#; when you are young they assume you know nothing ( gideon )

[sheprotec]

She says she wants to as well, but she is a liar

The sky is overcast and I'm sorry. One more or one less. Nobody's worried

But one's never going to let go of that wire, she says that she will, but she's just a liar

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: Danger Mouse

Group: D

Prompts: Rumple sees Gideon’s birth. The beast is gone. Whispers.

-

The Midwife’s Tale

Everybody knew that contacting the Dark One commanded a high price. That was why, when Agatha heard of her niece's plight, she offered to be the one to call the deal-maker for help. After all, what could he possibly ask of an old woman like her? Her firstborn was long since grown and nothing she owned could possibly be of value to such a powerful sorcerer.  

His demand for a favour of his choosing, at an unspecified future time, came as a surprise. One day, he said, he would come for her and she would go with him immediately without question. And only when her services were no longer required would she be permitted to return to her family.

It was an unexpected request, and more than a little ominous. Her niece cried when Agatha agreed to the condition, but she knew it was worth it. Now she just had to live the rest of her life in fearful anticipation of the moment when the Dark One would swoop down and steal her away from everyone she knew and loved, to keep her with him for as long as he wanted.

*

That moment came surprisingly quickly. Only a few months later, during the family's evening meal, the demon appeared at her door and announced that she was to go with him. Agatha prepared herself for a tearful farewell, but the beast gave her no time. A cloud of mist obscured her vision and when it cleared again her family and the dinner table were gone, replaced by the stone walls of what she could only assume was the Dark Castle.

“In here,” the Dark One’s tone was clipped as he opened a nearby door and walked through, apparently confident that she would follow.

Cautiously, Agatha stepped into the room, taking in the bright tapestries and large windows that felt incongruous in a castle named after darkness. A sound drew her attention away from the decorations and towards the large bed where a young woman lay in the centre.

A heavily pregnant young woman.

Agatha drew in a breath as the reason for her presence became clear.  She wondered at not having made the connection before, knowing as she did the Dark One’s penchant for stealing babies, but somehow she’d never thought of him as the type to use a midwife. She'd always assumed that he collected children after the fact. She never expected that he would be involved in the actual births.

But involved he definitely was this time. He'd moved to the top of the bed and was leaning in close to the young woman, their heads practically touching as he whispered to her. Agatha wasn’t close enough to hear his words but assumed he was reminding her of whatever deal she had made to be in this position and warning against any attempts to cheat him of his merchandise.  

Suddenly the Dark One turned to face her and she almost flinched at the intensity in his amber eyes as he stalked forward, pointing to the bed behind him as he spoke.

“This is your payment to me. You are to help this woman deliver her baby and ensure they are both safe and well. Once that has been done you will be free to go.”

Agatha swallowed. “I'll... I'll do my best, sir, you have my word on that, but childbirth has its dangers. I cannot guarantee they will both come through safely.”

“They will. Or you’ll be spending the rest of your life as a toad.  All twenty seconds of it.”

“Rumplestiltskin...” The voice from the bed surprised Agatha, her accent indicating that this woman came from afar.  “Please don’t.” 

Agatha glanced between the two again and weighed up her next words. “I don't mean to be impertinent, sir, but your power is known throughout the land. Surely you could ensure a safe delivery without my help.”

Rumplestiltskin turned back to the bed and raised an eyebrow. The young woman matched his expression and Agatha watched as a silent conversation seemed to take place between them. She had the strangest feeling that she'd stumbled into an ongoing argument.

He sighed and turned back to her. “Belle wishes to have a natural delivery. You will do everything you can to ensure that happens. If something does go wrong then I will step in.  And that…” he spun back around to address the woman he’d called Belle,  “is non-negotiable. If there is even a hint that you or the baby are in danger then I will be using any and every form of magic at my disposal. I will not allow anything to happen to either of you. Is that clear?”

His tone sounded rather threatening to Agatha's ears, but it made the young woman's face soften and she smiled fondly. “Fine. But only if we're in danger. Otherwise please let the midwife do her job.”

“As you wish.”  Rumplestiltskin spread his hands before dropping into a nearby armchair.  

Agatha glanced at him nervously.   “Um, sir?  Perhaps you should wait in the hall. The birthing chamber is no place for a man.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a man then,” the demon tittered, causing Belle to roll her eyes.

“Don’t mind him.  He’s… ah…” she trailed off as her face contorted into a grimace.  

Agatha's thoughts that this must be an extremely important baby for the Dark One to be so involved were pushed away as her training kicked in and she hurried to the woman's side, vaguely noticing Rumplestiltskin mirroring her across the bed. “Have you been having regular pains?”

Belle nodded. “For a while now.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Thirteen minutes and forty seconds,” Rumplestiltskin interjected. “And sixteen minutes before that.”

“Well, it sounds like things are progressing nicely but you’ve still got a while to go yet.”  Agatha smiled reassuringly.

“That's what I told him.” Belle nodded her head in Rumplestiltskin's direction. “But he was adamant about bringing you here. I hope we didn't disrupt your day too much.”

“Of course not,” Agatha glanced at Rumplestiltskin, knowing that was the right answer, “but there's not much I can do at the moment beyond advising you to rest up before the hard work begins.”

“What do you mean?” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “She's in pain right now.”

“She’s in discomfort right now,” Agatha corrected.  “I'm afraid this is just the beginning. It's going to get worse over the next few hours.”

“Worse?” Rumplestiltskin looked like he was in pain himself as he turned to the figure in the bed, grabbing her hand, “Belle are you sure about this? Just say the word and I can...”

“I'm ok, Rumple.” Belle reached out her free hand to caress his scaled face. “Women have been giving birth for thousands of years.”

“I know, but…” his voice dropped to a whisper, one Agatha was close enough to hear this time, “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”  

Revelation hit Agatha like a wave, washing away all her previous assumptions, as she finally understood what she was seeing. Behind his unnatural eyes and the green-gold scales of his skin, the look on the Dark One's face was all too familiar.  It was a look she had seen countless times before on the faces of concerned husbands throughout the years.  

This woman wasn’t a desperate soul forced to hand over her baby to a monster.  She was his wife.  

Agatha cleared her throat and waited until they faced her. “Perhaps, sir, you could prepare some tea. The lady will need her strength and this could end up being a long night.”

*

It was, indeed, one of the longest nights of Rumplestiltskin's life. Seeing his wife in pain and having her refuse any and all help he could offer was a unique torture. But all that was forgotten the second he laid eyes on the perfect form the midwife laid in Belle's arms.

“Congratulations, my lady,” she smiled at them both, “a healthy baby boy.”

“Thank you.  Thank you so much.” Belle beamed at the woman before turning all her attention to their son.

“Yes, thank you.” Rumplestiltskin barely glanced in her direction. “There’s tea for you in the kitchen.  Help yourself, and once you’re finished you’ll be transported back to your home.  Consider your debt paid in full.”

He waved his hand and the woman vanished, leaving the three of them alone.

“That was rather nice of you,” Belle glanced at him suspiciously.  “What exactly is in that tea?”

“Just a small memory potion,” he replied, gazing at the baby in her arms, “I’ll not have my enemies finding out about you two.”

“So she’ll remember nothing?”

“She’ll remember coming here, a young woman screaming in pain for hours because of something I did to her, and my delight with the result.”

Belle shook her head.  “You're terrible.”

“Exactly,” he smirked.  “I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have people thinking the beast is gone.”

-

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 3

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so so much for the love on this fic so far <3 Like I've said countless times before, AU's are nerve-wracking - especially one as unhinged as this one - so I really appreciate the support.

Please let me know what you think <3

Note: tumblr is tumblring, so tags aren't necessarily working. Please interact with this if you see it <3

-x-

Words: 3k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You should get some sleep.” 

She scoffs as she turns to look at Dave, tearing her eyes from the screen just for a moment before she looks back at it, her lips pressed together as she shakes her head, “I can’t sleep.” 

Dave sighs and sits down on the couch next to her, he sits so he’s in her line of vision, blocking the television, and he smiles at her with so much sympathy it makes her want to scream. She looks away, the opulence of the apartment they were always put in when in the Capitol makes her feel suffocated, the large expansive space with amenities people at home couldn’t even imagine putting her on edge. 

It had always been something that had irritated her, the cruelty of the fact she was living like this whilst children were fighting to the death never failed to make her skin itch, but this year it felt worse. The knowledge that Aaron could die and she couldn’t do anything to help beyond hope he made it out alive made sleep almost impossible, the thought of waking up to find out he’d been killed whilst she was sleeping was too much to bear.

Especially because her sheets still smelt like him, the lingering scent tricking her into thinking he was right there with her the first few seconds she was awake, a precious moment of joyful ignorance of the reality they lived in. 

“I don’t know him as well as you do, but something tells me if he comes out to find you sleep deprived and barely hanging on he won’t be happy,” Dave says, and Emily smiles wryly and nods. 

“That’s true,” she says her gaze drifting back to the television, anxiety building in her chest as she once again desperately hopes to see him on screen, to have the reassurance that he was still alive. She can feel Dave’s stare burning into her and she turns to look at him, concern bleeding out of him in a way she hadn’t seen since her own games, “What?”

“Have you thought this all the way through, Bella?” He asks, his tone nothing short of loving, the kind of judgement free affection she’s sure she would have had from a father if she’d had one who hadn’t left when she was young. 

“Thought what all the way through?” She asks, purposely acting like she doesn’t know what he is talking about. 

Dave wasn’t stupid,  she knew that, and he would know Aaron had been sleeping in her room the entire time they’d been here. He also would have known that he’d been talking about her to Gideon, not Kate like almost everyone else including her had assumed. He’d been playing this game since before she was born, aware of the ever changing and twisting rules. Rules that had been created to make sure even the winners walked away with no real victory. 

He smiles softly and sighs, “If he survives and you two…do this. There will be expectations of you both,” he clears his throat, choosing his words carefully, both of them well aware that there was no such thing as a private conversation here, “You would have very little choice in what your life would look like.” 

She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it in any great detail beyond the hope that Aaron would survive, that the rushed confessions on the rooftop the day before he went into the arena wouldn’t be all they’d ever have. He’d slept in her bed that night too, and for the first time, they didn’t fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. She’d curled up in his arms and rested her head on his chest, the same position they always woke up in, and she fell asleep and dreamt of a world where he would come back to her. 

She knows that Dave is right, that if Aaron did survive and their relationship was public, something that was unavoidable, there would be expectations from President Barnes. They’d have to get married, which even if they wanted to it wouldn’t be anything like what they’d choose. It would be a spectacle, the celebrity status that came with being a Victor something she hated. They’d be expected to have children. Children she didn’t want because she already knew what their fate would be, destined to follow in their parent's footsteps at some point. Children she once said she’d never have but would love with her entire heart until they were taken from her by the same people who had made her have them. 

It was unbearable to think about, pre-emptive grief for something that might not even happen if Aaron died filling her lungs. 

She blows out a shaky breath and she nods at him. 

“I know,” she says, laughing humourlessly, “But I’ve had very little choice in what my life looks like since I threw that fucking knife,” she says, wiping the one stray tear that had escaped her lashline away, getting rid of it as quickly as it had appeared, “At least with him…” 

“You wouldn’t be alone in it,” Dave finishes for her as she drifts off and she nods again, forcing another sigh from him before he stands up, his hand on her shoulder as he squeezes tightly, “Just make sure he understands it all too,” he says, his smile soft, full of hope that seemed misplaced, “When he makes it out.” 

She chuckles and nods, placing her hand briefly over his before he lets go. She knows it’s his way of saying he approves, that he hopes it works out for her, and she’s sure she’s never been more grateful for him. 

“I will do.” 

___

By day three of the games there are only ten tributes left. They hadn’t made it beyond the initial bloodbath with both of their tributes in years, so it felt like nothing short of a miracle that both Kate and Aaron were still alive. 

Dave insisted that she came with him to a viewing party, and convinced her that they had to keep up appearances and act as if this was just normal games for her, as if the man she was in love with wasn’t part of the show they were all watching whilst getting drunk. 

She groans as she sees Ian Doyle walking towards her, a familiar smirk on his face that makes her skin crawl

“Well, well, Emily Prentiss. You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, and she smiles politely at him, the same smile her mother had taught her when she was young painted across her face. 

“Yes,” she says, taking a sip of her drink, “And until right now it was working.” 

Ian had won when he was 13, one of the youngest ever winners, a decade ago. He was vicious even then, a violence to his victory that had stood out to everyone. He’d pursued her for years, flirting with her the moment she’d turned 16 in a way that had made Dave ultraprotective of her, purposely making sure there was distance between them whenever possible. 

“Now come on, that’s not very nice,” he says, smiling as he steps in closer, the smell of whiskey and smoke washing over her, “How about you let me take you out when this is all over?” He says smiling, “My tributes didn’t last long, yours probably don’t have much longer…we can drown our sorrows.” 

She chuckles, fake interest dripping from her smile as she leans in, “Not even if the president herself demanded it.” 

She thinks he’s going to say something else, his pride clearly hurt, but an explosion tears her attention away from the conversation and she looks at the screen, her breath catching in her chest as she watches Aaron get thrown from his feet. He’s flung through the air like he weighs nothing, like she didn’t know that simply having his arm thrown over her waist was enough to pin her in place. She swallows thickly as she walks closer, shrugging off Dave’s attempt to hold her back, and she does everything in her power to make sure she doesn’t physically react, her shoulders tight as she comes to a stop. 

The relief she feels when Aaron stands up is palpable, his weight against a nearby tree as he stumbles, stunned by the explosion. It takes him a few seconds to steady himself and then he’s up again, running towards where the explosion had happened. 

It’s only then that she sees Kate, and guilt washes over her as she realises she hadn’t even thought about her, all of her focus on Aaron. 

He drops to his knees next to her, his hands immediately covered in blood when he touches her, her injuries clearly too extensive to survive. 

“Kate,” Aaron says, shaking his head as he looks around as if searching for help they both knew wouldn’t come, “You’ve got to hold on. I…” he swallows thickly as he pushes her onto her side to see the damage, his eyes going wide when he sees the mess her back is in, exposed bone and muscle drawing gasps from the crowd around Emily. 

“Is it bad?” Kate asks as he lowers her back down and sits down next to her, looking over his shoulder for more danger, trying to stay alert in case someone comes to finish what they started. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks instead of answering her question and she shakes her head, “Good. It’s good it doesn’t hurt.” 

Kate smiles tightly and nods, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“When…when you said what you said during your interview, you were talking about Emily weren’t you?” 

It feels like a lifetime passes as Emily watches him weigh up his options. Everything around her comes to a stop, her breath catching in her chest as she stares at him, the way he nods in response makes her close her eyes. She can feel everyone looking at her, can hear the whispers as they all start to gossip.

“Then you need to make sure you go back to her,” Kate says, her voice getting weaker, her words slurring together, “One of us should go back home.” 

Aaron nods and he reaches out for her hand and squeezes it tightly, “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head, “Don’t be,” she says, her eyes drifting shut, “It’s not…” 

She drifts off, her words dying in her throat as a cannon rings out in the arena, making Emily jump ever so slightly, the sound always taking her right back to the arena herself. She looks back up at the screen and watches sadly as Aaron stands up and takes one last look at Kate before he walks away, a new determination in his step.

“Well,” Ian says, standing so close to her she can feel his breath on her neck. She turns to look at him, making a point of scrunching her nose up in disgust at him, “Now I know why you turned me down.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Ian,” she says, taking a step back from him, “I’ve never needed an excuse to turn you down.” 

She walks away, making eye contact with Dave as she does so, and she desperately makes a point of ignoring how everyone is looking at her, how she feels like an animal in a zoo for the first time in years.

___

Emily jumps awake, not aware that she’d even fallen asleep in the first place as she gasps for air, her hand pressed against her chest as she takes in her surroundings.

“Emily, you’re okay,” Dave says, smiling softly at her, his hand on her shoulder as she looks around, realising that she had fallen asleep in the living room. Her eyes go wide as she looks over to the television, and Dave clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “He’s okay too. He’s still alive.” 

She nods rubbing her eyes as she sits up, “How long was I out?” 

“Only a few hours,” he says, “The girl from five and the boy from seven died.”

She frowns, “That leaves…”

“Just Aaron and that creep Foyet from four are left,” Dave says and he stands up, “It’s why I woke you up. They’re getting ready for the grand finale.” 

She blows out a shaky breath and she stands up, “I’ll get ready. I assume they’ll want us all out there.” 

“We can sit this one out, Bella,” he says as she starts to walk towards her room and she freezes in place. She turns to look at him, and he smiles sympathetically, as if she’d already lost Aaron, and it makes her ache, “We can make an excuse. Stay up here and give you some privacy.” 

She stares at him for a moment, affection for her friend, for how he’d protected her over the years flooding to the surface. She walks over and hugs him, sinking into the embrace when he hugs her back.

“We should go,” she says, smiling tightly at him when they pull back, “The first rule of being a Victor?” 

He smiles as she repeats what he’d said to her when she made it out of the arena, when she was scared and traumatised and wishing she’d died too. 

“Keep up appearances,” he says squeezing her shoulder before she steps back, “You won’t have long.”

She nods and walks towards her bedroom,  she pauses when she looks at the bed, the bed she hadn’t slept in for days, and she walks over her hand hovering over the pillow that had become Aaron’s. She picks it up and presses her face into it, breathing in the scent of him, letting it wash over her for a moment.

“Don’t die on me,” she says quietly, “Not now.” 

She gets ready in a haze, grateful that she’d turned down her stylist team, not sure she could cope with putting on a brave face until the last possible moment. When they get out to the main square it feels like everyone is looking at her instead of at the giant screen in front of them all, Aaron’s confession about loving her still lingering in everyone's minds all these days later. 

She’d always hated the jubilance that came with this, the excitement that lingered in the air as people were waiting to find out if they’d won their bets, if they had made money from the deaths of children. She had been bewildered her first time here, the year after she’d won. She’d felt out of place, like she was underwater as she watched people act like it was the party of the year whilst she wondered what people had made of her victory. If they thought it counted because she’d, according to some people, cheated by using the forcefield. 

She looks up at the giant screens, watches how the game makers clearly try and draw Aaron and George Foyet together. She stands tall, uses everything her mother had taught her about politics, about how to survive in the world they lived in. She uses everything Dave had taught her about being a survivor, what Penelope had taught her about the Capitol. She was the sum of everyone she’d ever known, of everything she had survived herself. 

She just hoped she’d get the chance to help Aaron do the same, to be part of what made him whole again. 

“I have a good feeling about this,” Dave says as he turns to look at her and she scoffs, shaking her head. 

“You’ve never lied to me before,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest, “Don’t start now.” 

“He’ll make it back to you,” he says, winking at her in a way that relaxes her and makes her furious in equal measure, “He’d be a fool not to.” 

She smiles at him, his attempt at calming her down having worked, albeit briefly, but she’s drawn back to the spectacle of the games when she hears a yell, a scream she knows is Aaron. Foyet has him pinned down, a knife in his hand that glints in the artificial sun as he draws it out of him, the grunt that leaves Aaron animalistic. 

“Emily-”

“Don’t,” Emily says, cutting off Dave’s platitudes, her hands clenched by her sides as she stares at the screen, “Come on Aaron,” she says under her breath, “You’ve promised me a date.” 

She isn’t sure where Aaron gets his strength from, isn’t sure how he overpowers Foyet, but he does. He rolls them over, knocking the knife out of his hand at the same time, and he punches him. Hard. It’s something he repeats again and again, and she finds it oddly mesmerising. The crunch of Foyet’s bones, the sound as his teeth gave way under fists that had never been anything other than soft with her.  

Foyet collapses, his head falling to the side as he passes out, and Aaron breathes heavily as he pulls back, his knuckles bleeding from where his skin had broken against the other man’s face. He tries to stand up but he stumbles, falling next to Foyet, his hands against the wounds he’d given him, blood seeping through his fingers as his eyes drift shut. 

The transmission cuts out, the screen goes black and the crowd yells in disappointment. Emily turns to Dave, her eyes wide as she looks at him. 

“What’s going on?” 

He opens his mouth to respond, some half-hearted attempt to make her feel better, but he’s cut off by the loud booming sound of a single cannon going off in the distance.  

-x-

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[orion-lacroix]

@flashfictionfridayofficial

tittle: The sea calls, a sailor answer

words: 922

warning: implied threat

I will do anything so that this wedding doesn’t happen.

Gideon had not been surprised, he himself wasn’t thrilled about his betrothed but something in her tone felt dangerous, like a mix between a warning and a threat. Lady Amandine had plans for her future, Gideon being her husband was not in it. He could understand, he was only the front face of his family, the face of the Blackwood heir.

Behind that mask Gideon couldn’t tell anyone what his favorite color was, what music he preferred, who he was. There was nothing behind that mask of perfection and Gideon knew this was for the best, for both him and Amandine. They both would get the future that they wanted.

He had swore not to interfere with Amandine plan’s to stop their wedding, but her tone had been awfully cold and Gideon could feel the threat behind her words, he was a little afraid of his betrothed. Tonight was the night he was leaving. The night he had spent daydreaming about for weeks, planning the smallest detail so everything would go smoothly.

He waited until he heard the footsteps of both his parents walk in front of his door and into their bedrooms, and then waited five minutes, letting the sleep call his parents, aided by whatever sleeping aid they had taken. He pulled the cover off his body slowly, as if peeling the cover, until he lightly stepped on the wooden floor, using his foot to grab the handle of his bag and draw it from under his bed.

Every single of the belongings that really mattered to Gideon had been discreetly tucked into the expanding bag. He had also stolen a small pouch from his mother and had filled it with coins so he could pay for his travel and still have enough to become someone else. Amandine had discreetly given him a pouch also filled with golden coins, asking him to disappear.

He grabbed his bag and swung it to his shoulders, it was still relatively light and Gideon wanted to thank the spell-master because he had put a lot of things inside and the weight hadn’t changed.

He turned the handle of his bedroom door and pulled it open really slow, just big enough to squeeze out without opening it enough for the door to creak. He walked barefoot on the carpet, carefully going down the stairs to get to his shoes. He just had to grab his shoes and run fast.

He already knew exactly where he was headed. He went down the final stair but he felt his ankle twist and he tumbled down and fell. He got up instantly, giving up on discretion and running. He barely had time to grab a pair of any shoes he ran beside and opened the door when he heard the shout form his father.

“Young man! You get back here, you have a wedding to attend!” he heard his father call from the end of the hallway and Gideon stopped two second to shout back a “Fuck no!” before slamming the door behind him and run toward the closest portal right in front of the gate to the Blackwood manor. When he was near the portal he saw his father open the door to the manor and Gideon whispered to the portal, under his breath so his father would not know where he was heading.

“Wizard academy, port-town”

The color of the portal switched to a deeper, cooler green with swirls of deep blue. It looked like how Gideon imagined the sea, water and algae. Gideon barely waited for his surroundings to change before taking off again. He ran through the town, heading down to the dock. He didn’t know if his parents had followed him there, if they knew where he was heading, but in any situations he had to be on the cargo boat of marchand Erikson as soon as he could. If he had heard correctly Mr. Erikson was heading further south to the colder climates. Gideon had always wanted to explore the world, this was his chance.

He was planning on climbing in the cargo and hide a few days to make sure they had keep him aboard. When he saw the last boat on the dock he assumed it was the marchand, while the pirates had left in the night. He climbed the side on some net that was left to dry. Gideon walked lightly, shoes still in his hand, still barefoot, toward the cargo storage at the bottom of the boat. He walked down the stairs, he walked through the maze of storage in the total dark and curled against a barrel of something with alcohol and the wall of the boat.

Sleep came to him easily, he was just going down from a rush of panic that left him drained. He was woken up by being shaken. When he opened his eyes he was not greeted by an angry marchand, but the pirate the townspeople had warned him against. Fuck. He thought, staring at the other pirates that stood behind their captain.

He should have seen it coming, but staring at a sword being pointed to the face had a way of making one ponder their mistakes.

"Can you earn your keep?" Asked the capatain, looking Gideon frail body up and down.

"Yes sir I will!" said Gideon, Echo his falcon copied with an aprouval squak.

"Good, we are heading south. We’ve got some things to settle.” She said, face promising trouble.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 30 of Gideon the Ninth

So, a lot of revelations. I am not convinced that they are all correct, however.

I see Palamedes has his priorities in order. So, "one flesh, one end" means "permanently on your team no matter what", which honestly sounds a bit scary considering that cavaliers seem to be picked out fairly young. I wonder how this works for Corona and Ianthe sharing a cavalier, when they disagree, we've seen that happen several times now and he's been forced to take a side. Also, I note that Mayonnaise Uncle and Colum don't quite have this relationship, either

So, this happens twice in this chapter, here, and then later when Palamedes claims to have killed Magnus and Abigail, where there's this pithy piece of dialog that makes you go whoa, maybe I need to reevaluate this character, and then you read the longer explanation behind it and go oh, ok, that's not that shocking actually. It's like some kind of intellectual jump scare. I'm curious if this will continue to happen in the future

Gideon's story answers the questions of how and why Harrow's parents and their cavalier died, and what thing Harrow did that scared Gideon. We still have these questions: why did 200 children die, why were no children born after Harrow, why did everyone already hate Gideon before this happened, and I am doubtful that this is actually the whole reason that Harrow has been treating Gideon this way since then, since it seems too neat and also relationships with one's parents doesn't seem to be a big theme in this book, and Harrow must realize that it was primarily her own actions that caused this, whatever else is going on with her she doesn't seem completely irrational. It also brings the question of what is actually in the Locked Tomb into bigger focus. I'm also wondering if what actually happened behind the closed door when Harrow's parents died was something slightly different than what Gideon assumes happened, or if Harrow's parents said something to Harrow before they died that Gideon wouldn't have expected of them, or something along those lines. I gather that what we're meant to assume here, and what Gideon probably believes, is that they killed themselves because they failed to contain whatever is in the Locked Tomb due to Harrow unlocking it, which is like their whole reason for existing and also the lynchpin of their version of their religion. I'm also wondering if Harrow unlocking the Locked Tomb had some kind of long-term consequences that haven't been discussed or realized yet, and if Harrow's parents knew what those consequences would be, and if that was part of why they killed themselves. I'm guessing she didn't actually open it but just unlocked it, since Gideon thinks you would die immediately if you actually opened it

Huh, really? No really, I'm not sure if we're supposed to take this as writ that that's how she was going to finish that sentence, or mentally call out her bullshit. I feel like this might actually be about how their relationship was seemingly improving for a while, before this latest fight, but I'm not sure about that. I guess it could also refer to how Harrow agreed to a plan with Palamedes to guard Dulcinea and find Protesilaus, neither of which things actually advance Harrow towards Lyctorhood - actually, wait, hold on a second, with what we find out in this chapter, why did Harrow agree to send Gideon and the Fourth teens into the basement to look for Protesilaus? She knew exactly what had happened to him

Oh, I don't know about that. Four people dying and one turning out to have been weekend-at-Bernies'd the whole time has done absolutely nothing to stop the Lyctoral trial so far, and last I checked the Cohort was absolutely 100% for real banned from the First House for some reason

Sheesh Palamedes, has no one ever told you not to use your last name in your passwords

So, ok. Did Harrow think that Protesilaus had arrived alive, died, and then been reanimated by Palamedes? Or did she think Palamedes somehow did this before they all arrived at Canaan House? I can see why Harrow would be the one to figure out he was reanimated, she's been doing the Weekend at Bernie's necromancy herself for seven years now, but she was up close to him the moment he stepped off the shuttle, because Gideon ran over to them to heroically rescue Dulcinea from fainting

Actually, let's go back there, let's just look at Gideon's first physical description of Protesilaus:

Actually, I went back through every mention of Protesilaus up until the point when he disappeared:

So based on this, it looks like Harrow must have started to suspect that he was dead at Magnus's anniversary party, and then confirmed it in Chapter 20 when they did the soul siphoning challenge. So maybe she did think he had died before the anniversary party somehow and been reanimated. I also note that the only time Protesilaus ever speaks on-screen is just after Dulcinea calls Gideon out for holding the sword wrong, and this scares Gideon away (although he also apparently speaks to Harrow in some manner in the two quoted scenes as well). I'm not sure what Dulcinea's goal was, there, since she clearly wanted Gideon to tell her things, but I do not that Harrow wasn't able to make her parents talk at all. But supposedly Protesilaus was reanimated using flesh magic, whereas that doesn't seem to be Harrow's strength necromantically, and vocal chords are pretty fleshy things

Protesilaus disappeared sometime during Chapter 22. Chapter 20 was the soul siphoning challenge, in which Harrow tries to talk to Protesilaus, and then in Chapter 21 Harrow abandons Gideon in their rooms and tells her she's gone to examine the new room. I'm sure she probably did do that, but that must have also been when she knocked Protesilaus's head off. Also, Chapter 22 is when the remains in the incinerator were discovered. Potentially these could actually be Protesilaus's body, because we don't know what happened to it, and he could have died a month before they arrived at Canaan House. However, the incinerator has two people in it, and also a tooth, which is a little odd given that Harrow has his head. I suppose Protesilaus could have been frankensteined together out of two people instead of just one, but it would have to be two people who died at the same time. Wild conspiracy theory: maybe the other body is actually the real Dulcinea Septimus, maybe "one flesh, one end" means that when the necromancer dies the cavalier has to also, and so that's what happened to them? It clearly doesn't mean the reverse, since everyone seems to accept that Protesilaus is dead without suggesting killing Dulcinea or questioning why she wasn't killed

Also, I never considered that Harrow actually had his head because she just found it and was like, hey, free body parts, finders keepers! but she does carry human bone fragments around with her all the time, so that makes perfect sense for her

I don't believe Dulcinea's account of this. I still think she has been telling Gideon that she is already immortal and I still think she is secretly a Lyctor. This is supported by Harrow (who knows from Weekend at Bernie's) saying that this spell couldn't have been done by a normal necromancer, even one with access to blood cancer thanergy. Also:

The very old way, like a 10,000-year-old way? Also, this is interesting, she seems to have said here that Weekend at Bernie's is "useful and blameless" except if it's done the way she did it, and no one called her out on that

Side note: Dulcinea's comments here confirm that the Eighth House is also a bit non-standard in how they regard necromancy and the religion

You know you're a villain when even the Second House is reprimanding you for being cruel

This is a little odd, since Harrow was in fact there during the scene where they were examining the furnace remains. Of course, by this point she had disassembled Protesilaus and didn't want to share what she's learned about him, so maybe that's why she didn't do any analysis then

I wonder what this is about?

It's funny to her because she's immortal, right?

Harrow and Ianthe seem to already be poking holes in her story

I mean, I think the obvious answer to this question is that she doesn't actually know how to become a Lyctor yet? They were just arguing over this a few chapters ago

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - Chapter 25

In which Cordelia uses Charles for target practice and Alastair forms a geography team with Gideon. It's Nanowrimo so very busy with my project (currently 31.000 words in) but I'm still working on the Stars Collide and will update once a week. AO3 | Chapter list

Thomas felt like a fool. He had assumed Alastair was fragile. He had assumed sex would hurt him, that he wouldn’t be able to take it, that it might trigger something. And sure, it could have, but Alastair had wanted to take that risk. It had surprised him Alastair liked being held down by his strenght so much. And the truth was, Thomas liked it too. He liked how he could make Alastair come apart under his touch.

He'd woken early the next morning, Alastair was still soundly asleep, his head against Thomas’ chest. He didn’t dare move, he didn’t want to risk waking Alastair. It didn’t last long, lying like this, Alastair began stirring and before long he was awake too, pushing himself into a sitting position.

‘No need to get up yet,’ Thomas said.

‘No, I do.’

‘But the bed is so warm and comfortable,’ Thomas protested.

‘I need to figure out where the lab is,’ Alastair said. ‘That’s going to take time, but I can’t just let Charlotte wander around blindly. We need to narrow it down, and I think I can bring back the journey we made that day.’

‘Five more minutes.’

‘You can stay in,’ Alastair said.

‘But I want you in here with me,’ Thomas said. ‘You do like cuddling with me, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Alastair admitted. ‘I guess it can wait five more minutes.’

Alastair crawled back under the covers and into Thomas’ arms. Thomas had no idea why he’d thought it was a good idea to wait this long confessing his feelings. There was nothing quite like waking up like this, having his husband in his arms.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Alastair asked.

‘I did. But I’m not the one of us who has trouble sleeping.’

‘I slept alright. I did wake a few times and have a nightmare once, but I did sleep through most of the night.’

Thomas hated that this was progress, but it was, and Alastair seemed genuinely at ease for once. He hated that Alastair would have to go back into his memory later, but his safety depended on it. In the end, they stayed far longer than five minutes. Once Alastair finally convinced him to get out of bed, an hour had passed and everyone else was long awake. After breakfast, Thomas went into the garden. Cordelia was outside in the old shooting range, shooting at targets that looked suspiciously like a man with red hair. Lucie was watching her from a safe distance, and if she were an animated tv character she would have hearts for eyes right now. Lucie did have a weak spot for women with weapons.

Alastair came outside wearing a black wool coat with a green scarf that looked gorgeous on him. ‘I was thinking about going on another walk later today,’ he said. ‘I need to spend the morning going through my memory, but thought maybe I could do that outside too and then we can walk after lunch.’

‘It’s cold out here.’

‘I have a warm coat.’

Alastair looked at the shooting range, where Cordelia had hit another target.

‘Guards used to train here,’ Thomas explained. ‘But it’s rarely used anymore. My father learnt to shoot when he was young, but he never taught me. Nor did I care to, to be honest. I think Cordelia might be the first person using it in years.’

‘Is that… a picture of Charles? Cordelia!’

Cordelia took off the ear protectors and lowered a gun. ‘What?’

‘Are you shooting at pictures of Charles?’

‘I need to do something to get rid of the aggression.’

Alastair hesitated for a moment, before he turned around. ‘I need to go through my memory. Can you come with us for a walk around noon?’

Alastair returned inside and Thomas wondered for a moment if he should follow, but then decided to give him a little space. He’d go back inside later, maybe make him some tea.

‘I’m sorry. Is this insensitive? Am I hurting him?’

‘I don’t know,’ Thomas said. ‘I find it satisfying to watch, but I imagine it’s difficult for Alastair. His feelings regarding Charles are… complicated. Alastair loved him once.’

‘I understand,’ Cordelia said. ‘My feelings regarding Charles are more like wanting to do unspeakable violence to him and being unable to since he’s dead. Please tell me he didn’t die peacefully, at least.’

‘He had a stroke,’ Thomas said. ‘That can’t have been comfortable.’

‘I don’t actually know what that’s like,’ Cordelia said. ‘If he’d still realized what was going on. But it’s good that he’s dead. I’m not sure what I would have done otherwise… I’d been thinking about coming to see Alastair anyway. I just missed him so much and I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t speaking to us. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d gotten here and he’d still refused to see me. I’m not sure if Alastair would have gotten free if it weren’t for Charles’ death. Seems like  fate, some sort of poetic justice. Such a random event, a stroke.’

‘If it was really a stroke,’ Lucie said. ‘I’m not giving up on my foul play theory.’

‘Perhaps,’ Cordelia said. ‘But if he was murdered, I would only solve it to congratulate the killer. I don’t care why or how, I’m just glad he’s dead.’

‘Medically speaking, the increase in risk was most likely due to his heavy smoking,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m glad Alastair quit.’

Maybe that had helped with his weight too, apparently smoking suppressed someone’s appetite.

‘Maman would have killed him if she’d ever discovered him smoking,’ Cordelia said.

‘Is she strict, your mother?’

‘She used to be,’ Cordelia said. ‘I always thought Alastair had more freedom than me when I was little. I didn’t know about the things he had to do to keep me safe. My mother used to struggle with fitting in when she was a child, so I think that’s why she was so insistent Alastair and I do our best to be like other nobles. Be respectable, fashionable, likeable. And we had to compensate for Father’s increasingly bad reputation too.

Alastair is a lot like Maman though, he never did a good job of it and I think at some point Maman accepted that. He already did so much to keep Father from ruining our reputation. But I had to wear the latest fashion whether I liked it or not, befriend the right people… For a long time, I didn’t understand her, I didn’t know what was up with Father and how that defined so much of our family. She’s not like that anymore, we understand each other better now, and she’s very supportive of me.’

Thomas knew he was very lucky with how easy his relationship with his parents was. He knew he could talk to them about anything, and that they’d support him. Alastair had never had something like that, and while he was working on building a relationship with his mother again, it was difficult for him. He didn’t always know what to talk to her about, and it seemed like they just filled the silence talking about Rostam.

‘Do you think she’d appreciate it if we were to travel to Turan?’

‘Sure. How’s your training regime going?’

‘My training regime is fine,’ Thomas said.

‘You know what, instead of a walk we’re all going for a run this afternoon,’ Cordelia said. ‘Then I can see if any of you are ready for Turan. Lucie, you too. I want to bring you along, who knows what super rare potion ingredients you can find on Turan. But you need to get stronger too if you don’t want to be crushed by the gravity there.’

‘Alright,’ Lucie groaned. ‘I’d love to visit Turan, but I don’t like training.’

‘I’ll go tell Alastair,’ Thomas said.

***

Alastair went back to the journey to the lab. It was long and tedious, but he could speed up the memory, attempt to filter out anything important he’d seen. He’d spent most of the journey reading or talking with Charles, who’d refused to tell him where exactly they were going. While Alastair could speed up and slow down the memory to look for details, he didn’t have a good sense of time. Maybe if he replayed the memory at its real speed and timed himself, he might be able to calculate the exact time, but that would take too long. Instead, he focused on times he’d looked out of the window. He assumed the craft must have flown in a mostly straight line going west for from the palace, but that still left a wide range.

About halfway into the journey, he could see a city on an island from a distance. Most islands weren’t this densely populated, and yet it stood all on its own, likely relying on other islands for food production. Alastair went into Gideon’s study, he knew there were huge maps there somewhere.

‘Morning, Alastair,’ Gideon said. ‘Did you need anything?’

‘Maps,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m trying to narrow down the location of the lab, and I think I’ve found a good landmark, but I need to figure out which one it is.’

‘Of course. What are you looking for?’

‘Well, we started flying west from the palace,’ Alastair said. ‘I’d estimate the time traveling somewhere between 4 and 8 hours but I’m really bad at time. And sometime halfway we flew past a lone island with a big city on it. I should be able to figure out which island that was.’

‘Of course. I’ll help you,’ Gideon said.

He drew out a big map out of the book stand and put it out on the table, and then he opened the same map on his computer, making it easier to research at the same time.

‘I admit I’m a little old fashioned to still have these hand drawn maps,’ he said. ‘But we can look up pictures of potential islands to see if they match up with your vision. Alright, if we start from the Fair palace region and go west, there’s a lot of ocean there with the occasional small island. Many of those are too small for this map, but there’s smaller, more detailed maps too and everything should appear if we zoom in on the computer. How large do you think the island was?’

‘It’s difficult to say since we looked at it from a distance. But I can show you.’

Alastair took Gideon back to the moment he looked out of the window and saw the island, and paused the memory there.

‘A big city. I think it’s either Branwell, or Starkweather.’

Alastair checked both on the map, they should be in the general area they’d been. Then he checked the same on the computer, zooming in farther.

‘There’s another island here near Starkweather,’ Alastair said. ‘Close enough that it should have been visible.’

‘You’re right, that doesn’t add up with the memory. It must be Branwell then, which is here.’ Gideon put a small piece of paper on Branwell, and one of the palace of Fair.  

‘Are there any more landmarks you’ve noticed?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. Unfortunately I didn’t spent the entire journey looking out of the window so I might have missed some.’

‘I imagine looking out of the window for six hours gets boring,’ Gideon said. ‘This already gives us a lot. I’ll let Charlotte know, and then you can look if you noticed anything later on the journey.’

Alastair found a comfortable position in the spare chair in Gideon’s office and went back to the point where he looked out of the window and saw the island of Branwell. It was where Charles’ father was from, Alastair remembered.

After seeing the island, Alastair spent a long time reading while Charles took a nap in the back of the craft. He glanced outside every once in a while, often too short to really take in his surroundings but it was enough for Alastair now to pause it and see if there was anything useful. Mostly ocean, and the occasional small island he was never going to be able to differentiate from the many other islands.

The last part of the journey was where it got interesting, because Alastair spent  about the last half an hour of the journey looking out of the window. Charles said they were almost there, only half an hour of flying left. And Alastair had looked outside, trying to figure out where they were going. Yet there was nothing but ocean. He looked at the other side, out of every window the plane had, but he saw nothing but ocean. They were far enough in the ocean that there was not a single island to be seen, yet the lab had been at a depth that light still penetrated, close enough to the ocean floor.

When he came to, Gideon was typing something on his computer.

‘How far can you see when you’re in the middle of the ocean?’ Alastair asked.

‘That depends on the size of the planet you’re on and how high in the air you were,’ Gideon said. ‘I admit my understanding of math and physics isn’t good enough for that.’

‘Okay, I’ll figure it out,’ Alastair said. ‘Can I use the computer?’

‘Be my guest.’

Alastair looked up the circumference of Fair and worked out a formula to calculate the distance he could have seen from the hovercraft. The height they’d been at was a very rough estimate, but Alastair kept it on the lower end to play it safe.

‘I think I’ve got it,’ Alastair said. ‘From the estimated height I should have been able to see about 100 km far. So that means a place where there’s nothing in a radius of 100 km in every direction. At least.’

Gideon nodded. ‘That should narrow it down significantly. So you passed by Branwell, and from there you traveled about two and a half hours until you got to where the lab is?’

‘From there we got on a submarine and went down under, but that didn’t take very long,’ Alastair said.

Gideon opened a map of the planet on his computer, then put a query in the search box. Parts of the map turned red.

‘This is every part of the ocean where you would be a hundred kilometers from land at every angle.’

‘That’s still a lot,’ Alastair said. ‘Where’s Branwell on this map?’

Gideon zoomed in until Branwell was visible on the map. ‘You passed by here. Assuming you traveled for 2,5 hours at a speed of a 1000 km an hour, that would put you somewhere in this area.’

Gideon moved the map, and there was one field of nothing that they could have ended up in. Still on the large side to search though.

‘Can you look up the ocean depth?’ Alastair asked. ‘I imagine in such an empty region the ocean would be rather deep, but then it would be impossible to build such a lab. It wasn’t a submarine, and I could see the ocean floor. It was in early twilight zone at most.’

Gideon put a map of ocean depths over the map they were currently viewing, and Alastair was right that most of the ocean there was very deep. However, there was a mountain range and a big enough plateau at about 300 meters deep.

‘It has to be here,’ Alastair said.

‘I’ll send Charlotte what we found,’ Gideon said. ‘Good work, Alastair.’

‘Thanks. I’ll go see if Thomas wants to walk now.’

‘Did he and you speak?’ Gideon asked.

‘He actually confessed his feelings to me yesterday,’ Alastair said. ‘It was very sweet. And I love him too, so I’m glad we could clear that up.’

‘That’s good. He struggles with taking the initiative. I’m happy for both of you.’

‘Thank you.’

Alastair went back outside to find Thomas, and nearly bumped into him on the way.

‘Hey. I was just looking for you. Cordelia wanted to go for a run instead of a walk. I thought maybe we could visit Turan sometime and we need to keep a training regime for that.’

‘I’ve been working out a little more,’ Alastair said. ‘But I doubt Cordelia would be satisfied.’

‘She can make you a schedule if you want,’ Thomas said.

‘Yes, that would be good. I do want to go to Turan and meet Rostam.’

Alastair regretted going on a run about a kilometer in. He’d always been fast on his feet, nimble, but his stamina was not what it used to be and while he started in the front, he soon lost speed and could barely keep up with Cordelia. At least he didn’t smoke anymore, that would have made this about ten times worse.

‘How much farther?’ he asked, breathing heavily. ‘Did you think this through at all?’

‘I didn’t think your stamina would be this bad.’

Fortunately, Alastair was not the only one not used to running such distances. Lucie was completely out of breath and red in the face. Thomas, on the other hand, seemed fine, though a little sweaty.

‘Did you have any expectations of my stamina?’ Lucie asked. ‘Because you really shouldn’t have.’

‘I can see that now,’ Cordelia said. ‘This is going to be harder than I thought. We’ll just walk for a while. And then finish running.’

Alastair felt awful once they came running back into the garden of Lightwood manor. Covered in sweat and quickly getting cold, he needed a shower. They all needed a shower, and Alastair hoped there were enough because he wasn’t going to wait.

He looked at Thomas, who while covered in sweat didn’t look all that tired. ‘Come on. Let’s go find a bathroom before they’re all occupied.’

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @bottomdelioncourt @ikissedsmithparker

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.66--Episodes 3-4

I have watched through S7E4; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—What is Ella’s problem? She stands in front of Tiana, looking a full ten years older than her, and basically blames her for not saving her father’s life? From the looks of it, Tiana was probably, Idk, a chilD?!!!?! How was she supposed to do anything?

—I don’t really like Ella too much. She’s a bit abrasive.

—I kinda like Lucy, but the actress is *no offense, cause I realize she’s just a kid* not very good. She over-delivers most of her lines.

—Okay I loved seeing Rumple happy and domestic, but the tradeoff sucked. Did they really have to make us and Rumple watch her age and die while he stayed the same age?

—*But* it is nice to see that Gideon is doing well. He’s a scholar and you know what, I bet his wearing white now is on purpose. He’s a good man and they want us to know it.

—Also, he’s a good kind of unassumingly handsome. He’s cute, but not ostentatiously so. Idk, I think I forgot the word I thought was spot-on, but it was a good-ass word. Anyway, Gideon’s been handsome since he first showed up, and he’s still handsome now.

—I could go in-depth-ish about how Naveen is one of the two best Disney princes/adjacent, and how much I love his relationship with Tiana, but I haven’t seen a hide nor a hair of him, so I’m going to assume he won’t show up unless he does. Going forward with that knowledge, I think Tiana and Hook would go nicely together. They could go along with the best part of Tiana/Naveen, which is the way they both shape each other into better versions of themselves.

—Also, I’m now 89% sure Alice is Hook’s daughter. Which makes them playing chess together in the hospital waiting room excredibly sad.

—I’m a bit confused about the timeline of that stuff from the tail end of season 6 where Lucy and Henry were in the Enchanted Forest? If that was before Hyperion Heights, Lucy knowing the town is cursed doesn’t make sense, unless maybe Tiger Lily enchanted her to keep her awake. If it’s after Hyperion Heights, it still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, because Tiger Lily said she would be reunited with her family again in an ominous way that sounds like “sorry, kid, but you only get to see your dad when your family is cursed.” So…*shrugs*

—ALICE IS A LESBIAN!!!! Y’all I am just over the moon! She is a plaid-wearing, earring-having, ripped-tights-owning, Wonderland-quoting, completely batsh*t crazy lesbian and that is a solid YES.

—Also, her comment to Rumple when he appeared in the Cinderella world was quite amusing. Yeah, sweetheart, I also get the 💖💜💙 vibe from him, but that prince is way too young. And come on, Rumple would score a king.

—Speaking of the vibe, I love the clothes he wears in Hyperion Heights for only solidifying it. And yes, this is just an excuse for me to point out that, at least once within these two episodes, Rumple has low-key cuffed his jeans again. (Bi-cuffing almost makes me want to own a pair of jeans, but even Rumple isn’t quite enough to convince me. My skin can’t breathe under those things.)

—OOOO, and he wore camo! Iconic!

—Wait, what was Alice doing in the Cinderella world to begin with? Was she looking for Henry for some malicious purpose, or was she looking for Hook?

—Who’s that weird-ass lady locked in the tower? I have no cause to take her seriously, because A) I know nothing about her that should make me take her seriously, and B) she has shown no efforts in the present towards the same. Just some weird cryptic nonsense.

—I need some backstory for Tiana. I do not understand how her original story translates to being in a resistance group against Lady Tremaine. It makes zero sense, and it’s bothering me. If they’re just slapping her name on some lady who has no narrative or spiritual resemblance to Tiana, I’m gonna be annoyed.

—Can’t wait for Dr. Facilier to show up! Top three animated Disney villains for sure.

—Unfortunately, all signs point to Rumple dying at the end of the show. I’m grumpy about it. Hey, maybe they’ll up the ante and the the last scene will be all my beloved characters chilling in the afterlife together. (If they all die together, yes it’s sad, but it’s better than just some of them dying.)

—Alice was chasing a white bunny! Gosh, I hope she wasn’t chasing it for nefarious purposes, because I love her but bunny peril is the line.

—Regina dispensing motherly advice to Henry without even knowing who he is stings me. Also, she’s still v pretty.

—Really I am not getting over Alice. I refuse. This is the best thing to happen to me ever. Alice in Wonderland is among my favoritest books and just. Her. Being a lesbian. If nothing else comes of this season, that alone is enough.

—I wonder if who her mom is will ever be important. The limb I’m climbing out on here is that her mother was from Wonderland, because it doesn’t make much sense for her to be *Alice* if she isn’t connected to Wonderland somehow.

—It’s pretty out of character for Henry to be a coward. And yk, he has the Heart of the Truest Believer, so him being so fricking stubborn about believing in the curse.

—Rumple’s good-guy fairytale clothes were so pretty. 10/10.

—Ew, a spooky spooky cemetery! Fake graves!

—It took four episodes but he said it! Rumple said “dearie!” And it was so worth the wait. I’m glad he’s awake now, because it’s much more fun when he is.

[bgiering]

“Take your anger out on me, on everyone around you, see how far it gets you. You are only following his example, are you not? We can only hope our new little prince doesn’t succumb to the same vices as your father.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before he was up and across the tent, his hand colliding hard with her cheek. “I am nothing like my father.” He ground out, angry blue eyes staring down at her.

They’d just set up camp north of Balkwood when Sylvain had received the news. Not via formal letter, or even word from one of his friends, but from a whisper that seemed to cascade over everyone around him. It was hard not to notice the stares as they spoke under their breaths, or the way people seemed to try and avoid him more than usual, but when one of the young mages let out a gasp and repeated what her friend just a little too loud, Sylvain was stopped in his tracks.

“There is a new crown prince?”

The girl's exclamation was followed by a cacophony of shushes and concerned murmurs, but Sylvain didn’t even spare the girl a glance. The news, if it were true, was not her fault. It would do him no good to question the girl or let his temper show here. Instead, he continued his walk through their camp, jaw clenched tight, as he made his way to the officer’s tent.

Pushing through the flap of the tent, he expected to find Gideon, Desgrom, Rinna, Vivian, anyone but her. She sat tense in one of the old chairs in the corner of the tent, her eyes quickly shooting from the paper she held to him. He stilled, still only halfway into the tent, and their eyes locked.

His blood boiled.

It wasn’t her fault, he knew that, it was irrational to take out his frustration and anger on her, but who else?

“Congratulations are in order, I hear.” He said stiffly, glare staying firmly locked with her wide, green stare.

“Congratulations?” She breathed out, confusion edging its way onto her expression.

He finally stepped in, making his way over to his usual seat at the table. “Did I hear wrong?” He asked, gaze only leaving hers long enough for him to sit, take in the brief view of the map laid out on the table, and then go back to holding her stare.

“Yes,” she blurted out, hands clenching at the note she held, “No, but yes. I am owed no congratulations, this is…” She looked back down to the note. “No one wanted this, I did not want this, you must know that.”

“Must I?” He ground out, “Why would one assume that you are not ecstatic to be the aunt of the new heir? Your position in society is rising rather quickly, Magi.”

“None of us ever asked for this.” Frustration seeped into her tone, its familiarity an almost calming sense of normalcy.

“None of us?” He questioned, arching a brow. “Would you really have me believe your sister—sorry, our Queen—didn’t hope for this? That her child would have any and everything he could ever ask for?”

Mylath scoffed. 

“Do you find this funny?” His voice rose, hands clenching, knuckles white, at the arms of his chair.

“Anything he could ever ask for?” Mylath set the letter aside. “How well did that work out for you, Sylvain—no, sorry, your Highness?” There it was, her usual temper, easing to the surface, breaking through whatever nervous energy had enveloped her before. 

Her mouth twisted in anger, she wanted to say more, he could tell, but the words were kept from leaving her mouth in an all too familiar way. It only served to anger him more, a reminder of all the blood spilled, binding them both to secrecy.

“Take your anger out on me, on everyone around you, see how far it gets you. You are only following his example, are you not? We can only hope our new little prince doesn’t succumb to the same vices as your father.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before he was up and across the tent, his hand colliding hard with her cheek.

“I am nothing like my father.” He ground out, angry blue eyes staring down at her.

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, cheek reddening, and it looked like she’d ceased breathing as she gazed unblinkingly at him.

And he knew he’d made a mistake.

----

She couldn’t believe he’d done it.

Their relationship hadn’t been what anyone would have described as gentle or kind in a very long time—a fact that saddened Mylath, but what was she to do?

She shouldn’t have pushed him, but she could not sit by and let him hurl insults at her sister, or her defenseless nephew, it was not as if the child had asked to be brought into the world this way. The child, Tavyth, she had learned, would have a hard enough time as it was, he did not need his one and only brother hating him so.

She knew it had to be hard on Sylvain, and so maybe she should have bit her tongue, but now? Now she couldn’t hold back.

She stared up into those hateful blue eyes, so much like his father, he had no idea. He expected her to cower, to grovel and ask for forgiveness from her Prince, as any of his other subjects may have done, but she would have thought he knew her better by now.

“Nothing like him?” The shock had finally washed away, replaced once again by a raw anger. She pushed herself to her feet, standing too close, hoping he would step back, give her some space, but he stood his ground.

The magic in her palms bristled, the heat leaving her cheeks and snaking down the length of her arms. She wanted to hit him back, to show him that she was not someone he could just push to their limits and not get burnt. But she remembered Rinna’s training. She ground her teeth and breathed deep as her eye caught the movement of the discarded letter falling to the ground, and she recalled the final lines.

I cannot express to you how happy, yet terrified, I am. These last weeks have been unreal, I want nothing more than you by my side—to meet your new nephew, for us all to be a happy family. Please, Mylath, give Sylvain my regards, I know this will be hard on him, someone needs to be there for him. I love you. Please come back to us in one piece.

The breath in her throat hitched, a trembling sob threatening to rise. But she would not cry, would not lash out at him, she couldn’t. So, she turned and left. Her final words repeated under her breath. “Nothing like him.”

Image Sources: 1 2 3

[libraryofbaxobab]

Just for fun, I listened to an audiobook of something I read many years ago as a kid. I think I like it more now than I did back then, I almost teared up a little.

It's very funny to me the difference between Y/A then and now. Ella is 15 years old, so I assume that age is the target audience for this book (I can't remember when I read it specifically but I'm sure it was earlier than that). But the whole book seems so young. There's no harsh language in it-- at all. Well, there is a "craphole" as part of the plot. No fucks, no shits, no damns or even hells, just, hilariously, craphole. I pick up a novel aimed at teens today and they are not even PG-13. People say fuck as much as they want, characters have nuance, protagonists have sex (tastefully, nothing explicit), and it's very funny to think that this and something like Gideon the Ninth are aimed at the same audience.

But I was also surprised at how much, let's say, heavy material is included in Just Ella. Stuff I remember being danced around, stuff that I understood in a different context as I got older but maybe didn't quite grasp at the time that I read it. For example, there is a character in here who is a literal rapist. And at first I thought it was just heavily implied, he's a slobbering fiend who just screams things like "WANT WOMAN!" and they just hope you'll know what that means, whether you can conceptualize sexual violence or not. But no, they actually do explicitly use that specific four letter word for his (off-screen) crimes.

So on one hand I'm surprised how innocent this book is and simultaneously surprised how not innocent. No wonder it stuck with me for so many years. I'm for sure going to listen to the sequel this week

[tobias-hankel]

I've got a prompt if that's okay? One where Spencer and Gideon were together (can be dark!Gideon with grooming him or just a healthy age gap relationship) and when he left he relapsed into dilaudid/self harm and the team eventually find out about it and the relationship? I'd love to see their different reactions

TW SH, drug use, and grooming mentioned, nothing detailed ~1.2k

They all noticed a difference with Spencer when Gideon left. Spencer was already not doing well before he left because of Hankel but afterward, it was as if Spencer fell apart all over again. It was to be expected. They all saw how close Gideon and Spencer were but this, it wasn’t healthy.

The team watched as Spencer came to work late, dressed in dirty clothes, not bothering to brush his hair and on top of everything, he was snapping at everyone. He was still managing to get his work done so Hotch didn’t mention it. He knew what this was – they all did – but they assumed that if Spencer could get clean the first time, he could get clean a second time. So they all stayed quiet.

Rossi was the one to speak up.

One afternoon Rossi went to the restroom to wash his hands and found Spencer already at the sink. He was washing his hands and Rossi just happened to look over and see a glimpse of gauze under Spencer’s sleeve on his wrist. Rossi harmlessly asked what it was and was surprised to see Spencer start to panic. He gave him some lie about cutting his arm on a loose screw on the metro and left without another word.

Rossi wasn’t dumb, he knew what a drug addiction and what self-harm looked like, so he headed to Hotch’s office.

“Hey, Aaron,” Rossi said, knocking on the open door once before walking in.

Hotch looked up from the file in his hand but placed it down when he noticed Rossi shutting the door behind him. “What’s wrong, Dave?”

Rossi sat down across from Hotch, “The kid, when are you going to do something about his self-harming and addiction?”

“Self-harming?” Hotch asked. He had seen the drug addiction, but nothing pointed to Spencer hurting himself. Then again, those signs could be easily hidden under a drug addiction.

“I just caught him in the restroom. He had gauze over his wrist and lied about what actually happened. I know I’m new here, so I have stayed quiet about Reid's clear addiction but what the hell, Aaron. We can’t just do nothing.”

Hotch sighed, “I know. Gideon leaving seemed to hit Spencer a lot harder than I expected. I have been hoping he could pull himself up. I can’t say anything to him myself without acknowledging his addiction and having to report it.”

Rossi rolled his eyes, “That is bullshit, and you know it. You can’t officially say that you know about it but that doesn’t mean you have to leave him to help himself. Besides, he knew Gideon since he was fourteen, they even lived together for a while, I—"

Hotch cut Rossi off, “Fourteen? Are you sure?”

Rossi nodded, “Yeah. 1995, Gideon and I were still on the team together and he told me all about the young genius prodigy he had met. From what I heard in my phone calls with Gideon after I left the BAU, when Spencer moved to Virginia to join the FBI, he moved in with Gideon.”

Hotch thought for a moment. He was told that they met while Spencer was doing his last doctorate at 20, not 14. Why would they lie about that unless they were hiding something? Hotch looked out toward the bullpen from his seat and his eyes landed on Spencer.

“What is it?” Rossi asked after Hotch didn’t say anything.

Hotch looked back at Rossi, “They both lied to me about when they met, and I was never told they were living together.”

Rossi caught on to what Hotch meant, “You think Gideon had an inappropriate relationship with Spencer?”

Hotch stood up, “I don’t know but I know we need to ask. That might be why he is taking this so hard.” Hotch opened his office door, “Reid, my office now please.” He said, making sure Spencer heard him before he sat back down.

Spencer stepped into Hotch’s office a minute later, shutting the door behind him when he noticed Rossi. He knew what this was probably about – Rossi told Hotch about the injury on his wrist. “Hotch, I don’t know what Rossi said but—” Spencer started but Hotch held up his hand to stop him.

“Please sit down, I wanted to ask you about something else,” Hotch said, waiting for Spencer to sit in the chair next to Rossi before he started again, “Reid, when did you first meet Gideon?”

Spencer bit his lip for a moment, his tell, before saying, “When I was 20, why?”

“Kid, Gideon told me when you first met him. I know you were 14, why would you lie about that?” Rossi asked.

Spencer opened and shut his mouth a few times but didn’t say anything, so Hotch spoke up, “Did Gideon ask you to lie about when you two first met?” Hotch asked and Spencer nodded. “Why would he do that?” Hotch asked and Spencer wrapped his arms around himself, pressing his nails into his arm before shrugging.

“When did the relationship start?” Rossi asked suddenly and Spencer’s eyes went wide, telling both Rossi and Hotch that there was a relationship between Gideon and him.

“I—I don’t know what you mean…” Spencer said, looking as if he was about to cry.

“Spencer, we aren’t mad with you or anything, okay? We just want to help you.” Hotch said and a few tears made their way to Spencer’s cheeks.

Spencer reached up and wiped them roughly, “Fifteen…” He said after a moment. “He helped me get into college… Helped me with a few bills… So when he asked…”

“You felt like you had to say yes,” Rossi filled in, trying not to let the anger for his former best friend show. He had no idea that Gideon was taking advantage of the young genius he would go on about. He assumed it was a mentor/mentee relationship, as most people probably did.

Spencer nodded, “It doesn’t matter now though… I wasn’t good enough, so he left.”

Hotch took a deep breath, trying to control his anger as well. “That is not true. Gideon worked this job longer than anyone. He was burnt out and clearly not well. He should have never proposition you – really when you were underage, and then asked you to lie about it.”

“None of this is your fault, and you don’t need to punish yourself for it,” Rossi said, glancing at Spencer’s arms for a moment so that Spencer really understood what he meant.

Spencer looked away. He knew that the team probably knew about his addiction, but now Hotch and Rossi knew about his self-harm as well, and his relationship with Gideon. He suddenly felt too seen but also cared for. He didn’t think anyone cared, anyone other than Gideon… But somewhere in his mind, he knew that was wrong too.

Spencer played with the hem of his long sleeve dress shirt, “Gideon helped me stop cutting when I was a teenager and helped me get clean after Hankel… now – now I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose my job…”

“You aren’t going to lose your job, I’ll make sure of that,” Hotch said, causing Spencer to look up at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up when I first saw you struggling. I hid behind proper procedure instead of what was in your best interest.”

“We are going to make sure you get the help you need, okay?” Rossi added.

Spencer smiled at Rossi, then at Hotch, “Thank you both.”

[uncpanda]

The Ties that Bind: Gideon Finds Out

 AN: This takes place after the chapter  unplanned in season 6! Huge SHOUT OUT to the following people who helped brainstorm and edit this chapter @hotforhotchner11 @originalsoulduck and @ladyofsnark Y’all were lifesavers when it came to figuring this thing out.

Warnings: mentions of emotional trauma 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Master List

“Are you sure I can’t help? Contrary to what you think, I do know my way around a kitchen.” 

“The last time I let you help, I ended up with stitches.” 

You gape, “That wasn’t my fault!” 

“You handed me the knife blade first.” He waves you away, “You’re worse than Stephen. And I didn’t think that was possible.” 

You steal a carrot and laugh, as Jason rolls his eyes. “So cooking skills aren’t genetic?” 

“Apparently not. I’ve been trying to teach him, and we’re making progress.” 

You pour a glass of wine, “That’s good.” 

“Yeah. He no longer burns the water.” 

Silence lapse between the two of you. Dinners at Gideon’s cabin are a fairly common thing. Right up there with the coffee shop the two of you visit. They usually happen when the team is on a case, and lately they haven’t happened regularly because you’ve been spending most of your time with Aaron and Jack and Spencer. 

You still haven’t found a way to tell Gideon you and Aaron are a thing now. It shouldn’t be weird but it is. It almost feels like you’re telling your dad. It’s been nearly six months - you should really just get it over with. 

“I can almost see the steam coming out of your ears. What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing much.” 

He levels a look at you, “Nothing wouldn’t happen to be a unit chief in a suit, who rarely smiles, would it?” 

Your mouth drops open, “How did you know?” 

He moves the pan off the heat, “I called this years ago, when you told me you’d become friends with him. Plus when we had coffee about two months ago you had a hickey on the back of your neck. Who knew Hotch liked to leave marks?” 

You shiver, “Please. Please. Please. Change the subject.” 

“We can’t talk about your love life? You question me about mine all the time.” 

You laugh, “No. I don’t. You tell me about your flings, and ask for my advice, which I don’t get because it’s not like I have much experience.”

He rolls his eyes, “Joel was a dick. How are you and Hotch doing?” 

He’s not going to let up on this. He reminds you of a bulldog who won’t let go of a bone. “We’re good. We spend every spare moment together. And Jack is adorable and so sweet.” 

Gideon starts dishing up the plates and then leads you to the table. You grab the wine and settle down across from him. “How’s he been about work?” You can see the hesitation in his eyes. 

“He stayed behind on a case so he wouldn’t have to cancel our first date.” 

“Hotch?” 

You smile, “Yeah.” 

Gideon rests his forearms on the table, “I’m glad he’s learning quicker than I did.” 

You suppose you’re doing this, “He calls me every night when he’s on a case, and he’ll text throughout the day. When he’s home, he makes sure he isn’t working. And he knows if he stays too late that I’ll go down there and drag him home. It’s good. We’re good.”  

There’s several seconds of cutlery hitting plates and chewing before Gideon asks, “Then why do you sound like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” 

The food in your mouth suddenly loses its taste, “What do you mean?” 

“You’re smiling, you’re telling me that everything is good. You’re telling me that Hotch, who I’m going to assume has entered therapy because you wouldn’t let him get away with unresolved trauma, is putting you and your relationship first, but you look scared out of your freaking mind.” 

You bristle, “I don’t look scared.” 

He scoops another bite of food onto his fork, “You hide it well. You hide it very well. You’ve had to over the years. You were the mature one. You were the only one you had to rely on. Your parents were next to useless, not that I can claim the moral high ground there, and Spencer was too young, your boyfriend Bryan was a delusional idiot, and Joel . . .there was a part of you that knew you couldn’t rely on him. 

“And now there’s Aaron. You’ve found a partner. Someone to carry part of the load, to support you when you’re not feeling great, and you’re terrified.”

You stare at Jason. You’re not quite sure how he does it. How he breaks down walls your therapist can only chip away at. 

“I’m scared he’ll leave . . . like everyone else.” 

THAT gets his attention, “What?”  

“I never knew my bio dad and according to Diana it was no loss. I don’t even know if he knew about me. Then there was William. Well, you know what happened there. And Mom? She checked out too. She won’t even see me, since I had her hospitalized. Spencer left for the FBI. And it’s not fair of me to think that way, but it feels like he left. And sometimes it feels like he only let me back in because he was drowning.

“And Joel . . .” you let out a breath, “You know what happened there.” 

His eyes narrow, “Not all of it. What else is there?” 

“How do you  . . .?” 

“You have tells when you’re holding something back and no, I’m not going to tell you.” 

“After I ended up in the emergency room with my foot last year, I saw him again. Saw his mistress, too. Had a panic attack. Aaron and the others swarmed in to protect me. And after a few days I was fine.  I was on my way to my car when SHE showed up. 

“And I’m in a cast. I can’t get away. I didn’t have the balance to punch her. I highly considered clawing her eyes out. Not because I missed Joel, but because she just added on to trauma I already had. I mean Aaron’s a lawyer he probably could have gotten me off with community service.” 

The joke falls flat, and Gideon nudges you, “What did she want?” 

“She wanted to apologize. She said it wasn’t fair that she and Joel had carried around behind my back for over a year. They had tried to stop it but they couldn’t. They loved each other and could I please withdraw my complaint because it was going to affect his career at the hospital and they have TWO kids now.

“I never filed a complaint. I certainly didn’t know that Joel was cheating on me for half our relationship, while asking me to consider giving him a baby. I should have been the bigger person . . .” 

“Screw that. They made their bed, now let them lie in it. It’s a great lesson of cause and effect.” 

You let out a bark of laughter, “I went to the hospital to see who had filed the complaint. It had been Aaron. Not on my behalf just as himself. Apparently his word carried a lot of weight when they realized he was not only a lawyer but with the FBI. I’ve never asked him about it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I know what he’ll say. He did it to defend me, and that’s true. But I also think he did it because he hates Joel. He hates that Joel hurt me.” 

Jason smiles, “Because he loves you. Loved you even back then and you two were just too stupid to see it.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Just speaking the truth. But back to the issue at hand. What is scaring you about this?” 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, “I’m scared Aaron will leave too, and I don’t think I’d survive it. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. And that terrifies me. And each day we get deeper and deeper. I’m moving in with them next week. And Jack has started calling me mommy, and I know I didn’t give birth to him, and I KNOW how much Haley loved him and that I won’t measure up, but I’m already thinking of him like my own. And Spencer fits in so well, and Jess does too, and if I lose that . . . I don’t think I’ll be able to pick myself up again. I’ll shatter, Jason.” The tears come. You can’t help it. 

You bury your face in your hands and let them come. You hear his chair scrape against the floor and then his arm wraps around you. 

Quietly, his mouth right near your ear, he whispers, “Aaron isn’t going anywhere. He doesn’t leave people behind. Especially when he loves someone. And he loves you. It’s okay for you to be happy. It’s okay to trust yourself and him. It’s okay to love him and the family the two of you are making. You are allowed to have this. You are allowed to be happy.” 

You look up at him, “If this goes bad. . .” 

“It won’t. And you know that or you wouldn’t be moving in with him. You would have kept Spencer at a distance like you did with Joel. You wouldn’t have allowed yourself to get this far. And if. . . by some chance he hurts you, you’ll  be okay.” 

“I’m all out of tape and glue, Jason.” 

“I’ve got some you can borrow and I’m good at putting things back together. And I’ll help you, after I kill Hotch. I can be your safety net.” 

Gideon reaches out and pushes a tear off your cheek and smiles. “You’re okay.”

And you believe him.

[mandos-sluts]

The Escort

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, mentions of sex work, daddy kink, sharing a bed trope

Summary: You are introduced to Mando, who has been hired to escort you through the outer rim. You recall the one other time you had met him before.

It was around seven months ago that the incident occured. You had been training under Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker for years. But leading up to your escape, you had begun feeling resentment toward your master and the entire Jedi order. You were having an existential crisis and questioning everything you had learned and were supposed to preach. One day, you and Luke were in a particularly bad argument, and you snapped. You packed your bags and decided to abandon the Jedi order.

You were only gone for a week. Luke managed to track you down on some underdeveloped planet, and by that time, you had cooled off and were thinking clearly. You and Luke returned and resumed your training.

The week that you went rogue was pretty uneventful. You seeked refuge in this small mining town and figured you needed to get a job. Unsurprisingly, it was very slim pickings, and your best option ended up being sex work. This was a fine work placement; the job paid relatively well and the owner of the brothel was a sweet old woman who protected the sex workers. Again, the week was fairly mundane and you only serviced a few clients.

**********************************

You had been assigned a diplomatic mission which required you to travel to some planet in the outer rim. You were all ready to go and were walking toward your ship when Luke approached you with some Mandalorian.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Mando.” Luke said. You and Mando shook hands.

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a straight face. The Mandalorian seemed really familiar to you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

“He will be escorting you to the system.” Luke said with slight hesitation, already knowing how you’ll react.

“What!?” You said with confusion and slight offence. “Why would I need an escort? I’ve traveled solo to dozens of planets on dozens of missions.”

“I know, y/n.” Luke said, taking in a breath. “But the Jedi council thinks that it is best to err on the side of caution right now. The outer rim is dangerous and the Empire is growing. And we’ve seen their desperate interest in capturing young force-sensitive beings.”

You cross your arms and turn to look at the Mandalorian. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you shook his hand.

“Why aren’t you just coming with me?” You say turning back to Luke. “What makes this random Mandalorian more capable than me? Why should I trust him?”

“I have other duties to respond to.” Luke says. “But y/n, Mando is the one who saved Grogu and delivered him to us. The Jedi council trusts him completely. He’s fought off the Empire– Moff Gideon, most notably– several times. He is the best one to have at your side if something goes wrong.”

Let out a breath, signalling your annoyance and you turn again to look into Mando’s visor. “Does he speak?” You say sarcastically while maintaining your stare at him.

“Not often.” Mando returns in a deep modulated voice. That voice, you recognize it. You have met him before, you know it. But where? Where could you have met him– then it hits you. The brothel. He was one of your few clients a couple months back when you were a sex worker!

A flood of memories come pouring in as your face gets red. You remember the one thing that made that week exciting, and it was the Mandalorian. He fucked you like no one else ever had. You were sore for days after. He gave you the best pleasure you had ever felt.

You try your best to gather your composure and act like nothing has happened. “So….so he’s just gonna co pilot on my way there?” You ask with your cheeks still slightly flush.

“Well...no.” Luke says. “You two will be traveling in Mando’s ship. The Razor Crest is essentially undetectable, and again, we think it’s best that your whereabouts remain unknown.” Mando visor is still glued on you. You look down and fidget with your fingers.

Luke senses your unease. “Listen, I know you’re not crazy about this arrangement, but you’ll be in good hands with Mando. Alright?” He says putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Okay.” You say back with a nervous half smile.

You and Mando walk in silence to the Crest and make your way up to the cockpit. You feel so unbelievably awkward. Does he remember you? He must. But he didn’t seem at all caught off guard when he was introduced to you?

The Crest departs and you two sit in deafening silence. All you can think about is how the last time you met, he was fucking you senseless over a dresser and wispering the dirtiest things in your ear.

Finally, you gain the courage and turn to him. “So...Do you remember me?” You say.

“Yes.” Mando returns looking straight ahead. He turns his head and looks at you. “Do the Jedi know that you’re a former whore?” He says casually.

“Yes.” You say, somewhat angered by the insulting insinuation. “Of course they know. But I’m not a former sex worker, per se. I only worked there for a week. Consider it a sabbatical from my Jedi training.”

“Interesting choice for a sabbatical.” Mando says.

You didn’t feel like explaining the actual reason for your working at the brothel. He was kind of rude and you owed him no explanation. At the same time, however, his shortness and nonchalant demeanor were kind of hot (actually very hot). He was so confident and sure of himself. He also smelled so good and his muscles were evident even under the beskar.

The trip is about two standard days, and since the Crest only had one sleeping area, you and Mando stopped off at some planet for the night to sleep and eat.

It was already dark by the time you and Mando made your way into town. Just walking down the street, people would move aside or step back for Mando. Nobody wanted to upset a Mandalorian, and you found it incredibly hot that he was so feared.

It was a very small town with only one tiny inn. You and Mando walked up to the front desk. “I need two adjacent rooms.” Mando says, throwing more than enough credits on the desk.

“I– I’m sorry sir, but we only have one vacancy tonight.” The woman at the front desk stutters.

You turn to Mando. “I can stay here and you can sleep on the Crest?” You offer as a solution.

“No.” Mando says. “I’m not leaving you alone. The whole reason I’m here is to protect you.”

Mando turns to the woman. “Does the room have two beds?”

“I’m sorry, but the room only has one bed sir.” The woman says apologetically.

Mando lets out a sigh. “Fine.” He says shortly. “We’ll take it.”

The room is pretty small, as is the bed. You wash up in the fresher and change into your sleep wear, which consists of a snug tank top and some loose cotton shorts. After you're done, Mando uses the fresher as you get in the bed.

Mando exists and sits on a chair in the corner of the room. He crosses his arms, stretches his legs out and puts his head back. “Get some sleep, we’re leaving early tomorrow.” Mando says.

You sit up in the bed. “Mando, we can both fit in the bed.” You say flatly.

“I’m fine.” He abruptly replies without lifting his head.

“Seriously, Mando, I don’t care. I’m gonna feel bad if you sleep on a chair. Come on.” You say.

Mando lets out a breath. “Fine.” He says as he gets up and walks towards the bed.

You scoot over as close to the wall as you can and face the wall. Mando strips off all of his armour except for his helmet and removes his gloves. He gets in the bed next to you, also facing the wall. There’s a good four inches between the two of you, and Mando made a point not to use the blanket.

You’re so glad he got in the bed with you. You want nothing more than for him to fuck you like he did before, and you can’t think of a better way to make that happen than sharing a bed with him. Slowly, you inch your way backwards until your butt is against his crotch. You remain still for a few minutes, but then slightly adjust your position so as to rub your ass into his groin.

Mando twitches at the feeling of you grinding against him and turns around so that you are back to back, trying his best to avoid an erection. But then, realizing he is too close to falling off the bed facing away from you, he turns back around. You shift once again, rubbing your ass against his hardening cock. Mando can’t tell if you are innocently trying to get comfortable or you are trying to tease him. Either way, this is a job for him, so he figures things should remain professional. You, however, were not relenting. Pretending to be drifting asleep, you again roll your ass over this now hard member.

Mando grunts and gets out of the bed and goes to the fresher. He turns on the faucet, takes off his helmet, and releases his long thick cock from the confines of his pants. Spitting into his hand, he gets right into it, taking his length and stroking it fast. He puts his free hand against the wall and puts his head down. He thinks about your tight pussy squeezing his cock as he jerks himself off, trying to get rid of his boner. He grunts as quietly as he can and stifles his moans. Thinking back to that day at the brothel, he thinks of you calling him daddy, begging for his cum; he imagines that your throat is between his large hand and the wall. He comes and lets out a deep breath.

You lie in bed, knowing and just barely hearing what he is doing in there. You are upset; you feel kind of rejected. But you’re not yet discouraged– you got him hard, why should you not reap the rewards? You decide to just double down and do it again, assuming that he won’t take a second trip to the fresher to jerk off.

Mando gets back in the bed, relieved that he had dealt with his erection and hoping you were asleep. But not any sooner did you start back up again. You move and rub your ass against his groin and let out the faintest moan. And just like that, you feel his cock grow hard against your butt.

He let out a hard sigh.

“Stop” he commanded, not bothering to whisper.

“Stop what?” You reply.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” You say continuing to grind your ass against his bulge.

“And if you don’t stop, you’re the one whose going to be taking care of it this time.” He said as he lightly grabbed your throat.

Your arousal shoots up at his words and actions, and you can feel it in your pussy.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” You purr.

“What a fuckin tease you are.” He said shoving his bulge against your ass and tightening his grip on your throat.

“Mmmm, don’t act like you don’t like it, Mando.” You say. You pause for a moment and close your eyes. “I would finger myself every night thinking about the time you fucked me. I could feel you in between my legs for weeks after you left.”

Mando hums a sound of approval. “That’s right, pretty girl. No one will ever be able to fuck you the way I can.” He says slipping his hand into your shorts. His fingers glide along your soaking wet folds and you let out a whine.

“What a needy little thing you are, so fuckin desperate for me to fill your hole.” Mando starts pumping his middle finger in and out of you as his thumb rubs your clit.

“Fuck.” Mando growls. “I forgot just how tight this little cunt of yours is.”

Your moans get louder and your mouth opens wider as he picks up the pace. Mando moves his other hand from your throat to your mouth and pushes two fingers into your mouth. You suck them while continuing to moan.

“I went back to the brothel a week later, but they said you had left. I’ve fucked so many other whores since then but none were as good at you baby girl.” Mando says as he adds another finger.

Mando drives his fingers in you at an ungodly pace, hitting your G-spot over and over again. His thumb rubbing vigorously over your swollen nub.

“Fuck, I- I’m gonna cum.” You manage to say.

“Do it.” Mando commands and he grips your throat even tighter.

Your back arches and you grab Mando’s arm that’s fucking you with both your hands, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm falls over you. You scream out his name and try to pull his hand out of your pussy, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. But Mando nevertheless continues to rub your clit and finger you hard.

“Ohh, no, little girl. Try to push me away and I’ll just fuck you harder.” Mando says.

Your climax reaches its peak and Mando can feel his fingers getting clenched by your cunt. He finally slows down and pulls his fingers out of you, his grip on your neck loosening as well.

Mando unbuttons his pants and pulls out his throbbing erection. The feeling of it against your butt makes you jump. He yanks your shorts down. He rubs his head through your folds a few times before slowly beginning to enter you. You gasp and grab the sheets of the bed. Your mouth opens as wide as possible as you feel your cunt being impossibly stretched.

Mando lifts his head to watch your reaction. He loved the fact that just a third of his length completely destroyed you. Mando does a few slow thrusts with only half his cock to ready you for the rest. Just when it’s shifting from pain to pleasure, Mando shoves the rest of his length into you as hard as possible. You quite  literally scream at the top of your lungs. Mando knew exactly what he was doing, making you think he was going to ease you into it, before unapologetically thrusting all the way into your hole without any warning.

“Ahhh.” Mando grunts. “You’re the perfect little cocksleve for me.”

He trusts in and out of you while breathing heavily. The bed is banging against the wall every time he slams into you. The room next door is sure to hear but neither of you care.

Mando grunts and props himself up to lean on his elbow. He grabs your thigh and hooks it around his arm, getting a better angle and letting him fuck you faster and deeper. Your moans become outright screams as his unbelievably large cock rips you open. Anyone listening would surely think you were being tortured.

“Fu— fuck! Fuck yes daddy!” You manage to say between thrusts. Mando growls at your calling him daddy.

“You want me to cum inside your pretty little cunt?” Mando says.

You could barely speak, your mouth was wide open and your eyes had rolled to the back of your head. You’re able to muster out a “Y-yes.”

“Beg me.” Mando says as he grips your leg even harder. “Beg for my cum you little slut.”

“Please daddy, I– I want you to fill me up with– with your cum. Until it’s dri– dripping out of my pussy.” You say.

Mando moans and you can feel his cock tightening inside of you and his ropes of his cum coat your insides.

“Fuckkk.” Mando says pulling out of you.

You let out a high-pitched breath at the loss of his member. Mando puts his length back in his pants and sits up on his knees. He grabs one of your legs and swiftly slides you down the bed so he is on his knees in between your legs.

He aggressively pushes your legs further apart, looking down at your abused hole. His white juices are leaking out of it.

“Your pussy looks so pretty overflowing with my cum.” Mando says. He takes his middle finger and traces the lips of your cunt, then shoves it as far into you as it can go. You let out a yelp and your back arches at the pressure. “And I don’t want you wasting a single drop.” He repeats his action, plunging his finger into you. Pulling it out, he brings it to your lips and shoves it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it before he pulls it out.

“Mmmm I forgot how good you taste.” You say.

Mando leans over and grabs your shorts, and you pull them back on. Both you and Mando fall asleep quickly.

**********************************

“I should escort you on more of your missions.” Mando says slapping your ass as you walk out of the inn.

You look up at him. “I’ll make sure to tell Luke how pleased I was with your services.”

**********************************

Masterlist

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Extreme Aggressor: Part One

Pairing: Eventual Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, woman gets killed in an alley, talk of strangling and stabbing a woman

Summary: Jason Gideon is called back from a six-month leave from the Behavioral Analysis Unit to profile a killer. Meanwhile, the team flies across the country to Seattle when another young woman goes missing at the hands of "The Seattle Strangler," another serial killer.

Author’s Note: Here is it finally! After hard work, it is finally ready for your viewing pleasure! Please, feedback is always appreciated so let me know what you like about it and what you didn’t! 

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

So without further ado, please enjoy!

"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." - Joseph Conrad

Not everyone knows this but each and every person has an aura around their body as if it hovers to remind people like you that they have things to hide. Not many people can see and do what you can do, but then again, you don’t want them to. All your life, you have been able to connect with people on a much deeper level than the average human. Those auras contain energies that you are able to connect with, therefore see more than what the normal eye can.

This ability that you have has gotten you in places you should never be. It’s gotten you where another dare not to venture. It’s allowed you to see the true intention and personality of a person no matter how high and thick their walls may be. Now, some people are better at hiding their true selves than others, but you always manage to figure out what makes them tick.

Your abilities have captured the attention of a really great friend, Jason Gideon. When he figured out the thing you could do, he knew you would make a great addition to his team. Granted, he was on a “summer break” so to speak, but he would be more than happy to give you a recommendation. It’s not that you didn’t want to work for the FBI, you just didn’t know if you would be good enough.

Never have your abilities let you down even if they didn’t always give you want you wanted. No one really knew what you could do, not even your family. It made you feel like a freak, like you never belonged anywhere since all you could do was see on the soulful plane. Maybe the BAU would benefit from having you on board, but would you benefit from having the BAU on your side? Your father always told you never to join any kind of government work, and at the time, he gave a good enough reason to keep you away. Something about them always taking jobs right from underneath everyone’s noses, and you believed him when you were a kid.

Now, not so much.

It was hard to when all you saw was death wherever you go. You didn’t ask for this ability, but you got it, and it was your responsibility to help as many people as you could with it until the day you die. That was the only reason why you were considering taking Jason up on his offer. There was still some hesitation on your shoulder, and you thought a walk would do you nice.

The crowded city rushed on without you, but you only had one thing on your mind. It was the busiest part of the city, but you liked walking through there once in a while. Everyone’s thoughts and feelings came to light when they were in a rush. It bombarded you and often overwhelmed you, but nothing overcame the sickening feeling you got in your stomach when you stepped on Jefferson Rd.

The energy in the air swirled around you, but it wasn’t energy from the people around you; it was from the dead. Even spirits leave energy behind when they pass which allow people like you to snatch it up to figure out their story. The way it works is that you become so overwhelmed with the emotions and the energy that you begin to see some of the last moments that spirit went through before it passed. You are allowed to see it based on how well you connect with it.

Some people have called you being psychic while other people called you a witch. Being an empathetic person helped you see the picture clearly. Not always will you get a clear one, and sometimes, you may not even get a full body. It’s whatever the spirit left behind and wanted you to see. They laid down the stepping stones, and it was up to you to be able to pass them.

Standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, you looked to your left to see a woman appear out of thin air. She was a bit transparent which is how you were able to spot the difference between an energy source and a real human. She was maybe in her mid-twenties, and she was jogging with headphones in. She passed by you without a second glance, and everyone around you seemed to disappear since the only person you were able to focus on was her.

She jogged for a few more seconds when a black apparition came out of the alley not far from you. The black shape grabbed at the woman, but you needed to replay that scene over if you wanted to connect with his spirit. Sometimes, when a picture isn’t clear, you have to replay the mini silent movie over and over again until you can either get a clear picture or you knew that you weren’t getting anything more.

As if you had a remote in one hand, you pressed it which rewound the action. The woman jogged backwards past you to where she first emerged, and you hit the play button. Just like before, she jogged past you, minding her own business when the black shape came at her. This time, he was a bit clearer. Repeating this process over and over again, you watched the woman get kidnapped about twenty more times before you could see the exact details of the man’s face.

He grabbed her and pulled her into the alley, but you couldn’t seem to move. The clearer the picture, the stronger the energy. The stronger the energy meant the event you watched happened recently. The longer the event goes unsolved, the less amount of energy you are able to connect with.

Something happened in that alley, but you dreaded going anywhere near it. However, this woman’s story was untold, and her spirit won’t rest unless someone tells it for her. Taking a deep breath, you looked at the busy street and suddenly remembered that you were in the middle of a city with a bustling amount of people around you.

Pushing past the crowd, you made your way to the alley until you were completely alone as the rest of the world left the single girl who was in the alley alone. There was one particular spot that drew you in, and you took a few steps towards it before getting another vision. The man jammed a knife into the woman’s abdomen, and you gasped when you felt her emotional pain. Being an empath is really hard work since you had more than yourself to worry about.

The woman dropped to the ground with a loud thud, and the man kept stabbing her over and over again until she was way past dead. Once he was satisfied, he took the murder weapon with him and fled the scene, running right past you to do it. It took everything in you to look away from his eyes despite your body telling you to do so.

The noise of the busy city drowned out the sound of a body thumping on the ground, and you crept to the area where she was stabbed. Instead of a body, there was a thick blue tarp covering the ground. It looked like a body was underneath it, but it could be trash. Please let it be trash. Please let it be trash. Picking up the end of the tarp with your gloved hand, you peeked underneath it to see wide soulless eyes staring at you.

The shock overwhelmed you, and you dropped the tarp in shock. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, but if it wasn’t for you, this woman probably would have never been found—or, at least, not right now. From what you could gather, the body was still fresh with only sight signs of decaying. If you called the police now, they might be able to find her killer.

Taking out your cellphone, you dialed 911 and put in an anonymous tip before getting the hell out of there. It didn’t take long for first responders to arrive on scene, and you watched from the deli across the street as they uncovered her. She was found because of you. She is going to get justice because of you.

That was all the evidence you needed to make your decision.

Taking out your phone once more, you called your dear and beloved friend. It took him three rings to pick up.

“Jason, it’s me, Y/N. I’ll take it.”

Gideon was sucked back into the BAU on a case after he needed to take some time for himself. He was involved with a bomber that took out one hostage and six agents, so you could understand why he requested for your help. He trusted you to aid this team in finding a killer, especially when he saw what you can do first-hand. It was hard to explain your abilities to someone who couldn’t possibly understand, but you knew you had to since he had a jet full of his other teammates.

It didn’t take long to get to the airport where the jet was waiting, and before you ascended the stairs, you could feel everyone’s emotions—impatient, curiosity, calmness, and eagerness. They were all waiting for you, and you needed to show them that you belonged on their team. Walking on the jet, all heads turned at the new presence. Gideon stood up and approached you with a welcoming smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you again,” he stated.

“Well, you needed me. Here I am,” you nodded, looking at everyone else on the jet.

The person you noticed first was what you assumed to be the second person in charge. He had almost black hair and a hard gaze since he didn’t really like newcomers. The next person was a black male who emitted impatience since he just wanted to get in the air. The last person was a scrawny young male which is where the curiosity was coming from.

“Y/N, this is my team. Agent Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid?” you asked, and the young man perked up at the sound of his name. “Sorry, but I’ve read everything you have ever written especially Identifying Non-obvious Relationship Factors Using Cluster Weighted Modeling and Geographic Regression. You have a very intelligent mind.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, clearly impressed that you read his work.

“Guys, this is my good friend Y/N that I’ve asked to help us on this case.”

“Is she FBI?” Hotchner asked.

“Not exactly.”

“I am what’s known as an empathetic psychic. If ‘witch’ makes you sleep better at night, then call me that. I see things that most people are not able to see. I connect with people’s energies, especially the dead. Believe it or not, I see events that lead up to someone’s death due to the energy and the spirit they leave behind. The more recent the event, the stronger of a picture I get. It doesn’t always give me what I want, but it always provides me with what I need. I’ll be a valuable asset to this team.”

“I already approved it with the board. She has her firearm qualification and she passed the academy with flying colors,” Gideon sided with you.

“We need to get going. We’ll see how you do on this case,” Hotchner nodded.

With that, the plane was off. It wasn’t until the pilot let you know it was safe to move around the cabin that everyone start to talk about the case.

“His first victim was Melissa Kirsh—stab wounds and strangulation,” Spencer read from the file.

“Wait, wait. Back up. Back up,” Derek interrupted. “He stabbed her and then strangled her to finish her off?”

“Other way around,” Gideon cleared his throat before turning to you, the hopefully newest member of the team. “Why do you think he started using the belt with the second murder?”

“Strangulation with your bare hands is not as easy as one would believe,” you said, earning a few stares from the others. You knew it would take some time for them to get used to you, especially when they didn’t even know you. The fact that you’re with them is because you’re friends with Gideon. “He tried and probably found that it took too long so he stabbed her instead and realized it would be hours cleaning up the blood.”

“Next time, our boy's got a method—the belt,” Derek added.

“He's learning and perfecting his scenario. Becoming a better killer,” Gideon stated.

“So, Y/N, where did you learn about profiling?” Hotchner asked, taking a break from the case.

“I have a PhD in Criminal Justice with a sole focus on profiling. Another one in Psychology which better helps me connect with others. I thought Gideon told you all of this,” you asked, looking at your friend.

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Spencer asked.

“Twenty-three. Well, I turn twenty-three in a few months.”

“Wow, I’m impressed. How did you get two PhD’s at your age?”

“How’d you get three at yours?”

“I’m a genius with an eidetic memory.”

“Yeah, well, I worked my ass off to get where I am so just know that you’re not letting just anyone on this jet with you. I’d be happy to prove myself to you guys. I’ve been doing it since I could read.”

“There’s a few more of us you still have to meet,” Hotchner stated.

“Lucky you, Reid,” Derek grinned. The young doctor stared at his friend in confusion. “You’re not the youngest one here anymore.”

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@averyhotchner​

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic: Chapter 2 - All The Time in The Galaxy

Pairing: None, yet. (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word count: 6,547

Rating: None necessary. 

Summary: You receive the answer you’ve been waiting for - and get to give Grogu some news. But will you be able to handle what’s expected of you? 

Author’s note:

Check out the earlier parts of this story by visiting my Masterlist

Friday night’s going to be a weekly thing for this story moving forward. I want to try to have it up around 6-7 PM EST, but I got very sidetracked today, so it’s late.  Thanks for sticking with me on this one, and for your messages and feedback. I’m excited for the next few parts, because the story really gets going after this. 

Nothing much ese to say here except that if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I can add you before the next chapter. Enjoy.

(banner made by @malionnes) 

By the end of the following day, you were exhausted. After returning to the Academy with Luke, you’d gone back to your room, tucking the crystal safely into your top drawer and then taken a long, hot shower before falling into your bed. 

 But you hadn’t slept long, eyes flying open again late afternoon when your door cracked open, the floating cradle at eye level. “Hey, kid.” You laid back against the pillows, taking a deep breath as he moved toward you, and then turned your head to look at him. “What do you -” You were gone. Closing your eyes again, you took a breath and nodded. “I was. Had to leave for a little while. It was important. But I’m back now, and -” Bari? You sat up at that, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress, staring straight into his eyes and shaking your head firmly. “No. It was for Master Skywalker. I had to go and do something with him, kiddo.” You reached out and Grogu reached back for you, waiting until you had a hold on him to start cooing, ears moving back and down. “You’re talkative today.” 

 His mind was a jumble of thoughts, and as you concentrated on them, you felt yourself relaxing again as he spoke to you that way, filling you in on what you’d missed. Oh, kid. I was only gone for a few hours, did you really miss me that much? Yes. Leaning down, you kissed the top of his head before you sat straight up and swallowed. Grogu looked up at you, lifting one arm toward your face, his eyes blinking slowly. You could tell he was off - that your absence had truly thrown him, and you shut your eyes, wrinkling your nose. “Won’t leave you here again, kid. I promise.” The two of you stayed like that for long moments, and then another of the Grogu’s thoughts reached your mind, this one stronger than the others. Hungry. Of course you are. 

 With a laugh, you opened your eyes again and swiftly lifted him back into his cradle, still smiling. Yeah, me too. Let’s go get dinner. Only a few minutes later, you and Grogu were making your way down the hallway side by side, stopping to say hello to a few of the people that you passed. Despite the unsease you felt sometimes from the others, Grogu was popular with the other students and Masters in the Academy, and you expected the delay, but the longer it took, the hungrier you got - and you felt that Grogu was the same. By the time you were seated at one of the tables, him floating next to you, the fatigue you felt was coming back full force, and you knew that once you ate, you’d need to go back to sleep for a few hours. 

 Sick? His question surprised you and you quickly told Grogu no, swallowing the food you were chewing. “No. Just really tired. I’ll be fine tomorrow, I just need sleep. You know how it is. You sleep for days at a time, kid. Sometimes. You grinned at him, rolling your eyes and gently flicking the sleeve of his robes. Whatever you say. It was his turn to laugh before he returned to his dinner and you did the same, eating quickly. 

 You kept up a steady stream of conversation with him mentally as you ate, and even though you were the quietest two in the room, it didn’t bother you. You were surrounded by people like you, people that understood you - people your age and older that would have been more than happy to talk to you, but you were happy to stay with Grogu, happy to indulge his questions and stories, keeping him company - and keeping him occupied. “Just you and me, kid.” You raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a lopsided smile. “Unless you -” But your thought was interrupted by the appearance of Bari, standing behind you and clearing his throat. The young man said your name, and you heard the apprehension in it before you turned, Grogu doing the same in his cradle, his head peeking over the top of it to stare upward. “Yeah?” 

 “You’re being called to Comm Bay 3.” He frowned. “That’s all I know, but you’re supposed to go now, he said it was important.” He who? “And you need to go alone.” He glanced over at Grogu, and then back at you. “I can walk with you, but -” You shook your head, averting your eyes and looking back at Grogu. Maybe I’m in trouble, kid. He laughed at that, scrunching his nose and lowering his ears, and you laughed, waving a hand. I’m kidding. I’ll see you later. You lifted a hand to run your fingers over the top of one of his ears, rubbing the tip of it gently and then stood, reaching for your mostly empty tray. 

 “I’ll be ok, Bari. Thanks, though.” But the man followed you as you walked across the cafeteria, waiting patiently as you dumped your tray and then turned toward the doorway. “Seriously, I’m fine, I know where the Bay is, I -”

 “We’re all going out this weekend. Going to go get dinner and have some drinks at one of the cantinas in town.” He licked his lips, waiting for you to respond. “You should come. You’ve been distant for the last couple of weeks, and then you just went missing last night, so you’ve obviously been doing something.” He paused. “You deserve a break.” Bari reached for your arm, touching your elbow gently as you walked into the hallway and toward the lift. “Come out with me. I promise it’s just some drinks and dinner, and there’ll be -”

 “Look.” You turned toward him, fighting the urge to cross your arms over your chest. “Let me see what this is about first. I can’t think of anything that I’ve done that would lead to being … summoned like this, but … who knows.” He looked shocked, but you continued. “I’ll let you know, alright? Just …” You pressed the button, sighing. “I’ll come find you when I’m done, alright?” That seemed to be enough for him because he didn’t say anything else to you - but as the doors closed behind you, you caught a strong wash of hope coming from him, focused on the fact that you hadn’t outright turned him down. It had happened so quickly that you weren’t able to clearly think about the reason that you’d been summoned - or who requested your presence - until the doors slid open and you stepped in front of the door to Comm Bay 3. It’s him. He responded. This is  about… 

 Before you could lift a hand to knock, the second set of doors opened too, and you caught a glimpse of Luke standing in front of the large holotable at the center of the room, hands behind his back. That’s the Mandalorian. Your eyes widened as you stepped further into the room, taking in the broad shoulders and chest of the man projected above the table, the curved helmet easily discernible, even in the flickering light. “Come closer.” Luke spoke to you without looking. “I’ve already listened, but wanted to play the message for you.” Heart pounding, you stood next to him, waiting. “Why are you so anxious?” Luke finally looked over at you, a small smile on his face. “You knew -”

 “Because this could change everything.” For me. For Grogu. For the galaxy. “I -” 

 “You shouldn’t worry.” Luke used his chin to gesture toward a button in front of him. “Go ahead.” Hand shaking slightly, you reached out, one finger pressing the button down to begin the message. You’d heard the Mandalorian’s voice through Grogu’s thoughts before, but hearing it for real shocked you, the deep tone no less imposing, though you could tell that it was heavily modulated. I wonder what it sounds like without the … But you shook your head, willing yourself to focus. 

 “Master Skywalker. My quest was to bring Grogu to his kind, and that’s what I did.” There was a pause, and you felt your heart sink. “When you came and took him from Moff Gideon’s light cruiser, I completed that quest. He was … he is safe with you, with the Jedi.” Oh no. He’s saying no. I was wrong, I … “You’ve updated me on his progress, and I thank you for that, but …” You saw it - the slight lowering of the Mandalorian’s shoulders that had nothing to do with the weight of his armor. “This is The Way. I don’t want to …” He paused again, lowering his helmet and you heard a quiet phrase escape from him; the words dank farrik sounding harsh in your ears. Oh, come on, Mandalorian. I can see that you don’t want to say this, why are you … “I just want what’s best for the kid. That’s all I …” There was another quiet span of seconds, Luke immobile next to you, and then the Mandalorian spoke again, tone steady. “You know how to reach me. I’ll be waiting.” The transmission ended there, and you stood in stunned silence, staring at the frozen figure in front of you. “Is he saying that he doesn’t… that Grogu’s better off …” You were confused, to say the least. You’d assumed that the Mandalorian would jump at the opportunity to have Grogu back with him, even for a short time, but it sounded like  - it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself to say no. 

 “I agree.” Luke cleared his throat. “Did you know that Grogu - and others with his ability level can completely shut off their thoughts, eliminating their connection to the Force?” You nodded. “That’s how he survived, by cutting himself off from it. He does that with me a lot, keeps his thoughts … hidden.” He’s never done that with me, not after that first time. Luke’s smile turned into a grin. “I know he hasn’t.” He gestured to the holotable. “That’s why you’re here now. Because you’re going to convince the Mandalorian that what’s best for Grogu now is to be with him.” Me? Luke nodded, and you reached up to rub a hand over your face. 

 “Alright.” You let out a breath, closing your eyes. “Do you want me to send a -”

 “No. He sent over instructions to reach him directly through the radio.” Your eyes went to the left, toward the communications equipment, and the two of you walked over toward it, Luke gesturing for you to take a seat. “He may not answer, but … if he does? What you say is up to you.” Up to me? That’s… “You’ve got the strongest connection with Grogu out of any of us. It has to be you.” He typed in a few things onto the board, various lights blinking, and before he pushed the final one to send the call, you gave him a single nod. You can do this. It’s for the kid. 

 There was silence at first and then a slight crackle, followed by the clearing of a throat. “Hello?” His voice sounds different. “Are -”

 “Mandalorian.” Luke spoke, leaning back in his seat. “We got your message.” 

 “I didn’t think you’d call.” His voice is… You blinked, trying to figure out what was different. Is it the radio? “I wasn’t -”

 “I’ve got someone I’d like you to talk to.” Luke glanced at you. “She’s the one I mentioned in my first holo, the one that’s gotten -” 

 “Tell me your name.” The command surprised you, because you weren’t used to anyone giving orders besides the Jedi Masters, but you replied almost immediately, giving your first and last names. “You’re Grogu’s... friend?” This is it. You have to make him believe. 

 “Yes, Mandalorian. Can I call you that - Mandalorian? I don’t know your -”

 “Yes.” There was a long silence. “You can. Is Grogu -”

 “He’s great, actually. Really smart, really funny. He… he talks about you a lot. Not really talks, but he says that it’s like it was with Ahsoka, whatever that means.” 

 “You can hear his thoughts.” Agreeing, you waited. “Is he happy?” You heard the man’s sadness in the simple question, and you knew that part of him wanted to hear that yes, the child was happy and thriving, but another part wanted to hear that he wasn’t, that he missed the Mandalorian. 

 “Sometimes.” You chose the honest path, seeing Luke nod almost imperceptibly next to you. “It’s been good for him to be around others like him, and he’s learned a lot, but he can’t … he’s not as focused as he needs to be.” You swallowed. “He sneaks into my room at night sometimes, Mandalorian. The door opens and he’s climbing into bed with me, like he doesn’t … like he’s not used to sleeping alone, even after all this time. The kid just wants … I don’t know, he just kind of babbles as he thinks, and at night? A lot of it’s about you.” You laughed. “I almost feel like I know you, and we’ve never met, because he … I don’t know how he is with other people, but stars, he loves you.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself and you froze, covering your mouth with one hand. 

 Straining your ears, you could have sworn you heard the man swear on the other end of the radio, but he recovered quickly. “I thought he had to complete his training before he leaves the Academy, before he can become a Jedi, so why are you -”

 “He might be young, but he still deserves a choice.” Luke sighed. “I brought him here because I had to, but I don’t want to keep him here if that’s not what he … wants.” 

 “But he’s just a child, how does he know what he wants?” Why are you doing this? “I don’t want to be the reason he -”

 “If he stays here, his attachment to you might change his life, Mandalorian.” You spoke softly, hoping that Luke wasn’t angry at the interruption. “If he can’t focus on his training, or the fact that he’s here because he’s thinking of you? It won’t do him any good to be here.” He’s run away three times already, and I … Tell him. You met Luke’s eyes, asking for confirmation, and received it with a single tilt of his head. “He’s run away three times. He didn’t go far but it was …” You trailed off, gasping. I didn’t even… “You are … were… a bounty hunter, right?” The Mandalorian confirmed with a sharp yes. “I think he… he was playing a game, like he wanted someone to …someone to find him.” You felt tears in your eyes and lifted a hand to wipe them away. “I know you’re probably very busy,  but he … he needs you, Mandalorian. Not the Academy. Not the Jedi. Not the Force. Not me. You’re his …” You searched for the word that you’d heard from Grogu’s mind countless times. “.. his aliit.” His family. All he’s got. 

 “I don’t want to interrupt him.” You could hear the pain in the words, the man denying what you knew he wanted most. “But I …” Yes. Come on. “There are some things I need to take care of here before I can leave.” You heard the change in his voice, the slight excitement in his tone, and thought of the laugh in the memory Grogu had shown you. “How long are you thinking -”

 “A few months?” Luke sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I don’t want to put a time limit on it, because I want you to enjoy your time together, but … however long you -”

 “For him?” You heard the laugh again, just as quiet and emotional, and you realized why it sounded different between Grogu’s memories, the holo message and this call. He’s not wearing his helmet. That means he’s somewhere alone. That means this call was entirely private for him. “I have all the time in the galaxy.” You felt a lightness in your chest at his words, and covered your face with both hands in relief. Grogu’s going home. “You mentioned sending him with someone? A chaperone?” 

 “Yeah.” You felt your relief waning. “About that, Mandalorian, it would be … I’d be coming with Grogu. None of the Knights or Masters can be spared, and since I’m -”

 “Are you a Jedi?” He was curious, you could tell by the way the words came out, the man adding your name after a few seconds. “You must be, if you -”

 “No. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not. I just … I stopped my training, but I’m still…” You chewed on your lip. “It’s complicated. But no, I’m not a Jedi.” You inhaled. “I do care about the kid. though. A lot. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe before and after he’s with you, even though from what I know about you? It won’t be necessary once you’ve got him back. I’ll just be … there.” The Mandalorian laughed again, this one a little louder, and you finally relaxed, the sound comforting you. How?

 “That’s fine. It’ll be good to have someone that can be with him when I can’t.” Glancing at Luke, you saw that the man was smiling, his blue eyes on your face. “And even better to have someone that can tell me what the kid wants instead of me guessing.” It was your turn to laugh at that, the sound loud in the open room. He gave you a few seconds and then cleared his throat. “Where will we meet? How are -”

 “We have to keep the location of the Academy secret, so it has to be on a neutral site. The Empire’s in ruins, but they’ve still… there’s still some risk if they find us.” The Mandalorian agreed. “We’ll send the two of them from here to somewhere larger in a transport, and then from there, provide a smaller ship to get them to a location convenient for you.” 

 “Are you a pilot, too?” You heard a slightly teasing tone in the Mandalorian’s voice, and you were quick to answer him. “No. I mean, I can fly if I need to, but it’s not … not something I’ve got a lot of experience with. Ground vehicles, yeah. Speeders? I’m great, but … space?” You were chewing on your lip, eyes narrowed. “No, sorry.” 

 “We have pilots.” Luke spoke again. “I just need to know where to -”

 “Nevarro.” The single word meant nothing to you, aside form recalling it from Grogu’s stories, but you felt excitement at hearing it nonetheless. “I have … friends there. It’s safe. If I’m late getting there for some reason, Grogu … the people there can be trusted.” As the two men began to talk details, you leaned back in your seat, rubbing at your forehead with your fingertips. He’s going home, and I’m going with him. 

 You were excited and nervous at the same time, the voices of the men background noise to your thoughts. I’ll need to pack. I’ll need to take pretty much everything, but that feels like … You were pulled out of your thoughts by the Mandalorian repeating your name again, and you blinked furiously to focus. “What? I’m sorry, I -” 

 “Will you be able to take care of everything to leave in a week?” A week? You looked at Luke, who said nothing, just watching you. “I shouldn’t need longer, but if you -” A refresher course in lightsabers in a week? Saying goodbye to my friends, getting my credits in order … 

 “A week is perfect.” As soon as you said it, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. “One question, though. How … how much room will I have for my things? And Grogu’s? He has more now than when he came here, and months are -”

 “You’ll have more room on Mandalore than on my ship.” You heard him inhale. “Pack light. Whatever else you need, we can get after … we meet.” Agreeing, you turned your head to the side and pressed a hand to your mouth, closing your eyes. Guess I’m not taking everything. “Is that -”

 “That’s fine, Mandalorian.” You spoke quietly, trying to keep your voice even. “More than fine.” The conversation ended shortly after that, and you and Luke sat in silence for long moments, the only sound your breathing. 

 “You’ll need to begin your build as soon as possible, then.” Glancing over, you saw that the thoughtful look was back on his face. “You can start tonight, if you want, we have materials on hand for you to choose from, and the architect droid is available to you whenever you need it.” Nodding, you felt your heart rate quicken. “But first, it’s time to go and tell Grogu that he’s …” Luke paused, shoulders lowering slightly. “That he’s going back to his clan.” 

 --- 

 It only took the two of you a few minutes to find the child, toddling around in the supervised room with the other younglings, robes trailing on the ground behind him as they played together. He sensed your presence almost immediately, turning to face you, but stopped moving when he saw Luke standing next to you. Trouble? You smiled, kneeling down and holding your arms out. “Nope, kiddo. Come here.” He walked toward you cautiously, head angled up and looking between you and the man curiously, but when you touched him, you were a split second too slow to wipe the thought of the Mandalorian from your mind, Grogu’s eyes widening and a sharp cry leaving his mouth. Hurt? “No, it’s ok, kid. I promise.” 

 The three of you walked into the hallway silently, though you knew that Luke could also hear the child’s endless questions, but the man’s mind was blank. Calm down, kid. Give him a second. Grogu narrowed his eyes at you, frowning and you bit back a laugh at the expression, turning him in your arms so that he could look at Luke. “Grogu.” He stilled at the sound of Luke’s voice, going silent. “How would you feel about taking a trip?” Trip? You nodded, and so did Luke. Where? But Luke didn’t respond, instead looking to you. Oh, I get to … You took a deep breath, turning him in your arms again and raising him up so that he was closer to eye-level. 

 Grogu’s eyes were full of curiosity, his little mouth moving as he watched you, and you decided to go for it, offering him a large smile. “You and I are gonna go on a trip, kid. We’re gonna go and see your dad.” His reaction was immediate - and it made your knees buckle, Luke reaching out to steady you. Oh, I’ve never felt anything like … The child was nearly vibrating with joy, mouth open in a wide smile and his arms waving in the air. Home! Luke’s grip tightened but then he let you go and you focused on Grogu, unsure of what else to say. Yeah, kid. Home. You’re gonna get to see the Mandalorian again, and we get to get outta here for a little while. You winked at him. “I have a couple things I need to do here before we can leave, but…” You leaned in, whispering into his ear, rubbing the end between two fingers. “We’re leaving in a week, kid.” 

 Even Luke laughed at Grogu’s reaction, a loud squeal and his hands clapping together only a few inches from your face. “Alright, Grogu. Let’s let her get to work.” He turned his head toward Luke and then back toward you, cocking it to the side. “She’s got a lightsaber to build.” 

 --- 

 Luke and Grogu had walked you down to one of the workshops, both of them stopping at the doorway and waiting. “I gotta go in now, kid.” You reached out, thumbing over one of his chubby cheeks and smiled again. “Gotta build this so I can help keep you safe when we’re on Mandalore.” Safe with him. You nodded, eyes flicking to the doorway. Safe with you. “That’s the idea, pal.” 

 You’d stayed awake through the night, listening carefully to the droid’s instructions as you dug through the spare parts and machinery, trying to pick out the pieces you thought would work for your hilt, scrounging through the electronics to find the parts that were rattled off by the ever present, overly helpful droid standing across the table from you. I’m lucky, you realized right around daybreak, as you pushed your hair away from your face. I have a workshop, I have tools, I have materials… others aren’t this lucky. 

 You hadn’t tried to do anything fancy with the hilt; it was a standard cylinder shape, with notched metal near the end of the sleeve for better grip; the switch and endcap ringed with bronze accents that matched the handle part of the sleeve, but the top portion of the sleeve featured the most detail - tiny inscriptions that you painstakingly etched in - the coordinates of your home planet included. 

 You were proud of what you’d done with the scraps of titanium and durasteel, even somehow finding a tiny cube of pure gold to melt down and fill in the etchings with. It was simple but effective, and though you were sure that if you’d had more time, you could have done better, you were happy with the outcome, turning over the smooth hilt in your hands and raising it to catch the light. Glancing at the table to your left - the place you’d insert it before attempting to ignite it for the first time, testing the construction and shielding your face in case of an untimely explosion, you groaned. Not today. I need some sleep. 

 You cleaned up the majority of your scraps and trash, storing what you needed in one bin and throwing the unusable parts into the incinerator slot, and stood up to stretch. “Lunch. And  then sleep, and then I’ll… try the circuits and the emitter.” You knew that the interior was the most important part of the saber, and didn’t want to attempt it while you were less than completely alert. Gotta make sure this thing doesn’t kill me when I turn it on. 

 Turning the lights off as you left the room after powering down the droid, you took the lift back to the dining hall, almost on autopilot as you made your way through the line, picking things that wouldn’t take you too long to eat. I just want to sleep. I need to lay down, I… 

 You knew that Grogu was in class and wouldn’t come in while you ate, but you were still unprepared for Bari’s intrusion, the man sliding into the seat across from you unannounced. Oh, he’s upset. You sighed as you felt the emotion, forcing yourself not to look up until he spoke, continuing to spoon broth into your mouth. “Were you going to tell me you’re leaving?” He leaned in, brow furrowed. “We were supposed to go out this weekend, and I had to find out from one of the Padawans that you and Grogu are -” 

 “We’re leaving next week, yes.” You sighed. “We’re going to -” 

 “Why are you going with him? That Mandalorian can -” You gritted your teeth, fighting the urge to snap back at the man. “Isn’t he supposed to be some fierce warrior? Capable of -”

 “I’m not sure what he’s capable of, actually.” You took a drink from your cup, setting it down carefully. “I know what Grogu’s… thoughts are about him, and what I’ve read about the Mandalorians, but I …” I don’t know him, though. “But if you’re talking about him being capable of protecting Grogu?” You shook your head. “Of course he is, but he still needs to get there first, and there’s no way Master Skywalker or anyone else or I would let him jump into a ship and fly across the galaxy by himself, Bari. That’s kriffing …” You stopped, thinking. “What aren’t you saying?” 

 You looked directly into his eyes for the first time that day, not trying to keep his thoughts out. Say it, Bari. “I don’t understand why you have to go. How long will you be gone for?” You chewed on your lower lip. “I’m not sure. There’s no time limit, no… no return date. Everyone’s trying to give Grogu a choice, and if he thinks we’re rushing him, he -”

 “He’s a damn kid, and you’re letting him choose whether or not he wants to stay with the man that -” Bari’s nostrils flared. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and not know when you’ll be back? Know that you’re at the mercy of a damn Mandalorian for the -” 

 “They’re not barbarians.” You pushed your plate away, crossing your arms over your chest. “And anyone that cares as much about a kid as much as this Mandalorian cares about Grogu won’t be dangerous to me - or to him. I’m not a threat to him, and I’m escorting his kid home.” Home. You turned the word over in your head, feeling yourself smile slightly. “And it’s not like you and I are together, Bari, so I appreciate the concern, but I’m going. I’m not afraid, and this isn’t your decision.” Unlike the last time you’d left a planet you considered home, you were making the choice this time - not running, but traveling, doing your part. “I’m not meant to be a Jedi, but maybe I… maybe this is what I was supposed to do, you know? Help the kid get back to his dad and figure out his place in the galaxy.” 

 “We’re not together because you’d never give it a chance.” He stood, smacking a hand down against the table. “But by all means, go. Fly halfway across the galaxy to get that kid back to the King of Mandalore, so that he can spend an hour a day with him while he figures his druk out.” Bari leaned forward, lip curled, but even though what he said was meant to hurt you, you felt that believing it hurt him, too. “You’re better than this. You deserve to be treated like more than a glorified nurse droid.” With a gasp, you recoiled from him and Bari turned away from the table, striding away without saying anything else. 

 You considered going after him, but chose not to, instead returning to the remainder of your meal, picking through the remnants. He’s wrong. The Mandalorian will make time for Grogu. He wouldn’t have wanted him to come back if … But at least part of Bari’s outburst was true - he was the King of Mandalore - the Mand’alor - and would be busy. Wait, should I have been calling him that instead of … You clapped a hand over your mouth, eyes widening. Oh, I must have offended him, I should have known better. “I’ll apologize.” You sighed, lowering your hand and your head. “As soon as I meet him, I’ll apologize.” 

 Ignoring the rest of the people around you, you finished your meal in complete silence. 

 --- 

 It was late that night when you finally removed your goggles and gloves, staring down at  the table in front of you. After a few hours of rest, you’d returned to the lower level, greeting the droid once it was back online, and picking up where you left off. The circuits and interior components assembly had gone much faster than the exterior construction, but when it came time to insert the kyber crystal into the chamber, you were nervous. This is where it all goes wrong. 

 But instead of letting that fear overtake you, you rationalized that the Gathering and building was typically completed by people half your age, if not younger, and they most often turned out fine. That thought clear in your head, you reached forward, picking up the tiny crystal and holding it in front of your eyes. “I know this is supposed to take longer. And I’m supposed to win you in the Trials, and …” You sighed. “Just please don’t blow up on me? I gotta get that kid home, and I don’t want the Mandaorian’s first impression of me to be covered in bacta and bandages.” You’re talking to a rock. You laughed out loud at the thought, swearing under your breath, and then lowered your hand toward the hilt, the crystal held between your fingers. “Here we go.”

 Sliding it into place - there was just enough room in the central chamber - you took a deep breath, twisted the emitter into position to close it up, and shut your eyes. Fingers wrapping around the cylinder, you lifted it slowly, thumb sliding up and toward the switch. Wait. You opened your eyes,  thinking. If it’s powered by the crystals which are powered by the Force then … You concentrated on the metal held in your hand, focusing on the crystal inside of it, though you didn’t know what you were looking for. Maybe I’ll know it when I …  You felt it then, a miniscule shift of the crystal’s position, realigning itself in the small chamber, and then you felt the weight of the hilt all but disappear in your hand, your eyes once again open. Oh, it… You glanced down at your hand, thumb again on the switch. It’s going to light. It’s going to work. 

 You were certain of it - almost as certain as you’d been when you stepped across the floor of the cave toward the kyber in the first place, and just as certain as you’d been when you’d found Grogu in the forest. Taking one last deep breath, you lifted the hilt higher, angling it up and away from you, and pushing up on the switch. Within seconds, you heard a familiar hum, the handle buzzing gently in your hand, and the lightsaber ignited, bathing the room in a pale glow.

 It wasn’t bright blue or green, nor was it purple or yellow. Your lightsaber was instead a rich golden color, and as you turned it gently in your hand, you noticed an undertone to the blade’s center - an almost darker orange, tinged with pink that reminded you of the setting sun. Oh, that’s… beautiful. You spun it in your hand twice, getting a feel for it, and in those two turns, you felt the training you’d had come back, the grin on your face growing as you laughed. “Oh, I missed … I missed this.” Stepping back from the table entirely, you continued to move your wrist, waving the blade of light around to ensure  that the beam was steady. It didn’t go out and after a few minutes you extinguished it, letting out a deep breath and clipping it to your belt before you covered it with your shirt. Probably shouldn’t just have that on display while I’m going to bed. 

 You cleaned everything up and then left the room again, stopping at one of the terminals on your way and sending a message to Luke, telling him that whenever he was ready to restart your weapons training, you were, too. I feel like I have a purpose. I feel … this feels right. You didn’t try to conceal your emotion as you headed back to your room, and you knew that if Grogu was even close to being awake, he’d feel it, so you quickly changed into your bedclothes and climbed between the blankets, eyes on the ceiling. He’s going to come tonight. He’ll be too excited to sleep, he - 

 Like clockwork, you heard the door creak open and saw the faint strip of light, Grogu’s quiet coos reaching your ears a second later. “C’mon, kid.” He was in his carriage this time, hovering low to the ground, and instead of waiting for you to reach for him, he raised it and then climbed out, pressing one button with a finger and sending it off into the corner before turning to face you. You’re very happy. “I am.” He reached out, putting a hand atop yours and closing his eyes, thinking. You felt him in your mind, and made it simpler for him, thinking of the color of your blade, letting him see how it looked, feel the way it felt in your hand. “You’re getting stronger, little one.” Grogu opened his eyes and then blinked at you. You too. “Nah, I’m just more confident, I guess. I built that thing and didn’t hurt anyone.”

 He laid down next to you, and you pulled the blankets up and around both of you, making sure that they didn’t cover his face. His mind was racing, but the thoughts were all disjointed; images of desert landscapes racing by, of the Mandalorian’s side profile, glints of light from the stars reflecting off of his armor in the darkness, the Mudhorn, a river of lava, a woman with long, dark hair and a wide smile, children in a classroom. The more he showed you, the more he wound down, but his thoughts always cycled back to the Mandalorian before they raced forward. “You got a lot going on in there tonight, don’t you.” You murmured the words, feeling that both of you were falling asleep. “Lots to say, hmm?” He didn’t answer, just quietly cooed from in front of you, and then you felt one of his hands tighten around your arm, a single memory standing out in his mind. 

 He was sitting on a crate, the Mandalorian next to him, and there was a bowl in his hands. To your surprise, you watched as the Mandalorian lifted his helmet slightly, taking a long drink from the matching bowl that he held. Wait, what? Dumbfounded, you let the memory continue playing, watching as the man did it again, a glimpse of his chin and lower lip visible - just for a second. But that means… “Grogu.” He startled at the use of his name and you watched as he sleepily blinked up at you. “You’ve seen his face, haven’t you?” Yes. “Don’t ever let me see it, alright? You’re his aliit, I’m not. I have no right to … please don’t ever … don’t take that away from him.” It is the Way. 

 It was the most serious thought you’d ever heard from him, but you felt that he was agreeing with you, making a promise that no matter how close he felt to you, he wouldn’t compromise the Mandalorian’s creed by even giving you a larger glimpse of the face hidden beneath the helmet. But I’m glad you know what your dad looks like. 

 As Grogu’s breaths lengthened, you felt yours doing the same, the activities from the previous few days finally catching up with you. If he took his helmet off for the kid, there’s no way he’d ever let anything happen to him. Bari’s out of his mind. It’ll be perfectly safe with him. Eyes closed, you began to drift off when you heard one more of Grogu’s thoughts - this one drawn out and slow, coming from the edges of sleep. Both safe. 

 ---

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[dancing-under-the-moon]

THE CITY OF OUR DREAMS:

Cecily breathed out a sigh of relief. It was finally over. Since finding out if she was pregnant with her now infant Christopher, her and Gabriel had been making small moves to move to Idris. Since the Lightwood properties had all gone to Tatiana Blackthorn, they had started by buying a rundown house in Idris from an old shadowhunter family that has been long gone by now with no ancestors to revive their line of inheritance. And for the past year and a half they had been rebuilding the home into the new Lightwood’s residence in Idris.

It had made sense for them to move there. Gideon and his family lived there. London was becoming overcrowded, and they had decided the best place to raise their children was in a place where their kids could feel free to breathe and grow up without the social hierarchy starting up in London. And while Cecily knew she would miss her brother and his family, she knew it was best for her family, and for herself.

The grass was the same shade of green as the grass back in Wales and the stars were are bright as the adamas surrounding Alicante. It was somehow so familiar to Cecily, yet so different.

Cecily walked over to the desk near the window she had been looking out for what she had assumed was probably way too long. She began writing a letter to her parents. She would never send them, but there was something comforting about writing letters to her parents, about imagining them reading her tales and being utterly enamoured by her new life and family

Dearest parents,

I am now officially settled into my new residence in Idris. It has been quite a lot of work as I am sure you know, but it has been so worth it. Anna has already spent the entire day playing on the outskirts of Brocelind Forest with Gabriel and sweet Christopher has been enjoying the fresh air with me while I trained in the fresh air. It reminds me so much of Wales here, from the fresh grass to the clear waters.

I am overjoyed that Will has said he will soon come visit with James, even if Tessa can’t join them. I suppose it is logical, however, that Tessa should not portal so far into her final term of pregnancy. I’m sure you have heard by now, but Will is determined to believe their next child will be a girl, although I am sure she would ecstatic regardless of the sex of their child.

Speaking of children, Anna is determined to start her training now, despite her being three years old. Gabriel says she must get her determination from me. Well actually I believe he had used the word “stubbornness” but he probably meant determination as I am sure you would agree. Christopher is quite the advanced baby. He has already started crawling as though he must see everything around him. He is also a very curious child and enjoys fixing his gaze on Gabriel’s wrist watch often. I adore both of my children more than I thought possible. Although I should probably check on them soon as Gabriel is putting both of them to bed.

Anyways I love you both very much and hope to see you soon!

With all my love,

Cecily Lightwood

She folded up the letter and tipped the corner of the letter to a nearby candle, letting it go up in flames. As the letter turned into ash, she imagined it flying away in a burst of flames and away to her parents. She knew her wishes would never come true, but she still hoped that one day they might.

***

Cecily walked into Anna’s room first to see her young daughter sound asleep. She smiled gently, adjusting the sheets on her sleeping daughter to cover her small body. She tucked a small dark curl behind Anna’s ear and kissed her forehead lightly before going to the nursery.

She had giggled as soon as she opened the door to find her husband sleeping soundly in a rocking chair, while young Christopher pointed to his father’s watch, his finger following the second marker in small circles. Cecily knew her son was much too smart for his young age, but that only made her more proud.

She slowly walked and sat down on the floor next to the rocking chair, resting her arms on one of the arm rests of the chair. She gazed into her youngest child’s focused eyes and she grinned when she realized that her husband often shared the same look of concentration.

She had stayed there for a while before she lifted her baby into her loving arms, being careful not to wake her exhausted. Since Cecily had been pregnant for most of the move to their new home, Gabriel had insisted on doing all the work, despite Cecily’s protests. Gabriel had a tendency to be overbearing about taking care of those he loved, but she knew what family meant to him, so she let him be happy and tolerated his overbearing protectiveness. He had made their home everything she could have ever hoped for, and he forged their lives from nothing into everything she could ever dream of.

She set a now drowsy Christopher in his cot, and she watched as he fell asleep as soon as his tiny body touched his bedding. She then attended to Gabriel. She gently set herself in his lap, setting her hand on the side of his face, and rubbing small circles on his cheek with her thumb as he woke.

His eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened slowly. A smile spread slowly across his face and he hummed as he saw the love of his life staring back at him. He pulled her in close and left small butterfly kisses along her cheeks and nose before landing his mouth on hers.

She gasped and giggled immediately returning the sentiment, bringing her hands up to grip his curls of brown hair as his hands pulled her closer from the small of her back.

As they pulled away from each other, Gabriel nuzzled his face into Cecily’s neck. Cecily curled into him more before she whispered “Gabriel, fy nghariad, we should go to bed.”

He nodded into her neck and groaned before pulling away from her. She got up, brushing the small wrinkles from her nightgown as Gabriel got up and the two of them went to bed.