warm on your already clammy palms. “Huh?” It’s gruff, a little irritated, and tired, he drags the hand that was once behind his head down his face, “’d you call me?” He isn’t sure why he asks, the way you’re sitting up beside him and your hand on his chest tells him what he needs to know. “Sorry.” You murmur, “’m really sorry to wake you up but I think I heard something..and I can’t go back to sleep, come check with me?” Sure he’s tired but that’s kinda sweet...he can’t help the fact he enjoys being asked for help, it’s his job after all as a teacher and a pro, he’s glad you lean on him. It’s nice to feel needed, and it’s nice to know he puts you at ease. He hums indifferently as he sits up, “mmhm.” He nods, rubbing his eyes, “yeah, alright. Where’d you hear it?” “The kitchen I think?” He grumbles, “okay come on.” He gets up and stretches a little, “stay behind me alright, scardey cat?” He checks everywhere, even the closet you hadn’t opened since you moved into the place. “Nothing’s here.” You’re back at your bedroom door where you started, “just us.” He presses a long kiss to your temple, “think you can get to sleep now?” “Yeah, thanks..” You follow him back to bed and he shuffles underneath the covers again. “any time. Wake me up again if you need me.”

Hizashi Yamada: You’re pretty sure the couple above you had dogs, more than a few and they were all big. You were sure that’s what the clacking was, just cute little dog paws on polished wood floors. That’s all it was. But it still sounded damn creepy in the middle of the night. Hizashi was a deep sleeper, maybe a little unnaturally deep, that guy could sleep through a lot of noise, seeing as he made so much himself he was probably used to it. But he was a pro, after all, if something was strange he’d probably notice it too...it wasn’t anything you’re just paranoid for some reason. You scold yourself as you shuffle back into your pillows, there’s nothing to be afraid of so just go to sleep. The dark of the hallway beyond your bedroom door is taunting you though, anything could be in there. You should just check- was that a shape in the darkness? No way. Nevermind screw checking you’d just die here, whatever- You look over and realize Hizashi is with you, laying on his side, facing you one arm under a pillow the other reaching out to drape itself across your stomach, his hair was mostly freed from the elastic he’d used to pull it back earlier in the night. No... You furrow your eyebrows at him, he looked so cozy. You couldn’t wake him up for nothing...unless it wasn’t nothing...but..his hand closes around your waist and you’re heart swells a little, it could totally be nothing... You swear you see something move. “Zash-” You murmur at him, to no avail. “Zashi-” You grip his arms, “hey Zash..” “After hours.” He mutters pressing into the pillow. “Zash please-” You push against the bare skin of his back with your palm, shaking his whole body. “Wuh-wussit?” He picks his head up off the pillow, just barely, “somethin wrong?” His arm lifts off your stomach as he rubs his eyes, “what’s up?” “I think I heard something, can you come check?” Yeah okay, his heart swells a little bit with pride. Maybe a lot. He sits up quickly, “of course baby! Where do you think it’s coming from?” “I think the front hall? I dunno..” You confess, “but I just..I can’t sleep now and-” “Say no more.” He holds his hand up, “you stay here and I’ll check it out-” “Would you mind..if I just come? You know..incase?” You stop him, the last thing you wanted was to be alone in this dark room all alone. “Of course you can come!” He feels a little bad that you’re scared but his heart is absolutely singing right now, he thinks its the sweetest thing in the world. You were scared and he made you feel better? Come on that’s heaven. “Wanna hold my hand?” He offers it to you as you regroup at the foot of your bed. “Looks like it was just a neighbor or something.” He hums as you return to the foot of your bed, “nothing looked out of place to me.” He doesn’t make you let go of his hand, “feel any better?” “Mhm..” You nod and he grins at you, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Let’s just get back under the covers, not like anything can hurt us under there anyway, we’ve made it this far with that method, right?”

Yagi Toshinori: He was on the lighter side when it came to sleepers, though he was average usually, sometimes if you were a little too restless beside him he’d stir up, if this noise was really suspect he’d wake up. But he was sleeping like a baby beside you. He said it so often, as long as he wasn’t worried you didn’t need to be. He didn’t look even a little worried right now. But...the clattering..it sounded like something was rummaging around where it didn’t belong...plus it’s not like Toshi was a nobody, retired or no he was still the symbol of peace, he still had a target on his back, he probably always would. So you should check, for his sake and- the rattling makes your heart stop. The symbol of peace can do it. “Yagi-” You turn to him, about to reach over and shake him up but..oh..no. He looks so content and sleepy on his back, both arms still stretched out to be holding onto you, though one was trapped across his abdomen as you’d sat up and it fell away. His face was relaxed and he was snoring quietly. But the noise. He snuffled, nose wrinkling and twitching as he settled further into the pillow. But sweet cozy Yagi...the next clatter was enough to make you jump. “Toshi hey-” You reach out and press a hand to his chest, “Tosh?” “Mhm?” He mumbles and shuffles closer to you. “I heard something...” You murmur and his eyes crack open. “heard something?” His other hand slides down you back and you nod, “it freaked me out.” You flatten your palms against his chest and look up at him, “can you check..?” He can’t say he’s not a little honored that you still fell protected by him even without All Might in the picture, you still wanted him to go sweep the place for anything out of the ordinary, he appreciates it more than he’ll say. Even though he’s retired, he’s still simple, once a hero always a hero, he can’t help but just want to protect. “Oh?” He sits up, “yeah I can do that.” He musses up his hair, “where’d you hear it?” “I’ll show you?” You follow him and he nods, outstretching an arm and welcoming you into his side, “alright, just stay by me okay?” You nod up at him as he pushes your bedroom door open. He looks through the whole place, every cabinet and closet, around every corner, keeping one arm around your shoulders, huddling you into his side. “Looks like it was just a bad dream or something.” He reassures you, back in your bedroom, “did I miss anything?” He takes your head in his hands and presses a long kiss to your hairline, you shake your head, “No, I don’t think so. Sorry to wake you up..” “If you’re afraid and I can make you feel better I want you to wake me up.” He hums, smiling at the feeling of your hands coming around his wrists, he can see your eyelids drooping “you seem exhausted now, if you’re feeling better let’s get into bed.”

Nemuri Kayama: Oh no. No way. You are not the one. Whatever was having a field day in your living room would just have to call it a night. No. You scold yourself, nothing was in the living room, it was the heater clanking on, your neighbors stomping around in heels, maybe a stray cat trying to get in a window or something. No one was in here but you and Nemuri, like every night, like normal. Nemuri was a light enough sleeper, you’d woken her up easily before by mistake so if this was really something to worry about she’d be up too, you were sure of it. Unless maybe she had a long day and was really just super deeply asleep..then what?? What if it was something malicious and she was too tired to wake up for it and you talk yourself down too much and then neither of you suspect anything? You should check- a low whirring makes you reconsider. You look up at Nemuri, you were still laid against her, huddled into her side, both of her arms were around you, one hand half curled around the nape of her neck, her nails had been lightly scratching circles into your skin before she dozed off. Her cheek was pressed up against you, she looked to comfortable to bother but..that low whirring was back, what if it was some evil vacuum or something? She’d know what to do about an evil vacuum. She turns into you a bit and takes in a deep sleepy breath, it makes your chest prattle with affection. The whirring has banging now, there is now both banging and whirring, high alert. It makes you sit up. “Hey Nemuri-” You look down at her and she groans. “Muri-” You shake her a little and she groans again, louder. “What’s wrong?” She doesn’t open her eyes. “I need help.” “Oh?” She peeks an eye open, “with what?” “I heard a noise outside. I’m freaked out.” “Oh.” She opens both her eyes fully, “that’s kind of adorable.” “I’m glad one of us is enjoying this. I’ve got a seriously bad feeling.” You grumble and she laughs. “Alright well wait here and your big bad girlfriend will scare all the villains away-” “Leave me here ALONE for them to kidnap?” You spring up as she stands, “no way you’re getting rid of me that easy, I’m coming with you.” She snorts at that, “gosh, you’re right, how could I be so foolish? Come with, me and stay close. I forgot i’ve got precious cargo” She waits for you to catch up and offers you her arm, which you take gratefully, “come on my little jellyfish.” Despite her teasing she’s very thorough as she checks out the place. She’s glad you trust her with your safety so much, she’s glad you came to her before you worked yourself up too much. “I dunno what you heard baby.” She shakes her head as you reconvine by your bed, “but whatever it was, nothing is in here besides us.” She crosses her heart with her free hand, her nail catching the ribbed fabric of her sports bra just a little, she definitely did that on purpose, “just you, me, and all the sexual tension between us-” She wraps two arms around your back and you flutter at the contact. “Sexual tension? Mur, we’re practically married-” “That’s what makes it great.” She hums pulling you even closer. “Nemuri I’m tired-” You complain, bracing yourself against her solid shoulders as she pulls you into her chest, lips pressing a line up your jaw. “You can’t wake me up and be all cute like this and expect me not to react, that’s cruel and unusual. Besides it’ll just help you sleep better in the end.”

#aizawa shouta x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #all might x reader #present mic x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests

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sullustangin · 3 years

Text

Fearful Avoidant Attachment and the Single Spy

Caveat: I’m not a counselor of any sort, and I’m applying labels to fictional characters. Don’t take this too seriously.

This post has been kicking around in different forms in my prompt document for awhile. I will start posting my Yavin fic this weekend. A major element of this fic will be the dynamic between Theron and the playable character/love interest. Their interactions will be informed by how I view his attachments. I’ve put some of this into the fic series already.

“Attachment” in the Star Wars universe is the idea, according to George Lucas, that Jedi should love everyone but not get attached. “Attached” in this context is possession, greed, being willing to do things for individuals rather than the greater good, and ultimately the fear of loss. Attachment is a negative concept in Jedi philosophy.

However, I would argue that while this philosophy is in the back of Theron’s head, Jedi attachment concepts are not what makes Theron’s personal life messy. It’s the personal context surrounding that teaching and his life events that shape this. So let’s look at real life attachment theory.

In its most basic form, attachment theory is the idea that children need to develop a positive relationship with a caregiver to turn out ok. If the child is neglected, then they will have problems forming healthy attachments to others. There’s a lot of caveats to this theory. Some put the threshold of ‘must have positive relationship by x age’ to age 2 or age 5. Others state that this is problematic, because if a child loses their caregiver and passes into the hands of a less affectionate or downright abusive caregiver, then their positive attachment formation by age x doesn’t count for much.

There are several different types of attachment that a person can have. A secure attachment is what most healthy relationships are rooted in. People feel safe and secure within themselves and within the relationship. Jedi can be attached in this fashion, even if they don’t call it this; the Jedi have orderly boundaries and a clear understanding of what their associations entail. They have care systems for younglings and padawans, which were like pre-modern apprenticeships. They are secure within themselves as Jedi and in their relationships outside the order. They are at peace.

An insecure attachment has a flaw in it; something is wrong in how the person relates to themselves and others in relationships, platonic, romantic or otherwise. One type is dismissive or avoidant; the attachments are actively avoided, so the person is often isolated and rejects others and their friendly overtures. Another type is anxious or preoccupied; people tend to get very clingy or possessive with anyone they latch onto, which can cause the relationship to self-destruct (hi, Anakin).

Then there is fearful avoidant attachment, the label I think fits Theron Shan, our favorite high-quality spy and absolute emotional disaster. In theory, Theron tries to avoid deep emotional attachments because he’s scared of being left behind or not having those attachments reciprocated. At the same time, he desperately wants those attachments and relationships, but the potential of failure makes him avoid or even sabotage the relationship. That results in an on-going war between Theron and his feelings. To quote Psychalive, “the person [he wants] to go to for safety is the same person [he is] frightened to be close to. As a result, [he has] no organized strategy for getting [his] needs met by others.”

Why does Theron have attachment issues?

Some accuse Satele Shan or Jace Malcom of being “bad parents.” There’s a problem with this premise: although there is a biological relationship, neither Satele nor Jace had a parent-child relationship with Theron. Jace didn’t even know Theron existed until the child was 26, so he couldn’t act in any capacity. Satele gave Theron up to be raised by someone else; she opted out of the role of mother and did not talk to him as mother-and-son until Theron was 26. There isn’t an abusive or neglectful relationship here because there isn’t a relationship, period. Much like romantic relationships, it’s better to have no relationship than a bad one. Jace and Satele didn’t raise Theron. They were strangers to him until he was an adult. They were never his caretakers. Who did Theron have attachments to?

Theron was raised by a Jedi named Ngani Zho, who had been Satele Shan’s master when she was a padawan. After Satele gave birth in a cave on some planet, Zho took the child and raised him as his own son. This was irregular, honestly. Jedi younglings that express some sort of control over the Force are typically put into a creche at the Jedi Temple; we’ve seen this in the Star Wars prequel films. Guss Tuno references this in SWTOR, as he was chagrinned to be in class with a bunch of five-year-olds in bathrobes. Theron was raised by Zho directly and they were constantly traveling, based upon comments we read in The Lost Suns comic and in the novel Annihilation. Theron never entered the creche because he never manifested signs he was Force-sensitive – not even a little like Guss.

Zho traveled with Theron until the boy was an adolescent. Then, Theron was told by Zho to travel to the Jedi Temple at Haashimut to receive more training; he could do no more for him. The trip through a desert nearly killed the boy. When Theron had recovered, it fell to Master Till’in to tell him he would not be a Jedi. Ever.

Instead of telling Theron or notifying Satele about the boy’s lack of Force aptitude, Zho sent him onward and then disappeared. There is no indication that Zho told anyone where he was going or why. When Theron met Zho again at age 23, the Master’s mind was scrambled and confused; he couldn’t give any answers to Theron about anything. Was there a mission he had been set on? Or did he just wander off on his own?

For storytelling purposes, it’s convenient to pair Zho’s departure with the aftermath of the Treaty of Coruscant. In the year Theron turned 13 (3653 BBY), the Great Galactic War ended with the Treaty of Coruscant, wherein the Sith Empire enforced demands on the Republic. The Sith won. Zho leaving could be tied to this (through a mission or quixotic urge), but the source material isn’t clear on the timing.

Theron’s life suddenly became very uncertain. His entire life had been built up to becoming a Jedi. To some extent, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, Theron probably felt like he was a failure. We know he tried to fix this; in The Lost Suns, he acknowledged pursuing access to the Force through the Matukai Force tradition – being an ascetic. In Annihilation, he recalled and took particular umbrage at the “arrogance” of the Jedi – those that made him feel like any other path was second (or third or less)-best. This diminished over time, but the revelation about his lack of Force Sensitivity probably left Theron feeling very insecure about himself and who he was as an adolescent/young teen.

In terms of his relationships, Zho was gone with no forwarding address. The man Theron called his father was no longer reachable, and for another ten years, there would be no closure as to what happened to him. Zho had actively endangered Theron by sending him through a desert to Haashimut. Did he gamble that the boy’s Force Sensitivity would manifest in a life-threatening crisis or something? Who knows? Theron never went into the Jedi creche, so he didn’t have close peers or friends beyond pen pals at best. Theron had not spoken to his bio parents at all to this point, and he probably didn’t know many (if any) non-Force Sensitive kids. With his expulsion from Jedi society, Theron’s entire relationship network was gone.

This is important to understand -- Theron had been raised to not have attachments that would lead to selfishness or fear of loss, but he was raised to be able to love and care for others. He lived in a structure that fostered good psychological attachments (secure attachments) to the order and to his fellow sentients without possessiveness or jealousy. Theron knew his mother gave him up. He knew one day Zho would give his care over to another Master. He knew one day, he would leave the Temple to go out into the galaxy. Theron knew how the galaxy worked and his role in it...

..and then it was torn away from him. No more masters, no more knowledge of what came next, no way to ever work with his mother as a Jedi. His life to that point had been an illusion -- he was never able to access the Force, and Zho knew it. This left Theron as insecurely attached, as nothing that he anticipated for his life would ever happen, and he knew nobody that would accompany him into this new life.

External to all this, the Republic Theron was raised to serve was on the losing end of war. How the galaxy worked, as far as Theron knew to that point, was going to change. After Till’in told Theron the truth, all we know is that he spent some time in Haashimut before going elsewhere. We the viewer have no idea what happened to Theron from adolescence until he was 16, when he entered SIS per Annihilation. This may be a canon math/timing error, or it could be reasonable; Theron might have been able to get permission to join a government organization at 16. If Theron was in foster care or a ward of the state or something else, whoever was involved didn’t make an impact worthy of mention thus far in SWTOR canon.

Theron described Zho in The Lost Suns as “never reliable.” That was a 23-year-old looking back. Yet, he referred to him as his father in Annihilation three years later, and even eight years later in SWTOR: KotFE, he mentions that “Master Zho would be proud.” This seems contradictory. Additionally, in both The Lost Suns and Annihilation, SIS Director Marcus Trant expressed concern about Theron and his issues. Theron was a workaholic. Being a workaholic is actually a sign of having attachment issues; a person attaches themselves to work, not people Theron expressed desires to run away, go on vacation, and do new stuff… but he never did these things – couldn’t get away from the job.

Attachment theory states that a child has difficulty with attachments if they are abused or somehow neglected by their caretaker. The desert march definitely strikes me as falling into one of those categories, but again, Zho’s logic isn’t readily offered up to the viewer, nor are many details about Theron’s life as a traveling youngling. That all said, Zho’s traumatic departure probably caused attachment issues that had no other herald.

Why do the labels “fearful” and “avoidant” fit Theron?

Theron Shan as the player met him in Forged Alliance SWTOR was a professional. Flirting was ignored, mildly acknowledged, or, rarely, fully reciprocated. There was no physical contact between Theron and his asset. This doesn’t seem off or irregular until his romance is compared to that of Lana Beniko. She didn’t have the same issues expressing affection for her asset on Imp side; she touched their face and gave them a hug by the time the spies went under deep cover after Rakata Prime. Even if the player did not romance Lana, Lana herself was keen to make a team and bust open the conspiracy; she wasn’t as willing to go it alone.

Avoidant people tend to refrain from contact, and they like being independent. They don’t do well in teams. Sound familiar? Fearful avoidants also have the concern that they will fail their partner or that their partner will fail them. If the player was Imp side, Theron was a jerk well into the Rishi storyline. Eventually, Theron did come around. His dialogue and follow-up letter reflect the fact that he actually did want these connections and attachments. He enjoyed the time he had with the player.

This is particularly pronounced if Theron was romanced by the player on Rishi and Yavin; first physical contact occurred on Rishi with a kiss. If the player was Pubside, the fade-to-black and his comments on Yavin indicate they had sex. Those episodes of affection, paired with the Pub post-Yavin letter and dialogue, really emphasize the connection that was formed. Interestingly, Theron did not get a fade-to-black with the Imperial player. One might argue that he knew they were going to leave him, and so he couldn’t –wouldn’t—get attached.

…. And then Ziost happened. Theron refused to ask for help. He didn’t want to depend on that attachment. He was distant on Ziost, regardless of how far the relationship went, and if Pubside, he declined a drink afterwards.

Whatever transpired between Ziost and the Eternal Fleet Incident, it’s clear that a romanced Theron and the player never defined their relationship. There were certain boundaries that never were crossed. He’d “like to think” the player is dreaming of him, but he didn’t want to presume. Even after Theron got into a romantic relationship on Odessen, he still struggled with his ability to be attached, as evidence by his letters and expressions of affection and concern throughout the KotFE/KotET expansions.

One might argue that the traitor element of the Nathema Conspiracy was partially caused by Theron’s attachment issues: his independent streak, his inability to ask for help, his lack of faith in others to do the job right (not telling anyone the truth), his lack of faith in himself (his willingness to understand why the player might dump/exile him). If romanced, he gave one of his Holonet messages the subject line “I love you,” but even then, he did not clue the player into his self-made mission. Certainly, the Nathema Conspiracy happens because of Theron’s desperate desire to save the galaxy and the player at any cost – including the relationship itself and his life.

For those who let Theron live, the attachment issues have faded as Theron has gotten engaged/married and/or reformed a relationship with his bio parents… or the writers have moved on from Lana and Theron as companions. Regardless, we have to keep in mind that Theron is closing in on 40, and he has grown as a character since he first appeared in Star Wars media at age 23 (baby and adolescent only in flashbacks). His issues with his relationships, the Jedi, the Republic, and his bio parents have changed over the course of 17 years. In the last story patch, people who have romanced Theron received letters from both Theron and his mother about how good the player is for him, and it’s very satisfying to see how far he has come.

How does this label of ‘fearful avoidant’ manifest in your fanworks?

Since not everyone is into fic, I’ll drop this behind a cut.

Basically, my version of Theron wants love but is terrified of all the feelings and closeness that come with it. When people get close, he draws away, but still wants them to be close. Theron has had good relationships, but if it gets too serious, he runs. That’s the case for his last major relationship prior to my oc; his Mirialan girlfriend was drawing a tattoo to mark their relationship, and she wanted him to meet the parents. Theron noped out of there pretty hard by taking a long mission off Coruscant and sort of forgetting to tell her. There are several times where he takes a big step with Eva (my oc)– disclosure, physical intimacy, caring for her or letting her care for him – and then he just doesn’t contact her for the next few days. He dives into work to avoid her. Toward the end of their initial relationship, that will turn into weeks and months. He is freaked out when he does things with her that are intimate, sexual or not. He has a lot of fear that he will be left again, so he leaves first.

Theron also sets up a lot of rules and boundaries that the partner has to dance around to get in. After 300,000 words, I just completed a slow burn with the Rishi kiss, because Theron wouldn’t get involved with Eva until after the op to expose the conspiracy was over. There will be more rules once they get to Yavin.

When I was doing research on this, I read a clinical study that found that people with avoidant attachment issues are particularly fastidious about safe sex. They don’t want attachments to their lovers in the form of a disease or a child. Anxious attachments tend to eschew this and take the risk so they can be bound to someone. This is part of why I gave Theron a male birth control implant, but there will also be reference to his back-up (condoms) and back-up back-up (PreP) to ensure there aren’t any adverse consequences for him.

Theron is often alone, but that doesn’t make him lonely by default. In part, that might be due to his avoidance of attachments. Dude can pick up people at a bar and get laid. Theron isn’t adverse to sex, just intimacy. He can find someone to hook up, but that doesn’t mean there is anything beyond sex attached to it. Theron can and does get dates, and he can have relationships ... but that doesn’t mean he can make a healthy connection to the other person. I think his issues are more emotional/internal than they are caused by not getting enough physical contact or affection from others. People want to love him. People reach out to him to be friends or have a relationship. He just doesn’t want it; he avoids it. I imagine that this is partly the case with Jace and his SIS coworkers.

The last fearful avoidant feature I’ll give Theron in my series is the tendency to idealize relationships after they’re dead and over. When the relationship is no longer available, it is held up and made glorious, partially to enable the person not to pursue a different relationship; it’ll never be as good, so why try? This also calls in the tendency for fearful avoidants to fear not only screwing up the relationship themselves, but that others won’t live up to their expectations. Theron is a mess after the Eternal Fleet incident and never moves on from Eva. It’s reasonable when he thinks she’s alive, but for a good two years, he thinks she’s dead… and he can’t. With anyone else.

Unlike the game, I eventually send Theron to a therapist to deal with the fearful avoidant attachment issues. I figure if I’m going to give a fictional character a real-world label, I need to give him a real-world solution that might work.

#swtor #theron shan #character analysis #theron thursday #jedi #jedi philosophy #ngani zho

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obwjam · 3 years

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Ooo how about - 2. “It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.” - maybe with obi wan? xx

“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

oh yes anon this is the STUFF. local sassy man is exhausted, sources say

from this post

———————————————————————-

“It’s like you’re trying to get hurt at this point.”

“Obi-Wan...” you sighed, looking down at your legs dangling in the air. You weren’t too fond of being grabbed, so Obi-Wan’s solution was to use the Force when you fell — and you fell often. “Do you have to do this every time?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even look up from the book he was reading. “Yes.”

“Please,” you rolled your eyes. “I was totally gonna make that jump!”

“It certainly didn’t look like it.”

“You always say that!” you protested, now crossing your arms as you jerked your body to face your Jedi friend. The light of the Coruscant sunset was bathing you in a pink and orange glow. “And you weren’t even looking this time!”

“Even you’d have to admit your track record is less than stellar,” Obi-Wan ignored your comment and smirked, hand barely outstretched as he kept you hovering a few feet from the ground. “Wasn’t it just last week that you tried to swing from the bookcase to the table and ended up on the ground instead?”

You huffed a breath. “That was a miscalculation.”

“And how many more miscalculations until you seriously injure yourself?”

“Come on, you know as well as I do that borrowers don’t get hurt as easily as humans.”

Obi-Wan finally looked up from his book. His expression wasn’t irked like you thought it might be — it was concerned. “(Y/n). That isn’t an excuse to do dangerous things.”

You shut your eyes as Obi-Wan stood up from his chair and kneeled down in front of you, pulling you from midair into his open palm. In all the time you had known Obi-Wan, you still could barely look up at him. The sheer size difference was something you figured you’d never get used to.

You refused to look up at Obi-Wan as he took a seat.

“Your stunts get more and more wild by the day,” he said quietly. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you grumbled. “Why would something be wrong?”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “You’re not the first one to try getting one’s attention by acting out.”

You grimaced as you wrung your hands together.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being around you all the time.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, trying to get a read on your expression. “(Y/n), what are you talking about?”

“You know! You’re—you’re this great, powerful Jedi master, who—who can move things with his mind and do incredible things. You think just because I’m small that I’m helpless and can’t do anything!”

“Missions are far too dangerous for you, and you know that!” Obi-Wan said sternly, rolling his eyes. It was another one of these conversations. He didn’t even notice your flinch when he raised his voice.

“But I could help!” you cried, standing up and balling your fists at your side. “I could—I could be a spy, or—or I could crawl into places you normally wouldn’t be able to reach!”

“(Y/n), people die on these missions! All the time! The clones who are bred for battle don’t often make it back. I can’t let you take that risk!”

“You don’t let me do anything! Sure, I’ve gotten hurt before, but you get hurt too! Everybody does!”

Obi-Wan groaned. This had to have been the fifth time this week you begged him to take you on a mission. He wasn’t in the mood to keep rehashing his decision, and guilt-tripping wasn’t going to work. “It’s different for you and you know it.”

“Oh really? How come? Because I’m so small, I can’t be trusted? Because I’m just a pathetic little thing you took pity on?!”

It was like all the air disappeared from the room in an instant. Obi-Wan gasped softly while you covered your mouth, utterly horrified that you has let that slip. In an instant, he had gone from annoyed to embarrassed. In the months that had passed since Obi-Wan found you, he had mostly kept you confined to his quarters. He had left you alone when he went on missions, but he figured that was for the best — the fewer giants you had to encounter, the better. He failed to consider the possibility that sheltering you would just make you more afraid.

“(Y/n),” he started, lifting his hands up to his eye level. He could barely see the makings of a tear track on your cheek. “Is that really how you feel?”

You crossed your arms and turned your head down, giving it a small shake.

“No? Then why would you say that?”

Your stomach felt like there was a lead weight resting inside. “People say things.”

“What people? Other Jedi?” Obi-Wan had to suppress the rage that was bubbling up.

“I dunno!” your quavering voice shouted in defense. It was times like these that you hated being confined to his hand. “I just... I hear it sometimes, okay? When you’re not around.”

“It’s not Anakin, is it?”

“No, not him,” you scoffed. “Though he does seem to look at me like some sort of helpless pet.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He needs to learn some manners.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Sometimes it just feels like you’d be better off without me here.”

Obi-Wan almost screamed. If he ever found out who was saying those things to you...

“(Y/n), what are you trying to say?”

You finally looked up at Obi-Wan and felt a pang of guilt at his hurt expression. You didn’t think he would be so... offended by your words.

“I’m just... I don’t understand why you keep me around. I just get in your way, don’t I? You’re always worrying about me, even when I don’t need to be worried about. I’ve fallen from treetops to the forest floor. This is the safest place I’ve ever been — you —you won’t even show me around the temple! — but you still feel the need to—”

“—to protect you?” Obi-Wan finished. Embarrassed, you nodded.

“Yeah. To protect me. When I never even leave this room. I can’t be the only person you ever saved from danger. You... you have far more important things to do than save me when I fall.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment as he steadied his breathing. It was never lost on him how small and vulnerable you were compared to the environment around you. Even in the safety of his hands, his curled fingers loomed overhead. How could he not worry when even he was an inherent danger to you? You were his responsibility now — just as Anakin and Ahsoka are. When he rescued you from your old planet, you were injured and afraid. The temporary shelter he promised had turned into a permanent solution because he enjoyed having you around. You were a friend.

“It seems I have failed to properly convey my feelings,” Obi-Wan said softly, almost sounding disappointed in himself. You looked at him, confused.

“You matter to me a great deal. I wouldn’t have let you stay if you didn’t. You’re a wonderful companion and an even greater friend. You’re right, you’re not the first person I’ve saved from this horrible war. It’s... not often that Jedi get the opportunity to let themselves care so deeply for someone. I want to protect you because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you get hurt.”

You gawked up at him, almost not believing what you were hearing.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, or think any lesser of you.” You could have sworn Obi-Wan’a cheeks flushed red for a moment. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“You... you really mean that?” you blushed, gently resting your hands on his thumb. His hand didn’t seem so imposing anymore.

Obi-Wan didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

“It’s just... I dunno,” you frowned. “You travel all across the galaxy. You meet so many amazing and powerful people. Why me? Why do you care about me so much?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard for a moment. He had never thought about it concretely, but it didn’t take long for the words to come to him.

“Well, for starters, you’re far more observant than I am. And quite good at understanding people and their feelings.” He smiled to himself. “And I must admit, you are very agile. If you were my height, you certainly would have no problem holding your own.”

You rubbed your eyes, foolishly hoping you could conceal how red your face was. No such luck.

“Look, I know I can’t do everything I wish I can. Or act like I can. But I spent my entire life living by myself in a forest. I got by just fine until the war came. I’m—I’m not used to just sitting around all day doing nothing. I... I can help. I want to help! I owe it to you. You saved me, and I should be doing more to show my thanks. Nothing crazy, or-or anything, but maybe I could—”

“Tenacious.”

“What?”

“You’re tenacious, too. I like that about you. It reminds me of...” he trailed off. He didn’t need to say for you to know. “You don’t like to accept the circumstances given to you. You’d rather be the one setting the terms.”

You shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Perhaps I am a bit overbearing at times. But it’s because I care, not because I don’t think you’re capable. But even I can admit when I’m in the wrong.”

You sniffed a laugh. “Can’t imagine that happens all too often.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “No, not really.”

There was a comfortable silence as Obi-Wan thought over what he was about to say. He could only imagine how you felt — ripped away from your home, forced to sit inside all day as you recover from everything you saw and went through. Nobody in their right mind would want to return to the war after being rescued from it, but Obi-Wan supposed he underestimated how you were just his kind of crazy.

“How did you like being in space when I brought you to Coruscant?”

You cocked your head. “Um, I liked it just fine. I was kinda scared, but I thought it went well for my first time on a ship. Why?”

“Well, as you know I’m due to leave for a relief mission to Corvo tomorrow. I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? Yes! I mean—yeah, if—if you’re offering, I’d really — I’d love to.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Good. The people of Corvo are allies of the Republic, and very kind. If you’re to make Coruscant your new home, it might be nice for you to meet the Corvoian Prime Minister.”

It took a great deal of discipline to contain your excitement, and Obi-Wan knew it. You leaned into his thumb in sort of a makeshift hug, and he flexed his fingers to reciprocate the action as best he could. For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The moment didn’t need any words.

“Obi-Wan?” you said finally.

“Hmm?”

“How come you changed your mind so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I know when I make a mistake. And I like to fix it as soon as possible so people don’t realize it happened.”

You laughed. “How very humble of you.”

“Oh, you know me.”

“Yeah,” you said, resting your head on his thumb as Obi-Wan leaned back. The sun had just about set and the hundreds of brilliant lights were beginning to pop up along the horizon. You would never get tired of its beauty.

“I do.”

#wow this got REALLY sappy #fiercely protective obi-wan >>>>#he thinks he knows best but sometimes he’s wrong!#only sometimes tho #me just projecting my desire to be obi-wan’s friend #his funky little friend #obwrites #star wars g/t

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