#C: there's no light at the end of this tunnel so it's a good thing we brought matches (leo rory)

[fandomfloozy]

Oh, I'm pretty boy?

pairing: katsuki bakugo x sick!reader

c/w: fluff, early relationship, petnames (katsuki calls reader babe, reader evidently calls katsuki pretty lol), sprinkles of hispanic!reader/spanish-speaking!reader, gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

~°•*~

You've been sick the last few days.

You're on the tail-end of recovery now, thank god, but for most of the week you've been bed-ridden, and snotty, and sweaty, and hot, and cold. It's been miserable, if you're being honest. With the light at the end of the tunnel in view, you're glad the worst of it is over.

There has been one upside to being sickly, though--one aspect that makes you wish you could be sick just one more day: Ever since you fell ill, since the moment he'd heard you were taking leave off work to rest at home for a bit, you've been under the thorough care of your very own, self-appointed nurse, Katsuki.

There's this saying: "You'll never truly know someone well enough until you've seen them struggle financially, grieve a lost loved one, or witness them while they're sick."

Your relationship is new. Not early days, but still far too soon for him to be seeing you sick, for your liking.

But when he showed up at your door a couple days ago--masked up, worry-eyed, and holding all the essentials for treating a typical head cold--how could you refuse him?

And to be fair, he's been a rock. He's changed your compresses (water bowl kept at optimal temperature), given you medicine in intervals (timed and administered to the MINUTE), and even cooked you palatable meals (anything you could keep down, but namely the caldo recipe he got from your mom when he asked her what you ate when you're sick). He did everything short of rubbing Vick's vapo rub on you (not for lack of trying), all while keeping a level head and brushing aside your concerns over feeling like you're burdening him.

"You're my partner," he'd say matter-of-factly. "This is my job, ain't it?"

A rhetorical question. He said it as if it was an irrefutable truth, as if he hadn't even considered an alternative, as if the very thought of leaving you to fend off this cold by yourself was an affront to your relationship, scowl on his face and all.

His bedside manner needed work, but when he said those words to you... let's just say the flush rising up your face probably had nothing to do with the cold.

So, yeah. While you're happy to be feeling better, you can't help being a little disappointed that the doting will soon come to an end.

Which is why you now sit with your head resting in your hands, elbows on the kitchen bar, making the most of admiring a now unmasked Katsuki as he cooks your dinner on what will be the last of your "sick days."

You're unashamed in your ogling. You feel bold. It might be the relaxed atmosphere. It might be the way Katsuki let you wear his hoodie tonight... It might just be the cold medicine. You feel dozy, comfy, and so dopily content as you watch your boyfriend chop vegetables.

He does it with ease--so practiced that it's like he's on autopilot. His defenses are down, completely in his element.

"'Ya sure you want all this cooked in with your rice?" Now that you're feeling better, he's less inclined to hold his tongue about his thoughts on your childhood dishes.

You yawn and nod. "Mhm, it's the way my mami always makes it."

"Just sayin', I could make ya rice without all this extra stuff."

"It's a good thing you're not making rice, Katsuki." You pout dramatically for emphasis. "You're making sopita."

"Sopita," he repeats, shaking his head with a sideways grin. "Alright, babe. I've got you covered. Sopita coming right up."

You switch to resting your cheek in one hand, continuing to observe your boyfriend as he works. He looks so serene this way. With his smug little half smile, even his expression screams "relaxed"--very unlike his usual frown and furrowed brow.

You're not used to seeing him like this. Sure, you've seen him in a good mood, upbeat, excited, even downright elated, like on the day you agreed to go out with him.

Katsuki has always been an... expressive person, even when it doesn't grant him the most flattering of expressions.

Right now, though, while he's contented and caring for you in the comfort of your own home, his features are on display in such a way that you wonder if the cough syrup really is getting to you.

He looks almost...

Pretty...

"You're starin'."

You know you are. "Sorry," you laugh. "I was just thinking how it's a shame you have such a cara de fuchi most of the time, Kats. You're so pretty."

His head snaps toward you. "Fucking WHAT." The furrow is back in his brow. If you were paying proper attention, you'd notice the flush rising up his neck and the back of his ears, but your eyelids are feeling a bit heavy at this point.

You wave your free hand dismissively. "You know, cara de fuchi," you explain. You're sure you've used this phrase in front of him before. "Like you're a sour puss, you pull faces--"

"I'm not fucking pretty," he interrupts.

You open your eyes slightly to squint at him. "Pfft," you laugh. "Has no one ever told you that?"

"Hell, no." He turns back to the task at hand. Grumbling under his breath.

With his signature grimace making its return, the allure is gone; but now that you've seen it, you can't unsee it. He's beautiful. His eyes are a nice shape, and the crimson color of his irises is striking against his light complexion. The way his hair falls just above is strong browbone makes you want to push it back and rub at the scrunch between his brows. And you know he has soft lips, but on top of that, they're such a nice shade of pink. His jawline. His cheekbones. His chin.

It's a fundamental truth. Katsuki Bakugo is pretty.

You fold your arms on the island and press your cheek into the crook of your elbow. "I'm sure people would tell you more often if all the pretty wasn't covered up by your perpetual stank face."

Cue said stank face. He bumbles over his words in frustration for a second. "You're sick and loopy, stop bein' weird."

You giggle. "And you have a nice face when you're not acting chronically disgusted by the world."

He looks at you properly and you smile to yourself in pure delight and fondness.

"You're pretty when you're happy, Katsuki."

He deliberates over it for a moment, stank face semi relaxing. He's about to say something else when you cut into the silence with another yawn.

His gaze softens into an amused smirk as he reaches for your cheek and pinches softly. "Alright, alright. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, you gotta eat properly before goin' to bed."

You swat his hand away and rise to attention while rubbing your eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm up."

He smiles and goes back to cooking your half-prepared meal. "Ponte las pilas, or whatever the hell your mom says when you start lazin' around."

You huff at that. "I regret teaching you Spanish, you always pick up the worst phrases."

Katsuki barks out a laugh and you can't help the snort that follows as you giggle right along with him.

You two settle into the monotony of the last evening of your first of many sick days together. You're sure your boyfriend has had more than enough of witnessing you sick to satisfy stipulations. Suffice to say that he felt he knew you and your "sleepy freak tendencies" a bit better now.

There's definitely an addendum you'd make to that old saying, though: You'll never know how pretty someone is until you've seen them care for you while you're sick.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via ara-kan (deactivated)

[galadrieljones]

i actually wonder why you ship daryl and beth? i see them as friends and yeah i watched their scenes over and over and i didn’t see any love between them. And i see beth younger than him and i see daryl see her as a friend and sister So what is your reasons to ship them anyway!?

I'm going to assume this question is in good faith and that you are genuinely interested in why I (and many others) ship bethyl, so I'll answer in good (albeit cautious) faith. I'm also going to tag some of my friends and mutuals at the end who I would like to encourage to share why they, personally, ship bethyl.

First, know that I don't care if people don't ship bethyl. I also am not beholden to shipping "canon" ships. I don't care about any of that, and I think it's boring to restrict one's interest in shipping to what is canon or what the fandom accepts. You're free not to ship bethyl, and I won't be mad. That's your choice!!

BUT, since you're here of your own volition, realize that I personally don't buy the bethyl bond as "sibling-coded" argument at all lol. I can understand if someone just doesn't want them to be together, because they want Daryl to be with another character or something. That's fine and perfectly rational. I can also understand if someone does not like age difference ships, and they reject it on those grounds alone. Okay! That's your preference. BUT, Beth was 18 by the events of "Still." And the argument that they share a "sibling-coded" bond has never held water for me. Believe me when I say that I can see the argument for C*ryl before I can see the argument for Daryl and Beth being "sibling-coded," and that's saying a LOT. I've literally never had anyone successfully explain this perception to me using actual evidence from the show or from the actors/showrunners outside the show. It is ALWAYS subjective. And when confronted with evidence of a bethyl romance, these same people tend to just invoke their *age difference* as if that, in and of itself, is a dealbreaker.

IMPORTANT: It's NOT a dealbreaker, but some people in fandom these days mistake personal preference for moral paradigm, and these people tend to be very judgmental and to screech a lot and to spread rumors and to bully others. The same exact thing is happening to Neggie. But I'm not going to get into that right now.

Now, you say you don't see how they could possibly be "romantic." Of course, that's totally fine, but you will need to try and explain this to thousands of people lol. I am actually not super interested in going through, in detail, why I ship bethyl from a defensive position. I'm very sick of defending something that is, frankly, entirely unproblematic and also...popular! Other than Rickyl (which is a non-canon slash ship), Bethyl, even ten years after her exit from the flagship, is still the most popular TWD ship on AO3. It was popular at the time that the show aired. Jeffrey Dean Morgan's wife ships bethyl lol. Bethyl is not "weird." It's not even a rare pair!

AND YET, to put so briefly, if you *actually* care: I PERSONALLY love bethyl because I believe their characters exist in beautiful harmony. Beth is an artist. Her priority is beauty and continuously discovering what it means to live. She believes in the goodness of people. She is a religious character who has faith in God's love. She is, as Norman put it a long time ago, like a little light at the end of the tunnel for Daryl. She reminds Daryl of what it means to live, what it means to trust people and to have faith. She protects him from his own demons and reconnects him to the beauty that remains in a dying, horrific world. Daryl tends to forget about his own well-being and his own happiness. He prioritizes brute survival, because he was taught to do this over many years of emotional and physical abuse as a child. He is "used to things being ugly" and he frequently blames himself for things that go wrong. He closes himself off to others because he has a difficult time trusting that they won't abandon him or die. At the moonshine shack, Beth confronts him on this, and he confronts her right back. Beth isn't used to being challenged by men. But he challenges her to be better and to face her own insecurities as well. He makes her stronger. She pries open his heart. At the moonshine shack, she physically grabs him to remind him that he is still alive, and that everyone they've lost was once alive, too, and that just because they might be dead now, that's not his fault. The two of them still alive, while others are dead, that's not his fault, and there is still goodness in the world and things worth living for.

Speaking of physical touch, you really should rewatch "Alone" if you want to understand the physical and romantic chemistry between Beth and Daryl. There is literally so much that I could go through, but I don't have time lol.

The moment I fell in love with bethyl was actually in "30 Days Without an Accident," when Beth embraces Daryl in such a way that reassures him that he is not alone in a desperately lonely situation. Both characters are battling demons in this scene. But it's somewhat subtextual. If you don't watch closely, you may miss it.

That said, as has been established, a LOT of people did NOT miss it lol. It's just that a lot of people also want Daryl to be with someone else, or they feel the need to moralize on the internet. Neither one of those things is relevant to me, though I accept them as realities.

Anyway, I hope this helps! ->

@sasusc @frangipanilove @twdmusicboxmystery @pipergirl17 @sweetz1919

@emsee22 @drewmoll03 @bookqueenrules @bethiscomingsoon

@angelthefirst1 @bethgreeneprevails @im-immortal @rose-andthe-thorn @wdway @boltthrutheheart

and anyone else, I know I've forgotten some people 😩. I just went off the top of my head, so please chime in on why you love bethyl, or feel free to completely ignore this ❤️

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 13. Hair

Prev - Masterlist

Content: Giant/tiny, being handled, dressing/washing, cages, captivity, food mention, healing wounds, pet trope, solitary confinement, ableism, mobility aid being withheld (prosthetic leg), power dynamics, selectively mute whumpee, female cast, dissociation/fear, (let me know if I missed any) 

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll winner: Be cleaned up, talk to hamster, be moved to main room

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

“Are you ready to cooperate?” Ashley’s shrill voice pounds into your head as you wince at the sudden bright lights, even through all of the fluff you’re under. Slowly you dig yourself out of the bedding to face her.

You have no idea how long you were left alone in the cold, dark room, but you’re filthy, sore, and starting to go insane from basically being kept in solitary confinement for who knows how long. You hate to admit that you’re relieved to see another face, even if it's hers. You sigh heavily in defeat, knowing it won’t work, but you try the spiel anyway out of an obligation to stick up for yourself. “Look lady. You have to let me go-“

“No.” Ashley cuts it short with her arms crossed. “Do you want to stay in here for another week alone, or are you ready to cooperate?”

Quivering in anger you speak through your teeth. “Yes. Okay, yes I am.” You couldn’t handle another week alone in the dark like this with nothing to do. 

“Wonderful.” She claps her hands gently. 

The human is asking what you want to do, and giving you options, but somehow you doubt many of them are really going to be your choice in the end. She’s talking about how it's time to change your bandages, and how she needs to fix you up if you’re going to do model work. 

The next thing she does is pick up the cage with you in it, shifting the floor beneath you, and you have to put your good hand against the bars to brace yourself. 

Looking down towards the floor does you no favors while the cage sways in Ashley’s arms. You close your eyes and ignore the churning in your stomach, almost lurching backwards when the cage is set down on the kitchen counter. 

Now Ashley is going to grab you again, pull on your limbs, threaten you with the weight of her fingers. Your heart beats harder in your chest and your vision tunnels. You can’t take a deep enough breath. 

There's nowhere to escape her hand when she opens the cage door, and she grabs you with a gardening glove on so you can’t even bite her or fight back in any way. Fear paralyzes you, and her grip is too tight to try to wiggle away. You completely freeze, and dignity is thrown out the door when you start crying. Dissociation numbs your body and turns your mind into mud. Everything is a distant blur while she handles you.

The bandages are removed, and after a wash, you’re relieved to see your wounds are healing as they’re supposed to. The skin is knitting back together with lumpy scabs that itch along your arm and legs. You watch numbly as she bandages your limbs back up, as if you’re a puppet on strings, or more realistically, a doll that she’s playing with. 

“You need a haircut.” The dreaded words leave her lips and the thought of human size scissors snipping around your face makes your blood run cold.

”C-Can I do it myself? Please?” You actually look up at her huge face attempting to make blurry eye contact, blinking away stray tears from earlier.

“How would you do that?“ Ashley scoffs, her blue eyes piercing a glare.

“T-There’s a knife in my bag.” 

Ashley laughs. “You want me to give you a knife?“

Your cheeks warm and your mouth starts moving before you process the thought. “I’m the size of your thumb, and have no fucking leg. What do you expect me to do with a sliver of metal?!” The rush of defiance has you breathing heavily, and you brace to be slammed into the floor of the sink.

Ashley certainly looks mad, but she takes a deep breath. “Fine,“ she says.

Before you know it, you’re being granted a pocket sized vanity mirror in the sink with you, and given your knife back, just until you are done with it.Your hands are shaking, and one of them is still hard to move with the bandaged wounds. 

You stifle a sob when you see your reflection, but manage to hold it together. You look worse than you imagined. Your skin is clammy, with dark circles under your eyes and dark stubble starting to grow from your chin. Your hair is hideously sticking up all over the place and completely uneven in length.

Gingerly you start cutting away the longer strands in an attempt to even it out. Black chunks of hair fall around you and scatter around the silver floor. The back of your neck is cold with goosebumps and when you’re done, you throw your weapon across the sink for the giant hand to pluck away from you.

Dread eats away from the inside when she pinches the knife away like a crumb, and you force your voice steady. “Can I have my leg back now?” That was the deal, and now was the time to see if she was good on her word.

Ashley agrees, and hovers the doll leg just above you, and when you try to grab it, she pulls it up out of your reach. “Be nice,” she warns when you scowl at her, and lowers it back down. You yank it out of her fingers and hug it protectively. She tsk’s but turns her back to go do something else. 

“Mommy has to go to work now so be good while I’m gone, and I’ll set up a photo shoot when I get back.” Ashley isn’t talking to you anymore. She’s holding Hamster and giving her kisses. Your lip curls in disgust, and you use this time to pull your leg on as fast as possible.

The human’s back before you can stand, hovering over you, always flexing her power. She grabs you before you’re ready, causing you to yelp in alarm, and then puts you back into your cage. Dread weighs on you at the thought of being put back into that dark room. Except she doesn’t do that. Instead, she places your cage onto the kitchen counter by Hamster’s. 

Ashley’s huge blue eyes peer between the bars at you. “Behave while I'm gone. I’ll know if you try anything, little boy,” She threatens.

Just like that, she’s gone, and probably won't be back until the end of the day.

The room is dead quiet. No TV on today, just a soft humming of electronics, and the sound of a car or two driving by the house.

Hamster’s cage is just across the counter and you stumble past the bedding that Ashley put in yours to see if you can spot the pet from here. To your surprise, Hamster is outside of her cage and standing directly in front of yours, face to face with you. Shocked, you gawk at her for a second before you run your mouth with a snide comment. “Good job not falling off the counter again. You know, since I’m not there to save you this time.” You scowl deeply at her. “What do you want?”

Hamster just stares at you, smiling away.

You guess she’s over being upset that you threatened her before. Maybe she forgot already. Maybe she’s too dumb to hold a grudge. 

“Hello?” You wave. “Can you understand me?”

Hamster blinks back into reality, and nods her head while stroking an armful of her orange hair.

“Can you open the door to this cage?” You ask and point over to the door. The girl's eyes go wide, looking at the padlock on the bars, and she shakes her head no. 

You bite your tongue, screaming internally and go closer to her. Forcing yourself to stay calm. You can’t afford to scare her off. “Maybe you can find a tool for me?”

Hamster shakes her head again and frustration snaps an angry growl out of you. God, she’s actually useless.

”What can you do?” You spit out. “You know you owe me! I saved your life back then.” 

Hamster's eyebrows crease in a small frown and she walks off for a while, coming back with a sliced grape. She offers it to you. 

With a deep sigh you take it and sit in the fluff. “Thanks,” you mumble. It sure beats dried pellets, and the juicy flavour is the best experience you’ve had all week. 

Another several minutes go by without a word and the awkward silence is killing you. Is this really going to be how the rest of the day turns out?

Maybe it would be best to gain her trust after all… Get on her good side so she’ll be more inclined to help you. Pretend to be her friend, ask her questions, tell her a little about yourself. Anything to pass the time, really. 

—

I'm trying something different for these poll options this chapter. Feel free to send me questions via comments or ask box that you want soap to ask or talk about and I’ll include some into the next chapter. If you don’t have anything to ask, you can vote on whatever you want to see happen regardless!!

—

Thank you @alittlewhump for proof reading <3

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @justagiantpotato

[sageteapost]

hello!

May I request that you do a cloud strife x reader where the reader uses duel blades? These blades actually have short range and long range attacks and ( with enough force) can propel the reader forward? I would like them to meet in the scene where Jessie is seeing Biggs and wedge on bikes, but they see an extra bike and that’s the readers? The whole scene plays out and the reader is super badass, pulling enemy’s back with their duel blades and throwing them into a wall. Then after, they talk a bit and find out that they are a SOLDIER aswell..? IDK if this could be written so I’m sorry I’m advance if it can’t so feel free to tell me if you can’t!

| Cloud Strife & A Dual Blade User Reader |

[ Cloud Strife x GN! Reader ]

TW & CW + Tags: Violence (not super detailed). Mentions of firearms and blades. Reader is a SOLDIER as well. [No relationship mentioned. GN! Reader.]

Summary: A small fic of Cloud Strife meeting the reader who uses duel blades and eventually finds out that they are also a SOLDIER as well.

[(A/N): Hey there anon! My apologies for the late reply to your request. Not gonna lie, the reader gives off a bit of Ignis Scientia from Final Fantasy XV! I was in a mood to write a small fic for this one. I'm not sure if you wanted a fic request, if not let me know! As always, enjoy!]

"Looks like we got more company!" cries Jessie, Shinra infantrymen catching up close behind the others. The smell of rubber creating friction on the road was strong, and the roar of the motorcycle echos throughout the tunnel. "Quit moving around, or you'll fall off the bike," Cloud says while maintaining full attention on the lit road ahead of him.

"Hey Cloud! Take care of them, will ya?!" Biggs yells as Wedge holds onto Biggs for dear life. "We cannot let them ruin the mission!" Cloud hums in acknowledgement, making a cue for Jessie to take over driving the bike. She responds swiftly, and Cloud makes a leap onto onto one of the infantry's bikes and quickly taking him out.

"You!! Avalanche scum!" shouts an infantrymen, moving his bike closer towards Cloud so he can strike.

"Not so fast!"

A sharp object swiftly flys into the back of the man, earning a shout of pain from him and losing control of his bike.

Cloud makes a face of confusion for a moment, but before he could do anything he hears a motorbike pull up from behind, breaking him from his thoughts. "You guys abandoned me back at the meeting place! I was looking for y'all everywhere!"

Cloud turns to his left, and he sees you. As you're fighting one last infantrymen with your blades, your (H/C) hair lights up from the bright overhead lights in the tunnel, your mako green eyes are as sharp as a hawk, and he notices the daggers on your side as you slam the infantrymen hard into the wall.

The biggest thing he notices instantly however, is your outfit. A SOLDIER uniform, actually.

"Sorry (Y/N)! I thought you were right behind us the whole time," Jessie says with a sheepish laugh. "Glad you caught up with us! You would have missed out on our SOLDIER boy there! He's badass, don't you think?"

You turn your head slightly towards Cloud, making eye contact with his mako green eyes. Cracking a small smile, you reply, "Oh no, I saw. He's pretty good!"

Cloud quickly shifts his eyes back to the road. "C'mon. We're almost at the end of the tunnel."

"Right. Let's get a move on!" Jessie shouts out with pure energy.

...

Mission success! Now it was time to get the hell out of there and go home. Before you could drive off on your bike, Cloud stops you.

"Nice job back there."

You look at him in confusion, before replying with a smile. "Thanks, just what I do. I could say the same thing about you too." Cloud hums quietly, before asking, "...You're a SOLDIER, aren't you?"

Your smile drops just a tad bit and your eyes drift away from his. "That obvious, huh?"

"It's the uniform. And the trademark mako eyes."

"Right. Figured you should have known, since you are one too."

"Ex-SOLDIER. I'm just a mercenary now. I quit a long time ago."

You chuckle lightly, the cool night breeze of Midgar brushes away a strand of your hair. You look up towards a mako reactor, its bright light beaming up into the night sky. "It's getting late. We should go home," you say.

"Right," Cloud adds moving away from your bike and hopping on to his own and starting the engine.

"Wait," hearing your voice and looks up. "I never got your name. Who knows? We might meet again someday."

Cloud stays quiet for a moment. Only the sound of the humming engine fills the brief silence between the two of you. And with that, he finally replies.

"...Cloud. Cloud Strife."

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC Fic - Chapter 2

♡ Summary: Carmy & Syd go horseback riding!!! Carmy's therapy friends push him to go for what he wants, his 'light at the end of the tunnel'

♡ W/C: 6,534

♡ Posted Date: 04/07/2024

♡ A/N: Hayoooo!!! I am too inspired... this has become a multi-chap fic hahaha I am havin' so much fun here!! Thank you @gingergofastboatsmojito for inspiring me to keep going!!! ILY! As per usual please know - this fic was inspired by THIS FIC here - Tucson by the GLORIOUS GINGER!!!! Go read that before you even THINK about reading this fic ok?! I love how I hate storer for the same reasons but im a sucker for writing a slowburn - I find myself screaming at MYSELF internally "make them kiss already!!!!" but they will KISSSS SHORTLY SO SHORTLY MY DEARSSSS !!! It will be a JUICY TAYLOR SWIFT DAYLIGHT ASS KISS OK!!!! THEY WILL ONLY SEE EACHOTHER FROM THEN ON!!!! Its gonna be a 'and I can still see it all in my mind all of you all of me intertwined I USED TO THINK LOVE WOULD BE BLACK AND WHITE BUT ITS GOLDENNNNNNN. We need Carmy to realize a few more things but then - he will be hozier level devoted to this woman even more then he already is, I hope you enjoy!!

♡ Warnings for BTC: Not really any? Like? LOL - Swearing?! Smoking cigarettes?! They just went horseback riding & carmy went to therapy- oh Ig talks of carmy getting hard LMAO but thats as crazy as we get this chapter. ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

Stardust nudges his shoulder so hard he almost falls over, and he turns to look at her. His heart jumped into his throat, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. She was there, she was really there. 

“Uh-” he blinked a few times, to be sure that she wouldn’t disappear. “Syd? Hey..uh-” he felt his entire body buzzing with excitement. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his features. She looked… gorgeous. Carmen wasn’t sure there actually was a word in any human language ever to exist that could describe just how wonderful she looked. 

Her hair was in its natural state, she was wearing an adorable corduroy jacket, black jeans, and white sneakers. “You came to a farm…in those?” he motions to her shoes. 

She laughs a bit “Wow- it’s great to see you too, Carm. Didn’t realize you were…actually like living on a farm” she approached him carefully. 

“Shit- yes- fuck- It’s its so good to see you, Syd, C’mere” he pulls her into a tight, long hug. The smell of her lavender vanilla perfume nearly made him melt. 

“You’re like…tan- and…muscley now” She laughs a bit, squeezing his arm lightly. 

“Uh..” he pulled away, cheeks bright red. “Yeah uh.. It's like- fuckin hard t’ride a horse. And the um…” he rubbed his neck nervously “The uh cows.. They eat hay? Most the time, and so we need to move the bales during the morning for em, they’re like…. 75? 80 pounds? So moving like 10 back and forth every day helps. And I dont really.. Go inside? Here? Its like… uh.. Thats the therapy mostly, the animals- at least f’me” he said sheepishly. 

She nodded, looking around the stable. “That one behind you is yours? Shes been side-eying me creepily since I started talking” she pointed to Stardust. 

“Oh! Fuck sorry yea, well- no…not- not mine- I got ‘er t’trust me. But uh, yeah this is Stardust. She’s a super sweet girl” He explained. Stardust leaned in, sniffing Syds hair carefully. 

“Cute- All you’re missing is a hat” She teased.

He chuckled a bit,  “Ok, c’mon - why are you here, Syd” He said with a small smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shrugged, looking at the ground and kicking a rock out of the way with her shoe. “Cause…I was worried- I dunno…” She definitely wasn't going to get bold and tell him that she’d missed him, terribly.

“Ok…well now that y’here, and y’see i’m okay…wanna have some fun?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

Syd looked back up at him, as if he had 3 heads. “Okay- Where is Carmen Berzatto- Not his… Weird alien clone- Camren Brazota” she said, laughing a bit “what do you mean fun?” She asked, and Carmy laughed, real, and genuine. 

“Well- If I didn’t change my view a little I’d never leave. So, yes, Syd, ‘a little fun never hurt noone’ - per my therapist. Shes fuckin annoying. I much prefer the horses.” He pet Star’s mane and she leaned into his touch.

“Holy shit” Syd laughed a bit. “Wow- alright. I feel like you’re a whole new man already, what kind of fun?” she mused. 

“Ever ridden a horse?” he walked over to the saddle rack, pulling off a double seated one and hanging it over the back of the stall door. 

“No- Actually, Don’t I need um…like - stuff for it?” she asked. 

“Oh don’t think I wont give you the full experience” he opened the riding closet, “Whats your shoe size?” he asked, crouching down and looking through the pairs of extras. 

“8? Er- 9 probably 9” she said. He dug through them until he found a matching pair.

“These should do, y’stuff is cool here we can just leave it in her stall” he told her, holding out his arm for her to hold while she switched her shoes.

“You seem like…” she said as she slipped off her sneaker and put on the boot. “I dunno…chill- well- i wont go that far- but chill-er then before.” Carm snorted a laugh, holding on to her arm to steady her. 

“Thanks? I guess..that’s good right?” He asked. 

“Yeah! Yeah of course…I mean, it’s nice. To see you not so…anxious.” She said, slipping the other boot on. 

“Yeah I um…” he cleared his throat, opening the stall door. “I uh..I’m takin meds- Now? Uh..all this shit. Y’know they have me like tranquilized more then these guys” he said and she laughs, Carmen smiled proudly at the fact, relishing in the wonderful sound. 

“But yeah like Like 3 er..er 4. they say I had all this uh..mental shit. Goin’ on w’me and that’s why I was all…wound up I guess” he explained, calling Star out and getting her harness situated. 

Syd caught herself staring at his arms as he worked, how the toned muscle moved beneath the fabric of the shirt. 

“Aren’t you freezing?” She asked, noticing he wasn’t wearing a jacket like she was. 

“Used to it now, well- I mean the moving around. It gets hot this shit is heavy. Wanna try to hold the saddle?” He asked, unhooking the saddle from the stall door where he’d left it momentarily. 

“It can’t be that bad” she countered. 

“I think this thing weighs probably as much as you do.” He said “hold out your arms” he smiled a bit. 

She lifted her arms out in front of her and he plops the saddle down, she had to plant one of her feet forward so she didn’t fall face first due to the sudden weight and he laughed, catching the saddle quickly and baring most the weight. 

“Told you” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes “yeah whatever. Saddle up the horse, cowboy” she dropped the saddle back in his arms. He hurled the saddle over Stars back with a grunt. 

“Fuckin hell” he huffed, realizing since the saddle was nearly double the weight as his usual, and being on the shorter end- he couldn’t just get it on her when she was standing straight. “Bow” he told the horse and she just stared at Sydney. 

“Don’t embarrass me, Star. Bow” he told her and she looked the other way. 

“So uhhh…this one’s trained, huh?” Sydney teased. 

Carmen looked back at her “mmhmm maybe she doesn’t like strangers” he said, walking over to the other side. 

“Since she’s bein difficult y’gonna have T’help. C’mere” he waved her over and she followed. “So when I push it up, just grab the saddle pad and make sure it doesn’t move, yea?” He asked. 

“The fuck is a saddle pad, dude- I know my way around a kitchen not a fuckin horse stable.” She looked at the many different layers the horse was already wearing. 

“Alright. So this,” he lifted the cloth, “is her blanket. Keeps her core warm. And beneath it” he pats the pad “this is her saddle pad, it makes it more comfortable. So our bones aren’t like..diggin in her back and shit. Also shock, when she jumps the foam of it helps our weight disperse. The saddle is so big and heavy I can’t keep the pad still at the same time, so just hold it f’me,” he took her hand, guiding it to where he wanted her to hold. 

She felt her heartbeat quicken, his hands were so large and calloused on top of her own. She nodded wordlessly, keeping her eyes trained on where she was meant to be holding and focusing on keeping it steady as he went back around and carefully lifted up the heavy saddle with a grunt, laying it over the horses back. 

“Jesus- how much can this thing carry” Syd asked. 

“Well she is a mare, she weighs about…mmm- 1900? She can comfortably hold about 400 pounds for a decent distance but she can’t do that for hours and hours at a time. We together can’t be more then 300, and her gear is less then 100 pounds. Were just goin f’r a quick ride, I gotta get to therapy at 3” he explained as he buckled on her saddle. 

“Ah. So you’ve been memorizing horse information instead of creating recipes? I figured when I got here you’d have gone nuts by now without being in a kitchen so long” she gently touched the horses mane as she spoke. 

“Maybe. Well…I am kinda goin crazy? But I can’t…let it out?” He chuckled a bit “does that make sense? Nights are a little hard before my sleep meds kick in but that just says I haven’t done enough that day” he got up. “So y’gettin up first since I’m sittin in back” he explained. 

“Oh…uh- ok how do I?” She asked looking up at the at least 7 foot tall animal. 

“Y’not gonna be able to do it alone. C’mere” he told her. She comes over and looks at him. 

“How the fuck do you do this?” She looked up at the saddle that was at the top of her head before looking back at him. 

“So-“ he snorts a laugh at her wide confused expression. “She’s not gonna like you trying to roll up on her back, and I don’t want you t’get thrown off, she can be moody with new people. I almost broke my shoulder my first time trying to ride her” he said and she crossed her arms slightly. 

“So how. How do I get up there?” She asked. He pulled out a step stool, setting it next to the horse and getting up on the third step. 

“I’m giving you a lift. Arms up” he said with a playful smirk. 

“No- no way- Carmen that’s too high. You’ll drop me!!” She took a step back, feeling slightly nervous. 

“I won’t because I’ll bribe her Syd. C’mere” he pulled a pack of peep marshmallows out of his pocket and the horse nearly starts dancing. 

“Carm- what the fuck is happening?” She asked and Carmy chuckled. 

“Bow. Cmon Syd wants t’ride. Bow and you’ll get y’treat star.” He told the horse. 

It obediently bowed down and before Syd could process what was happening, Carm was scooping her up beneath her arms Syd squealed in surprise. “Oh my GOD WHY ARE YOU PICKING ME UP!” She shrieked, wiggling in his arms. 

“open y’legs! Cmon! she’s gonna get up!!!” Carmen laughed holding her up higher. Syd finally obeyed and he gently plopped her on the first saddle. “Good girl” he told the horse, feeding her the marshmallow and putting the packet in his pocket again before swiftly getting on behind Syd. 

“Alright. Hard part done.” He reached around her waist, and she lifted her arms slightly. 

“What- can you tell me what’s going on? I’m a horse virgin!” She said, and they both went quiet for a moment, before cracking up laughing. Syd leaned to her left slightly as she tried catching her breath, grabbing the rein for stability and tugging. 

Star took off sprinting, Syd screamed in surprise, her body going tight with fear. Carmen quickly wrapped his arms around Syds waist protectively, tugging on the reigns “WOOOOAH!” He called to Star and she quickly came to a stop. 

“Stand.” He told the horse firmly. 

“What the fuck Carm I thought she was trained!” Syd exclaimed, gripping onto his forearms for dear life. 

“I gotchu, you think I’d let her kick you off?” He tightened his arms around her. Carmen swore his heart was thumping so hard that she felt it on her shoulder blade. 

“Also when she moves it’s hard to keep still.” She said nervously. 

“Don’t worry, I gotchu, Syd. Lean into me, if our weight is centered then it’ll be easier for all 3 of us” he gently pushed at her stomach. 

She leaned back into his broad chest, “see” he said softly. He was lucky the angle didn’t allow for her to see him, because his face was bright red, And having her body pressed against his…was making him flush somewhere else too. 

He clicked his tongue and Stardust started walking again, at an easy comfortable trot. “This…is ok.” She said, much more comfortable now. 

“I’m gonna take you t’one of my favorite spots.” He said, pulling on the reins to the left lightly so she would follow the left trail. 

“Wow, already sharing secret spots huh? I think this therapist may just be Doctor of the year I don’t even think I’ve seen your favorite Chicago spots” she teased. 

Carm laughed a bit, he felt so much lighter with Syd around. And life had been lighter ever since he got here. 

“How is…uh- how is it back home?” He cleared his throat lightly. It was something that had being weighing on him. Yes, he was here, he was doing the thing. He was making Sugar happy. He was making Syd happy…but he would go back, at some point. 

And his biggest fear was things will just go right back. He won’t have this outlet, he won’t have sunset rides with Stardust to ease his mind. He won’t have the cows happily running up to him and greeting him when he was the first one to bring out a bale of hay. He felt like if he was here, he may have the confidence to tell Syd how he feels. But back home? It was another life. 

“Fine..things are..y’know. The usual shit. But nothing bad, no one’s getting locked in any freezers if that’s what you mean” she said playfully. 

Carm rolled his eyes with a light smile. “Mmhmm. So the restaurant is-“ 

“Is fine.” She said. “I’d have told you. You know that.” She said and he nodded a bit. 

“I know she scared you back there…but it’s pretty fun to go fast. You wanna try?” He asked. 

She shifted a bit uncomfortably, her hands tightening around his arms that were holding the reins around her waist. “Uhh…maybe? Are you sure we won’t fall off?” She questioned. 

“I’m sure. Here you can be the one to control it. Start light ok? With your legs.” He gently ran his hands down her thighs to right below her knees “here” he said softly, squeezing the flesh gently so she wouldn’t have to lean and look. “With that part of your legs, give her a little squeeze. But really light, or we’ll take out of here like a bat out of hell” he held around her waist again, securely holding the reins. 

“Mmhmm” she said, she was beginning to feel hot- and not because she’d done any hard work in regards to getting the horse ready. 

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, you’re the boss” he said the last part softly in her ear. If it wasn’t for her jacket, he would see the goosebumps that had risen on her arms. She nodded quickly, staring straight ahead and trying to maintain her composure. 

“So I just?” She squeezed gently and the horse picks up her speed slightly. “Oh…ok” she said. 

“Told y’she was trained” Carmy teased and she rolls her eyes. 

“Mmm you’ve done a very good job, bribing this horse with peeps. The staff know you do this?” She asked. Carmy snorted a laugh

“No. But she’s healthy. Made sure. She only gets one or 2 if she doesn’t listen.” He admitted. 

She shook her head with a smile. “And how’d you find this out, Carm?” She leaned into him once more. 

“I…” he laughed a bit, his chest vibrating with the movement and it made her heart warm. 

“I uh…spent a few days in the library here. Reading up. After she threw me off. It’s all about trust with em. So I never lied to ‘er and I’ve never done something she didn’t expect because I always try to warn her.” He said, pulling her reigns a bit tighter. 

“This is like a joyride Syd cmon, I said fast not an evening stroll.” He teased. 

“Fine. Mister horse master- show me what Miss Stardust can do.” She said. 

With 2 kisses and a quick tap of his heel, they were off like a rocket. He held Syd steady, being sure she wouldn’t have to do most the work of holding herself center as he gripped each reign with the opposite hand, holding them taught so Star knew to keep going. 

Syd laughed, the wind flicking her dark curls all around. He wished she could see her amused expression. “Holy shit this is the best!” She shouted over the loud thuds of Stars hoofbeats. 

“I know right! Can you believe she can go faster?” He said, holding his knees taut around her hips to keep her from sliding. 

“Okay we are not! This is fine!” She said and sat up a bit “are we going into the-” She asks as Star begins to barrel through a creek, the freezing water spraying up and around them getting them slightly wet, the freezing water splashing from their calves up to their cheeks.. “CARMY!” She screams through laughter. 

He could barely catch his breath as he laughed so hard his stomach and ribs ached. “I’m sorry!! Syd! Oh god-“ he chuckled “woah girl- woah” he called to the course and she slowed down once again to a stop. 

“Fuck-“ Carmen chuckled “you okay?” He asked, picking a wet leaf from her jacket and throwing it to the forest floor. 

“Yeah- I’m.. I’m fine. That was really fun actually. C’mon I wanna see the spot” she said and took it upon herself to tug the reins so Star would take off again

“Shi-it!” He quickly finds his balance, “warn me!! Oh god I almost flew off!!” He told her. 

“You think I’d let her throw you off?” She mimics him from earlier and he takes the chance to playfully pinch her waist 

“Yes because who’s in back and who’s in front?” He wrapped his arms around her again, taking the reins from her grasp. “Your reign privileges have been revoked for this riding lesson, Ms.Adamu”  

She laughed a bit “I’ll earn them back. Don’t worry” she mused. 

“Mmm we need to talk about more shit before I just literally hand the reins over. Coulda spooked her and we’d be fuckin dead.” he angled the outside reigns so she’d slow down as they came to the clearing. 

“Here we are” he hopped off, raising his arms to help her down. 

She carefully reached out for him and he lifted her off, gently setting her down. “Holy fuck Carmy” she turned around, watching the waterfall cascade down over the rocks. 

“Right! Told you. It’s a fire spot” he went over to one of the rocks he usually sat at, plopping down and taking out a cigarette. “Oh- shit- can’t have y’running off” he told Stardust and chuckled, leaving the cigarette between his lips as he walked over to her, guiding her over to the tree, and hooking her right rein around a branch before sitting back down. 

“Yeah…I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere so…” she trailed off, looking at all the trees and running water. 

“Green?” Carmy lit his cigarette, taking a drag. “Not packed with smog? Somewhere that doesn’t smell like shit.” He said as he exhaled. 

“…yeah” she said and laughed a bit. “Yeah. Guess that’s it.” She came and sat next to him. “What did you mean about her getting scared?” She asked curiously. 

“Oh- a scared horse will fucking kill you. Not on purpose, but they’re big and pure muscle, and will do anything to get away from danger. I scared the shit out of her one time, that was it. Dislocated my shoulder 8th day here. Doing that hurts like a bitch by the way.” He rolled his shoulder gently. 

“How’d you manage that? God I knew you were shit at chatting up girls but she dislocated your shoulder?” She teased. 

He rolled his eyes with a playful smile, taking another drag. “Yes, I was fuckin around on the trail, dunno why- but there was this branch sticking out so I grabbed it, it snapped, she fuckin reeeared dude. I flew back so hard. My back might still be bruised I’m not sure. Still hurts a little to laugh” he said. 

“You better have seen a doctor” she said. 

“Ohhh silly Syd.” He sighed, a puff of smoke filling the air in front of him. “We aren’t allowed to refuse treatment here. If you get hurt, and you refuse to get help, it’s considered self harm, which leads to them believing you have suicidal ideation, which leads to you being locked in the actual nuthouse. So yes. I willingly went to the doctor daily for a week. And now, I’m being checked on once a week. So yeah. Oh and therapy daily. And every day I’m given my meds and someone checks over ‘pre-existing injuries’ which that is now considered. So yeah. I’m good. I’m fuckin fine as fine can be.” He said. 

“Awww poor little chef, being taken care of so well that’s so hard isn’t it?” She teased and he gives her a playful glare, but couldn’t help but crack a smile when he realized she was smiling too. 

“I was being taken care of fine at home by myself but you and my sister just had to ship me off after one tiny accident” he leaned back on his hand, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“It stops becoming an accident when you didn’t care, Carm. You didn’t care. It didn’t phase you. You weren’t even…you weren’t even scared. Just because you didn’t do it on purpose doesn’t mean you did the sane thing which would have been doing everything you could to not let something like that happen.” She said, her tone suddenly serious. 

He looked down at his lap, swallowing thickly. He suddenly felt all of the armor he’d spent the last 31 days chipping at, slowly start to meld back together and shell him back in at the shame the whole situation was making him feel. 

“I have nightmares…you know. About it. What happened” she said quietly, and he could physically feel his heart ripping open. 

The only sound between them was the bubbling stream, and the sounds of their even breaths. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, gaze fixed on his lap knowing he would burst into tears at the admission she’d been so deeply plagued by something he’d done, if he had looked at her.

“I know” was all she said, gently resting her hand on top of his. He felt the same fireworks exploding in his chest that he only ever felt when she was around. 

“Do you um…” he clears his throat and shook his head, embarrassed by the question plaguing his mind. “Never mind it’s..it’s stupid.” He removed his hand, putting his cigarette in it and resting the hand opposite of her on the rock. 

“That usually means it’s not stupid. What?” She coaxed, bumping his knee with hers gently. 

“It’s stupid” he said again, shrugging his shoulders. 

“It can’t be stupider then asking me what UPS means” She said playfully. He rolled his eyes, smiling and looking over at her. 

“And what if it is?” He questioned. 

“I would be..worried they’re giving you a bad concoction of meds that’s turning your glorious chef brain in to Swiss cheese” she teased 

He snorts a laugh. “I was gonna ask..if you wanted to cook..t’night. My cabin…it uh- has a kitchen? I haven’t cooked in a month. They give us food so I haven’t really bothered but…seeing you makes me miss it more, I guess” he blushed, looking back down at his lap. 

“Well obviously. Not gonna let you eat whatever bullshit they’ve been giving you while I’m around.” She said and he shook his head, meeting her gaze once more with a playful smirk. 

“Maybe you should check in. My therapist says it’s bad apparently to feel ‘responsible for others’ - says it’s a ‘subconscious self harming behavior’ “ he teased. 

She smiled a bit. “Okay- say I do. How about, I check in now, we shoot the shit for what- eleven more days- then, you go back home- and see how stressful it is in that restaurant when one of your hands is basically missing” she plucked the cigarette bud he’d forgotten about from between his fingers before it burnt him, flicking it into the creek. 

“You know that’s the first time I’ve seen you smoke- other then…me like checking on you when you were about to explode at work. But you’ve never…pulled one out and smoked it I guess” she said, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on her forearm as she looked at him. 

“Oh…” he said, pulling one of his legs up and resting his arm on it. “Didn’t realize you noticed” he said, brushing some dirt off his jeans. 

“I notice a lot of stupid shit about you, it’s kinda annoying honestly.” She said without thinking, her eyes widening when she realized and she looked the other way, resting her other cheek on her knee and squeezing her eyes shut. 

Why would you ever say that?! She asked herself internally. 

“Oh?” He said again, smiling a bit. “You do?” He questions, but that was as far as he’d push. 

“Mhm” was all she responded. Carmys phone started buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out in case it was one of the ‘base keepers’ they called them. Carmy rather call them babysitters. He knew what they were for, being sure if they were out of sight too long they were making sure they could still get ahold of them. 

He sighed in relief when he saw it was just his 2:40 alarm. “Gotta go” he stood up, offering his hand to Syd. “Like- now. Or my ass is getting chewed out.” 

The ride back to the cabins was mostly silent. He had no stool this time, so he had to pick up Syd essentially by the ass and gently place her on Stars back so she didn’t get spooked. 

He was embarassed as fuck that the tiny action had the crotch region of his jeans tightening more then was casually explainable. Thank god no one was around to see him awkwardly hop in the way of his semi hard third leg down his left pant leg, grunting but covering it with a dry cough when she settled her ass back into him to ‘center their gravity’ 

Syd absolutely felt the firmness pressing into her ass. She thought it was a bit funny, but also brushed it off to the strange friction that came with riding a horse. She couldn’t allow herself to fully believe his teenage like excitement was due to her, or she’d go insane. 

Carmy dropped Syd off at his cabin, giving her the key and telling her he’d put up Stardust and be back by 5, she would be blushing if it weren’t for her mahogany complexion at the domesticity of it all - er what she could imagine domesticity with Carmy would feel like. 

Her panties were also soaked through from the feeling of his enormous length pressed into the curve of her ass - the entire way back - but she just chalked that up to not getting laid for a few months, and misreading his natural arousal for him being horny- she quickly pushed the thought down and just chalked it up to the horse. Because guys get hard when they ride horses…right? Right?!

Carmen arrived to therapy extremely frustrated, and extremely ready to talk. He sat down in his regular spot in the back, tapping his knee nervously and covering his crotch with his hands. Luckily, thinking about his mother was enough to make him soft nearly instantly so he had that to thank her for at least. 

“Alright guys!” Julienne, the usual Friday therapist came in, sitting in her spot in the circle. “Who is up today! We are-“ she looks at her iPad “oh! Yes this is another OP class, so- no pressure but, I wanna hear what’s goin on!” She crossed her legs. 

Julie was far from his favorite therapist, at Blue Lotus. But he wasn’t his least favorite. So he would still talk. He cleared his throat, raising his hand slightly. 

“Carmy?! What a treat! Okay what’s up” she grabbed her little stylus pencil. He bit the inside of his lip nervously. He despised how casual she tried to make this all feel. 

“Uh…so- my um…business partner, she came to see me. I guess I haven’t been…keeping touch? Enough? She just said she was worried…” he cleared his throat again, gaze fixed on his lap. “And uh…I’m startin’ t’-t’realize stuff?” He sniffled nervously, rubbing his mouth with slightly clammy, nervous hands. 

“She uh..” he chuckled a bit. “She…she just…showed up. Didn’t hear shit from ‘er. She probably knew that I’d uh…I’d tell ‘er no?” He finally meets the gaze of Julie. 

“Okay. You know guests are allowed right? Like- during the visiting hours, 6am to 11pm, no fraternizing between patients but-“ Carmen cuts her off

“We aren’t - no. Not fraternizing” He shook his head. “But uh…today? We were- we were sitting. This spot, near uh, Jupiter point? On the north side. And I had this- this urge T-to tell her…everything.” He shook his head, looking at the floor again. 

“So…you wanted to tell her you love her?” Jesse, one of the guys he’d had lunch with a few times piped up. 

“T’be honest, I don’t know.” Carmen said honestly, looking at him. 

“Well what does it feel like?” Jesse asked, sitting up a bit. 

“What? Like- what does what feel like?” Carmen asked curiously. 

“Her. Being with her. Talking to her? Inside. Like. Your chest. Your skin?” He questioned. 

“Uh…” Carmen sat back, swallowing thickly and crossing his arms over his chest. He thought for a moment. 

“Hot. I get hot. All over. My chest feels tight but - but good? Like- a hug almost. And then…when she…” he blushed, looking down with a shy smile. “When she touches me” he shook his head slightly. “When she touches me it’s like um.. fireworks? Like fireworks beneath my skin.” He chuckled a bit at how cheesy it sounded. 

“And you haven’t fucking nailed her?” Jessie asked plainly. 

Carmen furrowed his brows, glaring at him. “No” he clenched his jaw “I haven’t.” He snips. 

“Dude- you are- pussy whipped with no pussy?! You- you love her, Carmen. You love this chick. I feel like I’m looking in a weird straight mirror - the first time-“ he laughed a bit “the first time I kissed a guy- god. He was so hot. But I had no idea! I had no idea. I really thought that I was just-“ he shook his head “that I was just wanting to befriend him? Or something? But like- I wanted to fuck him. And when I did kiss him? Something unlocked in my brain dude. It was like…like a whole new world. I felt like I knew - I knew what love could feel like? Just ‘cause of that one kiss “ he shrugged. 

Carmen looked at him, arms crossed, trying to absorb everything he was saying even though every fiber of his former self was screaming to take it with nothing more than a grain of salt. 

“Kiss her dude. Kiss her.” Jesse said and sat back in his chair. 

“Well. Although, consensual sexual instances are against the code of conduct to discuss - I am very proud to see you two coming out of your shells. Has anyone else felt… confused in their romantic endeavors and would like to share?” Julie asked. 

Carmen crossed his arms tighter, looking down at his lap. This was quite unusual for him, he was one of the patients to only add what he had to to be credited during inpatient, and during outpatient - only spoke when he really and honestly had to. 

“Uh-“ the super tall girl, Shayna sits up. Carmen was never really sure why she was here. She looked…perfect by all means. Perfect skin, perfect nails, pretty face, long blonde hair, a perfect body by girl standards. Or at least what Carmen had understood of them.

 “Not really the same.. but before I came out? I like…I would uh buy…girl clothes. That I liked. For my girlfriends at the time…” she blushed “and um.. I realized after a while that I liked them. And I wasn’t just..wanting to see my girlfriend in them. And like- it’s not the exact same, but when he said… about how Jesse realized he wanted the guy. That’s how I felt when I finally tried the clothes on” she shrugged. 

Carmen was…aghast. He just simply stared at her. He’d never met- or thought-  he’d ever met a trans person before today. But…Shayna? 

Well- he was wrong because he had met her, they actually knew each other fairly well as far as patients go, she joined the program when he did. When they first met, she’d made a joke about how they were the tallest girl and shortest guy in the class, so that meant they were bound to be friends, since opposites attract - and that earned a chuckle out of him before his meds had even fully evened out. 

“I love the cis-and-confused look- it’s cute” she said and laughed a bit. Carmen blushed, smiling a bit. 

“Not confused- well, maybe. Maybe a little. Y’Just so…dainty? I dunno..” he shrugged. 

“In case you haven’t noticed- mr.little man syndrome- you’re only one out with the cows doing the hay on time in the morning. Ninty percent of the group is your version of dainty ” Jesse teased. 

“Jesse” Julie gives him the look. “I’d assume that means- the rest of you that aren’t out helping with the bales- are scraping out the cow pens? Since Carmen is doing all the hard work according to you.” 

“I’m not girl- fuck no! The second I got out of inpatient house arrest? I walked my happy ass down to Walmart and bought me some blackout curtains. I recommend those to all of you! Oh my god and some ear plugs!! The stupid fucking roosters! Worst 15 days of my lifeee! I’m never coming back here peace and love to you all though. Truly. Can’t stand this cow shit stank ass place.”  Shayna said dramatically, causing Carmen to chuckle a bit.

 He had loved her boldness since they’d met. If Shayna didn’t want to do something- she wasn’t doing it. He learned that the day the staff tried to force her on anti-depressants. One of the main therapists got a Wellbutrin straight to the eye, they never attempted that battle the same way again. 

“We know Shayna you aren’t shoveling scat, princesses don’t do that” Jesse mocked her valley girl tone. 

“Okay! Okay. Alriiiight! Back on track- done with the bickering!” Julie said. “Now that open call is over let’s move on to breakthroughs. This issss-“ she looks at her iPad “ah- yes! D group. So. That makes it-“ he checks her watch “ah- right. 11 days! How are your light tunnel projects going?” She questioned. 

Carmen’s chest tightened, but not in the Syd is smiling or he made Syd laugh way- in the - I haven't done something I was meant to do way. 

The Light Tunnel project wasn’t hard. It was simply one thing you have done that you had wanted to do when you came into the program. And Carmy knew what his answer was, 

Admit how he felt to Sydney. 

Or, as his Therapist- Mandy told him ‘become more truthful with yourself and those you know about how you feel’ because “counting on someone to like him back would put him at square one” he had pretended to understand, but knew that he had to tell her and soon - or he was going to really go insane. 

“ my light tunnel was to talk to my asshole father- but lucky for me I just caught wind the motherfucker finally died thank god. So by default I win and don’t have to be here anymore cause his abandonment was what fucked me up anyhow“ Shayna said jokingly, causing Carm to snort a laugh. He knew she was only joking about the leaving early part, not the father part. Her father was an even bigger piece of shit then Carmen’s was, he had come to learn.

“Mmm that isn’t how it works we know that Shayna. We’ll talk more about this in one to one “ Julie told her and Shayna crossed her long legs, looking out the window. 

The last 20 minutes of the session Carmen sat silently, looking out the opposite window to Shayna, watching the horses running around in the field before they got called in for dinner and just spacing out, thinking about what he may say to Syd. 

“Yo - Carm space cadet” Shayna said before kicking his boot he jumped a bit, looking up at them both and had realized the room since had cleared and Julie was preparing for her next session. 

“Shit.” He said “how long have I been like…like that?” He asked, his cheeks feeling hot. 

“It’s the OCD meds. They get you stuck in a happy thought loop sometimes. Are you just gonna sit here? You wanna do another hour of this with sniveling group a? They got here three days ago.” Jesse said. Carm shook his head, getting up. 

“No- no sorry” he said starting with them outside. Shayna laughed a bit 

“You were thinking of screwing that business partner aren’t you. “ she said, causing Carmys cheeks to go pinker. 

“Shayna shut up!” Jesse scolded, pushing her shoulder lightly. 

“Awwww carmyyy are your feelings hurt little buddy? Do you need a hug? Jesus men are such pussys” she pushed open the doors of the therapy cabin for them. 

“Let me see pictures of this hot chick. If you don’t fuck her I will and I bet I’d do a better job” Shayna teased as they started heading back towards the cabins. 

Carmen couldn’t even process what she said as he felt his breath get caught in his chest, he saw her. She was sitting on the porch of his cabin, criss-cross in one of the rocking chairs as she writes in her notebook. He couldn’t help but stop and stare at the way the setting sun hit her bronze skin, her curls casting intricate patterned shadows on the wood. He felt his heart pick up, his chest squeezing in that way, the way that only happened when he saw her. 

Shayna and Jesse stopped after a few moments when they realized Carm had gotten stuck behind. They both follow his gaze carefully to see what he was so fixed on, like a trance. 

“Holy fuuuck!!! Holy fuck how did I get this lucky!! She’s here? She’s here still?!” Shana asked excitedly, “oh my god- you’re getting laid- tonight” she excitedly skips up to the cabin and Syd looks up, locking eyes with her before seeing Carmen just a few paces behind.  “I’m Shayna! Do you and Carm wanna hang out with us tonight?”

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡

[megalony]

Bound To Her

This is a Jonah Hauer-King imagine, requested by Nina, I hope you like it lovely, thank you for the amazing request and lovely feedback.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys​ @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is broken when (Y/n) needs to take a break from their relationship and he has to find out why. He can't survive without her. (Little bit of angst and fluff to make up for it in the end)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dear God, how long have you been here?" Something akin to fear shook through Alex's voice when his eyes set upon one of his oldest friends.

Jonah did not look good.

The colour beneath his eyes was a dark shade of purple like wild berries with streaks of red slashing through. He couldn't keep either of his eyes open fully, they were half lidded and drooping down, raged with lack of sleep and too much alcohol. Jonah's complexion wasn't much better, his pale skin was verging on grey and his usually bright crimson lips were a faded shade of pink with white cracks slitting through them that disappeared when enough alcohol coated his lips.

Compared to normal, sitting here at the bar, Jonah didn't look his usual height. He looked like he would barely scrape five foot five with the way his back was arched, his shoulders were hunched and his long legs were hidden beneath the bar.

Both his hands were cradling an empty shot glass and the pad of his fingers were running around the rim, caressing it gently.

"A while,"

"Well I could guess that. Come on, I think you've had more than enough."

He didn't know what he had signed up for when he agreed to pick Jonah up from the bar. He thought he would just be ferrying his tipsy friend home and making sure he actually got through the front door in one piece. Now he could see Jonah, he knew that wasn't going to be the case.

How could Alex take him home and leave him alone like this? what if he tripped going up or down the stairs or fell and hurt himself? What if he passed out or threw up and couldn't look after himself?

"Do you wanna come stay at mine for the night?"

"I want (Y/n)," Her name rolled off the tongue like it was meant to be spoken by his lips only. It was so natural and free and loving and just her name made Jonah's eyes water and turned his world on its axis when he stood up.

He could hear the sigh that Alex let out before he felt his friend wrap an arm around his torso to keep him upright when it looked like he was about to keel over.

"I know, mate."

"No, t-take me to her, now."

"Is that a good idea?" Alex didn't know the ins and outs of what had happened almost a month ago. All he had gathered from two of his closest friends was that they were on some kind of break, and not by Jonah's voice.

Everything had shattered around him when (Y/n) said she needed a break. Jonah didn't know why. He didn't know what he'd done or what he could do to improve it and bring (Y/n) back. She was the only one for him, she was the light at the end of the tunnel, the person who understood him when others overlooked him. (Y/n) was home and Jonah couldn't cope without her. The longer he stayed away from her, the worse he started to feel until alcohol was the only thing that numbed the tears and the throbbing in his head.

He didn't know what he was meant to do anymore. Jonah couldn't operate without (Y/n). He woke up every morning broken and aching when he realised the bed was cold and empty beside him. He could barely contain his anguish when he stared at his phone and realised it was never (Y/n) calling or texting him.

He scrolled through their pictures and begged to rewind time and go back to the moments captured on his phone.

What did he do wrong?

"It's okay, I'll walk there." Jonah started veering to the left when he tried to walk without letting his weight fall on Alex but he stopped when he felt his friend grab his upper arm and pull him back.

He would walk the distance, he would walk all night if he had to so he could see (Y/n) and if she shut the door in his face he would sit on the doorstep and wait. He would wait until the world ended if he had to, but Jonah had to see her.

"Alright, alright. Where is she?"

Alex would never forgive himself if he let Jonah stumble off, intoxicated and confused like this. He would get himself run over or fall in an alley or get mugged. At least if Alex drove him and (Y/n) didn't want to see him, Alex could then take him home and make sure he was alright.

It didn't take long to get to (Y/n)'s sister's house where she had been staying since the break between her and Jonah.

Both men were more than relieved when (Y/n) opened the door, wrapped up in a jumper with bleak, tired eyes that awakened with worry when she realised who was here.

“I'm sorry, he was determined to see you.” There was an apologetic yet worrying look in Alex’s eyes which resonated throughout his posture. He had one of Jonah's arms slung over his shoulders and about half of his weight resting on him. He was the pillar keeping Jonah from collapsing on the doorstep and he knew if he let his friend go, he would fall down and not get up until the sun shone in the sky.

"Come in."

Both of them were surprised when (Y/n) opened the door and beckoned them to follow her inside. Alex had been prepared to take Jonah back to his house for the night and Jonah had been ready to sit and wait here for the rest of the night until he sobered up and (Y/n) decided she wanted to see him.

"He's had quite a lot to drink by the look of him." Alex stuffed his hands into his pockets, silently looking between (Y/n) and Jonah, unsure what he was supposed to do now.

Just one look at Jonah had tears welling up in (Y/n)'s eyes and a sadness brewing in her heart when he slumped down onto the sofa. He folded in on himself like a piece of paper, arching his back and pushing his head down to rest on his knees with his hands knitted into the hair at the back of his head.

He knew he was a mess, but he didn't care. All he cared about was (Y/n).

"Thanks for looking out for him, it's late, you should go home. I'll take care of him."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) leaned over and indulged in a small hug with Alex before she saw him out. There was no point him staying and babysitting Jonah when (Y/n) could take care of him perfectly fine on her own. He wasn't a handful, he wasn't slurring or shouting or crying, he was a sombre mess and as heartbreaking as it was, (Y/n) could do this.

"Are you okay?" (Y/n) rested her hand on Jonah's back and started to rub soothing circles but she was taken by surprise when he leaned over and shifted his head onto her lap instead. His hands grabbed at her thighs as if to steady and ground himself and his breaths were hot and wet against her bare legs.

"I can't cope without you. I just needed to see you again, hear your voice… touch you again."

"I'm sorry," She could feel Jonah groaning into her skin before he slowly pulled his head up so he could look at her.

His deep green eyes were blown wide, presumably from the alcohol he'd been consuming all night, but there was a gleam in them that always made (Y/n) go weak at the knees. And when she looked down to his pale lips and saw his tongue darting out to wet them, she could feel everything stirring inside her, about to come bubbling up to the surface.

"I don't want you to be sorry, I just want you."

The alcohol was giving him the courage he hadn't had in weeks. It gave him the ability to speak to her when before, all he could do was stare at her picture and wish his thoughts could telepathically register with her. Looking at (Y/n) only broke his heart and she stole his ability to speak without meaning to. With liquid courage Jonah could try and talk to her after weeks of silence that was quickly killing him.

"I know…"

What was she supposed to say? What should she do?

He was drunk, he wasn't going to remember this conversation in the morning and he probably won't remember how he got here or what happened tonight. Having a serious conversation with him wasn't going to work, it wouldn't help either of them when (Y/n) was conflicted and Jonah was intoxicated.

But that still didn't help (Y/n) work out what she should do, right in this very moment. With Jonah looking at her like that and gliding his hand up and down her thigh, he made it very hard to think straight.

"What did I do wrong?" Something snapped inside (Y/n)'s stomach like an elastic band had been stretched too far and broken, shooting right through her heart and lungs.

She never meant for Jonah to think or feel like he had done something wrong, that wasn't her intention and that wasn't what happened. If she'd of known that was what he had been thinking this last month, she would have tried to speak to him. (Y/n) would have visited him and sought him out sooner if she'd of known he thought he had done something wrong.

He could never do anything that would make her leave.

(Y/n)'s hand started to shake when she reached up to cup his face and she could feel the tears starting to fall when he gripped her wrist tightly like it was his lifeline.

"Oh Jonah, honey, it wasn't anything you did, I promise."

The way she said his name had shivers rocketing down his spine and a fire igniting in his stomach.

"Then why did you go? Please tell me. I refuse to believe you don't love me anymore… and if it wasn't something I did, then I don't know what it was." Even though he was still highly drunk and some of his words started to slur and slow, he talked as if he was only the tiniest bit tipsy and not fully sloshed and inhibited with alcohol.

Maybe it was time to talk to him, set things straight between them. After all, (Y/n) wasn't sure she could stay away from Jonah any longer and he didn't seem like he was going to budge, drunk or sober.

Maybe if she told him, he wouldn't recall their conversation in the morning. She might just get away with clearing it all off her chest and having the slate be wiped clean when they woke in the morning. Things could change and move forward and she wouldn't have to torment herself any more or fear about hurting him.

"I didn't want to hurt you, I thought a break would calm me down and let me sort things out, put things right. If I'd of known you felt like this I would never have stayed away but I couldn't hurt you any more."

"Why would you hurt me?"

"Because I was scared… Darren was getting too close and I- when I pushed him away he kept coming back. He had wandering hands that never stopped and he said if I told anyone, everyone would just think I cheated."

The way Jonah slumped back against the sofa looked like (Y/n) had cocked back and slapped him.

She should have told him.

How could he help her if he didn't know what was going on? How could he protect her if she didn't talk to him and instead chose to shut him out because she thought it would help him. (Y/n) didn't have to protect him, she didn't have to save him from any pain because the only pain Jonah couldn't withstand was being away from her. This month had proved that. He could take anything but (Y/n) being torn away from him, that was his cryptonite.

"I broke us off so he couldn't threaten to tell you anything and I could get rid of him."

"Sweetheart, you need to know that I think so highly of you… but you don't have to protect me when you're the one getting hurt."

Jonah moved before (Y/n) could register what was happening.

His hand swiftly glided up her thigh and beneath her shorts until he could grip the soft flesh of her hip. He leaned forward and smashed his lips against hers before the alcohol washed away the little bit of courage he had and his unsteady balance caused him to lean into (Y/n) until she fell back. Her back hit the cushions and Jonah swallowed the surprised squeak she emitted while he steadied himself with his other hand pressed down beside her head so all of his weight didn't collapse onto her.

Part of him knew he should pull back, apologise and leave, but the other part of him, the selfish side told him to keep going. And he was only encouraged further when (Y/n) hooked her legs around his hips and let him lean into her and mould his hips against hers.

How could he turn away when she tasted so good? How could he force himself to leave when (Y/n) was his home and she was letting him get his foot back in the door?

"You've no idea how much I've missed you." He whispered each word against her sugary lips, barely parting enough to speak before he devoured them again. Too afraid to pull back fully and never taste her lips again. There were never going to be enough words in the world for him to describe how broken he felt or how horrible his misery had made him when he let her walk away.

Jonah didn't think he would survive losing (Y/n) a second time.

"I think I do."

(Y/n) kissed the corner of his mouth before she cupped his face between her hands and smoothed her thumbs over his flushed cheeks. She took a moment to commit his face to memory, to see the way his eyes sparkled with haze and lust and how his lips parted, eager to kiss her again and again until he passed out.

"Don't leave me again,"

The tender smile that pulled at her lips made Jonah feel weak and he didn't want to kiss those lips again just yet, he didn't want to risk breaking that smile which sent his heart rocketing in his chest. Instead, he let his chest lean down onto hers and attached his lips to her neck like a vampire starved for centuries.

In that moment, with Jonah's teeth biting to bruise her skin and his hands roaming every inch of her that he could grab at, (Y/n) knew she was done for.

She knew right then that she couldn't push Jonah away anymore, not when it was killing both of them to be apart and now they had collided together, nothing was going to stop him. He wouldn't leave her, couldn't leave her. He loved her too much to let her walk away a second time and (Y/n) couldn't break her own heart and leave him again.

The break between them hadn't been permanent, and now it was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you thirsty?" (Y/n) felt Jonah's arms binding around her waist and his fingers splaying out over the front of her hips like he was about to pull her into a dance. His face tucked into the crook of her neck and her knees all but buckled when he bit down on the spot just behind her ear.

She barely managed to nod in response, feeling a hum vibrate from his lips through her neck before he gently turned her around and started to walk towards the table in the far corner.

His lean chest glued up against (Y/n)'s back and every inch of him pressed into her as they walked in sync, one foot in front of the other as if they were one person. Reaching down, (Y/n) held onto Jonah's arms before she turned her head to nuzzle her face against his curls and breathe in his scent.

They hadn't been here at the party for very long and (Y/n) was sure they wouldn't be here for much longer, either. Not with the way he was clinging to her and the force he kissed her with.

When they reached the table, (Y/n) reached out and grabbed two plastic cups filled with whatever alcohol was in the punch bowl. She could feel Jonah nudging her hair back over her shoulder so he had better access to her neck and it made her shiver. She could barely put one foot in front of the other when he growled quietly against her and the vibrations radiated through her back and shook her lungs in her chest.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

His arms stayed deadlocked around her waist while they walked slowly back towards the other room so they could sit down with Alex and a few other friends they had tagged along with tonight. But (Y/n)'s brain wasn't registering where they were going or what they were doing, she just let Jonah be her guide while she concentrated on walking properly and breathing slowly. If he carried on like this she was going to jump him.

"Wanna sit down?" (Y/n) felt how raspy her voice was and how quietly she spoke but she knew Jonah heard her when she felt him nod into the crook of her neck.

(Y/n) kept tight hold of the cups when Jonah suddenly spun round and flopped down onto the sofa, tugging her with him until she landed with a thud on his lap and some of the alcohol sloshed out of the cup and spilt onto her hand and his jeans.

He knew she was part-way drunk when she laughed instead of cursed at the spillage.

Slouching down, Jonah shimmied a little on the sofa until his back was arched down and he could spread his legs out, easily fitting (Y/n) on his lap with her legs dangling between his. His arms stayed bound to her waist and he perched his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder so he could take a large swig of his drink before he let (Y/n) put it on the coffee table in front of them that his knees were bumping into.

Neither of them could concentrate on whatever it was Alex was ranting happily about. He could have been talking about the end of the Earth and they would have just smiled and nodded along. They were too amused by each other to bother taking a big interest in his drunk ramblings.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) tilted her head down a little when Jonah gently swept her hair over her shoulder before he attached his lips to the top of her neck just below her hairline.

He made a slow, wet trail down her neck, kissing over each column of her spine before a finger hooked in the top hem of her dress so he could pull it down and continue his trail.

(Y/n) sipped her drink, doing her best to concentrate on each gulp she downed and control herself so she didn't end up choking in front of everyone when Jonah decided to graze his teeth against her spine to wind her up. But when she felt his free hand suddenly pull up the hem of her dress, (Y/n) held her plastic cup against her lips to hide her grin from prying eyes and disguise her bush from her friends sitting around her.

She tried to stay still and act unaware, she really did, just to see what Jonah would do and how far he would go. And he kept going. His fingers dug tighter into her dress until he was about to put holes through the thin material and he raked it up her leg agonisingly slowly. He pulled it until her dress was bunched around her waist and he was about to keep going before (Y/n) realised her underwear was about to be on display.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) put her cup down before she turned herself around on his lap. Her knees dug into his hips, creating a hissing burn in his sides that only made him grin and her arms looped around his neck so she could tug his hair and tilt his head back to make him look up at her.

"You're insatiable, you know that?"

"Only when it comes to you," His hands found her waist again and he scrunched up her dress in his tight fists when (Y/n) barely let her lips touch his before she took his lower lip between her teeth.

"Get a room! You can't do it down here in front of everyone, you know." Alex nudged Jonah's shoulder but he barely felt the light impact. His eyes were enraptured by the girl sitting on his lap.

"Good idea," Jonah mumbled against (Y/n)'s lips, letting go of her dress so his hands could hold her bum while he shuffled to the edge of the sofa and sat upright.

He was bored by this party already, and he knew (Y/n) felt the same. It was time to find a vacant room upstairs or get a taxi home and continue this in private.

He had her back, and he wasn't letting her go. Not for anything in the world.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

[sc0tters]

Ambers 500 Celly Playlist

Hello and welcome to the 500 follower Celebration!

I asked and you voted so this celly has 20 of my favourite tropes!

I’m usually pretty lenient with my request rules but this one as some differences so please read the request key below this!

Free Choice - you can pick any player you want for tropes in this category nhl or collegiate level will work for this!

NHL Player Only - these are the prompts that I will only accept with NHL players in the request. These NHL players have to had joined an NHL team in the 2021-2022 a season at the latest (all rookies from last season are not eligible for this category)

Prompts - similar to free choice, anyone can be picked for these. These five prompts are brand new and only for this celly.

As all slots have now been allocated a player, happy reading my lovelies!

Free Choice

Brothers Best Friend - Alex Turcotte

Best Friends Brother - [Rutger McGroarty] Rutger isn’t a very good matchmaker when everyone he suggests isn’t him.

Friends to Lovers - [Mikko Rantanen] when Mikko sees you with one of his teammates he realises that he wants to be more than just your friend.

Enemies to Lovers - Jacob Fowler

Right Person Wrong Time - [Will Smith] confessions are made when you get trapped in an elevator with your ex

One Bed - [Gabe Perreault ] when things get said during spring break, you realise gabe doesn’t hate you all as much as he makes it seem.

Sunshine vs Grumpy - [Luke Hughes] sometimes it’s better to hide your feelings, until it’s not.

Secret Lovers - [Drew Fortescue] you and Drew have been dating for a while now but a series of events cause your relationship to become known to all rather quickly after practice one day.

Forced Proximity - [Mark Estapa] when a game of beer pong turns interesting you learn to realise that your brothers friend isn't so bad after all.

Accidental Pregnancy - Cole Caufield

Teammates Sister - Juraj Slafkovsky

Captains Sister - [Adam Fantilli] an obstacle quickly comes in your relationship when Nolan learns about your relationship with his teammate, there is light at the end of that tunnel but how do you get to it?

Fake Dating - [Luca Fantilli] who would have thought fake dating could end up so messy?

Lessons in Bed - [Mackie Samoskevich] when Mackie learns of your struggles he finds a way for you both to win.

NHL players only!

Next Door Neighbours - [Jamie Drysdale] Jamie has been pining over the girl next door so it’s about time he does something about it.

Single Parent - [Mat Barzal] Mat’s son meets his next door neighbour and quickly befriends her, what happens when Mat falls for her much like she does for him?

Exes to Lovers - [Jack Hughes] when Quinn invites you back to the lake house it forces you to reconvene with your ex. What happens when Jack misses you just as much as you miss him?

Love Triangle - [Trevor Zegras & Mason McTavish] when it’s the annual Halloween party Mason has a surprise that you’re sure to enjoy.

Division Rivals - [Quinn Hughes] when the flames came to visit it brought back old memories, including why you hated quinn.

Dads Friend - [Sidney Crosby] when you push Sidney to his limits, he decides to teach you a lesson.

Prompts

"i never should've expected anything different from you." - [Quinn Hughes] Quinn finally learns how to settle down in life but when a girl finds him during a roadie it causes the biggest obstacle in your relationship yet.

"is that really all i am to you?” - [Jamie Drysdale] when Jamie gets the news that he’s being traded his departure comes with you having questions.

"you both were practically made for each other." - [Mark Estapa] wanting to get Marks attention is something you never thought would land you in his bed.

"if you leave now, you better not come back." - [Adam Fantilli] with the draft hanging over Adam’s head and the view of you getting on with another man brings the end of your relationship, but what happens when you two see each other again?

"i just... i thought you would've called." - [Trevor Zegras] you and Trevor are forced to confront your past when you are brought back together for Alex’s birthday.

[darklinsblog]

Love of My Lives | Sandman Imagine

Summary: Morpheus is a history teacher and after many lives he finds his wife reincarnated as a student of his.

Pairing: Teacher!Morpheus x Student!Reader

Author’s note: little disclaimer reader is 21 here so no underage romantisazing!

Morpheus had lived many lives and in every one there was you, his beautiful wife Y/N. Like him, you had many names.

Unlike Morpheus you weren’t a powerful entity, you were simply a human whose soul was intertwined with his, bound to meet him in his every step, as a dark apprehensive being, he needed his counterpart, a light at the end of the tunnel, a never ending loving and optimistic person.

But that didn’t make it easier to lose you each and every time, having all your memories be erased from your memory, but it too, gave him a chance to literally make you fall for him each and every day, in any life.

It had been 79 years since you died during World War II as Jewish you were trying to escape your awful destiny, but it was inevitable for you and your family to be taken to the concentration camps.

Even apart Morpheus and you shared many letters each day, until one day you had told him you were sick and it was getting worse and worse.

Sadly, you had passed away in camp, away from your lover and deprived from your freedom. With your passing Morpheus felt adrift to its purest expression, and after finding a bit more stability within himself he decided to spend more time in the Waking World, somehow he managed to get a job at a prestigious university as history teacher (ironically enough but he was good at his job)

Today, marked the first year of Morpheus’ being a teacher and even when it wasn’t truly monumental, something about this day felt different but he shrugged it off and headed to his classroom intending to get everything ready for the newcomers.

While writing on the board thinking back on his lecture for that day when there was a knock on the door, the chalk on his hand fell to the ground when his eyes found yours.

You were even more beautiful than the day he lost you back on that snowy day in 1943. From your hair, to the light blush on your cheeks and that particular glow in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, is this the Mr. Storian’s class?” You spoke with slight confusion looking at your schedule, Morpheus’ had to blink a few times before responding.

“Yes, this is my class, miss…?”

“Oh! I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you, sir” you said, hurrying to shake his hand with a smile on your face, tingles run down your spine when your hands touched, almost as if something simply… clicked.

“You’re Professor Lorien Storian, then?” You asked further, still smiling softly but frowning slightly puzzled with the sensation this man provoked in you.

“Yes, I am”

“Lorien was the God of Dreams, at least for Tolkien” you commented, making Morpheus’ eyes shimmer, he had chosen that name for that very particular reason, it was a way of subtly letting in on his identity.

The classes went by as usual, you loved History class more than you ever thought you would and you couldn’t deny Professor Storian was undoubtedly attractive, there was something about him that allured you and it was obvious he felt that attraction as well, but being a student and teacher made it impossible for you to pursue your intentions.

But for Morpheus’ it had been more than enough, he wanted to be with you, touch you, talk to you beyond the banalities of some assignment or exam.

So one day, when the bell rang he gathered the courage to speak.

“Miss, Y/L/N. May I speak to you?” He called out, your cheeks went red as you swallowed harshly, you had never been with him one on one.

“Of course” you muttered softly scared that if you spoke even a little bit louder your voice would crack and he would notice your nerves.

When everyone left, he closed the door and stood right before you while a million thoughts went through your mind.

“You’re not in any trouble, Y/N” it was the first thing he said, your eyes widened, it was almost as if he could hear your thoughts.

“Then what is this about?” you asked feeling your heart beating louder.

“I think we both know we share common interest beyond the academic matter” he spoke softly, you instinctively looked towards the door, you knew no one could see you or hear you clearly, but still talking of this while still on campus felt dangerous.

“I- We can’t speak of this, Mr. Storian” you muttered softly, attempting not to raise your voice for anyone that could be in the corridors.

“Lorien, please” he requested you, you bit your lip it was wrong for you to call him on first name basis, because it was stepping on thin ice, but you were already doing so by being all on your own with him after class.

“Lorien” you corrected yourself, complying to his demand while also testing out the way his name felt on your tongue “If I go further with this, we could get in serious trouble” you tried to reason with him, even when deep down you just wanted to follow your heart and taste his lips, to be embraced by him beyond the rational thoughts.

The Endless nodded, he knew he should back down and listen to you, but he had waited for you years upon years and he wouldn’t waste another second, not when you were right here.

He came closer to your your ear, sneaking his hand on your waist, bringing you closer making you tremble.

“Who’s to find out if we keep quiet?” He whispered in a low husky voice, when he stepped slightly back, your lips were mere inches away and he was the one to pull you out of your misery as he kissed you softly.

You didn’t even hesitate to reciprocate his actions, even as your brain was screaming for you to stop, that this was your teacher, you just couldn’t help but indulge to the feeling of him.

The way his hands wondered on your body almost as if he knew it by heart, the way it was easy for things to get more heated as the passion between you became an overpowering force of action, he refused to let you go, he refused to slow down, to contain himself.

Finally somehow, you found it within you to have enough strength to pull away, you were both breathing heavily as you looked into each other’s eyes processing what just happened.

“I have to go before they suspect anything” you spoke holding his hand, leaving was the last thing you wanted, but you had no other choice.

You looked in your bag, tearing a piece of paper and grabbing a pen, writing something down before giving it to him. He inspected the writing, knowing this was an address.

“This is my apartment address outside of campus” you explained. “We can meet there, at 7, after classes”

Doing this was risky, you could lose your scholarship, even be expelled and him fired, the consequences could be stratospheric, but the more you thought of it, the less you cared.

Because you wanted to continue that kiss, to go even further and not just one time, many times.

Morpheus had to restrain the smile that appeared on his lips.

“I can be there tonight” he said, making you smile with complicity, feeling not even an a bit of guilt, but a rush of excitement instead.

“Tonight” you repeated, coming to an implicit accord before you left his sight.

Taglist:

@emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @sarahbullet235 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @sister-of-stars @coolsnowker @sandman-33 @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca

[cdroloisms]

i wanna know more about p!sam he's so awooga to me. semi reformed abuser wet paper bag went to therapy but not enough. sing to me about he and j!dream's chivalric love story or however it was you phrased it

HAHAHAHA angela always says they are so courtly love and i'mtagging him here bc pjs @cgogs

birdhouse pjs are so funny to me like most of their early interactions are so many different flavors of miscommunication swag. j!Dream heard "I married my Dream" and is trying to know more to reverse engineer it and meanwhile p!Sam is breathing in and out of a paper bag bc c!awesamdream is Morally Wrong. have this really really early pjs doodle from angela that summarizes like, all of it:

when p!Sam first arrives, he has been. In Therapy! And he uses his newly gained therapy knowledge for attempted good a lot.and it uhm well it doesn't go great for him honestly

so they're starting off really strong, honestly.

when p!Sam first arrives in birdhouse ... he has a nice enough conversation with the two Sams. yeah this house sounds like an interestingsituation um. Uhm hm that child sure looks like Dream haha wow maybe in this ...? place we did it rihgt. Oh hey who's that coming out of that room and why is he swaying like that. he then proceeds to convince himself that this whole house is a psychosis fueled nightmare, or maybe purgatory, where every element is symbolic and all meant to punish him for his sins ...

so p!Sam's just having the worst time. j!Dream, on the other hand, is curious. p!Sam sets himself apart very clearly from the status quo from day one largely by being Weird As Fuck, and he keeps trying to therapy word the Sams which literally no one knows how to respond to, and j!Dream is trying to build the newest Sam-flowchart to figure out how to deal with the new guy and none of the math is mathing, and p!Sam mentions Marrying His Dream and welellelelel. j!Dream wants to figure this out. surely this Sam knows things! he married his Dream! even though he's probably dead now or whatever

and then this conversation happens:

AND ITS JUSTJLKJSADLFds . p!Sam arrives during a time when the birdhouse has stagnated into an awful and ultimately unsustainable status quo, a constant, neverending cycle of chores-sex-more chores-warden-prisoner-progress-mistake-punishment-more sex-drugs-more fucking chores, and he's nice. He's nice, and he loved his Dream. j!Dream wants to understand, sees something like a light at the end of the tunnel, some kind of hope that there's actually a goddamn way out of this place--and meanwhile d!Sam is looking at someone almost twenty years too young and so thin and hurt and fearful and wanting to give him better, do better by him the way he never did with his own...

p!Sam gives him cinnamon rolls :(

LIKE !!!! AUGH

[reikunrei]

okayyyy so i made a post abt this last night that was just a short ramble trying to piece my thoughts together but basically... i’m just really curious how will’s (possible) powers might manifest and what they might be, and i’m trying to like. reason out how i feel about them and what i personally think would be cool or fitting...

lots of people have talked about this before (like user pinkeoni has made some really good posts abt it, and i think heroesbyler has had good discussions abt it too) and what his powers might be, and a lot of them revolve around creation or light, both of which i’m very fond of

this isn't so much a theory or prediction as it is a "these are things i noticed and i think this would work well with the themes of the show" type of spiel. it ended up way longer than i wanted it to and goes off on multiple tangents because i can't stop myself, so i'm putting it under the cut lol

it's more just for me to try and articulate what i'm feeling about it, but if anyone actually reads this mess, you're more than welcome to share your thoughts :3

with the creation stuff, it automatically makes me think of the UD taking the shape of hawkins... because we know that henward grew to hate that town so why would vecna shape the UD to look like the place he hated? i suppose it could be bc he wanted to take revenge on the town, so why not daydream about it and destroy your scale model of it to get some catharsis, right? but... then it's frozen on the night will went missing? it’s possible that the UD could have simply taken the shape of hawkins when the s1 gate was opened and made the two worlds touch, thus making the UD a true "mirror" dimension of hawkins. but i also really like the idea of will getting sucked into the UD, panicking, wishing he had his hiding places to go to to escape from this monster chasing him, and poof! now he's in hawkins and all of his hiding places are there (he's good at hiding!) but it's still the "wrong" hawkins

but anyway, i want to move on to the "light" angle because there's so many things that i love about the possibility of will's powers taking the form of some kind of light to counteract the darkness created by vecna and the UD ("hide in the light" thank u max)

i especially think it would be cool for it to take the shape of some kind of fire or flame, even if the powers themselves don't behave like fire, like it's just a stylization choice to give some sort of visual that the characters and audience can see

i don't recall if there's any specific moment where any version of henward/vecna/001 or other characters talk about burning or fire as a form of destruction in a metaphorical/symbolic sense, but we see it enough of it literally throughout the show. fire is a means of causing pain, of killing, of destroying

season 1, nancy and jonathan think to burn the demogorgon to a crisp because, hey, that'd be a pretty effective way to kill something, right? so they carry that theory over into all the other seasons

season 2, we see hopper using his lighter to maneuver through the tunnels below hawkins, and the vines flinch away from the flame. we see owens and the lab using fire to cull the "weeds" still growing out of the gate. we see will react physically to the burning, feeling the pain through the link with the hivemind, and requiring it to be cold in order to not be in physical agony

season 3, uuuh i can't remember any direct usage of fire against the fleshflayer other than the fireworks, but that's more about the explosions than the flames imo lol. but we do get the sauna test (best s3 episode hands down mwah love it) and the aversion to heat that we see in billy and also in heather, though less prominently

season 4, we get murray's killer flamethrower scene and hopper using the flaming spear to keep the demogorgon at bay. our hawkins crew relies heavily on use of fire (flambé) in order to take out vecna's physical body

so there's just a lot of fire and fire as a means of destruction. but i can't help also thinking about how fire isn't purely a means of harm. fire keeps us warm, it brings us light in the darkness, it cooks our food and brings us health. the sun, a giant ball of fire, is essential for life to exist on earth. i especially keep thinking about how wildfires are a necessity to the planet, and in places like healthy grassland ecosystems, fires are crucial to burn out old growth to make way for new, fresh green, which the animals there then rely on. letting old growth continue to sit and dry out and die isn't good. it has to be removed completely so that new grass shoots can take over

(not to mention that allowing for controlled burns and letting wildfires run their course in a regular system ultimately allows for fewer, less destructive wildfires to happen. if there's no old, dry growth to burn, then there's less stuff to catch on fire)

how does this tie into the show, though?

to me, it makes me think of the concept of simply living with your trauma, not talking about it, and pretending everything is fine, when all that's doing is creating more kindling for a bigger, more destructive fire. it makes me think of season 2 and the conversation will has with jonathan about how everyone keeps treating him like he's gonna break, and the instructions joyce and hopper got from owens to just "treat him how you normally would." you can ignore trauma all you want and pretend everything is fine, but it's going to be more destructive in the long run. instead, letting him talk about it, listening, letting him burn things down a little bit, will be healthier because it'll clear out that old, dry grass clogging everything up and leave a clean patch of earth for him to build back up with new, healthier growth. you can take a weed wacker to it all you want, but those old roots are still there

not to mention the way they get rid of the mind flayer is to "burn it out of him." they literally let the "fire" run rampant, cranking up the heat to make his body inhabitable to the mind flayer, clearing out those nasty "weeds" so will can grow on his own (more or less) unimpeded

and then there's the s1 flashback scene between will and joyce where he's drawing will the wise shooting green fireballs. joyce asks, "why does he need fireballs if he's so wise? can't he just outsmart the bad guys?" but will explains that sometimes the bad guys are smart too, so he needs the fireballs

only here, they're green because he doesn't have a red crayon. this specific tidbit makes me think of how will's powers are currently repressed in some way. at that time, it was possibly because his powers "hadn't come in" yet, if we want to follow the idea that powers are a symbol for puberty or coming of age

he hasn't "found his flame" yet, so to speak (which is what got me thinking about all of this at all last night bc of the song 'find your flame' from the sonic frontiers ost the absolute slapper that it is) and at this point it's obvious that any awakening of his powers will happen in s5 when he's no longer being suppressed, much like how he currently has to suppress his true feelings, or how he's been unable to move on from what happened to him in s1 and 2

he has to use "fireballs" because sometimes the bad guy is smart. sometimes the bad guy has a trick up his sleeve (like *checks notes* literally not being able to die) and your original plan won't work. you can stock up on weapons, you can create as many sneaky ambushes as you want, you can solve all of the bad guy's riddles, but sometimes you need the fireballs

and, once again, we come back to how i feel like will's powers won't be literal fireballs, or something he physically wields. when it comes to el, henward, and kali, as well as the other powers that we see from other subjects, it's all something that they do. and here's where i start to struggle with how i want to articulate what i think about will's powers...

to me, will's possible powers aren't a weapon in the way that we've seen other powers used, or at least framed as, a weapon

like... i guess i do think that it's something that he can "do," but it's less "i'm going to move this thing with my mind" "i'm going to go into your head and walk through your memories" "i'm going to make you see something that isn't really there." like, he himself, his person, his mind, his essence, his intent, is the power. will byers is the light. why else constantly bask him in rays of sunshine, hm?? lol

again, i want to touch on the possibility of the UD hawkins manifesting simply because he wanted it to. he didn't think about it, he didn't deliberately go like "okay and now this house is here and this place is there" it simply... was. it just happened without much of his input other than a vague wish and panic

if we want to make it into something more deliberate, it makes me think of lio fotia in promare. the movie is basically about this group of people who suddenly developed "burnish" abilities, where they contain fire and have some sort of fire powers. they're persecuted by the rest of the planet, and are treated as terrorists and locked away in prisons and experimented upon. the fire, or "promare," inside of them is a double-edged sword, where they supposedly rejuvenate their bodies, but if they don't let it burn, it instead kills them and they turn to ash. spoilers i guess (you should definitely go watch this movie i highly recommend it), but near the end of the movie, lio is taken captive by the antagonist, kray foresight, and our other main chara galo thymos tries to save lio. kray lashes out using his burnish powers and tries to burn galo, but lio launches his own flames toward galo to protect him. when galo's firefighting team finds him, he's on fire, but he doesn't notice because the fire doesn't hurt him. it's a special kind of flame that doesn't burn! in the end, in order to save the world, they have to let it fully burn one last time, and galo and lio work together to wrap the entire earth in a massive wave of fire, and it's fire that takes the form of water. it engulfs everyone, but everyone realizes that it doesn't actually burn

i'm getting off topic but !! now we start getting less into "will has fire powers" and more "his powers are light and warmth" instead. like lio and galo's combined powers and intent (that's the other thing, that final big burn is different than the rest because of the intent behind it), it's not actually about the fire, it's about its purpose

he needs the fireballs to fight the bad guys, but in the case of our "bad guy," literal fireballs don't work. henward's past is a complicated one, and a lot of where he's been led was caused by his lack of a proper support system. he was villainized for being different. even when he was found by someone who "cared" for him, it was for that man's own personal gain, not because he actually cared about henward

henward was only ever burned and then left in the cold. nobody gave him a second chance like el, nobody listened to him like will. he was forced to fend for himself on his own in the darkness. he came to rely on the darkness. vecna literally focuses on the darkest thoughts of his victims in order to gain enough power to open gates. and sure, focusing on negative emotions gives all of our characters with powers some burst of strength

but then we're shown that love is what makes them even stronger. focusing on happy memories, memories of friends and loved ones, memories of the love itself, is what allows el to overpower 001 in the lab and to close the gate in s2 and to break billy out of his tether to the fleshflayer. and even in that final showdown in s3, she's not using her powers. she's burned out. in that moment, it's not the powers themselves that save them, it's the message behind it

will's whole character is about love and understanding. he puts himself last consistently, he puts the needs of others above himself, and he does not know how to be a little bit selfish when it comes to his feelings. he's sensitive, he's kind, he's artistic, he cries easy, he relies on his friends and family to feel safe and loved, and without them, he feels lost and hurt and alone. and there might be ups and downs, but he gets that love and support from them. they always have his back. he knows what it's like to feel pain and to suffer, but to have people who will stay by your side unconditionally through it all

and that's something he can offer to vecna and his alternate versions. he can offer that love, and that warmth, and that light in the darkness. and once again, i think it would be neat if it was less of a literal flame or source of light, and that it was will who is the source of light. like, he is the example for henward/vecna to see. he's the proof that despite all the bad shit there is in the world, there are people who will still love you anyway. there's people who will listen to you and care for you even if everyone else shuts you out

and even if it does take the form of something literal, of an actual flame or glowing ball of light or more of those glowy particles, it's not a weapon like the other powers we've seen

it's also about just shining a light on all the good stuff that's mixed in with the bad stuff. again, there is no black and white (thanks brenner, you fuck). henward was miserable in his life, he hated it and was frustrated that he felt trapped in a cage, and he only saw all the bad in the world. he couldn't see any of the good mixed in (ie. the possibility that he was friends with scott clarke as a kid, or even the fact that victor was really so caring and loved his son so much) because he just assumed it was all bad and he'd have to start from scratch to get any of the good he wanted

even focusing on the negative thoughts and feelings of his victims, vecna was able to be evaded by thinking of happy memories that took place at the same time as the bad ones. "hide in the light." again and again, we see max use memories, both past and present, to free herself from his clutches. good memories that still exist alongside the bad ones. and if vecna acknowledges that there's still good mixed in among the bad, his whole source of power, the foundation for his plan, completely crumbles

if will's power has to do with light, then he'll be the one to shine the light on all of the good memories that henward had mixed in among the bad. and this isn't to victim blame this 12 year old boy who was miserable and didn't know what else to do, but it's instead about his lack of support system, and how it's understandable to have grown so jaded, but that doesn't mean everything is bad, and there's still a chance for him to come back from it and change his way of thinking

henward was a wildfire waiting to happen, and rather than having someone to let him burn a little, to let out his anger and listen, he was trimmed back and suppressed. he had his old growth left there to dry out, which only added more kindling. he was never given the room to bring in new growth

and then to really tie in the use of fire to match the theme of "no black and white," i think about avatar the last airbender, and specifically the sun warrior temple that aang and zuko visit in the final book. in book 1 of atla, aang tries to learn firebending and jumps in too quickly, ends up burning katara's hands, and swears off ever learning firebending because he doesn't want to hurt anyone with it. in book 3, zuko offers to teach him, but aang is still very timid about it because of that incident in book 1. zuko also finds his firebending ability diminishing, and they surmise that it's because he no longer has this drive to find and capture the avatar. that was his source of power, his purpose, and now that it's no longer his purpose, he has to find the true way to master firebending. so, the two boys travel to the sun warrior temple to try to find answers. there, both zuko and aang admit that they really only see fire as something destructive, but the sun warriors remind them that fire is warmth and light and life. fire can be destructive, but it is not only destructive. it's something beautiful and necessary, you just have to respect it

feels pretty fitting for stranger things, yeah?

so, to wrap this all up before i go fucking crazy:

i personally think that will's powers will predominantly take the form of fire or light

i do also still adhere to some of the creation power theories, but it also wouldn't be crazy for him to have more than one power, right? after all, el can use telekinesis, track someone's physical location, and go into their minds. that's 3 pretty different things that she can do!

will is directly tied to the behavior of the lights in s1 and called back to in s4. throughout the show, and especially in s4, will is basked in sunshine on multiple occasions. sure, those instances are mostly about his bond to mike, and how mike sees him in this halo of light all the time...

but that still ties into the theme of love. those rays of light are about mike's love for will, and vice versa. but that kind of unconditional love and acceptance is something that will have to be extended to henward and vecna. therefore: light is the key

and again, it just feels very fitting to have the key be something like fire. something that's so often villainized and only seen as bad and destructive, when it truly is something that's misunderstood. unchecked, it can run rampant and cause pain and grief, but when respected, it can bring life and healing, for lack of a better word

so far, we've only seen fire used as a means of harm. it does keep our characters safe (ie. hopper's flaming spear, the flame thrower, the moltovs, etc.) but it is wielded as a weapon first, when it doesn't have to be

fire can cause pain, yes, but fire is also passion and love. light is something to be extended, to help people find their way out of the darkness, and i just think it would be really cool to see vecna, who's always shrouded in darkness, or henward who hid away in the dark attic surrounded by candles, to have a ray of warm sunshine like will byers hold out a hand to him and try to help

[fe-fictions]

Any more Felix to share!!!

(How about Felix getting possessed!!!!!)

After the war had ended, you were finally safe. Dimitri had come back into himself, and was a fine king. Peace and unification was spreading all throughout Fodlan, but one problem remained.

Those Who Slither were still active. Underground, but very much alive. 

Dimitri had assigned you and Felix to this task; a very humble king had bowed before the Archbishop, requesting the Church’s aide in his mission.

You accepted without a second thought. Felix wasn’t thrilled with the idea of helping Dimitri, but a fight was a fight. He’d been itching for some battle (even if he wouldn’t admit to it).

So you were on the way to the first location, a secret bunker that was deep underground, filled with confusing tunnels and venues that you weren’t sure led to anything good.

No, it was very clear TWSITD weren’t done.

At most, they were regrouping. Planning their next attack, and who to work through in order to do it. The Adrestian Empire was long gone- now it was just a matter of who to choose, next.

You and Felix subdued them quickly, your militia of Blue Lions following without hesitation. 

The scouts were removed first, Ashe and Annette quick to locate and purify any curses or traps they detected, and it was a stealthy, swift method of thinning their numbers quickly.

When you were finally discovered, though; that’s when the real battle began.

Felix fought like Hell beside you, and it’d be a lie to say you weren’t impressed. The man had insurmountable skill, and it pleased you beyond measure to see him so elegantly destroying the enemies in his path. 

It was going flawlessly, with minimal injuries. 

But things never went this well. You exchanged a glance with Felix as you took down the last mage in sight. Something was off.

You pushed forward with great caution. The tunnels were best described as catacombs, dark and difficult to navigate through for fear of getting lost.

There was no telling what was lurking around the corner. 

Felix noticed the light first.

There was a flicker on your left side, targeting you from behind a pillar meters away. He gasped, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the way. 

Magic erupted from the catacomb, slamming into his chest. Felix flew backwards, nearly taking you with him.

“Felix!!” 

Your voice echoed after him, his body crashing into the wall with an unholy crack before he crumpled to the ground. Your heart dropped like a stone. You moved to chase after him, but the cries of panic from your comrades stopped you.

There were dozens more of them. They were closing in around you.

“Defensive positions!” You shouted back to them, gripping your sword tight. You rushed down the corridor, reaching Felix’s body. He had managed to push himself onto his hands and feet, but he was shaking violently.

What did that mage hit him with?

“Are you okay, Felix? C-can you stand-”

“No,” His voice was mangled. He sounded violently strained, the convulsing getting worse. You touched his back, but he struck your hand away.

It stung with the sudden violence, shocking you. 

“Felix…?”

“Get back-” He curled in on himself, blood oozing from his lips. A curse mark glowed red on his back, bright and dangerous. “I c-can’t control-”

“Professor!!” Annette’s cry forced your attention away from him, “Get away! It’s a curse!!” 

When you turned back, there was a sword swinging towards your face.

With a gasp you stumbled back, barely keeping your nose. He didn’t skip a beat; he struck at you again and again, each attack more violent than the last.

You could hear the Lions scrambling to reach you, but none could give aid. You were outnumbered, and they needed to defend themselves before they could get to you.

Those Who Slither had created the perfect trap.

“Maintain!!” You shouted back to them, unsheathing your sword to block Felix. A violent clang resounded in the darkness, the sparks illuminating his face.

His eyes were flooded with black magic; Felix himself was nowhere to be seen.

You steeled yourself with a sharp breath. His strength was multiplied, the curse fueling him to complete his mission. You needed to take him down before he reached the rest of the group. 

You clashed blades back and forth, refusing to give even an inch of room. The space was small, doing all you could to keep distance between him and the rest of the Lions.

They were preoccupied with those mages; if he was to enter the fray with them, it was only a matter of time before his strength overwhelmed them.

He nearly had you beaten. 

The way he was hitting at you, it was as though he were trying to cut through the blade, itself. You could feel the handle biting into your skin with every assault.

Each time you could see his face, the deeper your heart sank. He was so far gone, lost deep in the magic. 

But he wasn’t lost.

“Felix-” You hissed his name, teeth grit as you bore the brunt of his strength over and over. “I know you’re in there. Y-you have to fight this!”

“......”

“If you don’t, everybody dies-”

His breath stuttered, a millisecond’s hesitation before he lunged at you again. Your eyes widened at the sight. 

He was fighting.

“We have to find the mage that cursed him- if we defeat them, we can stop the curse!” Annette rushed to tell you, breaking away from her duel to come to your aid.

“Can you find them?” You grunted as you absorbed another blow. A distorted growl fell from Felix’s lips. 

“Yes.” 

“Go,” You charged Felix, forcing him off balance, “I’ll keep stalling!!”

The battle was dragging on too long. Every time you started to get an upper hand, Felix’s possession gave him an inhuman strength that you didn’t know how to handle. It was far too much for you to handle. He was going to overwhelm you if it kept going. 

Every parry, every counterattack you launched, he was beating you back. 

The critical strike fell when he struck his blade close to your hilt. The crack of bone reverberated in your body. He broke your wrist.

You cried out, your hand numb as pain rocketed up your arm. Felix smashed the sword from your hands, disarming you. He swept your legs out from under you, sending you to the ground.

“Professor!!” Mercedes’ panic alerted the Lions. The Archbishop was in dire straits.

“Quick, someone- gah!” Sylvain took a blast of magic to the shoulder in his panic to get you help. They were still struggling. 

You hadn’t given them enough time.

Felix would attack them from behind, while they were distracted and unable to defend against the mages and their possessed ally. 

You had walked straight into a trap...and you were going to die.

Felix stood over you, the sword quaking in his hands. 

“Felix...p-please…” You choked out, clutching your wounded hand to your chest.

The sword rose over his head, preparing to take yours. His whole body was trembling, but it was no use. It was clear the power had overwhelmed him. 

This was the last you’d see of your husband. 

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate. There was little anyone could have done. If only you’d seen it before him. Maybe something could have changed.

Maybe-

“Raaagh!!” 

Your eyes flew open at the clanging of metal. The sword clattered to the ground from Felix’s hands. The cry had echoed through the catacombs, catching the attention of enemy and ally alike.

Felix remained standing, if only for a moment, when his eyes returned to their natural color. He spared you a weary, frightened look...and then he crumbled to the floor.

“Got him!!” Annette exclaimed from far away, waving frantically to get your attention, “The mage is down!! Is Felix-??”

“He’s…” You trailed off, returning to your husband. He wasn’t moving at all. With a cautious touch, you inched towards him, your fingers barely brushing his back. He didn’t slap you away, not this time.

He was breathing, but unconscious, you realized upon turning him over.

Blood seeped from his lips, staining his skin and clothes. His expression was troubled, as though in a great deal of pain. There were tears that trailed from closed eyes.

But he wasn’t gone.

“He’s alive.” You croaked, bringing some relief to the Lions. It was time to end the battle. With Felix’s curse removed, you could at least try and finish things against the remaining mages. 

Shaken by the loss of what you presumed to be their leader, they started losing the upper hand. 

You returned to the Lions and assisted in bringing about swift justice, refusing to let them escape. There would be no survivors. Not after what they did to your husband.

It took longer than you wanted it to, but the battle was ended, and the enemy was extinguished. Everyone was exhausted, in no shape to be fighting any longer and in desperate need of medical assistance.

The trek back to camp would be longer than the journey to your mission, but as everyone hobbled back, eventually you were able to find relief. 

You followed alongside Sylvain’s horse, Felix carried alongside his oldest friend.

Ingrid helped him bring Felix down, and the pair carried him to the medical tent. You followed to be treated of your own wounds, your wrist pain flaring angrily now that the adrenaline had subsided and you were once again safe.

You sat beside your husband and waited patiently for him to wake. Ashe set your wrist, wrapping it tightly while Mercedes worked to mend the bone.

Your eyes remained on your husband the entire time.

“Don’t...don’t worry, Archbishop. He’ll be all right. Once we get him cleaned up and patch his wounds up, he’ll be back to normal in no time.”

You smiled at Ashe, though it was far too weak to be reassuring.

“I appreciate your comfort. I’m afraid my concern isn’t his recovery; it’s his reaction once he wakes.”

He nodded in understanding, the rest of your healing done in silence. Your gaze remained fixed on your husband, taking his hand in yours. 

You decided to stay with him until he woke up. Once he was with you again, then you could allow yourself to feel relief.

Until then, all you could do was wait.

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

“...eth…”

“...y...h!!”

“...By...Byleth!!”

“Byleth!!”

You were startled awake by a loud voice in your ear. It was almost a command. A cry. 

You woke suddenly, finding your neck and back stiff. You’d leaned against the bedside and fallen asleep beside Felix.

But now there was a hand tightly squeezing your shoulder, and you were staring into the tearful eyes of your Felix.

He was awake.

And he...was crying…?

“F-Felix…”

“The hells is wrong with you-!” He took your arm and yanked you forward, crashing into his chest. His arms were bound around you, squeezing you tight against him. You could feel the trembling in his fingertips, almost clawing into your skin.

He clung to you for all he was worth. His breathing was ragged, as though desperately trying to keep himself together and he was failing miserably.

You reciprocated his embrace without hesitation. 

“It’s okay, Felix.” You whispered, kissing his neck chastely. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

“I could’ve killed you.” His voice was a mangled growl, cracking and breaking off at the end of his nightmarish realization. “I almost took your head, and I-”

“Shhh, love. Shhh…” You stroked his hair, which had been freed from his ponytail and was a tangled mess like the rest of him. But he shook his head. 

“I couldn’t fight that damn curse. I tried...so hard...I was worthless. I c-couldn’t do anything, a-and I…”

“It’s not your fault.” You murmured, “None of it is your fault.”

“It was like a nightmare.” He sucked in a sharp breath, desperately fighting the whimper that escaped his lips. You hugged him closer. “I was watching you fall by my hand. It wasn’t like a spar. It was a fight to the death- and you almost lost.”

“Annette found the mage in time, and I was able to hold you off.” You reminded him gently, but again he shook his head. He swallowed thickly, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t go away.

“You don’t understand, I-I...Byleth I couldn’t fight it. I had to watch you lose. You could have died by my hand-”

“Darling…” You cooed, gingerly slipping from his arms. He stared up at you with such a hopeless gaze, it nearly broke your heart in two. 

Tears were streaming down his face, the brokenness in his expression haunting. You had never seen such a thing, before. You cupped his cheeks, holding his face in your hands with the sweetest smile you could muster.

“You did what you could. No one blames you for what happened. You protected me from that curse, and we all walked away from that battle victorious. I’m sorry you had to experience all of that. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and to think you had to suffer through it...I’m so sorry.”

Felix looked away, his hands clenched into the blankets. You stroked his cheeks tenderly, wiping away the droplets that followed. 

“But please...please don’t blame yourself. What you suffered was cruel, and out of your control. You did a wonderful thing, protecting me. I will forever be grateful for that.”

“But I…” He took your forearm, looking down at the bandages around your wrist. “Look what I did to you. Imagine how much worse it could’ve-”

“It wasn’t.” You reminded him, interrupting the spiral. You covered his hand with your own, drawing his gaze back to you. “I was hurt, but I’m healing. I’m grateful you didn’t do worse, and you should be, too. What matters is that I’m here, now, and you’re all right. There’s no need to worry about the hypothetical.”

“Hm…” He was dejected. “I...want to believe that. I just…”

“You suffered greatly.” You understood his pain, squeezing his hand softly. “I know you can’t wipe it away that easily.”

“I just...I need time.” He huffed, lowering his head. Wordlessly you shifted closer, and held his head to your chest, embracing him with the gentle, loving touch that only you could give him. A touch that saw his breath hitch, and his eyes fill with tears once more.

“Take all the time you need, my love.” You whispered, welcoming his trembling embrace once more. 

Felix choked back a sob, clinging to you for dear life.

“I-I’m...so...glad you’re still here.”

Drops of rain fell into Felix’s hair. You held him closer.

“I am, love. I’m here.”

“I’m not losing you, too.” He whispered weakly, but the fire of a solemn vow burned beneath his sorrow. 

“Never, Felix.”

A kiss touched his forehead. 

“I’ll always be here.”

[pluppsauthor]

OC Interview Tag

Thank you to @phoenixradiant for the tag!

Rules: answer the following questions in the perspective of one of your OCs!

Last time I did Jesse and Reven. Continuing down the line of Forsaken characters (they won't leave my head), let's do my favourite (and currently only) blind boy, Zenith!

Are you named after anyone?

"...No..? I don't think so. It's not worth going back to my family just to ask them that. The dead gods know I already can't stand them as is."

When was the last time you cried?

"I don't think I could say the last... time... I've cried. But as much near-death experiences and hell we go through, I think I've always handled it the worst. Maybe because I can't see the threat, I hold this higher sense of danger, and it just sort of... eats away at me from time to time. So I cry from being overwhelmed sometimes."

Do you have kids?

"Eh, no. I don't think I plan too either, not as of now."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Sometimes. Dusk and Dawn are always so serious. A strategist and a commander? If I don't crack a joke or use some sarcasm, they're gonna become heartless. Maybe not, but you know what I mean."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"Their voice. What did you expect me to say? 'Their eyes'? No, but really, I pay attention to people's voices a lot, tells me a lot about their character."

What’s your eye colour?

*5 straight minutes of laughter* "Oh, that's a good one... Oh, you're serious? I don't even know what colours look like! I've been told they're purple, and that purple is unnatural eye colour. But I don't know what purple is! Or what a normal eye colour is!"

Scary movies or happy endings?

*Another minute of laughter* "You must not have written these with the thought of asking a blind person, did you? While technically I can watch movies, it isn't really the same. But as for scary stories and happy endings... scary stories are way more fun."

Any special talents?

"Well, I'm blind--That's not the talent by the way--see, despite being blind I can kind of... I can sense gravity. It's hard to explain, but think of it like this: Dusk can make light, Dawn can... do whatever it is she does with shadows, I... can sense gravity. Along with a few other things of course. I guess I also a have good balance and hearing. But I don't know if its better than the average person."

Where were you born?

"North City. Okay... well... I wasn't born in my family home. Okay, so my family's house was very close to the Titan Family's main building (in north city at least). Because of this, there was a tunnel connecting them for medical emergencies. My mother went into labour and... didn't make it. So, technically, I was born in an underground tunnel between my home and the Titan Family's main building."

Do you have any pets?

"My family was on the border of being considered rich. So we did have a cat, a real cat, while I was growing up. I don't know how those things still exist today seeing how many other animals went extinct."

What sort of sports do you play?

"I didn't really play any sports."

How tall are you?

"I don't know, can't really check. I've only been told, but last that I remember... 180 centimetres? Somewhere around there if that's not it."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"Ooo... art. No, I'm joking, I'm joking. Uh... probably music. Oh, maybe history, but only when they talked about myths and legends and stuff like that. Mostly music. I can play a few instruments, should I have said that in the talents section? I probably should have."

What is your dream job?

"Dream job... hmmm... I'm not sure. Out of the main trio, between me, Dusk, and Dawn... I'm the odd one out. Both of them both want revenge and to take down the families, and I don't really. I just want to help people, but as for a dream job... ... ...I guess, if it can be anything, some kind of artist. Preferably also with the ability to see what I'm painting or sculpting, or whatever it is I would do."

A lot tamer, considering... last time... Anyway! Tags! @tildeathiwillwrite, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @mk-writes-stuff, and open tag! ❤

Here are the questions!

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Sixteen to Nineteen, Part III

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C    

word count: 11K 

chapter summary: Din continues to have a difficult day, Fennec gives Din a piece of her mind, and Marathel makes a declaration 

warnings:  fluff, angst, mention of blood and injury, violence, death and dismemberment, mention of sexual devices, mention of nudity, violence to women, rape, rape aftermath, war aftermath, non-con sexual situations, sexual situations, suicide ideation, description of medical procedures, English and Mando’a cursing, excessive glitter    

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***     

You Were Marked: Masterlist    

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Din looked dubiously at the hatch in the ceiling.  To get to it, he’d have to handle a number of what appeared to be well-used rental sex droids, and he really did not want to touch them, gloves or not.  And these were new gloves too.  He’d enclosed Grogu inside the bag with some sweet seaweed balls again, just to make sure the kid didn’t grab anything either untoward or crawling with … ugh.  He didn’t consider himself a prude, but unexpected bodily fluids — especially out of context — made his skin crawl.  Some of the sex droids were of non-human species, which made Din do a couple of double-takes.  I could have lived my whole life without knowing that Trandoshans had hemipenes.  He also took a quick surprised second look at the female Rodian; his experience with them didn’t involve vaginal tentacles.  Perhaps these were fantasy models.  Perhaps the Rodian females he’d been with didn’t have tentacles.  Don’t know, don’t care, just need to get in the hatch.   

With a shudder, he moved several droids aside to access the hatch.  Damn thing is right out in the open for anyone who gets curious.  Din reached up and pulled the handle, and a cool breeze blew down on him from above as the hatch opened.  Din could see a ladder leading up, and then darkness.  Putting Grogu’s bag across his body and under the cape, Din hoisted himself up.  The clerk must have ambled over at some point, for Din heard a disinterested voice saying, “Have a good climb, Grandpa.”  The hatch was then closed, leaving him in darkness. 

Din flipped on his light and peered upwards.  He couldn’t see any landings, any cross-bridges, just darkness and the single vertical ladder.   He started the climb.   

The ache in his hips and thighs began quicker than he had hoped.  He had climbed past a cross-tunnel a couple hundred rungs ago, and he was approaching another one.  If these cross tunnels are regularly spaced, I’ve gone about … 70 stories.  Resting his helmet against a rung, he cursed himself for getting soft.  And old.  

He looked up again, still seeing no end, only infinite darkness.  Up to the top, said Blewogg.  Up to the kriffing top. The arches of his feet were sore from pressing down on the round rungs.  His fingers were sore from pulling himself, 40-odd pounds of armor and weapons, and 12-odd pounds of kid up each rung.  This is for Marathel.  This is for the woman you say you love, so get climbing, you flabby sack of shit.  He imagined Marathel above him, standing in the next cross tunnel, stamping her foot and yelling at him.  That image got him up to the next crossways level, where he stepped off the ladder into the tunnel, shaking out his hands and legs.   

Din looked around, seeing no one — Grogu was still in the bag and quiet for once — and he pulled off the helmet and brushed back his sweaty hair.  He suddenly heard the clatter of something falling down the ladder.  He hurriedly put the helmet back on, pulled out a blaster, and carefully peered up.  He saw nothing, heard nothing.  He waited.  Still nothing.  He looked down the tube and listened some more.  Okay, now you’re just stalling.  Get climbing. 

With a sigh, Din stepped back onto the ladder.  His feet, buttocks, and quads protested immediately.  He would rather be flying naked with his jetpack on Hoth before having to climb more of this damn ladder.   

Wait. 

Jetpack. 

Dank ferrik, you’re an idiot, Djarin. He smacked his forehead on the rung in front of him with a resounding clang.  His buir would have said, thinking with your dick again, kid? 

It would seem so, buir.  Din looked up again, and then around him to gauge the size of the vertical tunnel.  It was hardly larger than he was, and he did not have a lot of clearance on any side.  It would mean that he didn’t have room for error.  It was still worth a try.  He moved Grogu’s bag to his front and wrapped an arm around it, flipped his cape over his shoulder, and fired up the jetpack as he stepped off the ladder. 

The jetpack didn’t ignite right away, and Din dropped a couple of stories before he got any downward thrust. Unfortunately, in panic, Din had tilted his body to look down, so his trajectory pushed him forward against the ladder as he went up.  After bouncing his helmet over each rung as he passed them for a few meters, he over-corrected backwards and slid up the wall, the jet pack making a screeching sound as it was dragged along the concrete.  He clutched at Grogu in the bag, and he pedaled his feet at the ladder, trying to get himself more upright, only succeeding at hitting his upper arches on every single rung for about 30 stories or so. 

Din switched off the jetpack, and he had just enough residual velocity that he was able to grab the ladder before gravity took back over.  He was just above another cross tunnel, so he hopped down into it, his feet screaming at him.  He had durasteel arch and toe protectors, but the unexpected constant beating against the ladder rungs made the protection more harmful than helpful. 

Din sank down to floor and tried to wriggle his toes, causing intense pain.  He sucked in his breath and muttered, “Fuck fucking fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking FUCK …” 

“FUH!” came from the bag.  “Fuh fuh FUH FUH-EE FUH!” 

Din groaned.  Of all times for Grogu to start picking up on words.  Fuck my life.  He began unbuckling the straps on his boots.  Hissing in pain, he pulled one boot off a shaking foot. He grimaced and carefully rolled down Marathel’s sock to reveal a severely bruised arch and toes.  He did the same to his other boot, mouthing fuck fuck fuck as he bumped a broken toe.  He laid back, closing his eyes tightly as his feet throbbed.   

Grogu squeaked from within the bag, and then chanted “FUH FUH FUH” until Din reached over and opened the bag, digging in it for the bacta spray he’d began carrying — except for the fact he’d had to look for the oilskin bag, and neglected, in his haste, to transfer the bacta canister to this bag.  Haar’chak.    Grogu cooed and crawled out, standing over Din’s helmet. 

“Hey, kid.  I need your help.” 

“Fuh?” 

“No, kid … ugh …first, I really need you to stop saying that.”  Din remembered his buir telling him when you’re my age, you’ll understand why Mynocks eat their young.  “Time is of the essence, here, buddy, and I really need your help.  My feet …”  Before he could continue, there was a clatter, and Din raised his head to see a small incendiary device rolling towards the two of them.  Din lurched up to his feet, ignoring the pain, and kicked the IED into the vertical tunnel.   

Din turned, scooped up Grogu and his boots, and ran away.  The compression of the explosion had been reduced enough by distance that it wasn’t going to kill them, but Din did his best to fold down Grogu’s ears and buffet him with his own body, curled up against the tunnel wall. Once the blast was over, Din’s ears were ringing, his bare feet were throbbing, but Grogu appeared to be okay.  Din turned back to the cross-tunnel entrance and noticed that his socks were on fire.  “MOTHERFU— …”  

“FUH!” 

Din groaned.  The feet would have to wait.  He pulled his boots back on with a pained grunt for each foot.  He put Grogu back in the bag, pulled out his blaster, and crept — well, limped carefully — back towards the tunnel entrance.  By the time he reached his socks, the fire had extinguished, and all there was left was a small pile of ash.  He stared down at the cremains, chest aching.  As Din mourned the loss of the socks, another IED clattered in front of him from above.  Din kicked it down the shaft and hunkered down again for the blast.  He shouted out, “How many of those you got?  Because I’d just like to skip to the end.” 

“Gimmee the coins, then.” 

The voice was above him.  Din moved closer to the tunnel entrance.  “That doesn’t work for me.” 

“Tough titty.”   

Another IED.  Din kicked it again and protected Grogu from the resulting explosion, wondering if the sex shop was destroyed yet.  He’d have to apologize to Auntie Woggy.  Din figured the mad bomber was on the ladder not far above him; the next tunnel up would be too far to accurately toss an incendiary.  He decided to do something incredibly stupid and ran straight for the tunnel entrance.  Diving forward, Din held Grogu tightly as he swung the blaster upwards, firing the blaster in quick succession as he vaulted across the ladder shaft and into the other tunnel.  He twisted in mid-air so that he would land on his shoulder, protecting a squealing Grogu in the crook of his arm.  He must have hit the mad bomber, for he heard a distinct yelp.  “See, I got a problem with handing over the coins,” Din said as he got to his feet, all pain forgotten for the moment.  “They’re not mine to hand over.  They belong to the woman who made the socks you just burned up.  I’m not happy about losing those socks.” 

A pause.  “Why the fuck should I care about your socks?” 

“You don’t need to care about my socks,” said Din as he moved carefully towards the entrance of the tunnel.  “You need to care about how much I care about those socks and the woman who gave them to me.” He could hear the mad bomber struggling up the ladder.  Din peeked upwards and saw that the mad bomber was the skinny miscreant PeeWee had bounced from Blewogg’s shop.  “You see, I love that woman.”  Din knew he was babbling, but he was too pissed off to care.  “And when it comes to love, there are two kinds of men.”  Din leapt on the ladder, and climbed up with alarming speed, catching up to the injured miscreant in a trice.  “A good man will die for love.”  He grabbed the miscreant by his leg, burned by a laser blast, and the miscreant cried out.  “But you see, a bad man, a bad man kills for love.” Din climbed up so that he was standing on the same rung as the miscreant, who was frozen in fear.  Din pressed himself against the terrified miscreant, trapping him against the ladder.  “What you need to care about is whether I’m a good man, or a bad man.”  Din quickly wrapped his grappling cable around the miscreant and shoved his head between two rungs.  “Unfortunately for you, I’m a bad man,” whispered Din, and he stepped off the ladder, going into a free fall before firing his jetpack.  The miscreant’s head popped off like a cork from a bottle, and Din dropped his body down the vertical tunnel. 

Holding himself straight and rigid as possible, Din flew up the shaft.  After several hundred meters, he cut off the jet pack and grabbed the ladder again.  He took a deep calming breath, and then checked on Grogu in the bag.  “Hey, kid.  Doing okay in there?”  Grogu squeaked in assent.  Din sighed.  “I might have gone a bit overboard there.  I mean, they were just … socks.”  Grogu shrugged and spoke his usual babble for a moment.  “True, he was trying to kill us.”  Din and Grogu looked at each other for a few moments.  Din rubbed Grogu’s head.  “Let’s just not tell Mama, okay?” 

“FUH!” 

“Uh, NO. No more of that word.  Got it?”  Grogu pouted, and Din added, “Mama wouldn’t like to hear you saying that word.”  Grogu looked sufficiently apologetic, and Din chuckled.  He turned on his light and looked up the shaft.  The top was just a few more stories up.  Thank you, Frith, and all your not-a-rabbit starspawn.  Din worked up enough energy to hurriedly climb up the remaining ladder and pushed open the hatch at the top.  Something heavy must be on top of the damn door, thought Din as he struggled to open it.  Bright light and loud music filtered through the cracks, and Din finally got enough leverage to push the hatch fully open.  Drawing his blaster, Din burst through the opening to find himself … surrounded by topless burlesque dancers.   

“Oooooh, who had a Mandalorian in the Hatch Pool??” squealed a Zabrak with brightly painted horns.   

Din immediately tried to shove Grogu back into the bag, but a Chiss woman with flaming red hair plucked Grogu out, cuddling him in her arms — and her glittered bosom.  “Oh, he’s so cute!” 

Din reached out to take him back but drew back his hands, stammering, “Miss, please … I’m sorry for the intrusion, but we …” 

“ME!  ME!  I picked Mandalorian in the Hatch Pool!”  In a flash of sequins and feathers, a young leggy woman threw her arms around Din and kissed him on his visor, leaving a bright red lipstick mark. “Quick, Gowiar, get a holo of us!” Another young woman in a matching costume took the holo, and the other dancers shrieked with delight. 

Din sighed.  Oh well. No one will believe it otherwise.  Besides, he was in love, not dead.  He raised the holo function on his vambrace, and called out, “C’mon girls, squeeze in,” as he took a few holos himself, including a good one of Grogu getting kissed on the cheeks by two women at once. 

Shortly after, Din was able to — escape — the dressing room with Grogu.  A security guard just outside the dressing room door asked him, “Have fun in there?” 

“We had a lovely time, thank you.” 

“Hopefully not too lovely, Mandalorian, my daughter is in there.”  The guard flashed a keycard to Din, who took it.  “This will give you access to elevator three on the casino level.” 

“Thank you.”  As Din pocketed the keycard, he asked idly, “So which one was your daughter?”  The guard glared at him, and Din moved towards the casino as fast as his painful feet would let him. Looking down at Grogu, he said, “Not a word to Mama, now, hear?  She does not need to hear about … the … pretty ladies.  Right?”  

“Pree lay-ees?” 

“Right.  Nothing about the pree …”  Din tilted his helmet.  “Pree, huh?  You’ve been calling Marathel pretty this whole time.  And here I thought you only liked her for her cooking.”  So Pree Mahr is Pretty Mahr.  I’ll accept it.  I like it better than Sad Mahr, that’s for sure.   They made it to the bank of elevators, and Din presented the keycard to a porter who looked him up and down dubiously but let him pass to elevator 3.  Din stood with several casino patrons, all finely dressed.  Several high rollers sneered at him, but he held his head high.  He was a Mandalorian, after all, despite being covered in glitter and lipstick kisses.   

“They just let anyone in here these days,” muttered a pink-skinned woman wearing a gown that probably cost more than the Razor Crest.   

“They certainly do,” remarked Din as his lift arrived.  The elaborate scrolled doors opened to reveal a gold protocol droid.  Dank ferrik.  With an inward sigh, he stepped on the lift and turned around to face the doors.   

“Good evening, sir,” chirped the droid.  Din grunted.  If he could be positive the elevator wouldn’t plummet to ground level, he’d consider doing a hasty re-wire of the damn thing, or at least pull a Marathel and hurl something at it.  “The Senator is looking forward to meeting you, sir.”  Senator?  Din grunted again. 

Grogu popped his head out of the bag and stared at the gold droid.  He pointed at the gleaming droid and turned back to Din.  “FUH-eh.” 

Din looked down at Grogu, prouder than he’d ever been.  “You got it, buddy,” said Din, ruffling the boy’s hair.  

After an incredibly long ride in the lift —making Din thankful he didn’t have to climb that far — the car stopped, and the doors opened to a most elegant foyer, and an even more elegant-looking woman stood within.  Her hair was white and exquisitely coiffed; her gown was brocaded and shot through with threads made of precious metals.  If the gown of the snooty woman below could have bought the Razor Crest, this gown was worth a whole Star Destroyer.  Din felt like a ragged, drunken hobo, standing in front of her.  “May I present … the Mandalorian, Senator,” said the droid, and Din wondered if he should bow.  Fortunately, the Senator came forward with a smile and her hand out. 

Din took a few unsteady limping steps towards the woman, took her hand and tilted his head towards her. “Senator.” 

“Former Senator, as this is a new era, so I’m told.  I am Senel Traig.  Are you injured, Sir Mandalorian? You appear to have had … an interesting time reaching me.” 

“On both counts, yes, I have.” 

“Do you require a medic?” 

“I believe I only require some bacta, Madam Wraig.”   

Just then, Grogu peeked out from the bag, and Senel stepped back quickly.  “Maker,” she said, her hand at her throat.  “Is that little one yours?” 

“He is a foundling … and my traveling companion.” 

“You travel with a child and no bacta?  Shame on you,” she said archly, but with a small smile.  “We have some time before we are to meet the Jeweler.  My droid will fetch you bacta … and some washcloths.” 

Din thanked her and bowed slightly anyway, noticing that he was leaving a trail of glitter everywhere he went.  Haar’chak.  The golden protocol droid ushered Din to a side room, and provided him with bacta spray and injections, as well as some cleaning supplies.  After tending to his feet, Din managed to remove the lipstick, but the glitter was a losing battle.  Both Din and Grogu were completely dusted with the stuff.  The droid attempted to assist, but Din threatened it with a blaster, and it scuttled from the room, waving its arms. 

His feet now feeling better, and at least some of the glitter off, Din made his way to the sitting room where Senel waited for him.  She was on a settee, looking like a woman who was unassailable in her role as a leader in high society.  She motioned for him to sit, but Din hesitated, saying, “I have polluted your home enough.” 

Senel laughed.  “I had six children; I am more than familiar with glitter.  Your injuries have been ameliorated?”  Din nodded.  “May I see one of the coins?”  Din sat with Grogu on his lap and handed a coin to the woman.  “Oh, it is exquisite.  Better than any I’ve seen.” 

“May I ask why you want to acquire these coins?” 

“They are a symbol for those of us who were Senators during the Empire.  A reminder that we can’t, won’t go back to what we were before the Rebellion.”  Senel pulled a slender chain from the inside of her neckline.  An ornate pendant hung from the chain, and at the center of the pendant was an Aurodium coin, more than likely of the same vintage as his coin, but of much lower quality.  “I backed the Empire early in the Rebellion.  I regret that I did so.  Unfortunately, there is still much support on Coruscant for the Empire.  Those of us who are loyal to the Republic don’t know whom to trust.  So, we use the coins as a … password for safety.”  She tucked the pendant back inside her clothing and handed the coin back to Din.  “How did you come to possess these?” 

“I received them as a bounty.” 

Senel raised her eyebrows in surprise but did not ask any more questions regarding the coins.  Instead, she held out her hands and said to Grogu, “Would you like to visit me, little one?” 

Grogu cooed, but Din held him fast, saying, “He would get glitter on you.” 

“Nonsense; I’ve eaten more glitter than he has on him.  What is his name?” 

“Grogu.”  Din loosened his grip, and Grogu leapt on the woman’s lap. 

“Charming child.  They are so much fun at this age.  Mine are all … gone now.”  Senel softly ran her fingers through the boy’s hair, and he purred.  “My wife had to do much of the work herself because of my duties in the Senate.  You must find it a challenge.” 

Din was about to answer when his comm.link chirped.  Saying, “Please excuse me,” to Senel, Din got up and moved to the doorway.  “What?” 

“Din.  Where are you?” 

“Fennec?”  Din looked back at Grogu.  “What’s happened?  Is Marathel all right?” 

“She’s with the Reconstructionists.  They wouldn’t take the coins as payment.  I’m on Coruscant; it was the only place I could think of.” 

“You left her alone?” 

“She was fine when I left her, Din, please try to focus here!” 

By this point, Grogu had jumped down and was toddling over to Din, crying, “Mama?  Mama?”  Senel rose and stood in the center of the room, a worried frown on her face. 

Din bent down and picked up Grogu.  “I’m also on Coruscant.  If my contact is willing, you could meet us here.  What are the Reconstructionists asking for?”  Fennec told him, and Din grimaced.  He turned to Senel and said, “I require this amount in cash.  New Republic credits, not Imperial.  Can your contact provide this at our meeting?” 

Senel blanched, and said, “I’ll see what we can do.  And tell your friend to come here.  I will contact the concierge.”  She passed by him and went down the corridor. 

After giving Fennec the information, he said, “Fennec … is Marathel all right?” 

“She managed the trip fairly well, all things considered. She was in good spirits when I left, but quite nervous, of course.” 

“Did she … seem upset about anything?” 

“She had another meltdown about you still having the damned coins.  She went straight to worst-case scenario and convinced herself you deceived her about your intentions.” 

“Not at all.  The covert wouldn’t accept the bounty.  I just … never explained it to her like I should have.  Was she upset about anything else?  Did she say anything … about me?” 

He could hear Fennec sigh deeply.  “Din Djarin, while you have the social and emotional capacity of blue milk, we are all grown-ups, and I refuse to carry on with your childish requests to be a liaison for you two.  No, I did not ask if she ‘likes you, likes you.’  Do it your damn self when you see her next.”  

With that, Fennec clicked off, leaving Din feeling properly admonished.  Din held Grogu close, saying, “Mama is okay.  She’s with the secret doctors.” 

“See-kit.” 

“That’s right, buddy.”  Din felt Grogu’s little arms squeezing him tightly, giving Din the comfort he needed.   

“Is everything all right?” 

Din turned to see Senel standing in the corridor.  “Yes.” 

Senel tilted her head. “Are you sure about that?  You seemed to be quite concerned about this Marathel.  I take it she is also Grogu’s Mama?” 

Din felt discomfited.  “She is not Grogu’s natural mother, but he loves her as his mother.” 

“Is this Marathel in need of major medical care?” Din did not answer.  “She is why you need the payment in cash.” 

“… Yes.” 

“Well, then.  Your friend is on their way?” Din nodded.  “As we now must wait for the Jeweler to prepare the cash you require, may I at least offer you dinner?  You and Grogu may eat in the room you used earlier.” 

“Thank you for your hospitality,” said Din. 

“Thank you for making my afternoon interesting,” replied Senel with a warm smile.  “A Mandalorian and his son, covered in glitter and smelling like a brothel may not be as exciting as my late wife wrangling our six children, but it will serve.” 

Marathel felt very fog brained.  She wasn’t sure if she was awake or not … but she couldn’t seem to form the words to ask anyone.  She was immobilized in a giant chair, strapped down and locked in, only able to move her fingers, toes, and eyelids.  Her head was held at a severe angle by an uncomfortable neck brace, and her hair had been twisted into two braids, not from her temples this time, but hanging loosely from behind her ears. She felt like she was blinking a lot, but then there was a bright light shining right between her eyes.  There was also a rhythmic clicking sound that corresponded with the blinking of the bright light.  The chair itself would move and rotate from time to time, and she had just spent a long time facing downward while the light blinked at the back of her head, her braids swinging. 

Marathel could not see much beyond the light, and looking down at herself, she could only see her forearms from her position.  Her inner forearms bore many multi-needled injection marks, which would bruise, and then fade, and then bruise again.  Many of the injections felt like the spiky pebbles were under her skin again.  Others burned ferociously, while others merely felt like heavy weights were being placed in her arms. 

The Reconstructionists kept asking her to think about things, and half the time, she didn’t understand what they wanted her to think about. Earlier, they had asked her to imagine a black bird standing on a gravestone.  The black bird was easy enough, but Marathel was not knowledgeable about gravestones. This happened several times, until the doctors simply asked her to count certain number patterns, or to name things that began with a certain letter sound.   

This time they had asked her to say words that started with the sound of the letter B. It took her a long while to come up with any words at all, B-words or not.  Marathel was getting frustrated with herself, but the doctors didn’t seem perturbed; they just kept turning their dials and pressing buttons and encouraged her to keep trying.  Finally, Marathel burst out, “Bounty Hunter!” 

Cieroprac smiled.  “That was a good complex word, Marathel.  Keep trying.” 

Marathel squeezed her eyes tight.  She could see the images of things in her mind, but the words were hard to come up with.  She thought of Grogu to calm herself, and then she was able to say, “Boy.  Baby boy.”  Then she remembered, “Black bird.”  The words started to come easier now.  “Bread.  Beach.  Bed.  Berries.  Blue.” Then, “Beatings.  Blood,” said Marathel, her voice hitching on the last word. 

“I think we got it now, Marathel.  Can you try the D sound?” 

“Din Djarin,” said Marathel immediately. 

“Any more?” 

“Dahls. Door. Dreams. Dewback,” she said, remembering that Cobb had pointed out the toy lizard in the market.  “Dilimgau.”  Marathel felt tears in her eyes.  “Death.” 

“I think that’s enough,” said Cieroprac.   

“Yes, Marathel, enough D-words and enough treatment for the moment,” said Eliadu.  “You need some time to recuperate.  How do you feel?” 

Marathel blinked a few times, her eyes dry and itchy from the blinking light.  The chair slowly set her back upright, and the restraints loosened.  She immediately winced: her neck hurt terribly from fighting against the collar that held her from moving her head. “I feel … tired and sore.  Itchy.”  She rubbed her eyes.  

“Hungry?” asked Eliadu.  Marathel nodded.  Eliadu held out her hands to Marathel, helping her to stand.  Marathel felt wobbly, like a newly hatched Dahl kit.  She seemed to have forgotten how to walk, and she muttered apologies to the elegant, blue-skinned woman.  “It’s normal to have some loss of motor control, we have found,” said Eliadu.  At Marathel’s puzzled expression, she clarified, “Feet and hands not quite working.” 

Marathel held up one of her hands, saying, “My hands don’t work so well right now, anyway.” 

Eliadu helped Marathel into the next room and helped her to sit in a comfortable chair next to a table.  “Those splints are clever, by the way.  How did you come by them?” 

“The Modifier.  My hands were … my hands and fingers were smashed.” 

Eliadu sat across from her.  “Where did that happen?” 

Marathel swallowed.  “I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“It was … it was a … a Red Room.  I don’t know where it was.” 

“No, Marathel.  There was no Red Room.”  Marathel remained silent.  “No one gets out of a Red Room, Marathel.”  Marathel looked at Eliadu, wary.  She wanted to hide her hands in her sleeves, but she had no sleeves, as she wore only the short sleeveless gown the doctors had provided her.  She remained silent while Cieroprac placed a cup in front of her. 

“Try to drink this, Marathel.  It doesn’t taste the best, but it has a lot of protein and is easy to digest.  You may not be able to handle much more,” said Cieroprac. 

Marathel carefully held the cup in both hands and sniffed the contents.  She smelled nothing, and the liquid inside was an unappealing milky-tan color.  Marathel took a careful sip and found the cool liquid completely unappetizing.  “Ugh.” 

Cieroprac smiled.  “Welcome to Imperial rations.” 

Marathel curled her lip as she drank some more.  “It’s hard for me to eat much with my broken teeth.” 

Eliadu tilted her head.  “Would you like to have your teeth repaired?”  Marathel nodded.  “We don’t do that, but we have a colleague who can.  But first we need to solve your blood clotting problem.  Does anyone else in your family have the same condition?”  Marathel shrugged and worked to swallow more of the protein drink. “Does that mean you don’t know, or that you don’t want to tell me?” 

Marathel drank the rest of the cup contents with a grimace.  “I don’t have to tell you anything,” she said, hugging her shoulders tightly. 

“No, you don’t … but anything you tell us may be helpful.”   Marathel began to rock, almost imperceptibly.  Eliadu recognized the attempt at self-soothing.  The drink, which had contained a mild sedative — as well as a tiny amount of an Imperial-grade truth serum — seemed to be working. 

Eliadu disliked the use of the serum and would rather draw out the truth by using calm reinforcement. Unfortunately, everyone lied about their illnesses and injuries.  It made the work so much harder, so Cieroprac suggested the truth serum.  She had been an Imperial geneticist and was usually impatient, as she had been required to get quick results.  They weren’t therapists; it wasn’t their job to heal the soul, just the body, she would insist.  Using the most minimal amount of the serum had been their compromise.  They had to compromise often on many things.  Eliadu was thankful that Cieroprac was willing to start treatment on Marathel with only Fennec’s promise to return.  She was most anxious to work on Marathel.  Her genome was bizarre, unlike anything she had personally seen before. The failure of her initial treatment had not disturbed her — in fact, Eliadu had been delighted, for it meant she got to work on Marathel directly, and the data she had received from the Modifier had been highly useful.  He had been a good student of hers, but he preferred to be flashier in his treatments.   

Marathel, meanwhile, felt a bit like she had when she drank the spotchka, or when she had eaten the dreamberry sauce.  She didn’t feel warm and fuzzy — in fact, she felt quite alert — but … she found she wanted to tell everything that had happened to her, every thought that popped into her head.  Her arms began that spiky-pebble-feeling again.  She wanted … she wanted Cobb here; he understood the spiky-pebble feeling and his strong hands had been quite soothing to hold.  His strong arms were pleasant to be held in. She liked his good looks and easy smile.  She liked him.  She liked the attention he gave her.  She liked his hands on her.  He could kiss me, he could be my lover, he doesn’t hide behind armor and a helmet, locking away all feelings and desires until he wants to finger me under the guise of teaching me how to touch myself.   

What in the name of Frith? 

Marathel blinked and rubbed her eyes, startled by her thoughts.  Cieroprac was sitting at the table now, tapping away at a holopad.  Eliadu kept gazing at Marathel with a pleasant look on her face.  “How are you feeling, Marathel?” 

Marathel lifted her hand, confused to see the splint removed, and her fingertips now ensconced in clips with wires leading from them, connecting to the holopad Cieroprac was holding.  Disoriented, Marathel asked, “Did I fall asleep?” 

Eliadu smiled indulgently.  “No, you’ve been awake the whole time.  You were telling us about where you came from.” 

“Was I?”  She could not remember speaking about anything.  She thought she had been thinking about … about …  

“Do you know who your mother is, Marathel?”  

“My mam?  Why is that important?” 

Eliadu pushed a cup in front of Marathel.  “Are you hungry?  This doesn’t taste very appetizing, but it will fill you up.” 

Marathel found she was hungry, so she picked up the cup, which was difficult, as her hands both had clips at the ends of her fingers, with leads going to the blonde woman’s holopad.  Who is that? wondered Marathel while she drank half of the liquid in the cup. As she put the cup down, her hand got tangled in the wires coming from soft pads attached to her temples, which she didn’t remember being adhered to her skin.  The sensors felt very warm, almost too hot, so she tried to pull them off. 

“Leave those alone, Marathel, continue talking about your father.” 

Marathel’s head snapped up.  She may be stupid, she may have scrambled brains, but there was no way in Frith she would be speaking of her da of her own free will.  Who are these women and what are they doing to me?  Where am I?  The blue-skinned woman was now looking at her with a strange look on her face, and then she exchanged glances with the blonde woman. 

The blue-skinned woman — she seems familiar, thought Marathel — leaned forward and gently took Marathel’s hand.  Marathel looked at her hand, now completely bare of clips and wires, the splint apparatus back on.  The blonde woman was gone.  The blue-skinned woman — Eliadu, that’s her name, thought Marathel — softly said to her, “I am so sorry that was done to you.”  

Marathel blinked, and she felt tears on her cheeks.  What just happened?  “I don’t … I don’t remember saying anything, Eliadu.  And where did Cieroprac go?” 

“She went back to the treatment room long ago, Marathel.  And you did say a lot; in fact, you were quite thorough in all your answers.” 

“I was?”  Marathel felt panicked; what secrets did she give away?  Fennec had told her why Din couldn’t come with them, that it would put both him and Grogu in danger.  She could not bear the idea of endangering their lives and had agreed to keep their identities a secret.   

Eliadu smiled.  “We are not interested in your interpersonal relationships, or your secrets regarding them … only of the people who are related to you by blood — your kin and the place you came from.  Although …” — Eliadu raised her eyebrow — “I do believe your bounty hunter and his son hold very strongly to a place deep in your heart, while this roguish marshal merely tickles your fancy.  But take that as you will from another woman who knows you not.” 

Marathel was stunned.  Eliadu had managed to get her questions answered without her remembering a word she spoke.  “Did you get … what you required?” 

Eliadu looked distressed.  “I did.  More than I realized I needed.”  She took a breath.  “Marathel … I’m going to repeat back to you what you told me.  Please, tell me whether I’m correct in my understanding.”  Marathel, pensive, agreed, and Eliadu began to speak.  It took a little while, and she then asked, “Did I repeat what you told me accurately?”  Marathel, saddened to hear her life spoken out in so few sentences, nodded.  “Did I leave anything out?”  Marathel frowned but shook her head.  Eliadu sighed.  “Well, then … it turns out I was correct, even though … I hoped, for your sake, that I was not.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Eliadu began to speak again for a long time.  Marathel listened.  When she had finished, Marathel, confused, quietly thought for a while, and asked many questions, which Eliadu answered.  And as Eliadu continued to speak, Marathel learned that everything, everything she had ever known, how she had lived her life from the moment she had first drawn breath, was wrong. 

Fennec arrived quicker than Din thought she would; she must have have the same idea as he did — that the casino strip was the best place to fence the coins.  Din and Grogu had finished eating and had another attempt at removing the glitter by the time she’d made it up the elevator.  Senel greeted her warmly, and Fennec responded in kind before she stalked over to Din and punched him hard right above his elbow.  “Ow!” 

“Do you know what you have put me through?” hissed Fennec. 

“Do I get to hit you after you tell me?” 

“That emotionally crippled woman is fragile enough without you making … grandiose declarations!  You say you love her, right before she has to suffer who knows what kind of medical treatment?  You — need — to — learn — a — sense — of — timing!” snapped Fennec, punctuating each word with another smack to Din’s arm. 

Senel nodded in agreement.  “For shame, Mandalorian, toying with a vulnerable woman’s heart.” 

Din scoffed, saying, “I needed her to know!  If some …” He went silent.  Both women were glowering at him. He looked down at a frowning Grogu, who was balanced on his hip.  “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, kid.”  Din sighed.  “Can we go now?” 

Senel took a coat from her droid’s hands.  “Yes, we can go now.” 

They all entered the lift.  Fennec gave Din the once-over and asked, “What’s with all the glitter?” 

“Don’t ask.  It’s been a long day.” 

Fennec made a rude noise.  “Tell me about it.” 

“How many people have tried to kill you today?” sneered Din. 

“Children,” said Senel in the best Senatorial / Mother tone she could muster.  “Behave.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” grumbled Fennec and Din.  Both remained quiet and still for a few floors, until Fennec stuck her tongue out at Din.  Grogu shouted “FUH-er!” as he pointed at Fennec.  Din quickly hushed Grogu, saying apologies to Senel, who had turned around to glare at Din. 

Turning back around, Senel muttered, “I had forgotten about times like this with the children,” under her breath.   Din, embarrassed, was glad he didn’t have six Grogus to contend with by himself.  One was quite enough; six, he’d need someone to run zone defense with. 

The elevator car came to a stop, and the doors opened to a landing platform.  A livery droid met them and escorted them to a large custom luxury speeder.  Fennec and Senel — who was cuddling Grogu on her lap — made small talk while Din silently seethed about being driven by a damn droid.   

They must have been getting close; Senel handed Grogu back to Din, saying, “You must conceal him when we go inside.  Will he be quiet?”  Din gave him the remaining handful of sticky seaweed balls, and Grogu happily went back into the bag.  Senel nodded.  “Bribery.  It always worked for me, too.  When we go in, act like my hired bodyguards.  Give me the coins?”  Din handed the bag over.  “How many are there?” 

“165.” 

“164,” interjected Fennec.  “I had to leave one with Marathel.” 

Senel grinned.  “Good thing you’re asking for only a percentage in cash.  Otherwise, you’d bankrupt the Jeweler’s business.” 

“Who is the Jeweler anyway?” asked Fennec. 

“You’ll see,” replied Senel.  The cruiser came to a stop in front of a gleaming expanse of brass and glass, emblazoned with the shop name Kugerrand.  A doorman leapt forward to open the cruiser door, but Din did it himself, using his imposing appearance to make the doorman retreat to his station at the shop door.  Din handed out Senel, and Fennec let herself out on the other side, making a point of scanning the area as she came around the back of the cruiser.  Din and Fennec flanked Senel as she walked with proud grace through the lead-crystal archway into the shop. 

Someone cried, “Senel!” as they entered.  Several lovely young women scuttled about in tight dresses and high heels, moving in tiny halting steps.  Both Din and Fennec looked around surreptitiously; even though they were here under false pretenses, they did have valuable assets with them and the last thing they needed was for this to go sideways.  Senel moved effortlessly through the jewelry shop, approaching the speaker who had greeted her … a short, thin … Hutt. 

Din was so glad to have a helmet, and he stole a glance at Fennec, amazed at her ability to maintain so expressionless at this most bizarre sight.  It … is a Hutt, isn’t it?  The Hutt had the bulbous head, the slotted nose, the wide eyes … but beyond the folds of skin at its neck, that was where the similarity ended.  The Hutt was wearing a caftan that hung from its bony shoulders, ending above the — knees? — of the usually vestigial legs that it was using to pull itself forward.  “Senel, my darling, my absolute favorite, how have you been, my love?” 

Senel grasped the Hutt’s hands and bussed it on both cheeks.  “Wonderful, Kugerr, now that I’m here with you.” 

“Liar,” said the Hutt with a snort. “Come with me, sweetheart, wait until you see what is coming for next season …” Kugerr led them all into a private salon, the door shutting tight behind them.  Instantly, the Hutt’s demeanor changed.  “Slumming with Mandalorians, are we?” 

“He’s the one who brought us the coins, Kugerr,” snapped Senel, as she pulled out the bag of coins and laid it on the counter.  Din decided to hang closer to Senel; skinny or not, this was still a Hutt, after all.  Fennec remained closer to the door under the auspice of guarding it. 

Kugerr narrowed his eyes at Fennec.  “I believe I know you,” he sneered. 

Fennec raised an eyebrow.  “And I believe you’re mistaken.” She folded her hands, standing at the ready. 

Kugerr harumphed and spread the coins out on the felted countertop.  He looked at two or three coins, and his hands began to shake.  “It can’t be … it can’t be!”  The Hutt glared at Din.  “Where did you find this?” 

Din shrugged.  “Why?” 

“This is the Hoard of the Archbishop of Serenno, you metal fool!” spat Kugerr, nearly apoplectic.  “It disappeared 2000 years ago!  According to legend, it was stolen by the illegitimate sons of the Archbishop who wished to usurp their father’s place.  Is it all here?” 

Din shrugged again, but under his helmet, he was curious about this Archbishop.  “How much is there supposed to be?” 

Kugerr scoffed.  “No one really knows.  Ten coins, ten thousand.” 

Din said, “Before you is all that I have.”  That, at least, was the truth. 

“And what did our mutual friend Blewogg have to say?” 

“Blewogg, that charming woman, said a great many things, none of which I will repeat in front of Lady Senel.” 

Kugerr grinned.  “I suppose now we get to chat about what you want.” 

“So long as you understand that I need that certain amount in cash, now, I am amenable.”  The deal was made quickly and cleanly.  Din wanted away from the freakishly skinny Hutt, and he wanted Fennec to head back to his Marathel.  He wanted to get off Coruscant and make a quick trip to Nevarro to execute part of his new plan.   

Finally, back in the luxurious cruiser, Senel asked Din and Fennec if they’d like a nightcap before they left.  Fennec politely refused, saying that she needed to get back to Marathel, asking that they drop her at the nearest travel port.  Din asked, “So did you know that Hutt?” 

Fennec smirked.  “When he was fat, yes.  The story goes that he was poisoned, which turned into a nasty wasting disease.” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “And you wouldn’t know anything about that.” 

“Nothing whatsoever,” Fennec said.  “Any message you’d like me to pass on to your lady love?” 

Senel, who was cuddling a sleeping Grogu, smiled.  Din rolled his eyes.  “Just that … we miss her, and we hope to see her soon.” 

Fennec smirked.  “That’s it?” 

“That’s it.  I thought you didn’t appreciate being a liaison for my … grandiose declarations.” 

“Well, Mando, I will pass your message along.” 

Din reached over and squeezed Fennec’s hand.  “Thank you.  For everything,” he said quietly. 

“I’ll bring her back as quick as I can,” said Fennec.  “And thank you, Lady Senel.”  Fennec hopped out of the cruiser and disappeared into the night. 

The cruiser went back into the night traffic, and Din watched Senel stroke Grogu’s head as he softly snored.  “You ever wish he’d stay this size forever?” 

“He’s been that size for a long time, Lady Senel.  Like a Jedi you must have seen in the Senate during your service.” 

Senel’s eyes narrowed.  “I do not speak of that time, or of those people.  Ever.”  She closed her eyes for a few moments.  Then, she handed back Grogu, and tapped on the dividing window, looking away from Din.  “You got what you came for.  Now get out.”   

Confused, Din said, “Lady Senel, I …” 

The cruiser stopped.  “I said, get out.” 

“I’m only looking for the boy’s family, if he has any.” 

Senel looked at him, her eyes glistening.  “The Jedi caused me to lose my entire family.  The Empire only began because of them.  I have no love for any Jedi, good or bad.” 

“Your wife and children … all died in the Battle of Coruscant?”  Senel nodded. “I am sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you.”  Senel dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.  “We all might have survived if there had been no such … creatures like them, ensconced as they were, politically.  A religious cult like that has no place in politics.”  They sat in silence for a long time, traffic rushing by as Senel stared out the tinted window.  “If my memory serves me, Mandalorians and Jedi have a … tenuous past as well.” 

“They do,” said Din, looking down at the sleeping boy in his arms.  “I just want to find any kin he might have, for his sake.” 

“It seems like he’s with his kin already,” Senel said with a sad smile.  “I hope you are able to add Marathel to the family as well.”  Senel sighed.  She tapped the window, and the cruiser began moving again.  “Perhaps you could tell me about her while we return you to your ship.” 

Din settled back in the seat, shifting Grigu to a more comfortable position.  “Have you ever heard of a planet called Unmanarall?” 

They talked all the way back to the hangar where the Razor Crest was docked.  Din was surprised that he was so willing to chat to anyone about anything, really.  Having Grogu allowed him to not only have a sounding board to speak to, but he also had a topic of conversation that was practically universal — the parent-child relationship.  But Marathel was different.  His only other romantic relationship — if it could be labeled as a relationship — was with Xi’an, and there was hardly anything romantic about that extended time filled with danger, chaos, and rough, angry sex.  Disastrous would be a better descriptor.  Perhaps even catastrophic; Din felt lucky he got out of that one mostly intact, vasectomy by explosive notwithstanding.  He knew that with Marathel, he was completely out of his element, and would need guidance in maneuvering a relationship with her. 

They had reached his hangar, and Din carefully packed the sleeping Grogu back in the oilskin bag.  “Thank you, Lady Senel.  I wish you luck in your future.  Again, I am sorry for your loss.  You have my sympathies.” 

“Thank you, Mandalorian.  I wish you luck as well.  For your people as well as your lady friend.  Her life will be hard for some time.” 

Din swallowed.  “Any advice?” 

“Love her.  As best you can.  You may not always like her but do your best to love her.  Have patience. Endless, endless patience.  And this may be difficult, as you are a Mandalorian, but kiss her as often as possible.” 

Marathel was dreaming again.  This time, she was outside herself, for she could see her own back as she sat on the large flat boulder on Unmanarall.  Marathel knew that boulder well.  She had sat on it many times, staring in the one direction that led to the edge of the high cliff.  This time, she was wearing dark blue pants and tunic.  They looked relatively new but were badly torn and stained.  Her arms and legs were scratched and splattered with blood.  Next to her, on one side, was a wooden cup.  On her other side was a spear with a broken pole.  Her hair, which hung in a tangled mess, appeared to be much shorter on one side than the other.  Marathel watched herself slowly stand and begin to walk to the edge. Walk, Marathel, walk, don’t run to the edge, sleeping Marathel told her dream self.  I don’t know what you’ve suffered now, but you’re where I want to be. You’re almost finished. I’ll see you soon. 

Marathel’s dream suddenly stopped.  Someone was shaking her shoulder.  Marathel awoke, completely alert with no lasting sleepiness.  She was curled up in a tight ball on the cot she was given to sleep on, forehead and knees against the wall, in the most protective position she could make.  Her arms were wrapped tightly over her chest.  Her stomach and ribs ached.  Her heart hurt.  Her mind hurt. 

“Marathel?  Please get up.”  Eliadu’s voice was calm, entreating, meant to soothe. 

“Why?” 

Eliadu took a moment to answer.  “So we can talk.” 

Marathel was tempted to ask why again, but she knew that would sound childish.  They had told her what her age range was yesterday, which confirmed she hadn’t been a child for quite a long time.  It had taken some time to give Marathel a frame of reference for what those numbers meant.  Marathel decided that she preferred not knowing, but now it was too late.  Now she was spending time trying to figure out how her age related to those people she knew.  Was she older or younger than Fennec?  Cobb?  Din?  Marathel worried that she was an ancient crone in comparison.  A dried-up, worn-out crone. 

Of course, her age was the least of her worries.  She had far more horrific knowledge about herself now.   Marathel supposed she should be sad, or angry, but all she felt was empty.  She had nothing.  

Marathel unfolded herself and got up from the cot, following Eliadu back into the room with the table and chairs.  Cieroprac was already sitting at the table, tapping on her holopad.  Eliadu invited Marathel to sit and provided her with a protein bar and a cup of tea.  Marathel sniffed the cup and could smell only tea.  She took a bite out of the protein bar, wondering why these Imps didn’t seem to eat real food. 

“Marathel …” began Eliadu.  “We’ve heard from Fennec, and she’s on her way back.” 

“Good.” 

“We need to discuss what you want to do.” 

Marathel shrugged.  “It hardly seems to matter now.” 

Eliadu scowled, saying, “It certainly does matter.  You have a long life ahead of you.”  Marathel wondered if that were so.  “Obviously, we want to to solve your blood-clotting problem.  We think we’re very close to that.  You also expressed interest in getting your teeth fixed …” 

Marathel shook her head. “Not anymore.” 

“No?” 

“No. I don’t think it’s necessary.  Yes, solve the blood clotting.  Once that’s done, then the rest can heal properly.” 

Eliadu and Cieroprac exchanged glances.  Cieroprac interjected, “For your exterior wounds, such as the ones on your back, yes.  But we haven’t even touched on the damage done to your vaginal canal.” 

Marathel colored. “I still think …” 

“Those wounds will not heal without some intervention.  The scar tissue alone will make intercourse …” 

“I don’t care about that,” snapped Marathel. 

“Really?” asked Eliadu.  “We were led to believe that you had a romantic relationship.” 

Marathel’s eyes filled with tears.  “Not anymore.” 

“Oh, Marathel,” said Eliadu, her voice full of pity. “You can’t make that kind of decision based on what we told you yesterday.  Your history has no bearing on …” 

“My history has everything to do with my decision.  Make me not bleed under my skin.  Close my wounds.  That’s all I will require for the rest of my life.” 

“Marathel …” Eliadu reached across the table, palm up, silently requesting to hold Marathel’s hand.  Marathel looked at Eliadu’s hand, and pointedly ignored it.  “Marathel, at least, please discuss such a thing with your partner …” 

“I have no partner; he was never my partner.  I’m not his equal.  I am no one in comparison.  I don’t wish to discuss this any further.”  Refusing to answer any more questions, Marathel finally ended up telling herself to be still, and remained in that fugue state until Eliadu asked her if she were ready to get back into the chair.  Wordlessly, Marathel followed Eliadu back into the treatment room and climbed back into the large chair, allowing herself to be covered with sensors and monitors again.  With the collar back in place, Marathel was once again immobilized.  The chair rotated until Marathel was facing downward again.  The light began flashing, the clicking sound began again.  Marathel watched her braids swing back and forth, and tears fell from her eyes to the floor. 

Din was back on Unmanarall.  Or perhaps he was here for the first time.  He was alone, and he was walking down the switchbacks, listening to the crunch of the gravel beneath his boots.  When he got to the sandy path along the grassy meadow, he could see the delicate marks of bare feet in the path.  Din knew he should follow them, that they would take him to where he needed to go, to the person he needed to find.   

He passed the rock outcrop, and a flat-roofed hut came into view.  He remembered it well, yet he had never seen it before.  A woman wearing a yellow dress stood ankle-deep in a gentle stream, back-to, her silver hair pulled into two braids that fell from behind her ears down to her waist.   Knowing she was the one he was looking for, he began to walk towards her, his heavy footfalls announcing his presence.   

The woman turned quickly, her face full of fear, her hair and her dress swaying with her movement.  “Who are you?” she asked, as she quickly dropped her gaze from his helmet visor to his boots.  

Din eyes roamed over the woman in the yellow dress, which was finely woven and nearly sheer; he could see her nipples clearly against the soft-looking fabric, her navel a hollow in her rounded belly, and the shadow of the apex of her legs only barely concealed.  “A bounty hunter,” replied Din. 

“What is that?” 

The breeze shifted to blow directly at her front, and the fabric of her dress hugged her full breasts and heavy thighs, outlining the soft thatch of hair at her crotch.  Din, becoming aroused, said, “I find people.” 

Her eyebrows knitted together.  “Are you looking for me?” 

Din stepped into the stream to stand directly before her.  “Yes, I am, Marathel.” 

Marathel raised her sad eyes to his throat, but no further.  Saying “Fi ng’riad, d’lwch fi, chi yd’w fi,” she dropped to her knees in the stream.  Her hands went under the bottom edge of his cuirass and stomacher to release the belt at his waist.  She sighed, and undid his breeches, lowered his underthermals, and released his erection, hot and hard, already weeping with pre-cum. She began to turn her head away, but Din grabbed her braid and roughly pulled; she nearly lost her balance, but she recovered, opening her mouth and taking his erection within, dutifully, still refusing to look up at him.  When Din had enough of her mouth, he released her braid, flinging it from his hand and hitting her in the face with it. Marathel lay on her back in the stream, the water flowing over her, rendering her dress transparent and adhering it to her skin.  She pulled up her dress to her waist, raised her knees and spread them wide, exposing herself to Din, waiting. 

Din immediately went to his knees between her legs, thrusting into her without preamble.  Over and over, he pounded her, grunting, and she lay there, her only movement caused by him, the water of the stream flowing over her shoulders and breasts with each of his thrusts.  Frustrated by her lack of participation, he gripped her collarbone and said, “Look at me.”  She did not respond, nor did she turn her head.  His hand slid to the base of her throat.  “Look at me!” he growled. 

“There’s no point,” she muttered. 

“Look at me.” 

“There’s no point!” 

Din filled with rage.  His large hand went around her throat, fingers gripping her jaw, forcing her to face him.  She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head no as he squeezed her throat.  The purple-black color of fresh bruises extended out from under his fingers, deep within her delicate skin, feathering out like blood in water, and his arousal for her grew just as his anger at her did.  “LOOK AT ME!” he shouted in fury as he slammed himself into her, harder and harder, the slapping of flesh against flesh louder than the gentle babble of the stream. 

Marathel’s hand shot up and under the side edge of his cuirass, against his chest.  She cried out, “LET ME GO!” as her fingers dug into the bite mark she had left in his flesh.  

Din gasped in pain, and his eyes opened to darkness, a stabbing pain in the bite on his chest.  He was face-down, with a raging hard-on, only a bedroll below him, his hand clutching not Marathel’s throat, but a stuffed frog toy. 

What the …? 

“Patu?” a timid voice softly called out. 

“Uhnnn … what?” Din shook his head.  “Grogu?  Buddy?  What is it?” 

There was silence for a few moments, and then the little voice asked, “Fawg?” 

Din blinked, and then slowly and uncomfortably got to his feet, his erection throbbing almost as painfully as his bite-mark.  He was glad the damn room was dark. Wait. Can the kid see in the dark?   “Got him right here, pal, he must have fallen.”  Din gently placed the frog stuffie back into Grogu’s hands, then rhythmically stroked Grogu’s earlobe with his thumb.   “You okay?” Grogu didn’t answer.  “Did I wake you?”  He felt Grogu nod.  “I’m sorry, pal, I was dreaming.” 

“Mama?” 

Ashamed of what he had dreamt about Mama, Din said, “Something chasing me.  I don’t remember.  Go back to sleep, ad’ika, Mama loves you.”  Leaning closer, Din whispered, “I do too.”  Din gave the boy a last loving pat, then slipped out of quarters, closing the door behind him.  He made a beeline straight to the ‘fresher, locking himself inside.   

Now alone, he took off his helmet, and leaned against the door.  I raped Marathel in my dream.  I put my hand on her and choked her.  Why am I dreaming about hurting the woman I love? And here he was, standing here, still swollen as a Nevarro cactus after a spring rain, practically cumming in his pants after such a horrible dream.  Din thought about punching himself in his traitor crotch. What a reprehensible thing to dream about, hurting Marathel like that — anyone, really. He really hoped he wasn’t making — sounds as he was humping his damn bedroll.  That was something Grogu did not need to hear. 

The bite-wound continued to throb.  Din opened his flight jacket — he had removed his armor to clean the glitter off it — and pulled down the neckline of his thermal shirt.  The wound was red, angry, and seeping.  Red lines extended outward from the wound, showing an infection as well as some flakes of glitter.  Kriffing hell, that shit gets everywhere.  He sighed and cleaned the wound properly, disinfecting it and covering it with a bandage.  Bacta would heal the wound too well … he wanted it to scar, but he didn’t need infection. 

Those words Marathel said … I’ve heard her say those before.  That wasn’t dream nonsense, that was her old language. 

He wracked his brain for a moment.  It wasn’t what she yelled at him the day Grogu put her in a tree.  That had something to do herbs and virtue, and the other thing she told him to do was to piss up a rope.   

Rhaff Codieh.  I’m not forgetting that one. 

Then he remembered.  His finger was inside her, and he’d said … he’d said … Cyar’e, ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, mesh’la.  She responded in her own language, and she’d said Fi ng’riad, d’lwch fi, chi yd’w fi.  

He didn’t know what she’d said, but he knew now it wasn’t I love you as well.  She’d told  Grogu she loved him when she’d put him to bed that night … but she didn’t say those same words to me.  Din rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.  He needed to get his shit together.  This trip back to Nevarro would get that ball rolling, but … seriously, I’m one kriffing hot mess.   He finally met his own eyes in the mirror, not liking what he was seeing, so he punched himself in the crotch anyway. 

As he was hunched over in pain, holding his knees and regretting that decision, he thought about how he could apologize to Marathel about something he hadn’t done.  What he neglected to consider was why Marathel refused to look at him in his dream. 

 Marathel had not spoken a word for hours.  Fennec had returned while Marathel was resting from another round in the chair, including a session of cauterizing some wounds caused by the Dilimgau.  Both Eliadu and Cieroprac were trying to explain how Marathel was doing. 

“So, she’s refusing most of the reconstructive treatment?” asked Fennec. 

Eliadu nodded.  “She only wants the barest minimum.  But she is very distressed, and it’s obvious her decision-making skills are poor.” 

Fennec sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Tell me about it.” 

“Perhaps if you can convince her …” 

“Perhaps if you can tell me what happened to change her mind!” snapped Fennec. “If you could tell me whatever this damned great secret is, I could maybe make a difference!” 

Eliadu sadly shook her head.  “I can’t, we can’t tell you.  It’s not for us to say.  Marathel is an adult …” 

“A socially, emotionally constipated adult!  From a cult who stunted her entire growth!” 

Cieroprac, who was standing behind Eliadu, crossed her arms and said quietly, “Then it might be best to only do the barest minimum of treatment for her.  She needs time and therapy, LOTS of therapy, to make better decisions for herself.” 

Eliadu said, “We are not therapists. We cannot heal the soul; we only … work on the body.”   

Fennec watched Cieroprac gently run her fingers through Eliadu’s snow-white feathers.  She knew she was watching a moment of contention between the two women and decided to calm herself. High emotions were not useful at the moment. Fennec took a breath and asked, “May I see her now?  Try to talk to her?” 

“Of course,” said Cieroprac.  Fennec followed her into a little dark side-room.  The blonde woman turned on a light; dim, but enough to see by.  Marathel was again curled up tight, making herself as small as possible.  Her bare feet were folded on top of each other, her toes curled tightly.  Fennec could see Marathel’s fingers tightly clutching her shoulders.  Cieroprac left, closing the door behind her. 

“Marathel?  Are you awake?” 

“I’m glad you’re back.  That means we can leave soon.”  Marathel’s voice was flat, expressionless. 

“I ran into Din when I went to sell the coins.  He asked about you.  He says they miss you.”  Marathel did not respond.  “He also told me why he still had the coins.  His covert wouldn’t take them.  But he managed to find a buyer and got the biggest deal I’m sure he’ll ever get in his life.” 

“That’s good for him.”   

“There’s plenty to fix you up properly with a lot left over.”  Marathel remained silent, and Fennec felt annoyed.  She grabbed the chair next to the cot and sat.  “What is with you, Marathel?  I thought you were on board with these Reconstructionists.  Why are you changing your mind now?”  Fennec rubbed her forehead with her hand.  “Marathel, look …” 

“I’m sorry, Fennec.  I just … can’t.” 

“What changed?” 

“I’m … I can’t say.  Not now. I’m … what did you say?  Emotionally constipated.” 

“I’m sorry I said that …Marathel, please …” Fennec reached out and touched Marathel’s shoulder.   

Marathel leapt up with a shriek, cowering on the far end of the bed.  “Don’t touch me!  DON’T TOUCH ME!” She held out her hands, trying to hold Fennec away from her.  “Just … don’t.” 

“Marathel … honey … what is wrong?” 

“I want to go home.” 

Fennec sighed.  “We will go home, honey, as soon as you’re done here, we’ll head back to Tatooine.” 

“Tatooine?”  Marathel laughed harshly.  “Shithole planet.  That’s not home.  I want to go back to Unmanarall.” 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter->

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for sharing my friend's games?

I (20something M) am a game developer. I met my friend C (also 20something M) at a game jam event a while ago, and we became friends because I really liked the game he was working on. It was so different from what everyone else was doing, and that really drew me in.

The thing with C, though, is that he was always kind of reclusive? And I worried about him, because he didn't seem to value his work very much. He named the trashcan on his desktop to "Important Games Folder", and other stuff like that, even though he's really talented. His games never had any endings, either. He made, like, dozens of variations of one game where you're stuck in a prison, and a game where you just clean on loop. It always felt like C was expressing that he felt trapped, like he wasn't going anywhere.

Eventually I started showing his work to my friends. I wanted to boost his self esteem, y'know? Like, he doesn't need to feel stuck, or like his games don't have value. Especially since I was pretty sure he's depressed, I thought this would help him. I don't think it did, though. After he found out about it, he started making games less frequently, and talking to me less. When he did send me new games, though, it seemed like he was taking my advice to heart. They all ended with a lamppost, like a light at the end of the tunnel. A goal to reach. I thought that must be good, right? He's getting better, he's seeing actual meaning in his work. I was helping him.

Eventually, though, he disappeared for a while. A long time passed before he sent me another game, and when he did, it was nearly impossible to play. I brute-forced my way through the puzzles, though, and found that he left a message for me. Apparently everything I did wasn't helpful. He said I was just projecting my own issues onto him, and that he was actually fine the whole time. He doesn't want me to contact him anymore, and he pretty much said that I was forcing him to add meaning to his games.

I just don't get it. Did I really do anything wrong? I just wanted to help my friend feel better about himself and his work. Sure, maybe I was making myself feel better by helping him, but I was doing it for him. That can't be bad, can it?

[blackjackkent]

OK, I was a good girl and I did some move prep stuff today; gonna try and squeeze in a bit more of Rakha's playthrough this afternoon. c:

Good news right off the bat - Rakha wakes up after the party and discovers she DIDN'T KILL ANYONE. \o/ Fantastic. Lae'zel is VERY tired after staying up all night keeping guard on her because she didn't want to let Wyll take a shift, but it didn't turn out to be necessary at all; Rakha slept like a rock.

And she did dream of Wyll, indeed. She dreamed of all the other usual things too - images of blood and death and gore - but occasionally a calmer image mixed in, just flashes of their conversation on the beach. And it was enough, for once, for her to sleep moderately soundly.

The next morning, Halsin has a big old reality check for everyone, of course - they have a lot more work ahead.

"I trust you enjoyed your evening? After all your efforts, it was well deserved. It may be some time before you are afforded another such night. There is much to be done, and I promised I would help you however I could. I'm certain a cure for you can be found at Moonrise Towers, but it's... complicated. The journey, specifically - it's extremely perilous. Though it seems you're well-accustomed to navigating danger."

"To Moonrise Towers, then," Wyll puts in earnestly at her side. "May the sun and stars guide us."

Rakha shoots him a look sidelong. The knowledge of their conversation last night is still hanging between them - a new bond forged with halting, fumbling words - and she feels a strange flicker of something like embarrassment. But he just looks back at her steadily, a light smile playing around his lips. So she just nods slowly and answers Halsin in her usual clipped manner, trying to focus on the task ahead.

"Moonrise Towers it is, then. I'd better make haste."

"Wait," Halsin says grimly. "There's more you need to know."

Rakha focuses attentively at once. Halsin does not know everything, certainly, but he is very free with the information he does have, something Rakha is rapidly coming to respect him for.

"To get to the Towers," he goes on, "you'll need to pass through a terrible place. A cursed place. This curse shrouds everything in shadow - you will not find life, light, or anything natural there. Any who linger are twisted by the curse; they become shadow beings - tormented, dangerous souls."

A disconcerted silence falls over the group. Rakha scowls pensively. "The Absolute's forces can tolerate such a place?"

Halsin shrugs. "So it seems - though I don't know how. You will have to choose your approach carefully."

He goes on to describe two paths - an overland route through the mountains, and another through a place called the Underdark, which Rakha gathers is some sort of underground tunnel network. He also mentions that this Underdark route is the location of a stronghold that once belonged to a man named Ketheric Thorm - a Shar worshiper, like Shadowheart.

He recommends the Underdark path - and moreover, he wants to come with her.

"I helped overthrow Ketheric Thorm and his Dark Justiciars years ago," he explains gravely. "But I failed to prevent him from unleashing darkness across the region before he was defeated. I spent years researching the curse, trying to put an end to it. Nothing has worked - yet. If I can join you and get close to Moonrise, perhaps I can lift this curse, same as you may find a cure for your infection."

She nods. She knows nothing of this curse - and little more of the Shar worshipers who were apparently behind it, beyond what little Shadowheart has told her. Her aim is to reach Moonrise and exact revenge for the chaos she and her companions have been put through.

But she does not mind Halsin's company. Like all those she most respects, he answers her questions in plain terms and is free with what information he has. And she is curious about his bear transformation - which he described almost as she describes the beast in her head, something violent within him over which he does not have complete control.

As for the journey itself...

It will keep. They still have other priorities before Moonrise. The githyanki creche is the first order of business - Lae'zel has said from the beginning that it was the only true solution to their infection, and regardless of Halsin's (or the Guardian's) assertions, Rakha still firmly believes her. Karlach, too, has unfinished business - the "Paladins" that chased her from the Hells.

When all that is done, and the worms are gone from their heads... the Underdark sounds promising. As Halsin describes it, it bypasses more of this "curse" that lines the land around Moonrise. And Shadowheart will know things of this Sharran stronghold, even if no Sharrans still linger there.

It's a plan - as straightforward as they come, like all her plans. One step after the next until she can wrap her fingers around the throats of those who have put her in this situation, and demand of them who she is.

[nomomio]

TW: Allusions to SA, CSA, and physical abuse

Something that's been really driving me nuts is the reading of Karlach as a metaphor for healing from years and years of a physically and s*xually abuse, notably abuse that occurred during formative years.

- Too hot to touch + Practically throwing herself at you if youre slightly good: As a survivor myself the impossible to touch just screams how much touch feels like it will legitimately burn after getting out of a situation. The years of *desperately* wanting loving touch but something always telling me it's wrong, that it will hurt, that somehow I'll hurt them even.

And combined with the moments where you feel you can get touch and you jump on it like a poor child in a marshmallow test. It's normal to want touch, love, affection, intimacy. But how often do we jump into it without a single thought prior when traumatized, because of that near desperate want. In my second playthrough romancing Shart, my sweet angry baby did her little "hey soldier, you awake?" scene second night of being in my camp, with the only companion approval level lower than hers being Lae'zel. Legit just be nice to her, and get the first upgrade for her heart, and she wants more. And lawd I relate.

- Dammon's upgrades: To me these are early understanding in healing. Early jumps in therapy. Finally finding a medication that works. You feel so elated, ecstatic, alive! You can be fixed! You can be okay! You get told by professionals that C-PTSD, BPD, dissociation, whatever. It never truly goes away. Just managed. But you don't care, you don't really integrate that notion because holy fuck for the first time in years, ever even, you can see a light of fucking goodness at the end of the tunnel.

*MAJOR SPOILERS*

- Getting to Act 3, the "it doesn't go away" catches up and she starts burning hot: Just about everyone I know who's gone through/going through this intense of healing all have a point where we relapse in some way. The dissociation gets bad again. Mood swings get volatile again. SH tendencies creep back in. The reality sets in that you can't distract from things with how good things can be when you're okay. It's *always* there. You're stuck with what happened forever.

- Total meltdown after killed Gortash: This monologue GUTTED me. I hid and the washroom and SOBBED after it. I have had similar internal meltdowns so many times. No matter what happens to my abuser. Despite the fact that I can still go to court and send him to prison if I wanted. It won't change that what was done to you has been done. When it sets in that everyone around you who loves you will get to have a normal life and you *never* will. You can put in as much work, as much effort, as much heart as possible to try to fucking heal, only to realize that some things will never go away. Some wounds simply will not heal. And you get angry. So so angry. And then you collapse. It isn't fair. It's not. Fair.

The writers at Larian did SUCH a good job capturing the sheer degree of pain in her lines. Samantha Béart's performance deserves all the awards and accolades because capturing that nuanced raw emotion is so so hard. I so desperately wish we could fix Karlach properly, let her stay in Faerun. But. Maybe her good ending being returning to Avernus with you is truly her realistic good ending. I won't ever fully be free of what happened to me as a child. Its a naive hope that ill ever be completely free of it. But I know I don't have to go it alone. My husband, my friends, those I've chosen are with me through it. Karlach can't change her past, but with Tav, Wyll. She doesn't have to go it alone.