Such an underrated Achilles moment is him cutting off his hair to place in Patroclus' hands before lighting his funeral pyre. Like, listen listen listen, the main reason our boy grew his hair long at all is because his father promised it to the river-god Spercheus upon his safe return home. Please. Peleus promised to sacrifice his son's beautiful hair in exchange for his beautiful son's homecoming. And Achilles, fucking Achilles (beloved/beloathed), cuts it all off to give to Patroclus on his final journey, because he knows, he knows, the river-god won't fulfill his father's request. Because Achilles won't let him. Because in that moment, Achilles already knows he won't be coming home.
CONGRATULATIONS ON 212 VOD! I am absolutely fascinated with the idea of a Batman Kanera AU, so I would love to see that! 😁❤ Thank you so much!!
THANK YOU SO MUCH VOD!!! I'm so glad to hear it-- but fair warning. This ate my brain. Like, multi-chapter fic level ate my brain. I've been working on it for many weeks, hence this taking so long. So here's the first little bit and the rest you'll have to read on AO3!! I've only published the first three chapters, I'll get the others out within the next couple of days
Pairing: Hera Syndulla/ Kanan Jarrus
Word Count: 1,408
Warning: Attempted mugging, some violence and blood
The city of Lothal was something of a contradiction in terms. The area itself was beautiful, surrounded with golden prairies and mountains that often were capped with snow. At first glance, the buildings and the city seemed to shine, full of wealth and beauty.
But a closer look or more than an hour in the city would shatter that notion in seconds. Poverty and crime filled the streets, and corruption had claimed the leaders of the city. The people were in constant danger from gangs that were allowed to run rampant throughout the city, and Mayor Pryce did nothing to stop it— and was handsomely compensated to stay that way.
There were a precious few who resisted this regime of deception. A handful of the police, the new district attorney, ordinary citizens— and of course, the Spectre.
It has been said that you create the things that bring about your destruction. In this case, it’s true. The Spectre rose up out of the depths of Lothal, clad in armor and a mask and wielding a sword that he rarely used. He fought back against the criminals of the city— before his arrival, the Pykes and Crimson Dawn had run rampant, unchecked by the police. Now they had something to fear. Some of the citizens called him a hero. Others preferred vigilante madman, or other less charming terms.
The only thing anyone could agree on was that they had no idea who he was. Theories flew fast and thick, ranging from a mystery swordsman who traveled here from distant lands and would only use his sword when he met the enemy it was intended for, to a member of the underworld who’d been turned by one of the police, to the commissioner himself.
Not one of them gave any thought to the unreasonably rich grandson of the now retired Mace Windu, who’d been an incredibly successful business man before he retired and moved several cities away to live out his life in peace. Not one of them suspected Kanan Jarrus.
Which was exactly what Kanan wanted.
Crouching on the top of a building, he surveyed the dark city beneath him for a moment. It had been a busy night— he’d handled an armed robbery, one drug exchange, and surveilled the police commissioner's house yet again. If I can get Commissioner Tarkin replaced, it’ll be less of an uphill battle, Kanan mused. But then we still have Mayor Pryce to deal with.
There was just too much, too many crime syndicates and corrupt members of the government. Kanan refused to limit himself— if he had to, he’d take them all down by himself, one by one. But he could use a little help, more than the few people who were helping him at the moment.
He shook his head as if it could physically dislodge the thoughts, bringing himself back to the present. The night was barely half over, and while Kanan Jarrus might be tired, the Spectre still had work to do.
He leapt from the rooftop, vaulting to the next one with ease, his long cloak fluttering behind him. He’d been skeptical about the idea of wearing one at first— it seemed too likely that it would get in his way and hamper him while fighting. But he could free himself of it easily if it turned out to be a problem, and the hood gave him the advantage of looking distinctly ominous to any criminals.
He made good time, leaping from rooftop to rooftop quickly— one of the few perks of being a vigilante in a metropolis. As Kanan paused at the edge of a building, scanning to find his next goal, he heard it.
A voice. Feminine, warm and stunningly beautiful, the likes of which he’d never heard before. Kanan had been a hundred places, met a thousand people, and he already knew that whoever had a voice like that was someone he had to meet.
The words she was speaking, however, were in direct contrast to the melodic tone she spoke in. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, I think we do.” Another voice, this one decidedly more male and less alluring, replied. “A pretty little girl like you might have something of interest to us, don’t you think, boys?”
The sneering menace in the other voice immediately put Kanan on alert, and he heard a few other men chuckle. He was already moving towards the source of the noise when the woman let out a sigh. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you, then.”
Kanan reached the edge of the building and looked down in the alley, taking in the scene swiftly. Five men had the woman surrounded, pinned against a dead end. As Kanan looked on, one of them moved closer, grinning nastily as he reached for her. Oh, I don’t think so, Kanan thought, preparing to jump as his heart thrummed in readiness for a fight.
The woman moved first. Grabbing the man’s arm, she pivoted, twisting it sharply before he could react. There was a nasty pop that was only just drowned out by the man’s howl of pain. Holy kriff, Kanan thought as the man slid to the ground, clutching his shoulder.
The woman didn’t hesitate, though. She left the first man where he lay and moved forward in a quick vicious attack. Kanan watched, stunned and more than a little impressed, as she took out the rest of the gang efficiently in a matter of minutes. Whoever she is, she’s more than prepared to live in Lothal, he mused as she delivered a sharp kick to the chin of the last man, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Dusting off her hands briskly, the woman bent to retrieve what seemed to be her jacket from the ground. And in doing so, she completely missed the first man she’d taken out rising to his feet, an ugly snarl twisting his face as he reached for what was probably a weapon.
Without stopping to think, Kanan leapt from the roof, landing behind the man. A swift blow to the back of the head sent him to the ground, fully unconscious.
The noise caught the woman’s attention, and she spun around to face him. Kanan took in her appearance— dark skin, vibrant green eyes, hair twisted back into two braids that hung over her shoulders and no-nonsense, simple clothing. With a jolt of surprise, Kanan realized she was holding a gun in her hand. And she didn’t even bother to take it out until now, he thought.
She didn’t shoot him, though. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You were here the whole time, and you only just now decided to drop in?”
“I would have, but you seemed to have it well in hand,” Kanan replied, his words echoing against the inside of his mask— a side effect that added to his anonymity.
“Impressed?” the woman said with a small smile— was she teasing him? Kanan felt a return smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Words fail me,” he told her.
She gave him an amused look that quickly turned into one of curiosity. “You’re the Spectre, aren’t you? The vigilante I’ve heard so much about since I moved here.”
Kanan briefly considered asking who would be crazy enough to move to Lothal willingly, but instead said, “Planning to have me arrested?”
“No,” she said immediately, which surprised Kanan.
“You seem fairly confident about that. Surely you’ve heard the stories about me.”
“I’ve heard enough to form my own opinion,” the woman said matter-of-factly.
Curiosity flickered inside him, and Kanan stepped a little closer as he said, “And what’s that, Miss…?”
“Hera,” she said, giving him a smile that made his heart skip a beat. “And my opinion is that you’re a hero. No matter what else people see you as. You’re fighting for what’s right. In an unorthodox way, I’ll admit, but in this city… that’s all a person can really do. For now.”
“Are you expecting to see some changes?” Kanan asked wryly. “Because that would be a first around here.”
“You were the first,” Hera corrected him. “But in answer to your question… no, I’m not. I’m planning on making some.”
She gave him a nod, then turned and headed out of the alleyway, slipping her gun back under her coat. For a moment longer than he strictly should have, Kanan watched her go.
"oohhh tumblr's hard to uuuse we need to make sure users more efficiently get cOnTeNt relevant to their interests delivered via algorithm-" shut the FUCK up my curated chronological dash just delivered me to a blog for which I AM THE target fucking audience
