#I hate the faces on the knees of his armour though so they’re gone

[yorqia]

In another world.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Bullets and Bubble Baths | Tony Stark

Hey lovelies here's the first drabble for my Dinner at Dizzy's event!! Thank you all so much for your requests!! Enjoy!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff / Angst

Entres (Pairing): Tony x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 11: “Oh my god, that was really violent.”, 23: “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”

Notes: Y/n is Tony’s assistant, Tony's hella protective because she’s not an Avenger

Word Count: 1.4k

Dinner at Dizzy's Master List

She’s in the bathroom.

No, scratch that, she’s in the bathroom, vanilla bubbles up to her chest, soaking in the warmest, lavender scented water— with her boss. He’s not in the tub with her or anything, god forbid, but he’s there, yelling, and waving his arms around like a madman. Oh, and there’s gunshots— don’t forget about the gunshots that’s the most important part here. Why did she take his offer of moving into the Avenger’s Tower again?

Oh right— convenience.

“Tony what the fuck is going on?” She shrieks, trying to pull more bubbles over her chest but only ends up splashing water all over the floor.

He spins from the door which he has just locked, eyes blown wide, and she almost screams again. “Hydra— I think. Some big guys with guns. Steve’s down there now with Banner—”

A loud crash echoes from several floors below as if on cue, followed by another round of shots, and her heart skyrockets. She sits up, arms crossing over her chest frantically, listening for any noises that may be closer— like in her apartment closer. So far there are none but with her luck that’ll probably change. She turns back to the man in front of her, shivering from the cold air and the fear coursing through her veins.

She doesn’t want to scream again but she can feel it bubbling in her throat so she does the only thing she can think to do— she rambles. “How’d they get in? What do they want? Do you think Steve and Banner are okay? What are you doing in—”

She only stops when he drops in front of her, hands shooting out and wrapping around the back of her head, fingers twisting harshly in the wet strands of her hair as he yanks her mouth to his. It isn’t a heated kiss— more of a shut up or we’re going to die kiss— but for a moment it makes the world still, her heartbeat spiking for a whole different reason now. Maybe it wasn’t just convenience, maybe there was another reason she moved.

Before she can move her lips against his, he's pulling away from her, brown eyes searching over her face, probably making sure she’s not about to combust into words again. Don’t worry Tony, she’s too busy combusting into literal flames.

“I don’t know, okay? Not yet. Wasn’t exactly the right time to ask.”

“Tony—” he raises a brow and she shuts her mouth— right, they’re supposed to be laying low.

She lowers her voice a few octaves, whispering, all too aware of the fact that his lips are still only inches away from hers and that she still can hear bullets dinging off something metallic. Steve’s shield. Bucky’s arm. She swallows, fingers digging into her cold, wet flesh.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” Please don’t leave though, she adds in her head.

She has no idea why she asks. Courtesy maybe. Nerves or anxiety or the fact that she’s naked in a gunfight and he kissed her and she doesn’t know what else she can possibly say in this situation to make it okay. Nothing. She can say nothing. She regrets it immediately.

“I—” the door explodes, splintering into a hundred tiny pieces before he can finish— or even start, to be honest— his thought.

Before the scream can even rip up her throat he’s on his feet, gold and scarlet armour curling around his body. She must have missed him hitting the button on his watch thingy. Who can blame her, what with the large man that barrels into the bathroom, gun in hand. Gun pointed at her. So it’s just a party in the bathroom now, that’s cool. He scowls at her and she freezes, too numb to feel either cold or hot at this point. What the fuck did she do? She’s just trying to take a bath!

Cue the scream.

“Oh my god Tony look out!”

The man charges at him just as his helmet clamps shut, a sharp clang sounding through the bathroom, presumably a bullet bouncing off his armor, and he wastes no time holding an arm out and hitting the man square in the chest with a blast of god only knows what. She’s an assistant, she doesn’t get paid to know how his suits run. Then again she didn’t think she was getting paid to sit in luxurious bathtubs and get shot at either so maybe she just has no true grasp on her job and what it entails.

She watches, unable to look away, as he blasts him a few more times. She can’t see the man— the fire beam thing blasted him way out of the room the first time. She doesn’t even want to know what state he must be in right now. Rest in pieces, she supposes. She doesn’t have that much sympathy for the man who tried to put a bullet in her skull and made her waste her expensive bubble bath. Asshole. Still, after the fifth blast or so she decides that maybe it’s time to step in.

“Tony?” It’s almost silent, her voice shakier than she’s expecting after all the screaming.

From outside of the bathroom she hears the sound of metal clinking together, no doubt his armor retreating back into wherever it is that it goes when he isn’t using it. Seconds later the man— her boss— is running back into the room, chucks slipping against the tile as his eyes draw over her body frantically. It’s what makes her realize she isn’t numb anymore, the heat creeping up and over her chest. She lifts her arms higher, not looking down because she knows the bubbles are long gone.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Shit, what’s going on—”

He’s on his knees again, arms reaching out towards her, and she can’t think straight, she can only feel the hot tears beginning to drip down her face. “I— I think so? I don’t think I got hit. Are you okay? You got hit by a bullet! I just— I— Oh my god, that was really violent!”

She’s malfunctioning. Like on the fritz, fingers twitching, voice absolutely gone. Is this how Vision feels all the time? God, she hopes not. That would be awful. She feels Tony’s arms wrapping around her and her head flopping onto his shoulder but none of it really registers. She could have died. What the hell is her job?

“You’re okay. I got you.” He whispers.

“I’m an assistant.” She mumbles weakly against his shirt. “This was not part of the job description.”

He goes to pull away and she tenses, terror spiking through her veins. No, do not let go. She can’t handle it, not right now. She tightens her fists around his shirt, trying to keep him from shuffling too far away.

He doesn’t let go— not completely at least. He only backs up enough to look into her eyes, wincing slightly when he does, brown eyes filling with guilt. “I know, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you left right now.”

She sighs, her shoulders sinking. Her face feels sticky, her chest cold, but no part of her feels like leaving. She’s terrified, yes, and pissed off that her bath got ruined. Her heart feels like it’s trying to escape her chest and she kind of wants to throw up. It’s awful and she hates feeling this way. But this is her home and him—

“Tony why did you come find me?” She whispers, the thought suddenly hitting her square in the chest, knocking the air from her lungs— he came for her instead of fighting with the rest of the team.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling her closer to him again, this time his head sinking against her neck. “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you. I had to make sure you were safe.”

Well, maybe he’s her home too.

She wraps her wet arms around him, soaking his shirt and simultaneously squeezing her to him as hard as she can. “Thank you.”

He nods against her shoulder, lips pressing into her skin. She smiles— they’re definitely going to need to talk about this tomorrow.

For now, though, she sinks deeper into him, letting her eyes flutter closed. “You owe me a new bubble bath, boss.”

[greenygreenland]

Tired: Omega x Platonic! Slicer! Reader

-Hi I’m back from the dead

-i write for females, keep that in mind (sorry, it's what I'm comfortable with, so I hope you understand!)

-but really, I write in 2nd POV, so you can't tell for the most part

REQUESTED

Summary: You're a former bounty hunter who's also a slicer for the GAAR. You meet Omega by chance.

Tired. That was the only thing that could describe your mental state. Being assigned to mission after mission was no fun, especially when it was solo. You were a civvie slicer, one who the GAAR hired by chance due to your reputation.

By reputation, that meant ex-mercenary-who-so-happened-to-have-a-knack-or two-for-technology. The clones were nice to you though. For the most part, they didn't care about your previous occupation because it wasn't the first time anyone's hired Bounty Hunters for the GAAR.

The low hum of the ship helped to ease your building worries. You wondered what the boys of Clone Force 99 were up to. It was no secret that you were part of the complete package. No one knew how you and them got along when you were a civvie. Being outsiders themselves, they hated anyone who wasn’t part of their group. But not you. You were different. Kind. Caring. Understanding.

That thought made you frown. You missed the boys. They had been gone for at least seven rotations without comming you once. The fact that they promised didn't help their cause either. Were they okay? Maybe one of them got hurt, or worse, killed? Maker forbid such a thing.

"They better come back to me in one piece, or I'll have them begging on their knees for forgiveness..."

Beep, beep, beep!

You jolted upright, swinging your legs out form under you as you hurriedly fumbled for the holoprojector. You tapped a button and the cockpit flooded with a soft, blue light. "Tech!" you cried. "It's been seven rotations! Why haven't you commed me?" He removed his helmet with a sheepish shrug. "We've been busy of course. And it's seven rotations and fifteen hours, meaning--"

"Yeah, yeah." you cut in with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of not coming with you guys on missions. I know you're just as capable--more if you want me to be honest--but that doesn't mean I can't worry."

There was a rustle behind Tech and he looked over his shoulder. Hunter came into view, an apologetic look in his eyes. "Sorry we didn't comm you. With all that's gone down, I wouldn't say we've had the time." You flopped down in your chair helplessly. "I know, it's just..."

Hunter smiled warmly. "Don't worry about us (Y/n)." Tech pushed up his glasses and nodded in agreement. "If there's anyone who we should be worrying about, it's you. You go on solo missions six out of nine times. We have each other but you only have yourself."

"Wow, I feel so much better Tech." You sarcastically muttered. "Speaking of mission, I'm on my next one."

Hunter knitted his brows. "Where?"

"Skako Minor."

"Skako Minor?" they echoed. You nodded. "Something strange is going on there. According to Rex, the Seppie battle plans have been drawn exactly like the ones he used to do with Echo--that’s one of his men." You recalled the face of that fallen soldier. He was always so sweet to you, giving a wave whenever you passed and smiling as brightly as he could. To say you missed the poor boy was an understatement.

"Isn't Skako Minor under the Techno Union?" inquired a coiled voice. Crosshair made his way into the frame and unceremoniously squeezed himself between his brothers. "You better not be going alone." You waved it off. "Even if I did, it’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Like the time you nearly fried yourself with a loose wire on that rock in the Outer Rim? Yeah, I don’t think so.” You averted your gaze to the side in embarrassment. No one needed to remind you of that rookie mistake. You could have gotten yourself killed. The watts were off the chart there. “That was one time. I’m a master at this stuff, don't worry. And besides, Cody, Rex, Jesse, and Kix are with me." Cross's brows shot up. "You're working with regs?"

"Don't worry, they're seasoned soldiers from the 501st.” That was the truth, and you meant it. Working under Rex for months made it clear to you. During that time, he taught you a thing or two about mechanics. “General Skywalker’s men are more than capable. So is Cody."

Cross looked doubtful, and you couldn't blame him. This was enemy territory you were sneaking into. It didn’t matter who you had on your side, because anyone could make a mistake.

A deep laugh echoed from over Cross’s shoulder. Wrecker set down his gonk droid, Lula in the other hand. “You guys need to have faith in (Y/n),” he reminded with a grin. “She’s smarter than me, and she’s always kept up with us. Is there anything she can’t do?” Tech pushed his glasses up with a challenging look. “Uh, actually--”

“Just be careful.” Hunter concluded. “We want to see you back in one piece.” You nodded in understanding. “Copy that, Sarge.” He smiled, and it was filled with unsaid words of care. Cross sent you a nod, eyes all mushy and soft while Tech knitted his brows together worriedly. Wrecker grinned, and it was so bright that it could have blinded you.

“Same goes to you Batchers,” you stated seriously. “Come back to me in one piece, or I’ll come over there and kill you myself.” Tech looked like he wanted to comment on that, but he sensed the shift in mood and kept his mouth shut. You memorised their faces as best as you could. It would be a while until you saw them next.

The hologram flickered out and the soft glow of blue hues disappeared. The cold, dim lighting of the ship fell over you. “Well that’s that.” you muttered with a weak smile. Rex patted your shoulder comfortingly. “They really care about you.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t always like that. I used to be a stranger too.”

The rest of the ride was spent with the occasional joke from Jesse. He made you laugh, and it helped to soothe your worries. But then the ship landed, and you were thrust into a battle zone. You were thankful Anakin made you wear heavier armour today. If he hadn’t, then you probably would have been vaporized on the spot.

“We need cover!” shouted Rex. That was a no-brainer. Being out in the open at the bottom of a ravine was not in the least tactical. “SBDs!” you called. “Twelve o’clock!”

Jesse raced past you. “Get down!” He threw an EMP. It wasn’t as effective as you hoped it would be. If the Bad Batch were here, this situation would have been completely different. You were on your own. There was no cover, save for the piles of smoking durasteel and the very armour strapped to your vulnerable limbs.

You were in a head-on battle.

“I guess we don’t have much of a choice.” You charged forward, tossing a few EMPs as you blasted away. The best you could do was nail them in the head and hope for the best. Jesse was right beside you, with Cody, Kix, and Rex following suit.

“I didn’t think you would be this daring!” called Jesse. You blasted a few droids and kicked another in the head. It fell with a clank and you smothered it in a healthy dose of blaster fire. “I wasn’t about to be bested by a couple of rust buckets!” you retorted with shake of your head. “Come on, we need to get to that tower.”

You made quick work of the droids. You were no Jango Fett, but you managed with the help of the Regs. Cody congratulated your work and motioned for the squad to continue on. “It’s obvious the enemy knows we’re here. I have my doubts on sneaking in, but perhaps we can manage...”

Past the commando droids, through the front door, then up the lift and a little further down a couple halls. Before the mission, Rex had pulled you aside to speak in private. He thought Echo was alive and that whatever was sending out those Seppie battle plans had to be him. But you weren’t about to get your hopes up. Not when so many of your friends long marched far, far away.

You stopped by a door and plugged in your datapad. “I need to slice open the door. I’m not about to challenge fate here with a charge.” Jesse nodded in understanding. “I’d rather come back with all my legs and arms, thank you very much.” He turned to keep guard as Cody stood close to your side. “Is this the control room?”

“Yes.” The door swished open and you disconnected your ‘pad from the panel. “I’ll slice the computer and retrieve the information we need. Rex, I need you for this portion.” He nodded in understanding and followed suit. You connected your datapad to the communications table. A hologram appeared, where dates and names passed by in the blink of an eye.

“You said this might be Echo.” you quietly stated. Rex nodded. “I can’t be sure, but there isn’t another explanation.” You watched as the information scrolled past at the speed of light. There wasn’t anything of use so far. Only old reports, check-ins and...

The scrolling froze. A file opened up, filling the room with a voice you wouldn’t ever forget. It was scratchy and lifeless, but you were sure it had to be the man who went KIA so long ago. “That’s...”

“Echo’s alive.” Rex affirmed. “It--it has to be him.”

“We’ve got company!” called Jesse.

You transferred the file and stuffed your ‘pad in a safe spot for keeping. “In case anything happens, I’m transferring the data over to you.” you stated. “I wouldn’t want to lose any of this.” The two of you rushed out of the room in a frenzy. Blaster fire sounded above, whizzing way over your head as you sprinted down the hall. The lift wasn’t far, only a couple metres. You just had to run a little more and--

BOOM!

Had a droid thrown a charge? You turned to Rex, eyes wide as he turned to face you. With all of the strength you could muster, you shoved him out of the way. Another BOOM!. You turned just in time to see the flash of brilliant reds and oranges.

The force threw you into the transparisteel windows, which spider-webbed out in long cracks. You were suddenly flying out of the four story building. Shards cut past your face and through your sleeves, tearing away at flesh and fabric without an ounce of mercy. If only you had a doshing jetpack.

“(Y/N)!”

You didn’t scream, but Maker did it kriffing hurt. There was a sickening crack, another blinding flash of sharp pain. You held back a cry.

Just be careful. We want you back in one piece.

Your vision faded in and out. Black blurred the galaxy as you knew it.

I'm sorry, boys.

You fell into the painful jaws of darkness.

-----

The first thing that hit your nose was the sterile smell of bacta. Your eyes fluttered open and you found yourself staring at the blank ceiling of the medbay. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor caught you off guard. How hard did you fall? Much less, what did you break?

A head of dirty blonde hair peeked over the edge of your bed. Her eyes, wide with curiosity made you knit your brows together. She was young, much younger than any girl here should be. You were about to sit up, but the girl frantically straightened.

"You're not supposed to be getting up." She gently pushed you back down. "You have a lot more than a few broken bones." That was when the pain began to settle. You stilled under the thin medbay sheets. "I need to comm someone."

"Now?" the girl incredulously inquired. "You're hurt, you have to rest first." But that was the least of your problems. Where was Rex? Had he completed the mission? How long were you out? Were Jesse, Kix, and Cody alright? You winced and the girl frowned.

"If it makes you feel better, there were a few people who came to visit."

That didn't make you feel better. It meant they saw you like this, in the most vulnerable state you could ever be in. "Who are you?"

The girl pointed at herself like she'd never been asked that before. "Me?" You nodded. "I'm Omega." She smiled and it was a little shy and toothy. "You've been asleep for a while. I thought you weren't going to wake up for another day." You tensed and pursed your lips together. "How long?"

"A week, I think." Omega said. "But it's okay! You're recovering steadily." That wasn't the issue. Recovering steadily wasn't good enough because you were missing out on a mission you needed to complete. If Echo really was alive, then you had to save him. It was the least you could do after he put his life on the line for you so many times before.

"I have to..." You pushed your aching body up. "I have to go."

"No!" Omega forced you back down. "Even if you could walk, you can't fight."

"But I have to..." The look on Omega's face made you pause. She was so small, and in that little body of hers, she stored up a good amount of worry for you. How could you say no to that? A sigh escaped your lips and you begrudgingly relaxed onto the bed.

Omega's shoulders slumped in relief. "I'll get a your holoprojector." You raised a brow with a watchful eye as she scurried away. She rummaged through a lone cabinet in the corner of the room. Your clothes sat there, belt, holsters, blasters and all. Omega pulled out your holoprojector, closed the cabinets, and handed it to you.

"I washed your clothes too if you're wondering," she said with a small smile. "But don't think about going anywhere! You can't walk with broken legs."

A pit formed in your stomach. You can't walk with broken legs. That wouldn't be true if you had seen the blast. If you had ran faster. Maybe you wouldn't have ended up like this, a mess of bandages, casts, and bacta patches. If only you had seen it coming.

"Hey, (Y/n)?" You didn't question how Omega knew your name. Whoever she was, she had to be a someone to wear Kaminoan jewellery anyway. "What is it?" Your voice was quiet, sad almost. Omega played with a loose thread on her sleeve. "That was very brave of you." She stepped closer to the bed and pulled up a chair. "Captain Rex came by this morning. He told me that you saved him from that blast."

You shifted to meet her gaze as best as you could. The holoprojector weighed your hand down like a ten kilo weight. "I just...reacted. Nothing special to congratulate." Omega shook her head. "No, that's everything. If it were me, I don't think I'd be able to do that."

A pull in your gut told you she meant what she said. Your eyes softened. You didn't meet her gaze. Maybe that was because you couldn't. It was a hard enough fact accepting that you were injured, adding on that you were going soft didn't help your cause.

Omega took it as her signal to give you some privacy and exited the room. The doors swished shut behind her, leaving you in a much needed silence. You tapped the projector. It opened up, bathing the snow white room in soft blue hues.

"Rex." you greeted. "I apologize for my absence." His brows were knitted, eyes all sad and cloudy. He tried to keep a straight face, but you knew better. Of course you did. He was your best friend since the moment you joined the GAAR. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I should be asking that to you. Are you alright? That fall was..." He paused and it was like he was choking back tears. "I-I'm sorry. If I had just been more careful, then you wouldn't be..."

"Rex, I'm fine."

"You can't walk." he muttered. "And you can't do much on your own. I took away your independence, this is all my fault." You knitted your brows together. His words made your heart ache, and the very thought of what he faced on his own without you didn't help. Your lips pulled into a frown deeper than Kamino's oceans. "That's not all, is it Rex?"

He clenched a fist as if it would help cease his rolling emotions. "E-Echo...if you had seen him. I'm just glad you weren't there."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Well where is he?" You had to fight the urge to sit up in anticipation. He was alive. That sweet, loving boy who taught you about protocols and manuals. As boring as it was, all those regulations embedded into your mind saved you more than you'd like to admit. He and Fives always snuck up on you whenever they came back from missions, or commed you in the middle of the night.

They both kept you up at night, but you never minded. Now one of those boys who had marched so far away had the chance of coming home.

"Where is Echo?" you inquired. Rex's eyes fell to the floor. "He's...Watt Tambor made him more machine than man. I-I can't..."

The doors swished open.

"...If only we had..." You shook your head. "Rex, there wasn't anything we could do. It was a miracle you found him in the first place."

The doors closed with a low hiss.

"Found who?"

Your eyes widened and you ripped your gaze away from the projection. A set of worn, tired eyes met yours. He looked different from the bottom up. His new armor, black and red with a familiar 99 on it. His smile, though a bit dampened, remained the same. He made his way over to you and took a seat by your bedside.

"Echo?"

"That's me."

You tried a smile, and it was all watery and shaky. "Oh, you've changed." He chuckled. "So have you. I heard about what happened. That was brave of you." No, it wasn't brave. You did it on instinct, without an ounce of hesitation. "It wasn't brave, I just..."

"Who else is crazy enough to jump in front of an explosion without katarn-class armour?"

You could name a few people. Fives, for example. "Whatever. I just--I'm glad you're alive."

He smiled and it was a little broken. "Me too."

---

Before you knew it, you were up and running again. There was no time to walk because you were needed on a mission today. It was completely solo, but thankfully, a simple retrieval mission with little to no chances of a casualty.

You settled in the cockpit, taking in the familiar scents and smells of the well oiled machinery. Mechanics wasn't your strong suit, but you never minded dabbling in it every now and then. Today, there wasn't time to brush up on your beautiful ship. You had a job to do.

The jump to hyperspace was as smooth as ever. There were no creaks, no fumbling through space, and no bursts of smoke. But that was when you heard a crash from the storage room. Last tine you checked, the door had been sealed shut while the weapons and supplies stowed away as they should be.

Had you forgotten to tie them down? A long sigh escaped your lips. "What a pain."

"So is my backside." piped a chipper voice. Your eyes widened. There was no way you heard that voice correctly. Sure, it was young. You knew a few other people with a young voice. Sure, it sounded girly. You knew a couple other female coworkers.

"Sorry I snuck onboard," the voice added. "I promise, I was going to leave, but then you left and--" You swerved the chair around to face Omega head on. She smiled sheepishly, as if it would fix all the problems in the whole galaxy. Maybe it would have if the whole galaxy were as kind as you.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn this ship around and bring you back." you stated. Omega fiddled with the hem of her sleeves like it was the most interesting thing on the ship. "You’re short on time?" You resisted the urge to say something snippy in response. The look of uncertainty on Omega’s little face made you feel just the tiniest bit worried.

Maybe that was because uncertainty could get people killed on the battlefield.

"Omega," you placed a hand to your temple, "do you understand what you've gotten yourself into?" This was bad, really bad. Sure, the mission wasn’t as dangerous as it should have been, but intel was like the weather forecast. It was never correct. Taking Omega along with you wasn’t a good idea in any universe, and like Malachor you’d let her into the crossfire.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. “I didn’t mean to sneak aboard.” She definitely meant to sneak aboard. “I just wanted to do something more than...” She let out a short sigh, as if it explained what she couldn’t put into words. “Being on Kamino all the time is so boring. I want to get out and see the galaxy with my own eyes.”

She threw her arms towards the bright blue of hyperspace. You didn’t miss the look of wonder in her eyes, bright as a sun. “There’s more to life than rain and the ocean and the same people I see every single day!”

You couldn’t argue. Omega was right. Even during your recovery, the frustration of not being on your ship doing anything but sitting settled into you every day. You hated being cooped up in one place more than anything. Poor Omega had to put up with it her whole life, it was nearly unfathomable to understand what she felt.

A sharp sigh escaped your lips. “Fine, you can come. But my only condition is that you stay on the ship.”

Omega did not stay on the ship. More than anything, she was curious. She had no clue what dirt was, what kind of plants were carnivorous and deadly, or how to steer clear of all the battle droids.

You raised your blaster and fired at the rust buckets. “This is exactly why I said you should have stayed on the ship! Can you even fire a blaster?” Omega knitted her brows together and eyes the deece at your hip. More than anything, she was curious. Beyond that? Determined.

“No,” Omega replied, “but I’ll try.” She pulled the deece from your hip and peeked over the top of your hiding spot. The long, durasteel crate was just barely holding up. If you were a Jedi, then you’d say it had to be a miracle only the Force knew about.

The deece wasn’t a perfect fit in Omega’s small hands, but it did the job. She aimed at the droids, eyes focused and hands firmly on the weapon. She fired. Once. Twice. Three times. "Did I hit anything?” You fired your blaster a couple times and glared through the smoky haze.

A collection of bolts and durasteel scraps lay in a pile and you couldn’t help but be proud. Either Omega was a natural or she was incredibly strong with luck. Whichever it was, it helped you through the mission, and before you knew it, you were back on the ship with a data stick and an unharmed Omega.

“See, nothing bad happened!” she exclaimed with a grin. You took the blaster from her hands and strapped it back to your hip. “That was luck, I tell you.” Omega rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t! You saw--I was like, pow pow, and you went and hit that guy right in the face!”

“That was because he called me a filthy bounty hunter.” you said, a small smile creeping up your lips. “I can’t say I took too kindly to his harsh words.” Omega let out a laugh and you joined her. 

Tired. That was the first thing that came to mind when you thought of your mental state. Yet with Omega by your side, smiling, and carefree despite all the action, you couldn’t help but feel the electrifying sense of thrill. 

“Say, Omega? If you want to come back, maybe we can figure out how to get you off that rainy excuse of a planet more often.” you said with a small smile. She beamed, throwing her arms around you with a vigorous nod. “Yes! I’d love that!”

“Me too, kid. We just have to figure out how to convince whoever looks after you.”

BONUS:

A tall kaminoan towered over you with her beady eyes. Omega sheepishly played with her sleeves as you stared down the kaminoan. Stupid long necks. Nala Se blinked. “So this is where you have been, Omega.” That soft, cold voice of hers warmed at the sight of the girl. “Haven’t I told you not to run off? I see you’ve gone somewhere far today.”

Omega frowned shamefully. “Maybe...” Nale Se motioned for her to come to her. “If you would like, you may stay with (Y/n) again--if you are out of harms way that is.” She turned to you and you froze, eyes wide. “Wait, what?”

“I am giving you permission to have Omega under your care, as long as she is out of harms way.” You glanced at Omega, who glanced at you and then Nala Se with the biggest grin on her face. “Really?”

“Yes.” Nala Se smiled. “‘Really’.”

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.VI

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A brand new chapter opening the second week of posting of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the incredible @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

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The morning brings a thunderstorm with it.

The treetops of the tall pines of the forest outside bend under the gusts of wind, and the heavy, dark clouds cover the sky as far as eyes can see.

Geralt wakes from a clap of thunder, sitting up on the bed and pulling the fur blankets up to his chest to keep out the cold draft that seeps in through the window that he’d cracked open for the night.

Heavy raindrops clatter against the glass, and just as Geralt gets out of bed to close the window, unwilling to get the curtains wet, the steel-grey sky is cut through by a bolt of lightning that crawls across the clouds like a spiderweb.

Ever since Kaer Morhen, thunderstorms have been Geralt’s favourite kind of weather, the sheer force of nature tangible in the air itself.

He comes closer to the window, taking in a deep breath, just letting the rain-heavy air linger in his lungs for a long moment before closing the window.

In this weather, there aren’t many places that he could go.

Even if Jaskier was willing to let him ride into a storm like that, which Geralt doubts, Roach would sooner bite him than leave the warm, dry stables.

And though Geralt knows that he should be perturbed by his inability to leave, he just can’t bring himself to be.

He fixes the covers on the bed and dresses up quickly, leaving his weapons and armour in the room after contemplating for a few long moments whether or not that would feel like claiming it for himself. Sleeping in a room is one thing, he’d changed more inns that he could even begin to count, but leaving something in a room to then come back for it is another.

But spending another day in full armour when he doesn’t need it, like he did yesterday, seems unbearable, so he sighs but opts for just his worn black shirt before leaving the bedroom and heading down the hallway towards the stairs and into the library.

It’s really the only place that he can think of when looking for Jaskier.

The mansion is quiet, safe for the sounds of the storm outside, and like this, it seems even bigger than it actually is.

Geralt makes his way down the long hallway of the ground floor, thinking - though in the very back of his mind - that he’s getting used to this place, but when he reaches the library, he finds it empty.

It’s only a little before midday so surely, Jaskier must be out of bed. And if he isn’t, how is Geralt to find him in an estate this big?

Geralt stays in the library for a few more minutes, recalling everything Jaskier had told him about the mansion yesterday and trying to decide where to look for him, until he picks up the sound of the younger man’s voice, coming from somewhere at the other side of the mansion.

Having no other options, Geralt follows it, making his way through rooms and hallways, until he finds himself in front of one of the doors that lead to the garden, Jaskier’s voice now clear and close as he calls for his dogs.

By the gods, Geralt thinks, Is he really out in the garden in this weather?

He pushes the door open, the wind fighting him as he does, and steps outside, into the heavy, pleasantly cold air.

Jaskier doesn’t seem to hear him over the rain and wind, standing at the edge of the porch, where he’s still hidden by the roof, and calling for Asra and Lucio to come back to him, laughing as he watches them chase each other in the rain, wet to the bone.

He’s wrapped in an emerald-green dressing gown that billows and flaps in the wind like giant wings, and Geralt has to duck to the side not to get caught in the folds of the fabric as he comes closer. Though he tries his best to make his presence known, Jaskier still yelps in surprise when he reaches out to touch his shoulder.

“Oh, Melitele,” he mutters, the smile never leaving his lips even as he presses a hand over his heart. “Do you always sneak up on people, Witcher?”

He doesn’t look cold but his hands are freezing when he reaches out to shove Geralt in the shoulder with no real force, and despite himself, Geralt wants to pull him closer.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” he says instead, lifting his hands in surrender. “I thought I’d find you in the library. What are you doing outside in this weather?”

Jaskier pulls the robe tighter around himself and gestures to the dogs rolling in the wet grass, their fur stained seemingly beyond all salvation.

“They’re usually well-behaved,” he sighs. “But today they just ran away from me as soon as I opened the door of my bedroom. I don’t know, maybe they’re so excited because you’re around and they think that they’re now allowed anything they want.”

Another lightning tears through the sky, and Jaskier lifts his eyes, fascinated, only to gasp at the clap of thunder that comes a second later, so loud that Geralt feels like the windows of the mansion shake in their frames.

“Do you want me to help you get them back inside?” the witcher asks when the last rumbles fade.

A gust of wind nearly rips one side of the robe out of Jaskier’s hand, but he manages to keep hold of it, laughing.

“What’s the point now?” he asks. “They’re already dirty, might as well let them enjoy it.”

That’s… well, that’s true, Geralt supposes.

He still can’t stop thinking about the previous day, about all those little touches and smiles, about the morning in the library, and he’s both dying to see what would happen if he were to just reach his hand out, and is absolutely terrified of that idea, all at the same time.

He wonders what Jaskier would do if he were to wrap his arms around him, keep him from the cold. Or, alternatively, what he would do if Geralt were to pull him out into the rain right now. The dogs were, after all, having a lot of fun, soaking under the downpour.

No, Jaskier would probably never forgive him for that.

“Let’s go inside,” he says instead, reaching out before he can stop himself to put his hand on Jaskier’s forearm, getting his attention. “It’s cold out here.”

Jaskier’s eyes snap up to meet his, and though he hesitates for a moment, giving his dogs a wary look, another gust of wind makes him nod, leaving Asra and Lucio to themselves.

As he turns to the door, Geralt’s hand slips down his forearm but before the contact is lost, Jaskier catches his fingers, locking them with his own to pull the witcher after him back into the house. Geralt follows obediently, though his mind races, trying to catch up with the sudden warmth that spills through his body.

“Oh, you’re right, this is so much better,” Jaskier sighs once the door closes behind them and they’re met with the warmth of the hallway.

He’s still holding Geralt’s hand, and that’s all the witcher can concentrate on as they make their way up the stairs and into one of the smaller libraries which is really more of a reading nook now that Geralt thinks of it.

There’s a velvet settee by the fireplace but Jaskier just snatches the cushions from it and throws them onto the soft rug right in front of the hearth, plopping down onto one of them.

“We’ll be much warmer here than downstairs,” he says, letting go of Geralt’s hand.

He moves his wrist, the fabric of his dressing gown moving in waves of silk, and Geralt’s medallion suddenly stirs against his chest, but before his mind can fully register it, it stills again, and Jaskier is reaching for the matchbox on the mantel to start a fire.

Geralt shakes his head, coming back to his senses, and casts Igni, the logs in the hearth catching fire immediately.

“Trying to impress me with your little witcher tricks?” Jaskier teases, undoing the belt of his robe and shrugging it off.

Geralt hates himself for being disappointed by there being a chemise underneath.

“Perhaps,” he says, leaning back to rest against the settee. “Depends on whether it’s working or not.”

He wonders, distantly, if Jaskier would come closer if he were to open his arms and invite him in, but he can’t bring himself to try. Being led here by the hand doesn’t mean he’s allowed anything more. It might not mean anything at all.

“Well,” Jaskier murmurs, turning to face Geralt and resting his shoulders against the warm bricks of the fireplace. “Since it looks like we’re going to be here for a while, why don’t you show me what else you’re capable of, and then we’ll decide, hm?”

Fuck, Geralt thinks, Is he flirting with me or is he just being nice?

He shrugs with one shoulder, watching the younger man from under his lashes.

“Isn’t much that I can show you right now, I’m afraid,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to use Aard inside, and mind control has never really been my thing, so Axii is also a no.”

He thinks about Yrden, for just a second, and the picture that flashes in his mind is so tempting that he raises his hand to cast the Sign well before he gets the chance to actually think it through.

“I could do this, though,” he grins, watching the way Jaskier gasps as his magic forms into a glowing chain of purple, binding the younger man’s wrists together.

Geralt only allows it to last for a heartbeat, and then it’s gone, but the image imprints somewhere deep in his mind.

“Well, well, well, Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs, rubbing at his wrist. “Consider me impressed.”

There’s more distance between them than Geralt would necessarily like right now but, as if having read his thoughts, Jaskier shifts a little, until he can brush his ankle up Geralt’s shin, letting it rest somewhere close to his knee, still touching.

Geralt’s heart skips a beat at that but Jaskier doesn’t seem to be paying it much attention, like it’s as easy for him as breathing. And it probably is, Geralt assumes. People living in estates like this are born courtiers.

But it’s impossible not to play along, so carefully, still unsure on whether or not he’s allowed, Geralt reaches out to wrap his fingers around Jaskier’s ankle, brushing his thumb back and forth over the protruding bone.

Jaskier’s eyes sparkle in response but he doesn’t do anything else, just allows for it, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head against the wall of the fireplace, warming himself with its flames.

It’s quiet, safe for the storm outside, and Geralt almost feels peaceful like this, close enough to touch but far enough for him to be able to breathe. He shouldn’t be here, he knows it, but if he is, he might as well let himself have this.

A few minutes go by in comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire slowly filling up the room, and it’s only when there is another loud clap of thunder outside that Jaskier asks:

“Where are you going after you leave here?”

That is a question that Geralt had been asking himself through the good part of the night before he’d fallen asleep yesterday.

“Gelibol,” he says because that is still the only option that he can think of that makes sense. “Or back towards Roggeveen and Novigrad, there are always lots of drowners and water hags in those areas this time of year.”

He thinks, suddenly, about how he never mustered up the courage to ask Jaskier about those rumours of him being an illegitimate prince. Not that he would tell, of course. Things like that weren’t meant for anyone’s ears, Geralt was sure of that.  

But perhaps, if he were to tread lightly.

“I don’t usually gravitate towards Tretogor, but maybe this time around I will pass through, see if there are any contracts,” Geralt says with a shrug. “But that town is just too big, don’t you think?”

Geralt watches Jaskier’s emotions carefully, strives to register every single one to get his answer. The kings of Redania have been residing in Tretogor for what seems like forever. And a prince - legitimate or not - would surely have been to court, walked through the city.

But Jaskier’s expression gives him nothing.

“I do prefer Oxenfurt,” he says, locking his hands above his head and stretching with a soft little rumble that finds its way under Geralt’s skin. “Tretogor is too political, the only place you can find music or any sort of fun there is the court. I wouldn’t be able to live there for longer than a few weeks.”

The only place you can find music or any sort of fun there is the court, echoes in Geralt’s mind.

A thrill of both excitement and horror runs through the witcher, and he darts a quick look down, where his thumb is still brushing over the bone of Jaskier’s ankle, thin and delicate.

Would it change anything if he really was who the people in town thought he was? Would Geralt have to let go of him then?

Carefully, he asks:

“And you’ve been to court a lot?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“Enough to know that it’s too big. The ballrooms alone are so vast that it’s impossible to concentrate on anything, too many people and sounds and colours mixed into one.”

He shifts just a little and with him shifts the fabric of his breeches revealing a thin strip of pale skin on his ankle. Geralt sneaks a glance down, dying to run his thumb over it, feel the warmth of Jaskier’s skin, and when he finally does, it sends sparks up his fingers.

Jaskier watches him with a gleam in his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and though Geralt knows that it’s deliberate, he also can’t deny the fact that it’s working. That it makes him wonder what it would feel like to touch his own lips to it. 

What it would taste like.

Except, of course, he’s not allowed to find out.

“Why are you asking about court?” Jaskier asks, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Because the harder I try not to think about it, the more I feel like you really are a prince, Geralt wants to say.  

But before he can think of what to say instead, Asra and Lucio, dripping wet, run into the room, splashing water and dirt everywhere, their paw prints all over the polished wooden floors.

Jaskier laughs, shielding himself from their wet noses, and jumps up to his feet, out of Geralt’s reach.

And just like that, the magic is broken.

[presidentrhodes]

it’s spoiling @pedropascalisathot time 😏

Title: The Mandalorian Characters: Din Djarin, Peli Motto (feat. Boba Fett, Fennec Shand because they’re the superior trio) Summary: Din’s been laying low on Tatooine for months. It’s time he paid a visit to a friend. 

Din leaned against the balcony ledge as he stared into the distance, watching as the fading suns reflected on sand dunes that dotted the horizon. With a deep sigh, he took another sip of spotchka and turned sideways, to face Boba and Fennec. “I am going to be away for a couple of days,” Din said. “There’s something I need to do.” 

***

More than three months had passed since his life was thrown out of orbit, leaving him listless, in search for direction and for an identity. Bo-Katan wasn’t thrilled by his decision to return with Fennec to the Slave I, instead of fulfilling his promise to help in her efforts to retake Mandalore. Though she let him leave when Boba came for them, she left him with a pointed reminder of the responsibility that fell on him. Before he had left the bridge of Gideon’s cruiser, Bo-Katan had grabbed his arms and whispered: “I will find you again and when I do, I will reclaim what is rightfully mine.” It was both a threat and a promise, and Din had no doubt she would make good on her word when the time came. 

After arriving on Tatooine, Din stayed away from Boba’s court despite the other man’s standing offer to have him as an adviser. Instead, every evening, he allowed Boba and Fennec into his quarters for a drink and to reminisce. Both of them had been tactful enough to avoid mentioning Grogu, but Din knew Boba already had Luke Skywalker’s location tracked and that Fennec stood ready for a covert mission to extract the kid if Din ever said the word. Though he loved them as friends, and saw them as the closest thing he had as a family, Din hated the subtle, silent devotion both Boba and Fennec showed him. 

“Like it or not, you are the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore,” Fennec had told him one evening when Boba was away on business. “Even he recognises that.”

“Boba doesn’t care about Mandalore,” Din had shot back. It earned him a smile from Fennec as she patted his shoulders and refilled his glass with spotchka. 

“Well, yes, but he cares about you, and if you ask, I know he’ll follow you.” Fennec had raised her glass at him. “I will too.”

As the days passed, and Din grew accustomed to the heat and humidity on Tatooine, the Darksaber weighed him down as much as the beskar did. Residents and passers-by in the Hutt palace didn’t care much for his creed or his identity, as long as Din remained out of their way. One afternoon, things came to a head when he walked into Boba’s court, in search of his friend, and encountered a Twi’lek who flinched at his sight and, without prompt, fell to his knees and pleaded for mercy. That night, Din took off both the Darksaber and his armour, stashing them away under his bed. 

Unlike the time when he was forced to take the beskar’gam off on Morak, where the knots in his chest twisted and made it harder to breathe, Din felt his appearance in public the next day liberating. Boba had raised a brow in surprise when Din walked into his court in a loose black tunic with gray tabards and a dark brown leather belt but no one ever questioned his decision. 

Like everything else on Tatooine, the moment was fleeting and passed in a blink.

***

“Where will you go?” Boba said from where he sat on the floor, his back pressed against the ledge, while Fennec rested on a cushion, with her feet on his lap as he massaged them. She had returned from a hunt earlier in a foul mood that forced Boba to reconvene their daily meeting before the last of the daylight faded. 

Din kept his gaze fixed into the distance. Somewhere beyond the dunes in the horizon lay the Mos Eisley spaceport and the familiar docking bay three-five. Taking another swig of spotchka, he said, “Mos Eisley. There’s someone I need to see.” Din looked down at his palms. “There’s a mechanic—well, she’s a friend. She cared about Grogu.”

“The less people know about the kid and the Jedi, the better,” Boba said after a long pause. 

Din fought back the urge to tell his friend that he was wrong to cast doubt on Peli, that she loved the kid as her own and if anyone deserved the truth, it was her. But Din knew Boba meant well. The Imps wouldn’t give up on hunting Grogu just because Gideon had been captured and taken to Coruscant. The Empire was nothing but persistent and patient—on Morak, Valin Hess had all but confirmed that the Empire had its tentacles buried deep in the Outer Rim, beyond the notice of the New Republic, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce when the opportunity presented itself. 

“She doesn’t need to know all the details,” Din said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt the tell-tale signs of an approaching headache; a common ailment that he had gotten used to in the last three months where sleep became a rare commodity. Even as his body craved rest, his mind still galloped a million miles a minute in the crisp, warm Tatooine air, and the beige walls of his quarters closed in, leaving him trapped in his dreams. “Just—just promise me you’re not going to send someone after her. No intimidations either. Peli’s wellbeing matters to me, she’s a friend.” 

Boba bit back a grin and it lightened some of the weight on Din’s chest. He had spent all day locked up in his quarters debating the best way to bring up his decision to visit Peli without Boba complicating things. The man cared little for his own safety, despite inheriting every one of the Hutt cartel’s enemies, including those still loyal to Bib Fortuna—Din was surprised to learn how brashly Boba had killed Jabba’s old majordomo. When it came to Din, Boba had developed an obsessive paranoia that became the butt of many jokes for Fennec. Din had confronted her one day. “I don’t claim to speak Boba Fett but if I had to guess, he’s hoping when you become king of your planet, he’d finally be welcomed there like his father was,” Fennec said and her response had left Din awake several nights in a row, contemplating the burden of the Mand’alor. 

“Fine, I won’t bother her but make sure she’s not babbling away about the kid or you at Chalmun’s,” Boba said, kneading the balls of Fennec’s feet. 

Din rolled his eyes. 

***

Traveling from Dune Sea to Mos Eisley took Din several hours on a speeder, which left his back stiff and his hips sore. Moving around without beskar’gam eased the strain on his joints while the lack of a flight suit stopped his skin from chafing. He travelled light but still carried a couple of blasters tucked away in his leather belt holsters and a hunting knife concealed in his boots. It was the only way to stop Boba from sending a pair of armed guards on his tail. 

As he walked into Hangar 3-5, he found the docking bay empty and the unoccupied landing pad made the knots in his chest tighten. Din remembered the first time the Razor Crest was cleared to land in the hangar: Grogu was still a stranger, a stowaway whom Din avoided beyond keeping him fed and healthy. Being on the run from the Imps and the Guild had pushed Din’s already frayed nerves to the edge—he had hoped Sorgan could’ve been a sanctuary, both for him and the kid, but fate had other plans. 

He had come to Tatooine in search of a distraction and to earn credits; en route, Din learned how expensive it was to care for a child. While he had learned to survive on bare necessities, as part of his culture and his religion, Grogu required food and naps every few hours while his clothes fared poorly under his small but sharp claws. Now, the Crest was gone, and so was Grogu. 

The pit droids spotted Din in the middle of reminiscing from his spot on the landing pad. They came running towards him, beeping with excitement and waving their spanners. The droids stopped on their tracks in front of Din and looked around the hangar in search of the ship—one of them tilted its head to the side and beeped in confusion. Another droid whirred and dropped its spanner on the floor. The third one stood with its metallic hands on its hips, its round sensor fixed on Din as if waiting for an explanation on why he had shown up without a ship. 

In his few encounters with Peli’s droids, Din had never seen them as excited by his presence. He found the helper droids troublesome despite their well-meaning intentions and only trusted them after Peli had personally guaranteed that they wouldn’t wreck the Crest in their attempts to fix it. Din still felt uneasy around droids, especially larger ones which reminded him of the darktroopers that occupied many of his nightmares in recent months. In all of his dreams, they always took Grogu away and left him for dead, with his skull bashed inside the dented beskar helmet. 

“Can I help you, Mister?” 

Din turned to see Peli emerge from the building. She wore the same brown leather coverall with a blue undershirt as the last time they met. Her hair, still fuzzy, had grown longer, much like Din’s. Her expression morphed from curiosity to a frown as she looked around the hangar, similarly puzzled by the lack of a ship as her droids. Peli narrowed her eyes at Din as her grip on her spanner tightened. “What do you want?” She said without the usual welcoming warmth in her voice. 

Shocked, Din took a step back. It hadn’t been that long since he came to her, searching for directions to Mos Pelgos in the hopes of finding another Mandalorian. Her face had lit up brighter than a thousand suns when she saw Grogu and fussed over the kid like a doting aunt. It occurred to Din that Peli hadn’t seen him without the beskar’gam before and Grogu wasn’t there to help her connect the dots—and, the twin blasters that Boba had insisted he carried with him were visible on his hips. Din held up his hands in the hopes that she’d realise he meant her no harm. “Peli, it’s me. It’s Din,” he said. 

Her grip remained on the spanner as she looked at him, unfazed. “How do you know my name? Who are you? You have three seconds to answer that,” she said. In his periphery, Din noticed Peli’s helper droids creeped closer towards him, holding their spanners, as they waited for her signal to attack. Pointing a blaster at Peli wasn’t an option Din was ready to consider and even if he could dodge the first two droids, the third one was out of his line of sight. Instinct told Din it was behind him, ready to strike if Peli gave the word. With panic rising in his chest, Din blurted out: “It’s me, I’m the Mandalorian. You—you adore Grogu. The child. The green child. Peli, it’s me.” 

Peli drew her lips into a taut line and as Din spoke, recognition flickered in her eyes before she heaved out a lengthy sigh. As she put her spanner down, the droids followed and stepped back from Din. “Dank farrik,” Peli said, softly thumping her chest. “Do ya have any idea how you scared me, Mister?” She paused and gave him a once over. “What happened to you? Don’t answer that, what happened to your ship and where is the little womp rat?” 

Din let out the breath he was holding in as he closed the gap between them in a few, long strides and pulled Peli into an embrace. He didn’t know why he did that but the weight on his chest lightened further when she patted his back and said, with the usual warmth in her voice that Din had grown accustomed to, “All right, all right, I’ve got all night and Chalmun’s got a table with our name on it, let’s go.” 

***

Chalmun's was packed to the brim when Din and Peli arrived. The dim-lit tavern had a reputation for frequent outbreaks of violence, frequented by misfits, smugglers, and bounty hunters. Din used to be a regular patron in his younger days when he was part of Ranzar Malk’s crew, before the Guild came calling. Memories from those days filled Din with shame and left him with guilt that he had spent decades atoning. Peli muscled her way through the crowd and slipped the droid bartender a few hundred credits; within minutes, a table was cleared for them, its previous occupants dragged out of the cantina by the bouncer. 

Once they were seated, a waitress droid brought them cups of ardees. Peli pushed one of the cups towards Din and said, “Drink up. I can tell you need one to calm those nerves and then you’re gonna tell me everything and get it out of your system.” Even if Din wanted to say no, he knew he couldn’t. The decision to seek out Peli had been motivated by Din’s need for absolution, something only she had the capacity to provide. Fennec wasn’t religious and someone like Boba would’ve been seen by the Covert as the antithesis of what made a Mandalorian—their opinions couldn’t give Din what he needed. Peli knew religion even if she didn’t have one. He hoped she’d understand he didn’t become a heretic without cause, that his decisions had been influenced by something bigger than his religion. The sanctity of life, the life of a child, outweighed the sanctity of his devotion. Sighing, Din emptied one of the cups in a handful of quick gulps, wincing as the sharp, bitter ardees burned the back of his throat. 

“I broke Creed,” Din said, clearing his throat. He reached for another cup; the less sober he was, the easier it’d be to confess. “Took my helmet off, my armour. When I did it, I thought it’d mean something. I thought I was doing it to save the kid, and, I was but once I took it off—” He ran a hand over his face. 

“You weren’t sure you wanted to put it back on. You hesitated,” Peli said. She pushed another cup towards him and reached out to grab his wrist. “What happened to the kid? Is he—” She hesitated, unable to voice out her thoughts as she looked away from Din. He knew she tried to comprehend his unexpected arrival, without his armour, without his ship, and without the kid.

He shook his head and put her mind at ease. “He’s alive. He’s just—I found his people and sent him off with them,” Din said, weighing his words. Though he trusted Boba with his life, he didn’t trust the other man’s level of paranoia, heightened by a lifetime of violence and backstabbing. The last thing Din wanted was for Peli to get caught in the crossfire. “His name’s Grogu.”

Peli doted on the name as she repeated it. That was all they had left of the kid—his name and the memories he had made with them. “It’s cute for a little womp-rat. Where did ya leave him?” 

Din shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” Peli looked like she debated whether to berate Din for letting the kid go without knowing where he was being sent to. But when she spoke, her voice sounded soft and filled with understanding. “You think the kid is safe with his people?” She asked. 

“I do. He’s safer with them than he’s with me,” Din said. The more Peli knew about the remnants of the Empire and the Jedi, the more danger she’d be in. Ignorance would keep her safe, Din reasoned. “I’ve been on Tatooine for a while now.” The confession earned him a surprised stare, but she said nothing more. He gulped down another cup of ardees, experiencing the same burning sensation in his throat. Din leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He felt lightheaded. “I’ve been staying with Boba Fett.” 

“Ha,” Peli said, thumping her fist on the table. “I knew it. He’s one tough nut, I knew he was too stubborn to die.” She looked around the packed tavern and said, “He used to be a regular here, when he still hunted for the Empire. Polite manners, never started fights, but he was lethal in ending them.” Din hadn’t expected her to know about Boba nor had he known that his friend used to be a regular at Chalmun’s—Din assumed a spaceport cantina like that would somehow be beneath Boba. 

“Have you ever met him?” Din asked. 

Peli nodded. “Once. His ship needed repairing. He tipped well. What’s he doing these days? Word on the street was that he had died in the Sarlacc pit out in the Dune Sea.” Din smiled. Boba hated the fact that people on Tatooine had come to accept that the legendary bounty hunter Boba Fett met his end being slowly digested by a sarlacc. He shook his head and said, “He’s taken over the Hutt cartel. Business is booming, it’s keeping him busy.” 

“And what are you doing with him?” Peli asked, without missing a beat. “You haven’t been doing anything illegal, have you? You’ve gotta set a better example for your young one in the company you keep.” She paused as the weight of her words sunk in. Peli looked embarrassed as she patted Din’s arm and promptly changed tact. “I have to be honest with you, I am a little surprised to see you without the armour. There’s a story in there somewhere—if you wanna get things off your chest. We’ve got all night.” 

Din straightened in his seat. The alcohol’s effects kicked in; his tunic felt warm and the thumping cacophony of voices and music in the tavern sounded distant, and the room spun whenever Din moved his head too fast. He peered at Peli and looked into her eyes, where he saw concern and genuine affection. Her soft gaze reminded Din of the last time he had seen his mother more than three decades ago, the same earnest look in her eyes that masked the unmistakable sadness. Why is Peli sad? The question echoed in his mind. She pities us. Look at us, we are nothing. We have been nothing, hiding out here in the sands of Tatooine while Mandalorians around the Galaxy are fighting for our honour, our Creed. “You think I’m pathetic,” Din said, in a barely audible whisper. 

“What?” Peli reached for one of the remaining cups and finished half of its content in record time. Smacking her lips, she said, “Of course not. But you have to admit, you’re a bit of a mess, and I don’t mean you being here, drunk on ardees. What happened?” The earnestness in her voice broke Din’s resolve and drowned Boba’s previous warning. He staggered up to his feet and pulled his chair closer to Peli and sank back down again. Leaning close, he said, “All right, Peli Motto, I’ll tell you everything.” 

***

By the time Din finished narrating the last details of his life, the tavern was almost empty. He had told her everything: from the days where he played with other children in the streets on Arvala-7 to the day he swore the Creed, the day he broke it for the first time, the day he had lost Grogu and the day he had found him only to send him away forever. Peli listened without interruption and the cups in front of them were all empty. Slouching on the table, Din struggled to keep his eyes open as he mumbled. “I am a bad, bad man. Couldn’t even save the Covert, they gave up everything for me and I paid them back by breaking Creed. Boba and Fennec expect me to be the king of Mandalore but I am not fit to be a Mandalorian. I want Bo-Katan to take the Darksaber but she won’t, she wants to fight me for it. Have you heard anything like that? It’s crazy, I am giving it to her but she just won’t take it.” Din burped. 

One of the waitress droids came over with a pitcher of water and Peli poured him a glass. “Drink up, Mister. Your brain’s turning into mush,” she said with a hint of her usual jovial nature. Din struggled and most of the water ended up drenching the front of his tunic. Taking matters into her own hands, Peli stood next to him and held Din’s hands steady as he sipped on the water. “Useless,” Din slurred. “Can’t even drink water and they want me to rule Mandalore. Crazy talks.” He heard Peli say something but her voice sounded distant—before he could comprehend, his world turned black. 

***

Din woke up with a stiff back and a throbbing headache. The mattress under him was hard and the vicinity smelled like jet fuel; but it was the clammy heat that forced him to crack open his eyes, only to be blinded by the daylight that flooded into the room. With a low groan, he made another attempt: Blinking his eyes open, Din slowly sat up. “Dank farrik,” he muttered as his stomach churned. Stumbling to his feet, Din made a desperate attempt to search for a bathroom. On his way, he tottered down a narrow hallway until it led him out into the hangar where he noticed a familiar ship docked on the landing pad. 

“What the—” Before he could finish that thought, Din vomited. He emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor and recoiled at the rancid smell. He heard the excited beeps from the helper droids that had come running to investigate the fuss. Before the droid got any closer, Din heard Peli’s voice in the distance, getting closer. “Hey! Leave him alone.” He heard footsteps and within moments, Peli had an arm around Din’s waist while he leaned on her. “Don’t worry about the mess, they’ll clean it up,” she said, guiding Din back into the building and to the room he had woken up in. After helping him climb into the bed again, Peli poured him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. His mouth still smelled like an unwashed bantha but the water helped quell some of the nausea. Din looked up at Peli and flashed an apologetic smile. “I am embarrassed,” he said, looking down at his lap. “I let myself go last night.” 

Peli snorted. “Oh quit your whining or you’ll rust,” she said, but Din heard the concern in her tone loud and clear. “So, you passed out and had to be carried home. Big deal.” Her gaze softened as she reached out to smoothen his fringes. She pushed them back with her fingers. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve felt worse,” Din said, looking out the window by the bed. From there, he could see the Slave I on the landing pad. “You called Boba?” 

“Nah, why would I do that? He was at the tavern when you passed out. He carried you back here. If he wasn’t there, I would’ve had to drag you home and you’d be covered in skid marks.” Peli gave him a soft nudge. “Don’t worry, I’ve sent him away for a while. I figured you didn’t need an overbearing ex-bounty hunter on your shoulders right now.” Din’s grin widened and he reached for her hands, holding them between his. 

“What would I do without you, Peli?” He asked.

She scoffed but her lips curled up into a smile. “Probably mope around some more. Now, you listen to me carefully, Mister,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You did what you had to, to protect the little womp-rat. If you didn’t break your Creed, he’d be lost to us. Those Empire buggers don’t care if it’s a child they’re hurting to get what they need, but we do. Even in a place like this, in the middle of all the scum and villainy that is Tatooine, there are lines we do not cross. That is what makes us different from the Empire. Remember that.” Peli caressed his cheeks. Din leaned into her touch, biting back the tears that threatened to well up. 

“From what you told me and what I have heard about your people, you are honourable folk. That’s the warrior way, isn’t it? The way it looks to me, taking your helmet off doesn’t make you any less deserving of being a Mandalorian. I mean you fought in that big hunk’o beskar all your life didn’t you? You fought for your people, you fought for strangers, heck you saved my life from that little punk buddy of yours, you took on the Empire just to save a kid and I don’t know about you, but I don’t know too many people who’d do that for people they don’t know.”

Din hung onto Peli’s every word as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Peli wiped them away as Din dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from sobbing. 

“I can’t say anything about your religion but if it doesn’t recognise what you’ve done, everyone that you’ve helped along the way, the lives that you’ve saved, then maybe it’s the religion that’s the problem. You’re a good man, with or without your rusty armour, one that I am proud to call my friend. And I know that wherever the kid is, he knows how much you’ve done for him. He’s gonna remember and I hope that one day, you’ll see him again.” 

Silence descended on the room as Din searched for the right words. After a lengthy pause, he said, “I don’t know if I can wear the armour again, Peli. It feels—I don’t know how to be someone other than who I have been.” 

“And who’s that?” 

Din closed his eyes. For weeks, he kept the beskar’gam and the Darksaber hidden out of sight because their presence was a cruel reminder of what he had sacrificed to protect Grogu, only to lose him in the end. He had given up the very fundamentals that made him, him, to protect that child and it had left him without a home, without a family, alone in a vast, uncaring galaxy. Except—he had Peli. She had dropped everything to spend the night listening to his drunken rambles. He had Boba and Fennec. They had followed him to the jaws of death once to rescue Grogu and he knew they’d follow him again, no questions asked. He had Grogu; the kid had faced his fears to save Din’s life. And the tribe—whoever survived the massacre in Nevarro—was lost somewhere in the galaxy, perhaps waiting for Din to find them again. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to the Creed than beskar’gam and perhaps now that Din had completed his task, of delivering Grogu to the Jedi, the road ahead could lead him to that discovery. 

Din smiled at Peli; his first, genuine smile in months, one that reached the creased corners of his eyes and made his brown orbs sparkle. “I am a Mandalorian.” 

[scoooby]

The Reason to Live (is to Die For This)

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Beta: @tenderlyannoyinglight

Word count: 6.3k

Trigger warning: descriptions of pain, death and violence.

Relationship: Merlin/Arthur *if you don't like merthur it can be taken as gen if you skip the last hundred words

Summary:

"I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't.

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of. He should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him."

In which Merlin is stabbed instead of Arthur. Oops.

Merlin doesn't know where the blood came from, flowing down and not stopping. There's so much of it staining the ground and his clothes, forming a puddle, he feels dizzy and nauseous looking at it. It's been almost ten years, but the sight of injury still repulses him. It scares him even more because he can't find its source. No, it terrifies him. Whose blood is it? Where is he, exactly? But he tries not to dwell on it and wonders where Arthur is. Wasn't he just here? Silly Arthur, always disappearing.

He giggles, then sobers up. He has more important things to worry about. Like the blood. Blood is so red. Like strawberries. He wishes he could make strawberries right now, Freya likes them. Speaking of which, he should probably talk to her soon.

He touches his hand to his abdomen, startled when he feels something wet and sticky. Oh.

Oh.

It's his blood. He's been maimed. He's the one dying.

I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't .

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of, and he should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him.  But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him.

It shouldn’t be. He should be more carefree and alive and happy, like he is now. And he’s so happy.

He distantly hears a thud behind him, as if something heavy, clad in metal, had fallen.  Swords are made of metal. So is armour. Stupid armour. It takes so fucking long to put armour on Arthur.

He feels hysteria rise up in his throat, he feels like laughing, He doesn’t know why. He’s been stabbed, he should care more. But those thoughts don’t even hit him. He wants to run, to jump. He could fly, like Kilgharrah. Or Aithusa. Can Aithusa fly? He would have to ask Morgana.

But Morgana doesn’t like him.

Maybe Balinor would know when dragons start to fly. He knows a lot, right?

Oh, but he can’t. Balinor is dead. Balinor is extremely dead and rotting. Hunith would be sad if she found out, he doesn’t want her to be sad. She deserves the world. He won’t tell her.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, even though there’s no one there. “I won’t tell.”

He tries to get up, but his knees are weak. He doesn't know why his ears have started to ring. Hhhhh. Hhh. That’s all he hears. It sounds weird. Weird. Weirdweirdweirdweirdweird. What a word, All words should be like it.

Everything is just a blob of grey and black. All he sees is a spinning world and green spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t mind, he likes green. He tries to say something, to scream maybe, yet all that comes out is a small, meagre groan.

He feels his eyes closing- And that's it. That's all there is-numbness, and then nothing.

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he killed Mordred. The knight almost killed Merlin and dared to smile after doing so. Arthur couldn't just let him get away with it, no matter how much it pained him. Guilt doesn’t even come to mind. Mordred isn’t worth it - he tells himself as he walks, knees shaking, towards his manservant's body laying still on the ground.

He's bleeding at an alarming rate. His eyes are closed; his face deathly pale. Arthur doesn't bother with modesty as he rips the stupid brown jacket off (one would think he would come into battle wearing proper armor, at least). He had imagined doing it many times before, in entirely different circumstances, maybe with a bed underneath them.

Merlin torso is littered with scars as wood is with lines. Most of them are healed, so that only white lines are painting Merlin’s pale skin, while others are red, but still no cause for intervention. An enormous hole inflicted near his lungs, however does. Arthur’s not new to blood or injuries, but looking at this one does make him wanna vomit.

He stops, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the body. What can he do, dammit? He knows first aid, Gaius taught him some when he was little. Nothing has ever come  close or as grave as to this. He has been taught to call for the help of nurses, never to do it himself. He has to stop the bleeding, but how ? He's supposed to tie something around it; he remembers that much at least. He looks towards Merlin's face, exhausted and un-moving, a red cloth loosely tied around his neck. All he has to do to stop the blood temporarily, until he delivers Merlin to safe, more medically trained hands, is to tie the stupid red neckerchief around and hope for it to be the right thing.

He prays as he puts it around the gash. He's not entirely sure who he's praying to. It’s an unconscious reflex to beg for health. To be able to say it is someone else's fault, because he knows it's his. He should never have let Merlin come in front of him; let the sword pierce him. Damn him; damn Merlin; damn Mordred; damn the War; damn Morgana; damn everything.

It sickens him, all of it. This cave, this life. The air is dirty. The metallic smell of blood engulfing everything and making it its own. Throwing up would sound like a good idea if Arthur didn’t have more pressing matter at hand.

The air also smells of disappointment. What is he even doing? He's just two years into his reign, the army is practically gone. So many knights are dying in his name, right now,  with their belief in him. And now Merlin is going to die too.

No. Merlin can't die, I won't allow it. His resolve hardens as he picks him up in his arms, Merlin’s head on his shoulder, back bent so gravity can keep the blood inside. and carries him through the mass of dead bodies. Arthur places him on the horse and climbs on behind him, arms on the reins and still supporting Merlin’s head.

It's a long ride home. You have to make it. For him. Is the only thought he clings to.

The aftermath of the war lingers everywhere. Bodies within quarter of a mile of another, their sunken eyes staring at them as the ride past.

No one stops them, too busy focusing on their own injured. Arthur's head is down to not see them. They probably hate him. With all of his being, he agrees.

Morgana, from an early age, showed to be better fitted for the crown. Might have even made Camelot a better place, once upon a time, in a time long gone.

Now they're both just as terrible and ill-fitted for his home.

He tries not to think of her, it’s too painful. So, he focuses on saving Merlin again. Merlin. His best friend, who he had always hoped would become something more. His rock, the only one he could trust. Something he has proved over and over again, but something he had realised only during his father's funeral.

Uther’s death is a recent memory. Arthur had cried until there were no tears left to shed over anyone else after. Not out of love or grievance. His father’s love for him was long gone before he himself was. But because the moment Uther’s life ended, Arthur’s reign began and the feeling of no support or companionship with it. Morgana was gone. Ygraine had never been there to begin with, and the overwhelming responsibility hit him- hard . He had felt so alone. There was no one there for him. No one cared.

Then Merlin had placed a hand on his shoulder, whispered to him, told him he was going to be a great king and that he was sorry. As if Merlin was at fault. As if he wasn't the only reason Arthur was still standing.

It made him see more clearly that he might not ruin the kingdom- his kingdom. A spark of heat, mixed with joy and sorrow ignited like wildfire spread all over his chest, then back, arms and legs followed soon, and finally his face; he returned Merlin’s sentiment with a warm smile.

Maybe that's when he had fallen in love, or when he had realized that Merlin was the only one he could trust. He's still not sure which one it was, maybe the love had come slowly, or maybe, and just the seed had been planted back then, or maybe it had come fact and crashing.

And now he was going to be gone too. Arthur sighs, his eyes drooping from a week of no sleep. Everyone leaves. They always leave. Maybe he still had some tears left.

The dark is disorienting. Is he sleeping? Is he even alive? He has to be, he has to make sure Arthur gets back home.

"Emrys," he hears someone say. No, not someone- Morgana. Her voice is unmistakable, ragged and sickly sweet at the same time. She had always been like that, even before, a dizzying array of opposites.

"Witch," he whispers. "Why have you brought me here?"

The smugness in her voice is apparent, "That's very hypocritical of you, isn't it? After all, you're magical too. More than me, even." She didn't answer his question. "All alone now, aren’t you? No one to save you." He shakes his head; how did he manage to get here? The last thing he was doing was shouting at Arthur to bring him along ("I always thought you were the bravest man I knew." “That’s not fair.") Arthur's face had been so disappointed, and it had broken Merlin's heart. But if the war was still going on, then no one would be coming for him. He will have to get out of this by himself.

"What. Do. You. Want." He grits out, he doesn't have the patience, nor the time for this, he has to help them. The knights are strong, but even the strongest of human kind wouln’t last long against an immortal army. He has to be there with them, to help them, to keep them alive. No matter how much his words hurt, Merlin will still save them, because that is what he does.

She laughs. " You."

"I don't have time for games, leave me be."- turning his head around trying to locate Morgana’s voice; the darkness, the nothingness, hasn’t changed.

"Oh, but why would I do that?" Her cold hands are taking hold of his chin, nails digging into his face. She's right in front of him. Her silky dress pooling onto his feet, the edges of her dirty hair grazing his arms. "I have you right where I want you, no one is going to come to save you. I only need one thing from you." She pauses, her fingers snap; there are fires surrounding them in a circle. He struggles against the bonds of rope he didn't realize were tied onto him, but it's of no use.

She’s clearer now, seen better days too. Bags under her crazed eyes, a ragged and torn black gown, a cloak is gracing her hunched back. Frankly, it looks like she hasn’t taken a bath in months. She doesn’t even resemble the Morgana he used to know, the compassionate and cunning one.

This is his creation; he is the reason she is like this. He never should have listened to the fucking dragon, he should have told her about his magic, maybe things would be different then.

"I won't do anything for you,” he hisses. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, you will.” She says it like it’s a fact as if it’s inevitable that he will die soon, and a tremor goes from his head to his toes in a matter of a second. He’s supposed to be immortal, supposed to live for a long, long time. He’s not scared of dying, he supposes. He’s scared of what will happen afterwards. “And it will hurt, I can tell you that, it will hurt so much.” She inches even closer, impossibly so. “But that won’t be the worst part, no. The worst part will be that no one will care . Arthur won’t care. No matter what you have done for him, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

He’s silent as her words sink in. Sow themselves into his brain, into his heart, tries to convince himself it’s not true.

“Arthur won’t rescue you. You need his help, but he doesn’t have your back. He’s not even looking for you. If you’re drowning, if you’re about to crack, will he even care?” Something on his face makes her look smug like she’s already won. “Face it, Merlin.” That’s the first time she’s called him Merlin and not Emrys since she found out. “You don’t matter to him. He thinks you’re disposable, But I know better.”

Merlin looks up at her. "You're sick," he spits, although it sounds small, unsure. "He would look for me. I know he would." The statement is more for himself than her.

She gives a small, cruel smile as if to convey to him how pathetic he is. “All I need you to do,” she continues, “is to tell me where you are once this ends.”

He's about to ask her what she means, when the fires go out and it all turns dark again.

He stops in the forest, to rest, though he's not sure if Merlin will even survive by the end of it. He lays him down against a rock and lights a fire. He has to make something to feed them, or they'll die of starvation before Morgana's knights get to them. He surveys the clearing they're in, and he's about to walk towards what he is almost sure is an edible plant (emphasis on the almost, kings don't always learn about herbs), when he hears Merlin whispers. He snaps back, his eyes are open, a once tantalizing clear blue now murky and grey.

"Arthur" he murmurs. "Art- I-"

He holds up a hand "I'm here Merlin," he says. "I'm here but don't speak, you need to preserve your energy."

He doesn't listen. "I-I need to tell you something and," he gasps, trying to breathe, "and I need you to listen without interrupting."

Arthur wants to tell him whatever he needs to say probably isn't as important as his life, but the look on his face tells him that it might be.

Merlin shudders, clearly exhausted. "I ha-have magic," he rasps. Arthur's mind goes blank. It's a joke, it has to be. Merlin can't have betrayed him too. He takes a step toward him, to reach out maybe, but thinks better of it.

"Stop being silly," he commands, but it comes out shaky.

Merlin eyes seem wet. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bare whisper, "I ne-needed to tell you. In, in case, I-I, uh, die."

"You can't die." He clasps Merlin shoulder this time, leaning down. "But stop delusioning yourself Merlin. You don't have magic, I would know." It's not real, he would've been able to tell. This can't be true, it can't.

"And I use it for you," he continues, seeing his expression. "Only-only for you."

"Shut up," Arthur whispers. Merlin flinches back. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I-," he starts, but he cuts him off.

"Do not speak to me."

Arthur looks at him, something rising in his throat. He thought it would be bile, but it's laughter. Of course, of course, the only person he trusts has magic.

He stands up and walks away, until he's sure Merlin won't be able to see him.

Merlin’s heart sinks as he stares at Arthur’s back, she was right. He told him about his magic, and now he was leaving him to die in a forest, never mind the reason he was dying was that he had taken a sword for Arthur. Never mind that he had spent a decade protecting him, trying to stop hundreds of people from killing someone he himself hadn’t particularly cared for at the beginning. Never mind the fact that he had sacrificed so much, just so he could be comfortable living in a castle built on the sins of his father and the corpses of magic users. Ten years, all down the drain. Merlin wants to laugh, of course, it comes done to this. To Arthur abandoning him because he told him something he didn’t want to hear. Fuck him, fuck the pendragons. Couldn’t let him die in peace.

He stews in it for a while, too tired to cry. Too sick of everything to even care anymore. He won’t tell her though; couldn’t let it all go to waste. She’ll find out anyway, he knows, she has her sources.

Yet, he has more important things to focus on, Arthur will either come back, or he won’t. But his wound stays. The giddiness is gone, replaced with something else. Something warm, like a fire in his stomach.

He presses down on his abdomen.  as he sighs sharply through his nose, it helps with the increasing pain, stabbing his bone and overtaking his senses.

His lungs struggle to breathe, it feels as if they’re filling with water as he drowns; his whole body burns as his back arches and writhes. It’s like there’s thousands of needles being pushed into him from everywhere, as if the needles had been pulled out from a fire before being inserted into him- red hot and painful, so painful. He wants to stand up, to run and jump into a lake, but his legs feel like jelly, he can’t move. It hurts so much. He hears distant echoes of screams; they’re probably coming from him.  And just like that, it starts to ebb. The needles being pulled out hurts more, but the small burns they leave behind are definitely better than it was before. He slumps down against a tree, numb.

He feels his eyes droop. His pain is still shooting through his body, but at least he has some time before he has to feel it again.

He wakes up again in some time, not sure when. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. He’s just tired. He lays there for what feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t even set, so it was probably a few minutes.

To his immense surprise, he comes back. Arthur… comes back.

"Come back to finish the job, huh?" Merlin snarls, refusing to believe that maybe he came back to help him because he cared for him. It's too good to be true. Arthur is compassionate and he is kind, but not to magic users. "One stab wound wasn't enough for you?"

Arthur's already been saved from the imminent death of his which has been prophesied for a few centuries already, Merlin no longer has to worry, and he doesn't want to either. If this is his reward, to be called a coward, to be ignored and hut out, what everything had been leading up to, he might as well have died years ago. He used to wake up with only Arthur in mind, He loved him, still does. He’s not going to go out any other way.

He was the reason he lived, and he is the reason Merlin is going to die.

Arthur recoils in shock, his mouth is hanging open a little.

Good , Merlin thinks, he needs a wake-up call.

"What?" He asks.

Merlin hopes his expression can convey his feelings and how unamused he is because his throat is clogged up and he's too exhausted to say a word more. He may be a warlock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is in unbearable pain.

Arthur looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "You- you thought I was going to kill you?"

There's no reply. Arthur comes forward, stops when he sees how scared the other man becomes. He sits down onto the cold, hard ground. "Merlin," he says softly, "I, I'm angry at you, I'm not going to lie, but I would never, never kill you. I- how could you even-" he trails off, he kicks some dirt glumly. "Just, we’ll talk about this when we're back home, okay? When you're better."

Arthur doesn't know how Merlin could think that. He would never- he didn’t even imagine doing anything other than demoting him, at most. He feels betrayed, and he feels let down. But this is Merlin. If he practiced magic, there must have been a good reason.

Fuck. Has he been that bad of a friend? Has he been so distant that Merlin thought Arthur was going to kill him? He knows he should be angrier, and just a few hours ago, he was. He was ready to yell and to scream and to rage, but then he thought of Morgana. About how he used to love her, and how she changed when he turned her away, He doesn’t want the same to happen to Merlin, doesn’t want him to change too. If Merlin dies because Arthur abandons him, he will never forgive himself.

So, as he snuffs out the fire and tries to cover up his tracks, because he knows Morgana will be looking for them, he doesn’t say anything. When he picks Merlin up and places him on the horse, he tries to be as gentle as he can. When he squeezes Merlin's hand in what he hopes is comforting, he just hopes Merlin doesn’t hate him completely.  

Merlin floats in and out of consciousness for what he thinks is a day, but he can’t be sure. When he first wakes up, he’s trotting along on a horse, Arthur behind him, and then he’s in front of a fire, sitting on the ground, then the horse again. Once, he wakes up to strangled screams, but he’s not sure what was going on. He’s too scared to ask. The fifth time he wakes up, however, it’s different. It’s not a coincidence, it’s on purpose, Arthur is shaking him awake. He makes out that they are next to the lake, where he has sent away so many corpses already.

It's calm and serene, obvious to all that is happening around it.

“Wha-” he starts to say blearily, he knows they haven’t reached Camelot yet, so what is going on?

Arthur silences him by placing a hand on his mouth. “We’ve got company,” he whispers. Merlin stiffens up, never a good thing. Not when you’re trekking through the woods, your companion and you both in bad conditions, both starving, one run through with a sword. Not when your companion is the ruler of kingdom which has war being waged against it.

“Arthur,” he says, his voice still sounding heavy and drowsy.

“What?” His mouth feels swollen, and he is incredibly tired, but he can tell he’s agitated, so he doesn't beat around. “Use the sword."

He looks surprised, the expression he hates. The one he uses whenever he realises that he underestimates everyone around him. "I think I know how to use a sword better than you do, Mer lin."

Prat.

"I mean, don't use your old sword, use Excalibur. It can kill anything. " Saying even this much feels like he just ran from Ealdor to Camelot without break, but he manages.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes widen. "Did you hear that?" His voice is low but urgent. Merlin blinks, he didn't hear anything other than the wind and- oh, he hears it now. There's distant screaming, coming from a woman from what it sounds like. It's barely noticeable, but the sounds of footsteps and something heavy being dragged on the forest floor towards them is much, much louder.

They exchange glances, only for a second. Merlin gestures towards the sword and Arthur nods, not questioning him for once.

Merlin tries to speak, he wants to help, but his throat is becoming clogged, and his vision is becoming blurry and- I am not going to survive. He thinks, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he passes out once more.

Arthur does not dare to say anything, or to do anything, other than stay frozen in his spot, sword in hand.

The noises are coming closer and closer. The screams have subsided now, but the steps have not. He knows he should highball out of there, but he has a feeling that whatever is coming their way cannot be outrun, and 50% of his lessons in swordplay focuses only on telling him to follow his gut.  

"Emrys," says a voice. He inhales sharply, he recognizes that voice; knows it better than he has any right too.

"Morgana," he breathes.

She pouts, looking disappointed. "Seems like our Emrys isn't awake. Shame, I wanted him to see you die." She says it casually, as if she tells her once-brother that she’s going to kill him every day.

He reminds himself - this is not his sister, not the woman he grew up with. If he doesn’t kill her, she will kill him. And she will take his kingdom.

But he never meant for them to get caught up in this, he had to control himself. He can’t rush to hug her or stab her. He can see a flicker of what she used to be, the brave, young woman. He needs her to hold onto that. If she doesn’t, he will have to do it. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

But as she lunges at him, the flicker ebbs out. She has slipped through his hands, and she has changed. She has been carried away by the waves of sorcery, and it has ruined her. He remembers her being his hero when they were young, when they used to sneak out of the castle to look at the stars. Her arguing with Uther over whether it was right to commit genocide, the irony of which has stuck with him. Her teaching him to use the sword, having already mastered it herself. Her forcing him to make friends with Gwen, who grew to become his ex-lover and best friend and surrogate queen. The memories keep on coming, and they don't stop. But she, like everyone else, changed. No matter what time, she is different now. It will never come back. He wants to go back, when they were innocent and naive, when everything was left for them to discover.

But he can’t.

So he fights back instead.

It's all he can do to make his hands steady as his blade sinks into her stomach, as he buries it deeper and deeper until it comes out on the other side. She looks surprised, then grim. She'll be alive for a few days, at most, a few minutes, at best.

But he can't bear to leave her suffering, alive but dying, tortured. So, he stabs her again, this time aiming for the heart, and again. And again. And again. When he is sure that she's dead, he stops, sliding onto his knees. He glares at the sword in contempt. He killed her; he killed his sister.

No .

He killed the woman who wanted to burn his kingdom to the ground. He had no other choice.

But what sort of person is he? He's killed both his knight and his former sister on the same day, with the same sword.

He grips it harder, then looks at the lake. He needs to get rid of it, that's what he needs to do. No one can find out what happened today, he can't let them. He raises it and throws it in. He had thought it would land on the banks, considering how heavy it is, but it doesn't. Instead, the sword flies out of his grip, and cuts through the air, towards the lake. He swears he can see a hand reaching out of the water to catch it, but it's probably a trick of the light.

He turns to her body laid on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, mouth looking as if gasping for breath, cloak sprawled around her like wings. She's dead.

Somehow, he knows if he had used the other sword, she would not be; he knows enough about magic to realise that the high priestess cannot be taken down by a normal weapon.

But Excalibur was not normal, was it? Just another thing to add to his list of questions.

It takes him thirty more minutes to dispose of her body in the lake, staring as it sinks deeper into the water. He doesn't look away, no. He deserves this. He has to remember, and he will.

He doesn't move for a long, long time. Only goes so when he realizes that, although she is dead, Merlin is not yet. Arthur intends to keep it that way. He turns his back on her. Every step drains him, but he does it.

He can't be left alone again.  

It takes them two more days to arrive in Camelot. All of it passes in awkward silence, with Merlin getting paler and paler with every passing second. Arthur doesn’t say anything out loud, but his mind is racing. He doesn’t think of them. He can’t. So he focuses on magic instead. He’s not sure if he trusts magic fully, even now, but maybe he should be more open-minded. Maybe he should give it a chance. Maybe it'll be different than it was with Morga- her.

When he arrives, it is completely different to what he had expected. There are mourners, of course. People in white, downcast expressions, closed windows, doors painted black. But there are also red banners hanging everywhere, citizens cheering as he rides past, ignoring Merlin behind him. Cries of "she is dead" and "the war is over". People are grieving, and there are those celebrating. He doesn't ask how they know of her death, he doesn't want to know. They tell him anyway. Apparently, the army stopped attacking, all of a sudden. They had cried, and shouted, and had turned back. It is unclear why, but Arthur knows he is the reason. Morgana dying at his hands is the reason.

Some help him get to Gaius', seeing how unamused he looks. They clear out the road, offer them water. Arthur is grateful for them, glad that at least some of his people acknowledged the dying man and had tried to help.

The physician is busy when he throws the door open, Merlin in tow. There are many, many people here. All with varying degrees of injuries. Arthur can’t bear to look at them. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. So he ignores them, marches up to him.

“He’s- he’s been stabbed,” he chokes out.

Gaius’ eyes widen, and he rushes to follow Arthur. He lays Merlin out on one of the few empty beds, his body sprawls out on it. It’s sickening to look at as if he’s dead already.

He sets to work immediately, ordering Arthur to fetch herbs and vials and all sorts of things he doesn’t know the uses of. The people around them stare at him blankly, as if they know he’s the king, but they don’t fully recognise him.

He knows when he is not needed anymore, and backs away to watch. It's odd, and it feels so wrong. It's wrong to watch as Merlin is cut open and healed. Like he's invading his privacy. Merlin deserves better than to be put on a show in front of so many people.

He does try to help. Tries to tell as many people as he can to move to the castle, where he is sure more doctors would be willing to help, but some are in too bad of a condition to be moved as they are tended to by nurses. So he elects to focus on his friend instead.

Gaius' hands have always been steady, for as long had Arthur had known him. He cuts open bodies without worry, without even flinching. Which is not the case today, he notices. No, his hands are shaking. Not much as to be obvious, but he's known the man for far too long to not be able to tell when he's scared.

He thinks Merlin is going to die .

Arthur recoils violently. He doesn't know where the thought came from, because it's not true. It can’t be.

Merlin is going to survive. He tells himself.

Merlin. Is. Going. To. Survive.

Merlinisgoingtosurvive

MerlinisgoingtosurviveMerlinisgoingtosurvuveMerlinisgoingtosurvive

He repeats under his breath, rocking himself back and forth on his heels until he almost believes it. He has to.

He's not sure where the time has passed, because Gaius is in front of him all of a sudden but Arthur remembers him standing over the table just seconds ago.

Gaius shakes his head and it takes a few minutes for it to register in his mind. Arthur can't be looking at him, and his heartbreaking face. Just like him, Gaius' only support was Merlin. Was. Not is, was. Merlin is barely dead, and Arthur is already starting to think of him as a memory.

The physician knows what it feels like, but Arthur doesn't care.

"You should've done better," he hisses. He doesn't regret it. Doesn’t regret causing the shock he’s caused Gaius. But it's his fault too. He's the one Merlin took a sword for. But he needs to blame someone else. Because he doesn't want to think of the implications of Merlin dying at his hands. Gaius looks at him as if he is about to break, so Arthur walks away. From him, towards the corpse. He can't bear to face another person he's hurt.

It can't be true. There's got to be something he can do, something. He can't die, he can’t fucking die. Not when there's not much left to say. Not when they've just won. It's supposed to be a thing to celebrate, a war ending, he can't mourn. He can't give a speech to his kingdom which wasn't written by his best friend. Can't lose him. He doesn't think he'll be able to live without him.

He doesn't want to. He won't.

Merlin looks too much at peace, content in a way Arthur hasn't seen him in a long time. His long lashes casting shadows onto his freckled skin, his lips are twisted into a scowl, but he is at peace. He still looks the same, though. Beautiful and striking. Arthur's rock.

And dead.

Arthur’s hands move at their own accord, to stroke the side of his face. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, pushing through his throat. His people need assurance, and him crying like a bloody fool won't help. But that's the last thing on his mind. All he knows is Merlin is dead.

He isn’t able to stop staring, can't help wondering what he will do now. Whether the body will be burned or buried. He will be given a hero's funeral, it's no less than he deserves. He will be clothed in Camelot’s colours, or maybe his Ealdor's. Hunith would know better.

Oh lord, Hunith. She will have to find out through a letter. No. Arthur will have to go to tell her. He can't let her go through it alone.

He's about to turn away, to tell someone to help him move the body when his lips move.

Merlin's mouth opens, just a little bit, but enough to tell that he's alive.

Arthur feels a shock go through him. It was just an illusion.

Right?

"Merlin?" he asks. It can't be true, no matter how much he wants it to be. It was probably a trick of the light, but that can't be right. Because Merlin's eyes are opening and he's staring at him and some colour is returning to his cheeks and oh-

This the man he loves. And he waking up.

"Ar- Arth," he begins but Arthur shushes him. He’s alive, he’s speaking. He doesn’t know how, but it’s real. It’s actually real.

"I'm here," he assures him "I'm here." He shocks even himself as he leans down to kiss him. He's even more surprised when Merlin kisses him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls back, but he just kissed Merlin. It was rough, it wasn't perfect. But he's breathing. They're both here. He can't ask for more.

"Wha- what was," he exhales through his nose, as if speaking taxes him, "that for?"

"I wanted to," he says, shrugging, still not over the euphoria. He just lost him, he’s never going to again. The least he can do is not hide from the truth. "And, I, I also kind of love you. Like, I’m in love with you."

His eyes widen a fraction, but Arthur can tell he’s too tired to question it further.

He wants to say more, he has so many questions as to how he's still breathing, when he started practicing magic, why, but he doesn’t. He has time, they have all the time in the world.

He turns his back, yelling for Gaius. The physician shows up immediately, face lighting up when he takes in the sight of his son very much not-dead.

"We'll figure it out," he says, though he's not sure he heard him over the noise. "We'll figure it out." He grins. Yeah, they'll figure it out.

He swears, Merlin is beaming right back at him.

[greenhatsinthesky]

lockdown film no. 35 - Thelma & Louise (1991) dir. Ridley Scott

15/05/2020

This was my first time seeing this film — I’d never seen it before, didn’t know what happened even though apparently everyone knows the end, all I knew was that it was a sort of buddy movie and it won best picture in ’91. I was very excited and good god I was not disappointed

- “you a little young to be smoking? it lowers your sex drive” *lights up*

- the premise of this feels a little like American honey. Terrible home life for one of the main characters and she just runs away 

- I literally always forget how fit Susan Sarandon is. Who gave her the right

- the south scares the absolute shit out of me. however, I would love to go dancing in a country bar as long as I wasn’t hate crimed

- the scene with thelma and Harlan was well done in the sense that I felt physically sick watching it. Also I was glad that it didn’t get to the point where he actually raped her, and we got small details like him kicking her feet wider because that added to a real horrible sense of dread and we know that he would have done it if Louise hadn’t come in with the gun. 

- “I’m in deep shit, Jimmy, Deep Shit, Arkansas.”

- I love the fact that thelma just had her entire suitcase with her while she was sunbathing. Also appreciated the details in that scene like her scuffed feet and the bruises on her knees because it was super consistent with what we’d seen so far. And I don’t like it when things are shiny especially in stuff like this

- good god brad Pitt is so sexy in this

- can’t cope with the guy doing curls when their car was getting filled up

- “How come you never told me about what happened to you in Texas?!” TRAUMA BABIE

- a really big part of me wants to be brad Pitt’s character in this. I want to be a polite cowboy who helps women realise they deserve more than they think they do. Maybe not the mass shoplifting and stealing vast amounts of money from said women, but

- geena Davis and brad Pitt’s chemistry was… impeccable. They acted the scenes they had together so well and even their sex scene was almost endearing because when jd was kissing down thelma’s stomach she said “wait” and he did and he rested his chin on her and they just looked at each for a bit before launching into that whole bit and even something as small as that made the whole thing feel like the both of them were really into what was going on

- when we realised that jd had taken their money it was one of the more heartbreaking moments in the film, cos he seemed legit. It was quite funny actually, when that reveal happened my mum said “it’s bad that he took all their money, but at least he gave thelma a good time. And that’s important”. We ended up having an unexpected but nice discussion on the importance of women’s pleasure

- watching thelma rob the store was easily one of the most entertaining things, and it was ace to see her character develop over the course of the film

- “there’s no such thing as justifiable robbery” “where’d you get this?” “stole it”

- i loved how thelma just said “ok” when Louise said that she wasn’t talking about Texas. She told her to drop it and she did and just said “it’s ok”. She didn’t apologise for asking because then it puts something on Louise to forgive her 

- the hold up with the police officer was one of the politest things id ever seen and it wasn’t out of either of their characters at this point. Thelma was more confident and probably drunk and basically channelling jd at this point and Louise was the one following her lead so it was an almost complete role reversal from the beginning which I loved

- acab apart from Harvey keitel

- the way that their appearances changed throughout the film was so interesting. At the start Thelma was kind of frothy and buzzy and gradually she became almost hardened by all that had happened but she didn’t lose the essence of her character. Her hair changed and her face seemed to get darker and almost more weathered but not in a way that beat her down, in a way that made her stronger. And louise looked different as well — they both picked up memorabilia on the way so by the end they’re both wearing hats from the people who have hurt them and Louise has the cop’s sunglasses. She changes as well but she also learns from thelma in a way that we wouldn’t have expected her to at the beginning of the film. The final lorry driver scene had this in that they were playing off each other and Louise was remembering how thelma handled the nazi police officer

- the locations were spectacular

- i guess one of the things that this films about is how much people can stand until they can’t stand it anymore. The recurring theme of the god awful truck driver is a really good example of this because the first two times they see him, first they yell at him, then they ignore him because they’re on the run from the law, and then when they meet him again they blow up his truck because it was too much. he’d gone too far every time, it wasn’t like the last time was any worse than the times before, but this time they’d decided they couldn’t let him pass them by

- it was a really nice bit of comedic relief having the guy on the bike and the “oh my god he’s a nazi” police officer

- the car chase in this is one of the better ones id seen. And the shot of all the cars following them from high up? i’m absolutely reeling

- i nearly shit myself when they almost drove right over the edge and then the helicopter came up. 

- oh my god speaking of the hats they blew off both their heads when the helicopter came up and they didn’t put them back on ! In that moment they’re stripped of any of the armour they’ve gathered over the course of what’s happened and it’s just them without any of the other stuff so they’re the most vulnerable we’ve seen them for a while

- when I first saw it I really wasn’t expecting the end and it still hit me a lot second time round. Nearly welled up a bit at the bit where Harvey keitel was running after their car in slow motion

- I was just talking to my mum about this and we both thought it was interesting how the story so easily could have been the sexual assault, and while the story wouldnt go the way that it would if Harlan hadn't almost raped thelma, the story doesn't become the trauma, it’s so much more layered than that

- i love this film. Im really glad it gets clout and im pleased that there can be films directed by men that are about women and that are done really really well. Please watch it

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 22

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Jealousy, awkwardness, circumventing the truth, shift in emotions, still pining. A/N: Not my best writing, so have some HUGS as compensation! Remember to be kind to yourself. Ask or reblog for tag ;)

22. Cruci-fiction in Space

...  Loki   ...

Nearly a week has passed where the mortal has either studied theoretical magic or been wandering around the palace with her "servant" in tow in the hope of establishing a sense of direction. Hopefully soon, she can roam freely in search of socialization which in turn will result in information and allies.

Today, they're sitting in one of the gardens, [Y/N] with a heavy book in lap and furrowed brows while Loki simply enjoys the smell of the grass as they sit side by side on the bench. Odd, he muses, to be comfortable with someone in silence like this. As much as it entertains the Jotun to tease the woman – and as much as he lusts for her – it seems impossible to ever tire simply of watching her. He finds her breathtaking in the candlelight as she sits and talks about her new knowledge, and she is stunning now as the sun highlights an infinity of shades in her hair and the eyes squint towards the written pages. Sometimes, the plump lips free a mumble (most often a foreign word), capturing Loki's attention and binding it.

"Ah, here you are, lady [Y/N]!"

The loud interruption startles the lady in question but she smiles as soon as Fandral emerges from behind a lilac bush, carelessly breaking a cluster of flowers off to present her with. Gah! Sickening. But of course the Midgardian plays her part and inhales the sweet scent.

"Have you been searching for me, lord Fandral?"

"My entire life."

Groooaaaan! Playing the silent part, Loki has to bite his cheek from betraying his thoughts.

"Prince Thor has returned to Asgard," the blond man explains, "which means there will be a grand feast tonight his lengthy absence...I was hoping you would accompany me?"

She will not!

"Gladly." [Y/N]'s smile hasn't wavered for a second since the suitor's arrival. "Only...I must have completed this chapter before then..."

"Say no more! I shall leave you to your studies, happy with the promise you have given me."

Yes, run away, scoundrel! Oh, Loki hates not being free to go in his old friend's stead and the burning jealousy has no relation to the reason for the feast. But for the Warriors Three to side with our cause...I'll suffer through it.

...  Reader   ...

You have to admit: it feels amazing to have a man straight up woo you like in the romance novels you sometimes used to read. It's flattering. And a welcome distraction considering your life has turned into a tight rope act.

It's with your nerves on the sleeves, you enter the great hall and the cacophony of merriment – even if dinner isn't served yet, most Asgardians have already found something to drink and constantly do so to each others' health when they meet friends or at least anyone they care enough about – above all of which a new voice booms. Zeroing in on the sound, you spot Thor next to Fandral and the rest of Sif’s gang.

Unsure what to do, you take your time weaving between people before you halt a good ten yards away. I could...or maaaybe...but if I walk over...nah...The train of thought isn't exactly coherent as you silently debate what to do. Sif, Volstag, well all of them have become sort of acquaintances over the course of the week you've stayed in Valhalla and you wouldn't hesitate interrupting them if need be. But now? That's Loki's brother. And you don't believe the God of Mischief when he claims he "has no care" or says "he is and never was my brother". If only they could get a chance to talk...oh.

Sudden inspiration spurs you on and with head held high you march straight up to Fandral. "This time I found you first, my lord."

"Lucky me!"

Perhaps the sensation of Thor scrutinizing your face is pure imagination at first, still the moment you’re officially introduced to him, those blue eyes light up with understanding and he grabs your shoulders so suddenly your knees almost buckle.

“[Y/N]! From New York? I knew it!” Whether or not you’re supposed to answer remains a mystery as he pulls you into a rib-crunching hug. “Lady Aïsha came to us, claiming my br-Loki had abducted you, but we had nothing but her word to go on...no clue where he would have taken you if it were true...”

Managing to tap out of the muscular arms, a sharp edge of guilt burns through you at the idea of your neighbour having gone to the Avengers for help. And getting none. Last you saw her, she’d been soaked in her own blood on your living room floor. Alive, yes, and most likely traumatized after having been killed by a god and resurrected by a supposedly normal girl.

“How is she?”

“Aïsha? Fine. Mr. Stark saw to it that she was given the assistance needed.” The prince’s brows wrinkle as he look you over (slightly crumbled now but obviously in good condition). “And I find you in good health, even studying the arts of magic under my dear mother’s tutelage...how have you come to be here?”

Thor is not the only one staring at you for answers, and you don’t really blame Fandral or his friends as you haven’t exactly told them where you come from. Sif glares with obvious distrust while the men, in particular the blond admirer, seem curious more than anything else.

Use the truth. “Loki had hoped to use my abilities in some scheme or other...” You allow a sigh to underline the past tense. “But...as it turns out, I wasn’t able to do that and he left...at least he didn’t kill me. Since then, I’ve tried to make my way to safety and I consider myself lucky to have wound up here.”

“And I have it on good authority lady [Y/N] is excelling at her studies,” Fandral beams, fingers carefully skimming your back.

Any hope of getting to talk with Thor about his brother or events back on Earth are quickly dashed as the prince is called away, his attention constantly shifting as noble Asgardians nearly stand in line for a chat or whatever semi-immortals do.

The four friends carry on their usual partying with only a few odd questions about your past interspersed through the conversation. Fandral lets no opportunity slip by to court you, his hands often straying to brush away stray hairs from your cheek or simply touch your arm, shoulder, or back which sends uncomfortable shiver running along your spine.

It’s possibly the longest feast in history (at least as far as you know). Unable to relax, and forgoing the sweet mead, you’re grateful when it finally becomes late enough for you to say goodnight without coming off as rude.

“Allow me to walk you to your chambers, m’lady.” Fandral is already on his feet, offering a hand to help you up.

Ugh, no, not now. “That’s very kind...though I do believe I need some solitude.” Four pairs of eyes bore into you, silently demanding justifications for the wish. “A lot is on my mind...speaking with Prince Thor has brought back memories...”

“Say no more, sweetling,” Fandral’s assurances nearly make you gag, “but know that if ever an open heart or a listening ear is what you need: I’m there.”

Sif actually rolls her eyes behind his back. Maybe I can get her sympathy that way? Rather than commit to anything, though, you say goodnight once more and finally extract yourself from the noisy hall.

It’s blissfully quiet in the halls of Valhalla. Here and there, a guard dressed in the pompous, golden armour – Loki keeps calling them Einherjar – stands in brooding silence. They don’t interfere anymore after Queen Frigga officially welcomed you to the court and as extension placed you under their protection.

I’m like a princess in a fairy tale.

Almost magically, you’ve managed to recover a good mood by the time you close the chamber door behind you. Then you turn and find Loki standing, glaring at you with his arms crossed and red shimmer in the perfect eye.

Pulling back the lips to reveal white teeth, he sneers, “Enjoying the company tonight?”

[tobitofunction]

Jolly Sailor Bold Part 2

Plo Koon sends his wolfpack on a mission to Yavin 8 but Sinker got himself more than he barging for

A/N: sorry it took so long 

Sinker walked alongside Boost, his heart was heavy, he didn't even notice the group stopping until he ran into Wolffe's shoulder. "Sorry sir" he mumbled stepping away from him, Wolffe didn't say anything but handed CT-1701 also known as Wildfire," Take half of the Pack and make your way back to Coruscant," he said making the trooper nod," Yes sir". Wolffe turned to Sinker who was again with his mind somewhere else," Sinker, prepare yourself" Wolffe said making him snap out of his daze. Sinker's brows furrow," Prepare for what sir?"," Prepare to save your girl"," But the deal-"," Forget about it, don't like Pirates anyway" Wolffe clapped Sinker's shoulder.

Meanwhile, you felt more tired than before, they tied your hands up further which means the water only reaches until your knees. The top part of your tail feels try and it began cracking. The Pirates didn't pay you any attention and they view who did just made crude comments about you, some drunk ones even through empty bottles of alcohol at you but Hondo yelled at them for it. You thought it was because maybe kindness but he just didn't want your skin damaged. Your mind filled with thoughts of Sinker, his warm beautiful brown skin with his matching golden eyes, the fluffy silver hair which stuck out among his brothers, you both missed and hated him. Your head falls onto your arms and your eyes fell close, you hear the faint cries of your sister who died in the same way you are dying. You didn't shed a tear though, even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

Sinker walked closely to Wolffe, you could hear the Pirates drunk voices from miles away," It's going to be easier than I thought" Wolffe chuckled. He hid behind a large tree," They're drunk off their asses" he added seeing the many empty bottles around. Sinker's eyes scanned the area, his gaze stopped at you. His heart dropped, you weren't moving, your eyes were closed and your mouth was slighly parted," Is she-"," Don't Sinker" Boost cut his brothers off. He noticed the quick attachment his brother had to you, he never saw his brother like this before. Unlike the others Sinker never really had fling, mostly because Wolffe was the one who got the most attention from girls but also he never seemed interested in one. When he met you however it changed and Boost could see that." Let's not take any chances though, Sinker you get the girl and we do the rest" Wolffe said making everyone nod. Comet handed Sinker an extra set of blacks, "I don't need it, I'm freeing her. I don't deserve her" Sinker said pushing Boost hand away," Be careful Sinker"

Wolffe was the first one to start shooting, Hondo stumbled of the log he was sitting. It took the Pirates a minute to understand that they where under attack," Keep flipper save" Hondo slurred to his men. The clones had an upper hand as the Pirates were drunk and shot either one of their own or completely missed the clones. Sinker sneaked up on the two Pirates and smashed their heads together, knocking them out in seconds. Sinker chuckled but it quickly got stuck in his throat when he felt the presents of something massive behind him. He slowly turned and saw a pirate who was a giant. His face was scared and mangled, one of his eyes were gone and his teeth were sharp," Sup, just passing aaa" he screamed as he was grabbed by the throat," Clone not allowed" he said, his breath smelled horrible and his speech wasn't the best either because of the previous taken alcohol and some missing teeth and his tongue seemed half gone. The pirate pulled out a knife and swung it towards Sinker, who grabbed him by the wrist and tried with all his strength to get it away from him. The Pirate was stronger however and pierced through his Armour into his stomach. Sinker  cried out as the Pirate twisted the knife before dropping him onto the ground, knife still stuck inside his stomach."Stupid clone-" a shot went off cutting of the Pirate, Sinker laid on the floor panting holding the blaster from the knocked out Pirate," Sorry man, nothing personal" Sinker mumbled as the Pirate dropped dead to ground. Sinker pulled the knife out his stomach, blasters sounds were still filling the forest. Sinker tried to stand up but he collapsed back onto the ground. You were a few feet away from him, he quickly stumbled towards you, nearly falling into the waters because of his injury which he is ignoring.

He cupped your face stroking your cheek, you were cold, your lips where cracked and your skin looked sickly. Sinker untied you before cupping your cheek again,"Please wake up" he mumbled. His fingers tracing your lips and jaw,"Please mesh'la, please" his voice cracked and his eyes began filling with tears. Sinker began panicking and splashed water onto your face and pushed you down deeper into the waters,"Please" he said again. That's when your slowly feel better again, the cold water hitting the dried up areas, the soft touches of Sinker's hand. Your eyes slowly open again and met Sinker's onces, his eyes were wet with tears and joy when he saw you awake. He was about to open his mouth when you quickly jumped into the depths of the tunnel, swimming towards the depths of the lake which was filled with fish you species used to eat before predators took them away and you start feeding on human flesh. Sinker meanwhile was shocked, you were alive and free but he couldn't apologies  for everything he did." This girl isn't worth it, let's go" he heard Hondo yell, Sinker sighed bu quickly felt the burning sensation happening. He rolled onto his back, his Armour was stained from his own blood, he clumsily removed the Armour and pulled up his blacks, the wound was massive and will leave a scar. Blood was flowing non stop, dirt has found it's way in already. Sinker was about to clean his wounds when the two pirates which he knocked out earlier moans behind him.

Sinker crawled away from the two, towards the furthers water hole. He scoped water into his hands and poured into the wound. Sinker bit his lip not trying to his when the salt water his wounds,"Kriff" he mumbled. He still kept doing it do when your head popped up." Y/N!" he mumbled cupping your face, your eyes found his wound and your fingers slightly grazed it,"Your hurt". He took your in his and gave it a squeeze," Nothing, I can't handle mesh'la" he rubbed circles on your hand which gave you a sense of comfort," I can save you Sinker, you just need to ask". You cupped the back of his head," I just need one thing","Ask" you mumbled, your nose brushed against his softly,"Forgive me". You pulled his head towards you, lips locking, the kiss was messy but it was passionate. Sinker melted into the kiss and you pulled him into the waters, his arms wrapped around your waist while yours wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Unlike last time Sinker's lungs didn't began to burn, he felt normal, like he was on land and not going deeper into depths of a lake. He looked at you with a smile which you returned.

Wolffe was back at the ship with Comet and Boost talking to Plo Koon," I'm sorry General but it didn't feel right to leave her with them". Wolffe explained to his General what happened as the other half of the Wolfpack has already arrived, Plo Koon cupped his chin listing carefully," It was very noble of you Commander, where is that girl any way?". Wolffe looked at Boost and Sinker," Gone, Sinker did what he wanted and freed her" Plo Koon nodded," And where is Sinker?"," Also Gone". Plo Koon didn't say anything," What a -" Plo Koon was cut off by a trooper," Commander the waters". Wolffe turned and saw Sinker's head pop up from the dark lake, you coming in vision soon after, Boost grabbed two towels and ran over to the edge of the lake. "You keep surviving situations which you shouldn't brother" Boost pulled Sinker out of the water, his wound was still burning but it felt better," Let's get you to a medic" Boost said but Sinker wiggled out his grip and walked back to the edge," Come with us Y/N, nobody will hurt you. I promise" Sinker held his hand out, his eyes where filled with hope. You looked around, his brothers seemed kind, they weren't the once hurting you, Sinker saved you with the help of them. Your sister's wouldn't miss you, you didn't share their morals,"Please" Sinker said. You smiled and grabbed his hand, he quickly pulled you onto land and Boost placed the other towel over you. Sinker helped you stand on two feet," You think you can do it or should I carry you again?"he asked softly, his arm was around your waist," Your injured" you said touching his cheek. Sinker was about to speak when Comet opened his mouth," I carry you, Sinker you need to relax. I just carry her until the medbay, you will be healed by the time we're back home". Sinker bit his lip, not wanting someone else to touch you but he nodded anyway,"Is it okay with you?" he asked,"Yes". Comet scooped you up and carried you not far, the medbay was close. Sinker was already being checked when you arrived, Comet placed you on the chair beside Sinker. A spare piece of blacks where set aside for you to wear. Sinker grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze," I will teach you everything you need to know. Walking is first on the list though Mesh'la". You smiled and pecked his lips,"Thank you Sinker, for everything". Sinker didn't say anything he just placed his lips back on yours, his injury long forgotten, he was finally in peace with himself and he has finally a reason to stay alive in this war.  

[sharkbaitsekki]

Cloud was sick and tired of one thing after the next coming to bite him in the ass. He was supposed to be having a good day today, taking a long ride on his motorcycle in the wasteland outside Edge, letting the wind whip through his hair, not thinking at all about everything that had happened with the Geostigma only last week. Not thinking at all about Sephiroth, about Aerith, about-

“Shit!” His train of internal bitching was interrupted by the sharp grating sound of a blade locking with his, pushing down against him. Cloud didn’t have time to analyze his mysterious assailant, focusing on pushing him off and putting some distance between them. The cobblestone clicked under his heel as he jumped back a few steps, and Cloud was suddenly grateful that he had been in a more isolated part of the city when he was attacked. At any rate, any citizen passing by would turn right around and run if they saw the Cloud Strife with his weapon drawn against someone. 

That meant that Cloud wouldn’t need to hold back. His opponent, masked and covered from head to toe in foreign-looking dark armour, widened his stance in preparation for another attack, and Cloud quickly analyzed him, ready to retaliate. He seemed to be very well trained in the military arts, almost superhuman in strength and agility, not unlike some of the SOLDIERs that Cloud had fought during his adventure two years prior. He hadn’t said a word yet, which was odd, because everyone who randomly attacked Cloud nowadays always seemed to have some sort of lofty monologue to share with him. 

But not him. This time, the man struck, only expressing his intentions through the sheer strength with which he clashed against Cloud. 

Their blades screeched as they met once again, and Cloud immediately detached the smaller blade on his fusion sword to try and catch the other fighter in the stomach. Seeing it coming, the dark-haired man lifted his knee, hitting the blade away with his shin guard and then kicking Cloud in the stomach. Cloud fell back and broke the fusion sword into two, this time jumping in with dual wield to catch his opponent off guard. 

He was evenly matched, though, and he hated to admit it. It felt eerily similar to fighting Sephiroth, fresh in his mind from just last week. His mind began to consider the options on hand- was this another manifestation of Sephiroth’s will? Or perhaps another one of the Remnants? Kadaj and his brothers hadn’t been this well-balanced as fighters, however, and Cloud’s current opponent felt like a step above them in technique. On top of it, his appearance didn’t betray any allegiances; he bore no symbols, his armour was nondescript, and his tied-up hair was long, black and spiky, nothing like Sephiroth’s telltale silver. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to attack people without telling them who you are, first?” he called out in a taunt as he jumped at him, blades swinging at the speed of light but still being met by the other fighter’s weapon, a large, thick broadsword reminiscent of the buster sword. “What do you want from me?”

“You must die,” the figure finally said, his voice much younger than Cloud expected. It was warped by the black mask over his face, but still sounded familiar somehow. Cloud wracked his brains for enemies he’d met in his lifetime who could match the description. 

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he scoffed, fusing his sword together to bring a heavy swing down over his opponent’s head. “Why are you here? This got something to do with Jenova again?”

“Jenova...?” the figure repeated slowly, and suddenly, his elbows buckled under Cloud’s assault. “Urgh!” Struck by something invisible, the figure lost his balance, stumbling slightly and seemingly trying not to clutch at his head. Cloud was surprised at the unexpected falter, but didn’t skip a beat, swinging one more time. Caught off guard, the masked figure parried sloppily until finally, one of Cloud’s strikes hit home, gouging a deep mark through the mask and sending it to the floor. 

It clattered on the cobblestone noisily in the vacuum of silence that had been left behind. As he finally got a good look at his opponent’s now-uncovered face, Cloud felt his heart drop, heavier than a stone. His voice caught in his throat and his arms suddenly felt weak, his will to fight even weaker. In the blindingly bright teal of his opponent’s mako eyes, Cloud saw himself from years ago, when he had been in the same position, in the arms of the very same man. 

The very same man who looked at him without an ounce of recognition in his eyes, Cloud’s horizontal slash over his nose now dripping blood down his young face, his trademark smile nowhere to be seen. The man swiped a hand across his face to wipe some blood, and instead smeared it all over the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. Cloud knew it, knew him, intimately and unchangeably, never having forgotten him since the very last time he’d held onto his dying body. 

“Zack,” he said, and his voice shook terribly in the wake of desperate anguish washing over him. 

Across from him, Zack Fair simply frowned, and shifted his grip on his weapon. 

“Who the hell is Zack?” he answered flatly, and then jumped back in towards Cloud with his sword raised. 

Cloud couldn’t fight him anymore, his brain timing out as it processed the return of his long-dead friend, mentor, lifeline. Barely parrying some of the strikes, he lost some ground, Zack pushing him back mercilessly and without remorse. Cloud saw it in his expression- an absolute intent to kill. There was no trace of his iconic innocence and kind-heartedness left in his expression and it hurt. 

“Stop it!” he cried out, losing heart in the face of his biggest regret. “Zack, stop fighting!”

“I don’t know who that is!” Zack roared, bringing his sword down on Cloud in a devastating blow that reverberated in all of Cloud’s bones. He gritted his teeth against the assault and pushed back, finding an opening to attack but finding himself unable to raise his blade against the man who had been his very first in everything. 

“Don’t you remember me?” Cloud asked perhaps a little too desperately. A strike, dodge, counter with a growl of frustration, met by the expert swing of a blade. “It’s Cloud. Cloud Strife! And you... you’re...” There were no words to express exactly what Zack meant to him, even after all his time. He was a dream and a nightmare, a desire and a regret, lost but never forgotten. He was the world to a boy who had suffered to save it. “You’re my friend, Zack,” was what he elected to say, and it was met with another strike of the sword. 

“And you’re my mission,” Zack flatly replied, not swayed. His face was still blank, and it broke Cloud’s heart to see it so devoid of his usual brightness. Just when he thought nothing could hurt him anymore, his ghosts had to return to haunt him. It was ironic, and cruel.

“No I’m not!” Pushing Zack away once more with a screech of his blade, Cloud put everything he had, all of his pain and all of his sorrow into his words, hoping that Zack would understand. “I’m your living legacy! Zack!” 

That seemed to shake the dark-haired boy at least. His eyes snapped wide open in shock and he didn’t retaliate immediately, Cloud’s throat tightening as a flash of recognition ran across his expression. 

“You were the one who said it to me,” he continued, hoping, praying for the first time in his life for his words to hit true. “Your sword... you gave it to me and with it, entrusted me with your honour and your dreams!”

“My honour... my dreams...” Zack repeated almost mechanically, grunting when his expression twisted into one of pain. “They’re... yours...”

“All of the fights I’ve fought, all of the people I’ve helped,” Cloud kept going, unwilling to let up. “They were all because of you. Because of the life you gave me!”

“You are...” Zack grunted again, letting out a small gasp of pain as he clutched at his head, grasping strands of dark hair tightly in his fist. “My living...”

“Legacy,” they both said in unison, both breathless. 

The world halted around them. Cloud was only aware of the heavy beating of his heart at that moment, watching Zack war within himself, fighting whatever it was that had locked his memories away. Ultimately, however, whatever his brain forgot, his heart remembered. Just like how Cloud’s heart had never forgotten. 

“Zack-” he called out again, hoping for something to break through, but he was cut off by a harsh sweep of Zack’s arm. 

“Shut up!” he cried out, looking like he was in pain. “Don’t call me that!”

“That’s your name,” Cloud replied, affronted. “That’s who you are. Come on, Zack!”

“Stop it!” 

Letting out another cry of pain and some frustration, Zack jumped back. He took a few powerful leaps backwards and then leapt to land with a flip into a nearby lamppost. Cloud finally realized that he was trying to run. 

“Wait!” he called, rushing forward. “Zack, don’t go!” Not again, not again. 

“Cloud...” Zack simply murmured, something sad in his eyes as he glanced down at the blond for a moment longer. 

And then, without another word, he was gone, jumping onto the nearest rooftop and disappearing. 

“Zack!” Cloud cried again, shell-shocked. Too late, he gave chase, but by the time he’d leapt onto the rooftop, his long-lost friend was gone. 

He was left panting with exertion and emotion, standing still as life in Edge continued to go on around him, unaware of his suffering. Zack was gone once again, and the exhaustion in Cloud’s bones was the only reminder that the skeletons in his closet had finally crawled out for retribution. 

[hunidlo]

Call of Fire

CHAPTER 2 - The Purpose

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Warnings: slow burn fic,  violence, injuries, death, grief, language

A/N: English is not my first language so apologies for any mistakes in grammar. I’m basically making stuff up about the reader’s powers but why not, right?

Summary: Taunting a bandit is never a good idea. Thank Maker, Mando is near to save the day.

< Previous Chapter  //  Masterlist

***

The Mandalorian stands on the top of the ramp to his ship looking in the direction of your escape, the stick still firmly clutched in his hand. He tosses it to the side with frustration and shakes his head to clear his mind and forget about the whole incident. He knows he has more pressing matters to attend to right now. He looks at the tracking fob which is now flashing rapidly with red light. 

He lifts his head and looks again towards the woods where you have disappeared just moments ago—

“Shit!” he sighs.

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

You are trying to calm down and catch your breath. Your knees buckle, taking you to the ground. You sit exhausted, stabbing pain regularly shooting to your side. 

“You mean ... like ... a real Mandalorian?” Zullu is standing above you, wiping sweat from her forehead with dirty hands, smearing mud all over it. “Like from my gran’s stories?”

“Yep,” you say simply. 

And then you start laughing. Hysterically. It might be the exhaustion, or maybe you just can't believe you pulled off sneaking into a ship belonging to a Mandalorian. Maybe both … but you are currently laughing yourself silly.

Zullu is watching you awkwardly. She chuckles a couple of times until she is laughing with you and your guffaws echo through the forest.

“We should get back to the village,” you say eventually, still panting and your stomach aching from all the giggling. “I owe you—by the way—you totally saved me back there,” you admit and Zullu smiles at you in appreciation.

“D-do you think he’s following us?” Zullu is biting her nails and keeps looking over her shoulder as you walk.

“Relax. If he was, he would have already caught us.”

Oh, just how badly you have underestimated him.

***

You’re finally getting closer to the village when the sun is about to set. You’re exhausted but you can’t stop wondering, what is a Mandalorian doing on this planet.

Then again, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t know and if you are lucky, he’ll leave just as quickly as he appeared because the last thing the people in your village need right now, is more trouble. And he sure looked like a lot of trouble … broad-shouldered, mysterious, intriguing, and so intimidating … yeah, ... basically a definition of trouble.

“Gran used to say, most Mandalorians were mercenaries and bounty hunters. Maybe he’s really here because of ... you.” Zullu says out of nowhere, interrupting your—let’s be honest, slightly embarrassing—train of thought.

You shake your head when you process what she’s saying, “Nonsense, how could he possibly ... it’s been fifteen years ...”

“Yeah, but they don’t forget, you know,” Zullu frowns, looking genuinely worried. “You can’t be hiding here forever.”

“Fed up with me already?” you try to lighten the now heavy atmosphere. In fact, you are not overly fond of the conversation getting far too serious now.

“No … n-no, you know you’re my best friend”—she’s looking down at her feet as always when she’s struggling to find the right words—“it’s just … I feel … feel like you have a different … purpose, you know? ... Like in life? ... You’re not supposed to work on the field for the rest of it.”

“What’s wrong with the work on the field?”

“Except the fact that you hate it?” 

You don’t like her sarcastic tone—yet—she’s got a point. You love the village, you love the people, but a farmer’s life is just not for you. You crave adventure. Maybe that’s why you so desperately seek it whenever a chance occurs. Eventually, you have to admit to yourself that—to some extent—that’s why you want to fight the bandits … and why you so recklessly pissed the Mandalorian off ... 

… And then there’s the thing about your origin and your parents. Fifteen years ago, your parents left you here to hide you—to save you. The villagers took you in. You want to go to search for your parents but … you could never leave Zullu.

“I …,” Zullu continues when you’re being quiet for too long, “I just think … know actually … you’re meant to—.”

“And you?” you smile and try to steer the conversation away from you. “What’s your life purpose?” 

She shrugs, “Uh ... don’t know... haven’t found my purpose yet.”

“Well, I’m sure yours is much greater than mine.”

Zullu exhales through her nose. “Don’t you wanna know why your parents left you here, hiding you from—” She looks over her shoulder one more time. “—the Empire?” she whispers the last words as if someone might be eavesdropping.

Oh no, here we go—the topic you wanted to avoid.

“The Empire is gone,” you reply, “my parents are ... too—most probably—so we might just never know.”

“A-and you’re okay with that? I mean… not knowing who you really are?”

“Yes,” you say resolutely. “And I’m fine with working on the farm for the rest of my life,” not so resolutely.

Zullu tilts her head sideways, raises her eyebrows at you and blinks slowly.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” irritation in your voice is now undeniable.

“Because… the Mandalorian—”

“Oh, Mandalorian-Shmandalorian ...” you snap.

“... and I haven’t told you but—” she continues, ignoring your comment, “—I have overheard mum talking about you. She said … said your parents—”

“Do you hear that?” you cut her off. “Listen ...”

And then you hear it again. The horn.

The horn!

What? No. No! It’s too early, it can’t be ... next week … it’s three months next week … they shouldn’t be here this early.

Wasting no more time, you burst into a sprint and run to the village as fast as you can. Zullu’s right behind you.

The villagers are just as confused as you are but are already gathering on the square nevertheless.

“What’s happening? They shouldn’t—” Zullu panics.

“I know,” you exhale, “They’re early. We’re not ready.”

“What do we do?”

You sigh but do not reply to her.

The bandits head straight to the barn to look for the stored food. Their leader is watching over the villagers who stand in a line as always. One of the bandits comes over and whispers something to his boss, but you can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Take everything, we’re gonna need it,” the leader replies to his mate and dismisses him with a simple wave of his hand.

With that … Shit! The fire’s back. It’s back and it’s running through your body like molten lava— 

“You can’t!” you hear yourself crying out with a voice firmer than you expected. “You’re early … we couldn’t … the people will starve here!”

Zullu, who is standing next to you, turns her head in your direction wide-eyed.

You are not exactly sure why you did it—and what you should do next—but you can't let them steal all your supplies, right?

The leader takes a few steps forward and looks down at you.

Surprisingly enough, you’re not scared. You’ve seen a more intimidating gaze today and this guy is nowhere near as threatening as the Mandalorian. So you give him the most defiant look you have. And then—

Your little staring competition ends abruptly when the bandit slaps you with the back of his armoured hand and watches as you drop to your knees. 

Son of a bitch, that hurt. That fucking hurt. You hold your jaw in your hand and flex it as you feel the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth.

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

“Stupid … again … brave … but stupid,” the Mandalorian exhales to himself.

He’s lying on the top of the hill above the village, observing the whole scenario through the scope of his rifle. 

He rises to his feet with an irritated grunt.

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

You don’t remember ever being hit like this. Your jaw hurts but you’re determined not to let the bastard enjoy humiliating you. You need a few moments to recover but then you slowly get to your feet again, put on the same venomous look as before, and spit in the bandit’s face, spattering a considerable amount of blood mixed with your saliva all over his repulsive visage.

“You little ...” The bandit wipes the blood with the back of his hand and gropes for his blaster. 

To your astonishment—and before you can come up with an action plan preventing you from being shot in the head—he suddenly halts his movement and is now looking over your shoulder, squinting at something behind you.

You follow his gaze and turn around to see ... 

… the Mandalorian?

Huh, so he followed you back after all.

Only now can you take a proper look at him as he’s slowly approaching the village. Sure, you saw—and let’s not forget also fought—him back on his ship, but everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to fully scrutinize the way he looks. 

You should not be so amazed. You used to listen to Zullu’s grandmother—eagerly hanging on her every word—when she told the stories about the Mando’ade to local children in the evenings. You knew the Mandalorians are bound with a creed and their culture revolves around war and battles which the elderly woman used to tell you about. Never have you imagined them to be this impressive though. So you just stand there with your mouth half open, taking in every detail of him as he comes nearer. 

He’s tall, evidently agile and strong, judging by his arms and thighs. Well, and you also remember how hard his grip was on you this afternoon. His armour seems almost crimson now as it reflects the light of the setting sun. Beskar—you recall— that's what the old woman said their armour was made of. He has a rifle strapped to his back, a blaster by his side, and the wind plays with his cape as it flutters behind him. What a presence. 

His helmet is pointed at the bandit standing next to you, piercing him with the same intimidating look he gave you when he caught you sneaking into his ship.

“Let them go,” he says, his voice dark and foreboding.

“We have no quarrel with you, Mando. Feel free to turn around and walk away.” The bandit is trying to stay calm but he’s just whistling in the dark.

“If you don’t want to start one, leave the supplies and never come back.” The Mandalorian is getting closer and closer to the square keeping the same slow resolute pace.

The other raiders have already noticed the disturbance and one by one began emerging from the barn, joining their leader on the square.

The Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care much that he’s outnumbered. He stops and rests his hand on his holster. He looks at the villagers and jerks his helmet to the side. They understand the gesture and back up slowly. You intend to do the same.

However, the bandit leader notices your intention, quickly wraps an arm around your neck and pushes you in front of him, hiding thus his body behind you. He’s now taking slow steps back—retreating—using your body as a human shield.

“Kill him,” he growls and drags you behind the cart that is conveniently standing in the square with half of your supplies already loaded up.

Your back is pushed to the offender's chest so you're facing away from all the action and you can only hear when the blasters begin shooting all at once. You have no idea what’s happening on the square behind you. You can hope for the best but you’re not entirely sure what it is. From what you know, the Mandalorian might be just as barbaric as the bandits so it might be out of the frying pan and into the fire for the village anyway.

After a good ten minutes of shooting, dull bangs and a couple of shrieks, there’s silence. 

Suddenly—you’re being pulled out from the hideout. The last bandit standing is pushing you in front of him and you can feel a barrel of his blaster now pressed to your temple.

There are about ten bodies lying scattered around the square—lifeless—a smoke from the blaster shots still rising from some of them. With your peripheral vision, you can see a few of the survivors disappearing in the woods. They apparently decided to cut and run.

The Mandalorian is kneeling on one knee, leaning over one of the bodies, checking their vital signs. He swiftly draws his weapon again when he sees you two approaching.

“Drop the blaster, Mando,” the bandit warns. “Drop it, or I’ll kill her.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands up slowly and lays his blaster on the ground. However, as he raises to his feet, a flock of little whistling arrows shoots from his vambrace and flies towards you. You shut your eyes awaiting certain death. Instead, the pressure against your temple disappears, the arm around your neck eases its grip and the bandit falls dead behind you.

You raise your vision only to see the Mandalorian striding towards you. You’re still petrified and puzzled. 

Suddenly, he stops midway, staring emptily behind you. 

Um ... this is not good. 

You slowly turn around and gulp.

A horde of bandits, probably the rest of their encampment is rushing towards you. Ten or fifteen brutes armed with blasters, knives and spears got alerted somehow and are ready to avenge their fallen comrades. 

“Hide!” the Mandalorian shouts to you, raising his blaster again.

You do as you’re told. You run past him and across the square, noticing the huts are deserted. All the villagers must have already fled to the woods during the first shootout. You can only hope that Zullu escaped with them.

You dash into the woods not stopping for a moment. You can still hear the shooting behind you coming from the village. You should find the others, find Zullu, make sure she’s alright—

A figure comes from their hideout behind one of the trees about fifty feet in front of you.

It's one of the bandits.

“Going somewhere?” he smirks at you, his blaster already levelled at your chest. 

He doesn’t wait for your reaction. A blaster shot echoes through the forest. For a second time today, you close your eyes awaiting the inevitable. When you open them again, Zullu is standing in front of you, her hands spread out in a protective gesture.

“No!” you cry out, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes.

She falls backwards to your arms and you slowly put her to the ground with trembling hands, holding her head in your lap as you kneel under her.

You hear the bandit in front of you burst into laughter. Horrible, gruesome laughter. Rage is building in your body, igniting every molecule. You look at him to see he’s raising his blaster once more to point it at you.

You’re going berserk, the fire is spiralling through you more intensely than ever before. You feel like your body would combust if you hold it back longer. You can’t fight it anymore. You won’t.

Somehow instinctively, you stretch your arms out in front of you, your fingers spread out but you’re slowly, convulsively closing them up. The bandit’s body lifts from the ground. Confused, he frantically kicks around, searching for solid ground under his feet. Then, his face distorts into a horrifying, painful grimace. You are holding him in front of you for a couple of seconds until you abruptly spread your arms with an excruciating scream. Following the movement of your hands, the bandit’s body is torn in half in front of your eyes. His lower half is tossed vigorously to the left, his torso to the right, colliding with the nearby tree with a splashy thud.

You have absolutely no understanding of what just happened but you have no time to think about it now. You quickly turn your attention to Zullu who is looking at you with glossy eyes.

There’s a nasty blaster wound in her belly and she’s covering it with her weak hands. 

“Zullu—,” you cry out, “—fuck—what have you done?”

“I saved you, dummy.” Her chuckles turn to cough.

“... You’re gonna be alright. We’ll get you help … just stay with me, okay?” You try to shift yourself under her body so that you can attend to her wound.

She grabs you by your wrist and shakes her head. “I’m fine ... I’m ready ... f-found … my purpose ...,” she struggles to speak, “... now promise me, you’ll find yours.”

“Don’t talk like that—” 

“I saw what you did … I’ve always known … you’re special.”

“I-uh ...” You’re lost for words.

“... I overheard mum saying … saying your father was a doctor—clone engineer … worked for the … Empire … betrayed them … they hunted him ... that’s why your parents hid you here.” Zullu coughs and takes a couple of deep breaths before she speaks again. “She knows where they are.” Zullu looks straight to your eyes as she continues, “I’m sorry I haven’t told you before. I was scared you would leave, but I know now that you have to go,  you have to find them.”

“You’re my best friend, I won’t leave you, I need y—” a choking sense of despair causes your voice to crack before you are able to finish.

“You were never meant to stay on this p-planet ... you’re meant to do great things ... I know it ... find your parents, find your purpose … promise me ...”

You feel dizzy now. “Zullu—” 

“Promise me!” she urges.

“I promise ...”

She smiles at you, raising her hand to touch your cheek but it collapses on the ground beside her and you witness the sparks in her eyes die out.

You burst into tears and tug her close to you. Hugging and squeezing her motionless body—consumed by aching grief—you cry.

You do not know how much time has passed but you finally find the strength to get up from the ground. You gently pick Zullu’s body up. The shooting that could have been heard from the village before has ceased.

You slowly walk towards the village, carrying Zullu in your arms. You don’t care about the possible threat that might still be lurking in the woods. Your mind is blank, you feel empty inside. There’s nothing left, only pain.

You have lost everything today.

***

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[atopearth]

Fate/hollow ataraxia Part 2 - Food is Bliss (Phase 2)

What?! So, Bazett dying is something normal? She dies, he takes her home and she starts breathing again eventually?? Or does it just restart back in this house after they both die? Wow, they can practically never die since they’ll always revive back at the house, unfairrr! Anyway, Avenger huh? I guess he’s Angra Mainyu? Since he sounds like just a culmination of all the hatred and violence, whilst also being someone that’s weak enough that he can’t physically fight and win against other Servants? I guess it’s good that Bazett is his Master then since she’s so great at hand to hand combat~ Did Bazett actually summon two Servants? And the other one was Lancer and that’s why he’s able to stay in this world even though Kotomine is gone? Actually maybe she just made a contract with Lancer? I’m not sure how I feel about Bazett as a character, in a way she’s interesting in that she fights to protect the “correct” way of life, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel like she really cares since she seems to just feel like she needs to do this rather than this is what she wants to do? On the other hand, Avenger definitely has more thoughts and feelings towards things than he lets out with his superficial personality that he shows to kinda hide what’s inside.

Anyway, is that ghost house Shirou went to the place where Bazett and Avenger revive? Omgg hahaha, I love how when Sakura and Shirou had to cook dinner for heaps of people on the weekend, they started early on the brainstorming as to what they should cook, and when they were doing it, Shirou would refer to her as Chef Matou and Sakura would call him Chief Emiya hahahaa, they’re so cute! I think it’s one of the few times you actually get to see Sakura get full on cooking guidance from Shirou rather than the usual where they kinda just help each other out cooking their own thing. I wish we got to see the reactions of everyone eating the persimmon dinner! It would have been fun! I wanted to see the fruits of their efforts~ Oh well. It’s kinda saddening to think but it’s true that above all else, Rider is a monster that can and will eat humans if it comes to it, I mean, in the Fate route etc, it was apparent that she was unnerved over killing and devouring humans after all. As she said, she’s never been a noble spirit like Saber. LOL at Shirou wondering how it could be possible that young Gilgamesh is a nice little boy hahahah. I love their after dinner antics, lmao at Taiga losing her after dinner snacks to Saber through blackjack, she really gambles everything away haha. It was cute how Shirou scolded them🤣

Lmaoo, trust Illya to tease Saber for having a stuffed lion toy and then forcing Shirou to go buy her one too lol. HAHAHA, I love how Shirou teased Mitsuzuri’s little brother (Minori) about liking Sakura and tried to dig why he likes her🤣 Gotta love how much of a spoiled brat Taiga is to knee drop Shirou to play with her when he’s trying to sleep lmao. Honestly though, with the relationship Shirou and Taiga have, I can’t deny that I kinda wanted a Taiga route in FSN haha. Omg, I nearly died laughing at Shinji sulking at the harbour port for appearing only 3 times in the game when Sakura’s appeared so many times hahahahah. It feels like Shirou is the most smitten with Saber after all~ It was so cute when she discussed with him why bras and underwear had to have so many designs lmao. LOL, so it was Rin the troublemaker that told Saber to consult Shirou about it just because she thought it would be funny hahahahha. It was pretty hilarious when she insisted on Shirou accompanying her to the lingerie shop and Shirou ran away, but the icing on the cake was when Sakura and Rider overheard their conversation and Sakura wished her good luck on this quest lmaoo. Btw, I love how Shirou experiments making different snacks and he gets Saber the glutton to try them hahaha, so cute. Omgg Saber’s face enjoying Shirou’s baked sweet potatoes was so precious, she looked so happy🥺🥰 Lmao at Lancer picking up Makidera and them, and even saying his speciality is the javelin throw, I guess he’s not exactly wrong or lying hahahaha. Lancer being a part time florist is definitely a win win situation for him, he gets to pick up girls and earn some money haha!

I quite enjoyed Mitsuzuri’s meeting with Lancer, they got along pretty well due to their interest in martial arts etc, Mitsuzuri was so cuteee! I love how Shirou ended up bringing the party of Saber, Sakura and Rider to help clean Rin’s house hahaha, it’s true that with all her antiques and carpets etc it can be rather difficult by himself, not to mention how large the place is too! HAHAHA when Saber changed into her armour to clean Rin’s house. Lmaooo at Saber thinking all the gym equipment in the basement was what Rin tried to use as a catalyst to summon her but failed, it was so adorable when she started playing around with them all instead of cleaning hahahah, didn’t think Saber would be a bludger!🤣 It was really sweet to see Sakura’s reactions to things around the house, it was so adorable how she talked about Rin giving her the precious handmade ribbon (that’s on her hair) as a parting gift and saying Sakura has to repay it with a compounding interest rate lmao. It’s cute how she wanted Sakura to always feel connected to her through this “debt ”. Awww how cute of Saber to play with the lion plushie and even sleep with it at night!! She’s so cute!! Shirou totally deserved Saber’s wrath for teasing her about it so ruthlessly hahahah. Sakura is so mischievous! She literally just wrote down everything Shirou said in the letter to Rin hahaha, I love Sakura in this, she’s so cute but cunning at the same time hahaha. Omggg how embarrassing for Sakura that Shirou caught her hugging his jacket so lovingly hahahah! So cute though when she got all flustered. It was really thoughtful of her to notice that his button fell off and sewed it back for him.

Aww Rider going to school just to give Sakura and Shirou their lunches (that Sakura forgot) was cute, I also really enjoyed how Shirou ended up buying her food for them to enjoy together on the rooftop, it was really sweet of him. I don’t know, but Saber welcoming Shirou home and thanking him for his hard work at his job was so heartwarming, it really made me think she was such a great girl. I can’t believe this but my love for Rin is going to be at the same level as Saber if this goes on hahaha, Rin come back soon pls. I found it hilarious that Rider is so dissatisfied with bike number two that is mainly used for casual shopping, and really wants to use bike number one which is a racing bike, but Shirou is scared that she’ll be zooming around the neighbourhood like a rocket and refuses, which is very logical!! Lmao, just imagining Rider at her superhuman speed riding on that bike is killing me hahaha. Omg hahahah, that silly drawing of him imagining Rider being chased by the police on the bike and her escaping happily was so funny and cute LOL. Hahahaha, I loved how Rider tried to use her seductive skills to make Shirou bend to her will so she can use the bike, but then Sakura appears overhearing them, so she immediately runs away and leaves Shirou to deal with the misunderstanding hahahah. Honestly though, seeing Saber and Sakura co-operate happily making pie and enjoying the fruits of their efforts was so cute. They used to be rather awkward even though they got along relatively okay, so it’s pretty nice and refreshing to see that if they had the time to bond more, they could actually be so friendly.

I think I’m starting to see how and why some people might like Fate/hollow ataraxia more than the original game, because wow, seeing Sakura grow so much and become the captain of the archery club was so cool. I absolutely loved how resolute and strong she was, and I loved how she scolded Taiga for being a nuisance hahaha. It was so funny yet so cool to see that. And it’s not something sudden too, because Mitsuzuri stayed, supported and guided her into establishing more self confidence in herself into being a worthy captain so I’m glad it all worked out. Although it’s obvious Sakura would be a great captain seeing how she carries herself at the Emiya household haha. I also absolutely loved how she fed Shirou the obanyaki when they went shopping after, and it was honestly so beautiful and heartwarming to see how truly happy Sakura was. Not only is she now able to have a proper life where she’s spending time with people in the club and making friends with others whilst actually playing around doing other activities, she is also able to truly live for herself and not live in fear of anything in the Matou household. It’s so wonderful to see how nothing is holding her back anymore, and honestly this is the best ending for Sakura, or I guess, it’s more like a new beginning for her! I’m so glad they showed all this. Sakura used to think she didn’t have the right to play around and stuff, so seeing her enjoy all that made me feel really satisfied haha.

Confused Caster walking around the shopping district wondering what she should buy to make for dinner was cute haha. HAHAHA, I love how Caster and Sakura became friends because Lancer was trying to pick up Sakura and Caster hates his flippy attitude so she taught him a lesson lol. It was even more hilarious when Sakura subtly kept badmouthing Rin for using Shirou like a servant and Shirou not minding it hahaha, I think it was pretty funny how Shirou didn’t even realise or he ignored the fact that Sakura was talking about him and Rin haha. Omgg snake wine with a snake in it?! Reminds me of the crazy Chinese concoctions hahaha. Anyway, I really loved how persistent but considerate Shirou was into finding out what Rider likes to eat and what she doesn’t eat. I think it was really cool that rather than giving up after she said she doesn’t particularly mind whatever he and Sakura cooks, he instead asked her to come to the kitchen and get her to choose what she would prefer to eat from the ingredients they have. I really love how thoughtful Shirou is in changing his approach several times in order to get Rider to enjoy her food rather than just feel apathetic about it all. Lmao at Saber getting jealous that she doesn’t get to choose even though Shirou asks her what she wants to eat all the time hahaha. LMAO at Saber’s reaction to octopus and not realising she’s been gobbling it up all this time when she ate takoyaki hahahah. I love how through their “fight” about the weird things they eat, Shirou gets to understand a bit more about what Rider actually prefers to eat. Rin is hilarious for making Saber wear the fancy clothes Caster sent to them hahahah, it was so cute how traumatised Saber was hahaha. Shirou imagining Issei in a frilly dress was LOL, that cursed image hahaha. Hahahaha, I love how Saber didn’t give up on eating high class food when Shirou told her they were poor, and instead said that they should raise/make the ingredients themselves so that they could cook it in the future. It was so cute when she started talking about raising ducks and pigs hahhaha. Issei being fond of sweets is cute haha.

I don’t know why but I never thought about Kiritsugu’s grave at all lol! I never thought it would be in the forest at the Ryuudou Temple graveyard though! I wonder if Illya and Saber would ever go visit…but then again, Shirou doesn’t even go so I think it’ll be harder for them. Wow, I didn’t think I needed it, but hearing Kuzuki call Caster his wife and leave her in Shirou’s hands (to learn cooking lmao) was so..amusing LOL. On the other hand, Reikan (Issei’s brother) is a pretty cool guy! He’s chill, full of confidence but also a strict serious guy, I can see why Issei would admire him. He gets along nicely with Taiga since they were classmates so it’s pretty cute. I…feel so sorry for Shirou that he was caught between Otoko/Neko (his part time job boss) and Taiga, they’re monsters… Hmmm, the actual story part is quite short as usual. It was expected that the white hair girl was the one who restarted the holy grail war, but why does she become possessed and have claws come out of her? Poor Shirou dieddd! Is she hiding a monster inside that comes out when it meets Shirou at the wrong time? Hahaha. Anyway, I’m curious about her so I hope we’ll get more story stuff in phase 3.

[pocket-luv101]

Across Time || Chapter 12

Fandom: Servamp Ships: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht

Summary: Mahiru falls into a well and is taken to a new, fantasy world. He comes across a half-blooded cat demon trapped in a tree. After he frees Kuro, he helps him collect the shards of the sacred jewel. (KuroMahi, InuYasha AU)

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || Ch.6 || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || Ch.9 || Ch.10 || Ch.11 || (Ch.12) ||

“Do you two know about the demon slayers and where they may live?” Mahiru asked Kuro and Hyde as they were preparing to leave the cabin. “While I was gathering herbs this morning, I met one. We didn’t talk for long but he told me that the jewel was created in his village. Maybe they can tell us more about the jewel and how we can reform it once we gather all the shards.”

“The jewel was created thousands of years ago and there are many rumours around how it was created. No one knows it’s true origin or much about it except that it holds the power of demons and miko.” Kuro sat next to Mahiru who had a map spread before him. “The demon slayers’ village is in the mountains but I don’t know where exactly. They move every few years to stay hidden.”

“Even if we knew where the demon slayers live, we can’t possible go to them for help. They’re demon slayers. The moment they see us, they’ll try to kill us.” Hyde reminded them. He thought that Kuro would be more logical but he went along with Mahiru’s plan without argument. “I’ve met a few demon slayers and they despise us. I vote that we continue to gather the shards. No detours.”

“The demon slayers are gathering the shards as well so we’ll have to talk to them eventually. Thinking simply, it’s best if we approach them first. The demon slayer I met had a pet nekomata and they were close. He works with a demon so we should try to talk to him at least.” Mahiru said and looked to Kuro for help. “At least let me talk to them alone. They might be more willing to speak with me since I’m human.”

Kuro understood both of their argument. But, after their encounter with Touma, it was clear they needed more allies for their journey. He was powerful and they didn’t know when they would have to face him again. The wolf clan were in hiding so they couldn’t ask them for help. On the other hand, Kuro didn’t know if the demon slayer village would be willing to help them. He didn’t feel comfortable making Mahiru go into the village by himself either.

“We don’t know where the village is exactly. With Touma searching for the jewels as well, we can’t take a long break to search for it.” Kuro reasoned. He noticed how Mahiru frowned and his disappointment tugged at his heart. “We have to cross the mountain to reach the next town. While we’re going through the path, we can search for both the village and the shards. If we don’t meet a slayer, we move on.”

“Okay,” Mahiru nodded with a smile. He folded the map and placed it in his backpack. He hoped that they would be able to meet Licht again since Mahiru assumed he was willing to work with demons. Kirara was a nekomata and Licht treated it kindly. “Let’s go. We don’t want to waste the day and demons come out at night.”

“Just give me a moment to clean up the firepit. It should only take me a moment so you can wait outside.” Hyde lied but Mahiru didn’t question his words. He took his bag and walked outside. When Kuro would’ve followed him, his brother stopped him. Kuro knew that Hyde wanted to speak with him in private from how serious his eyes were.

The moment Mahiru closed the door, Hyde said: “Do you truly believe asking the demon slayers for help is a good idea? Can we even trust Mahiru? He doesn’t understand a lot of common things and he has to ask about them. Don’t you think that it’s a little strange?”

“You should learn to trust people more.” Kuro said. He was certain that he would also be suspicious if he hadn’t spent so much time with Mahiru. They hadn’t explained to Hyde that Mahiru was from the future either. He thought of a vague explanation. “Mahiru grew up in a peaceful village. You can call it another time with how different it is.”

“That explains why he’s so naïve.” Hyde sighed. “You weren’t this naïve years ago though. Mahiru has made you more hopeful and optimistic. I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because you’re now delusional enough to talk to slayers.”

“I trust Mahiru’s judgement in people.” Kuro said and looked at him through the window. “You will see that he’s right after we talk with that demon slayer he mentioned.”

“Why did Father order me to stay in the village? The castle requested our strongest slayers so I should’ve gone with them.” Licht complained to Kirara. He sat on the wooden gate that protected his village from demons. He stared at the path his father and the other slayers took earlier that morning. A nearby castle requested their services to kill a demon who attacked them for the past three nights.

“While the lord wanted our strongest, we cannot send you. You need to be here to protect our village while your father is away.” His mother said next to him. He understood the reason but he hated being left behind. Since he started training as a child, he was taught that slayers survived by fighting together. She seemed to read his thoughts because she added, “Everyone will come home safe.”

“Because angels fight together.” He repeated the comforting phase his mother taught him.

“The mission shouldn’t take more than a few hours and your father will be home soon. There’s a lot of work to do in that time so come down. Kranz made new boots for you and we want to see how well you can fight with the new design.” She lightly told him. She gave both Licht and Kirara a light pat before she descended from the gate.

Licht was about to follow her but he noticed something in the mountain path. A storm of sand approached them rapidly. Even from a distance, he knew that it was an army of scorpion demons approaching them. He jumped to his feet to warn the village but the flare of a horn interrupted him. He thought the others noticed the demon as well. “Demon bears are approaching on the west.”

“More demons?” He cursed. Most of their slayers were gone so it would be difficult to defend their village. They didn’t have time to evacuate either. Licht whistled and Kirara grew to the size of a tiger. He sat on its back and it took him to his mother below. “We’re being flanked by demons. The archers can take down the bears but the scorpions’ armour is too thick.”

“We need to send a message to your father and tell him that we’re under attack. We’ll fight the demons as long as we can until reinforcement returns. Licht, you’re the fastest person here so you have to be the one to send the message.” She told him.

“But I need to be here to fight!” Licht argued. He couldn’t stand the thought of running away while his village fought the approaching demons. The ground shook beneath his feet and he knew they didn’t have time to argue. The demons would be upon them soon. “Angels don’t run away. We fight together.”

“Get your father! You can’t defeat so many demons at once and we need help. Go before it’s too late.” She said and ran into the fray to help the other slayers fight. He wanted to fight with them but he couldn’t counter his mother’s argument. He climbed off Kirara and pointed towards the fight.

“Help protect the village while I get Father. I’ll be back soon.” He said and the nekomata nodded. The castle was nearby and he hoped they weren’t in the middle of the mission so they return quickly. Licht squeezed through a small opening in the gate and hurried down the path. He was known for his speed and how he seemed to fly whenever he ran. He prayed that his legs wouldn’t fail him.

Behind him, the sound of battle spurred him faster. The path to the castle was a blur to him because his focus was saving his village. He spotted the looming building before him but he didn’t feel hope or relief. Licht could hear a demon’s roar and they were likely in the middle of fighting. He didn’t want to abandon the castle but there was only one demon there while there were hundreds approaching his village.

A few soldiers in front of the gate tried to stop him but Licht was easily able to evade their attacks. He ducked beneath their swords and skidded to a stop in front of the door. He forced open the gate with a powerful kick. Licht took a few steps into the courtyard but he immediately fell to his knees. His hands flew over his mouth to stop himself from throwing up.

In front of Licht, a halfblooded cat demon stood over his dead father and friends.

He felt a sharp pain shot through his chest but he realized it was caused by more than the sight before him. Licht touched his chest that was warm from his own blood. An arrow struck his shoulder and he glanced behind him. His vision became hazy but he was certain that he saw Mahiru with his bow raised. Licht collapsed to the ground.

“I smell blood. A lot of it too.” Kuro stopped when the strong scent of blood caught his attention. His stomach turned and he covered his nose. Hyde did the same and they both turned to where the smell was thickest. Mahiru followed their gaze and saw smoke drifting above the mountaintops. He immediately took Kuro’s hand and pulled him forward.

“Slow down, Mahiru. These mountain paths are dangerous and you’re going to break your neck if you fall.” Kuro warned. He didn’t stop running as he swept Mahiru into his arms. He wasn’t surprised and he allowed him to carry him up the mountain. “That could be the demon slayers’ village or a demon attack. Do you sense a jewel shard nearby?”

“No.” Mahiru became more worried the closer they came to the smoke. The air was far too quiet. If a strong demon had attacked, it was likely gone by now. He didn’t to imagine the scene they would find for Kuro’s expression to be so grim. He wrapped him arms around his neck and pressed his face against his skin. Kuro was strong and brave and Mahiru hoped to share both with him.

They almost fell back down the mountain when they were meet with a logged wall. Kuro stabbed his claws into the wood to keep them from falling. He looked back to his brother and he was relieved to find that Hyde hadn’t fallen. The ledge next to the gate was thin and he could easily picture more reckless demons falling for the trap.

“Traps like these are the demon slayer’s specialties. I think we found their village.” Kuro hoped that the village survived the attack. Between the smoke and blood, he almost hesitated to enter the village. He didn’t want the sight to scar Mahiru but he reminded himself that he was stronger than most. He stood on the thin ledge and said, “If we walk around this wall, we should find a door eventually.”

“Or we can be direct.” Hyde said and gripped the lower bar of the gate. He struggled to pull it up and Kuro helped him. As the spikes raised out of the ground, Hyde kicked the sturdy wood. Once there was a hole in the gate, they dropped the bar. The ground shook slightly when it hit the dirt again and Kuro placed his hand on Mahiru’s back to keep him balanced.

Hyde broke off more of the fence and squeezed through the opening they made. The fact that a slayer hasn’t attacked us yet was a bad sign to him. He cursed softly when he saw the ravaged village. Human and demon bodies laid over the ground. He scanned the village but it was difficult to see if there were any survivors. “Slayers are strong warriors so I can’t imagine they would be ambushed so easily.”

“We should bury their bodies out of respect.” Mahiru said. He wished they had come across the village earlier so they could’ve helped defend the slayers.

“Be careful, Mahiru. There may still demons here so we should kill them before we bury the villagers.” He warned. Kuro noticed a large cat demon prowl through the wreckage and nudge a few of the bodies. It didn’t seem violent but he was still wary of the demon. While he summoned his claws, Mahiru let go of his hand and walked towards the nekomata.

“Kirara, is that you? It’s me, Mahiru. Do you recognize me?” He took out a biscuit as he approached the demon carefully. Kirara walked to him and sniffed his hand before it licked the treat from his palm. Mahiru petted the cat and spoke softly. “Where is Licht? Are there any survivors?”

“I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with my brother but I don’t think you can talk to a wild nekomata.” Hyde’s voice caught the demon’s attention and it growled at him. It calmed once Mahiru scratched its ear gently. “We won’t learn much about the sacred jewel here. Let’s start digging graves and make markings for them.”

“Wait, Kirara says that there are other slayers.” Kuro knelt in front of the large cat. He was able to understand the demon vaguely and repeated its words. “The village’s most powerful slayers were sent on a mission earlier today. The demons attacked shortly after they left. Its owner, Licht, went to get them but he hasn’t returned yet.”

“If there are survivors, I don’t know how to tell them about what happened here.” Mahiru’s voice was filled with sympathy. Kuro stood behind him and placed his hand on his shoulders.

“Father?” Licht’s sight was blurry when he woke and it took him a moment to focus his vision. His body was warm and a thick blanket laid over him. He tried to push it off him but pain shot through him whenever he moved. He fought the dull ache in his shoulder and sat up. The room around him was unfamiliar and he muttered, “Where am I?”

“You shouldn’t move with your injury.” He turned to the voice. He hadn’t heard the man enter the room and his sudden appearance made Licht suspicious. The man wore a spider mask so he couldn’t read his expression for lies. “My name is Touma and you are in my castle. The demons fled shortly after you arrived.”

“What about my father and the other slayers. Are they in another room?” He asked and touched the bandages over his chest. They managed to treat his wounds so he prayed they were able to help his family as well. He remembered his mother and threw off the blanket. “How long have I been asleep? I need to speak with my father and go back to my village!”

His determination was stronger than his body. Licht slumped to the ground but he claws at the floor to stand again. The man knelt in front of him and said, “You are the only demon slayer left. The halfblooded demon you saw killed the others. I heard rumours that they planned the attack on your village.”

A shudder passed over his body and his hands tightened in the bedding. “Give me my armour and boots. I will track down that bloody demon and the man with the arrow. I’ll avenge my village.”

“You’re still injured so you cannot fight them with your own power. But you can get revenge with this,” Touma held out a jewel shard to him.

Mahiru sat on Kirara’s back and let the large cat take him to the castle. The nekomata wouldn’t allow the others onto its back so Kuro and Hyde walked behind them. Kuro knew they could trust the demon because Mahiru recognized it from his brief meeting with Licht. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when he saw how he scratched its ears.

Kirara’s ears perked and it started to trot forward. Mahiru was confused by its sudden excited demeanour until he looked ahead of them. He spotted Licht and Mahiru waved to him. “You’re alive, Licht! It’s me, Mahiru. Do you remember me?”

Licht didn’t answer but he walked towards them. At first, Mahiru assumed that they were too far for Licht to hear them. He gasped when Licht seemingly vanished and reappeared in front him. He kicked his arm and knocked him off Kirara’s back. Mahiru hit the ground hard and his hand scrapped against the dirt. He couldn’t recover quickly enough to summon a shield to defend himself from Licht’s next kick.

Kuro took Mahiru’s arm and pulled him away from his attack. “Why does everyone we meet attacks us before they say hello? Can’t deal.”

“Licht has a piece of the jewel in his back.” He told him. Kuro kept a hand on his hip even after he stood. Mahiru faced Licht but he hesitated to fight him. He remembered the kind smile he had when they first spoke and his instincts told him that he was a good person. “Why did you attack us, Licht? Is it because Kuro and Hyde are demons? They not violent so—”

He wasn’t given a chance to finish when Licht continued to attack them. He was quick and Mahiru was certain that he wouldn’t be able to evade his kick without Kuro. He clung to his arm as he jumped back. The ground cracked beneath Licht’s foot and Kuro held Mahiru tighter against his side. “I don’t think your demon slayer friend is going to listen to you.”

A dark chuckle caught their attention. Touma stood a few feet behind Licht but he merely watched the battle. “Son of Hanako, your spiritual power is strong but it’s useless against a human. Licht, once you defeat these two, please return to my castle.”

Touma turned and left. Mahiru slipped out of Kuro’s arms and tried to chase after him. His instincts told him that the demon manipulated Licht to fight them. Thinking simply, the best way to end the battle without his friends being hurt was to force Touma to tell Licht the truth. He took an arrow from his quiver as he ran. “Stop!”

“Your opponent is me.” Licht stepped into his path and kicked his arrow out of his hands. “Demon slayers have a duty to protect humans. You forfeit that right the moment you and your friend targeted my village. My parents are dead because of you!”

“This is a misunderstanding, Licht!” He realized that Licht thought that they were the ones who attacked the demon slayers. A storm of anger and grief fueled his attacks. Mahiru questioned if they would be able to reason with him when he was so upset. He tried to chase Touma again but it was impossible with Licht’s relentless attacks. He lifted his leg high into the air to kick them again.

Hyde’s sword came between them to cut through his attack. He was shocked by how quickly the slayer adjusted his attack. Licht brought his foot down on the flat face of his sword. The power behind his attack forced him onto one knee but Hyde managed to hold his stance. Licht glared down at him while Hyde gave him a roguish smirk. “I can’t let you kill my brother and his mate, Angel Cakes.”

“An angel doesn’t need permission from a demon like you. I won’t let anyone get in the way of my revenge. Step aside, Shit Rat.” He ordered and placed more pressure on the sword. Hyde was impressed by his strength but he knew it wasn’t time for admiration. He tilted his sword and Licht’s foot slipped off his blade. He rested his sword on his shoulder to stop him from attacking again.

Licht knew that the demon would cut him the moment he moved. Hyde didn’t take his eyes off him as he spoke to his brother. “Kuro, Mahiru, go after Touma. I’ll keep this man busy.”

“Okay. Be careful, Hyde.” Kuro was confident that his brother would be able to defend himself against a demon slayer. He took Mahiru’s hand and they ran after Touma.

“Don’t you dare try to run away!” Licht ducked beneath his blade and tried to stop the two. He didn’t have much strength left so he had to defeat the two quickly. He needed to defeat the irritating demon before him first. While the blond man appeared human, Licht could sense his demonic aura. He dodged the man’s blade and kicked his leg. “Out of my way, Shit Rat.”

“I can’t do that. I understand how you feel when you said you want to take revenge on my brother. In fact, I felt the same just three days ago.” His smile annoyed Licht. He didn’t know how he could banter in the midst of a fight. He noticed how the demon didn’t counter his strikes and only blocked. “You’re in no shape to kill anyone.”

“I’m an angel.” He said simply and kicked him. Hyde gripped his wrist and jerked him forward to throw him off balance. When he fell into his chest, Hyde placed his hands on his waist and threw him on his shoulder. Licht thrust his spiked boot into his stomach. “Put me down!”

“You shouldn’t struggle so much, Angel Cakes. It smells like you lost a lot of blood and I don’t want you to lose more.” Hyde patted his leg and walked forward. Licht continued to struggle but then Kirara moved in front of them. He thought his pet would help him but it licked his hand instead. Kirara seemed to trust the demon even though it must’ve witness them attack their home.

Once he paused, Hyde said: “It’s time to talk.”

“Should we really leave Hyde like we did?” Mahiru asked. He readied his arrow as Kuro carried him on his back. “There’s no need to fight since the reason Licht attacked us is a misunderstanding. We also need more people if we’re going to face Touma since he’s so strong. I don’t know if I can summon a strong shield like yesterday.”

“Hyde can handle himself. That demon slayer appears strong but it’s obvious that he’s injured and can’t fight well. We should focus on Touma.” Kuro told him. He was more concerned by Touma’s earlier comment. Attacks fuelled by spiritual energy were ineffective against humans. Did Touma manipulate Licht to specifically target Mahiru? The thought made his stomach turn and he tightened his hold on Mahiru.

On his back, Mahiru released his arrow but it barely nicked him. He couldn’t aim well because the fur cloak billowed wildly in the air. He forced himself not to become frustrated and drew another arrow. Mahiru gathered his spiritual powers and aimed at Touma’s back. His arrow flew from his fingers and struck Touma.

His body didn’t fall to the ground like Mahiru expected it would. He didn’t seem to be affected by the arrow. Thick roots grew beneath Touma and lifted him into the air. Kuro skidded to a stop and used his claws to destroy one of the roots. The tendril felt like stone. He cursed when the root reformed and attacked him again. “I hate spiders.”

“Touma, how many lives do you have to ruin while you search for the shards?” Mahiru yelled. “You’re strong enough to take people’s shards without tricks and schemes but you choose to be needlessly cruel.”

“I only told the demons in the mountain that the slayer’s village would be lightly guarded today. The slayers often claim to be a strong group who can defeat any demon but, in the end, they’re all pitiful humans. Their pride and delusions are what killed them.” Touma brushed aside Mahiru’s words with his nonchalant tone. “Foolish humans are easy to manipulate.”

Something in the sky caught Touma’s attention and he looked up. Licht leapt off Kirara’s back and kicked his chest. His attack hurled him back to the ground and dirt rose into the air at the impact. He stood over his still body and glowered. “We are angels.”

Hyde had brought him to the battle a few moments early. The confession created a storm of rage within Licht. He didn’t know how he let himself be tricked by a demon. He hadn’t sensed a demonic presence when they spoke in the castle. As he glared down at Touma, understanding dawned on him. “You call my village pitiful but you’re to scared to be here and fight yourself.”

Licht stomped on his heart and the body dissolved into sand. A strange, wooden doll laid broken beneath his feet once the dust settled. Mahiru was confused until Licht explained, “A dirty trick. He created a demon doll of himself and sent it to fight you.”

“That would explain why he wasn’t as strong as the last time we faced him.” Hyde burned the remains of the doll so it couldn’t reform. Mahiru approaches Licht and smiled kindly at him.

“Thank you for your help, Licht. Can you show me the wound on your back?” Mahiru asked. Licht didn’t answer him because it was too painful to speak. He sank to the ground and Mahiru understood that he was accepting his help. He held out his hands to his back and summoned his spiritual energy to heal the wound. “Does it hurt?”

“The jewel shard repressed my pain. Take it out.” Licht unfastened his shirt and slid it off his shoulder. When Mahiru didn’t immediately take the shard, he looked over his shoulder to him. “If you’re afraid of hurting me, don’t. I don’t want the jewel in my body or else its power might corrupt me.”

“We wanted to visit your village to ask you about the jewel since it was created there.” Hyde said and Mahiru lightly hit his arm.

“Licht has been through a lot so we should give him time to recover before we ask him anything.” He chastised him. Mahiru took the jewel from his back and healed the wound. “Do you want to go back to your village where you can recover more?”

“My village…” Licht bit his lip when he thought of his family. Tears rose in his through but he stopped himself from crying. He didn’t want to break down in front of strangers. A warm haori fell over him and he looked up to see that Hyde was the one who gave him the jacket. He pulled the fabric over his face and he let his grief flow as tears.

Mahiru rubbed his back to comfort him. “I’m sorry that this happened to you, Licht. Is there anything we can do?”

“Help me avenge my village.”

[mairibarra]

M A N I A [part one, prologue.] 

pairings: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier, stanley uris/patricia blum, mike hanlon/bill denbrough.  word count: 3,142  summary: PENWISE ACADEMY is a safe haven for all those who are different. Supers have been the dominating force in the world for the last three centuries, and Penwise is their training grounds for North America. They’re not heroes yet. They’re just idiots with super powers. 

read on ao3

Eddie Kaspbrak watched the Maine scenery moving past him in a daze, his fingertips still tingling. He squeezes his eyes shut as another wave of nausea came waving over him. The last twelve hours still had a sick shakiness to him. The last few weeks had been the most freeing of Eddie’s life thus far, finally having his nights and what best of a life he supposed he could have had. For as long as Eddie could remember, his mother had kept him boarded up in their small Derry townhouse. Eddie had gone to school once, he believed, when he was young and his father had still be alive. After Frank Kaspbrak had died, Eddie had been taken out of society for all intents and purposes. For twelve years, the only person Eddie had spoken to was his own mother.

Eddie was sick, you see. His mother had always told him so, his whole life. He had some sort of terrible lung disease that meant if he ever got so much as a cold, he could die. Eddie had never questioned her, terrified of how easily he could just die according to her words, until about two weeks earlier. A terrible sense of longing and curiousity had come over him that simple night, and for the first time in his life- Eddie had snuck out his bedroom window and into the night.

That had been the night he met Martin. Just the thought of that made Eddie’s stomach clenched up twice fold. He could see Martin so perfectly, light up with the lights from the street lights and the moon, always smiling. Laughing. Martin, falling to the dirty ground, convulsing, spitting up blood.

“I wish we could have found you sooner, Edward.” The driver broke through Eddie’s thoughts as they came pulling up in front of a huge white house. It had gorgeous, old fashioned windows and Eddie thought that maybe it was the most beautiful house he’d ever seen. They certainly weren’t in Derry anymore. “I really believe that this is the best place for you. We’ll be able to help you here.”

Eddie said nothing, but stepped out of the car. The house seemed even larger as he got closer, looming up above him. It was easily five stories tall, and spreading out over a quarter of a street block. Eddie’s breath hitched in his throat, and he fumbled for the inhaler in the pocket of his fanny pack.

“You don’t need that.” A weird, distant voice came to him and Eddie jumped. He turned to face a boy with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes, sitting on a porch swing with a large book open in his lap. He stared at Eddie without blinking and an uncomfortable feeling settled itself in Eddie’s gut. He fumbled with his inhaler and it fell to porch, bouncing down the steps and rolling under the porch.

Eddie swallowed roughly, and looked up at the porch boy. He was still staring at Eddie, expression completely blank.

“Don’t mind Bill.” A nicer female voice came from behind Eddie. He turned again, looking at a dark skinned girl wearing what looked like modern battle armour, who was smiling a little disconnectedly at him.  “He’s a little weird. Doesn’t know how to mind his own business.”

Bill looked over at the girl, his expression still mostly blank though Eddie thought he could see a little bit of annoyance there. He closed his book and stood, walking into the house without a word to Eddie or the girl.

“Bill’s a clairvoyant.” She told him, placing her hand on what looked like a dagger of some sort that was fastened to her belt loop. “He doesn't really mean to pry. He just can’t help it.”

Eddie just nodded, not feeling quite ready to start asking a bunch of questions. He didn’t even know what a clairvoyant was, or how it had anything to do with Eddie’s inhaler.

“My name’s Kay.” Kay said, gesturing towards the front door of the large building. “I think you’re going to fit in well around here, Edward Kaspbrak. Penwise is the best super academy in the country, you’re in good hands.”

Eddie swallowed roughly, adjusting the ugly yellow gloves his mother had forced onto his hands when he’d gotten home, sobbing. Had it really only been that morning he’d been at home, with his mother, praying for comfort and finding the opposite? It felt like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know what a super academy is. I don’t really know why I’m here. One minute I was meeting my boyfriend and the next-” Eddie let out a rough shake of breath and Kay was giving him a sympathetic look.

“I know it’s hard,” Kay said with a short nod. “Especially when this life is thrusted on you. Half of our mission here at Penwise is to make our students as comfortable as possible at all times. Train them to control what they can do, and train them to survive.”

“Survive?” Eddie asked, voice cracking, heart racing.

A dark look came over Kay’s face. “Just like in any society, there’s a good and a bad in ours. It’s just a little more dangerous with people like us. All our people need to know how to defend themselves, and protect those who cannot protect themselves. It’s our birth right.”

Eddie gaped. Twenty-four hours ago he hadn’t even known that super powers actually existed outside of those Saturday morning cartoons his mother hated him watching, but now he found that not only did superheroes really protect the world- but that he was supposed to be one of them.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” Kay chuckled, ushering Eddie into the house. It was even more grand from inside, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever felt so small and unimportant. “Mike will explain everything to you. He’s much better at this stuff than I am, but he’s in combat training with one of our higher levels so that conversation will have to wait.”

Eddie nodded, turning to attention as a curly haired, properly dressed boy came into the front foyer with a steaming cup in his hands. Eddie suddenly felt surrounded by the smell of the apple pie his Ma would make on Thanksgiving, and for the first time, Eddie felt a pang of homesickness.

“Oh!” Kay seemed surprised and the boy with the tea looked completely stuck. “Stan, this is Eddie, our new student. Eddie, this is Stanley Uris. His father is our supreme, he’s usually around here somewhere but he has to supervise all of the school in the country as well as our societies so sometimes it can be a few weeks between his visits.”

“Hi.” Stan said, sounding glum. He looked at Eddie shortly and frowned. “And before you ask what my powers are, I don’t have any.”

“Oh.” Eddie nodded. “Okay.’

Stan’s eyebrows disappeared under his spirally hair. “You don’t think that’s weird?”   

“Should I?”

Stan shook his head, a slow smile sliding across his lips. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Eddie.”

“Okay, perfect.” Kay clapped her hands. “You can show Eddie to his room then. I have to get ready for my next training sessions and I’d rather have more time than this as it is. He’s in room 257.”

Stan’s lips twitched slightly, a mischievous look coming over his face. “He’s rooming with Richie?” Eddie’s stomach dropped at the obvious amusement on his boy’s face. “Alright, come on you poor bastard.”

Eddie shot a panicked look at Kay, who wasn’t even looking at him, and followed Stan up the stairs onto the second floor.

“Richie Tozier has been longer than anybody except Mike, and he’s the longest enrolled student.” Stan told Eddie as they walked down the hallway. “He should have been cycled out into a troop or society by now, but he’s a stubborn bastard who refuses to work as a team player. He's been doing the same training over and over until he gets his shit together.”

“How old is he?” Eddie asked nervously, scratching apprehensively at his arm. It wasn’t as satisfying with the gloves on. “If he should have already been… cycling out.”

Stan shrugged one shoulder. “Richie’s 21, but it’s not really an age thing here. It’s not like normie school, with grades and a regular start age. You start when you come here, and you get cycled out whenever you’re ready. It’s usually less than five years, sometimes if a child is young when they’re brought to us, we keep them around longer. Nobody’s ever been here as long as Richie Tozier, without turning into a trainer after being cycled out.”

Eddie nodded once, not entirely sure he actually understood, and pulled on a loose string on his gloves. “This Richie guy sounds kind of horrible.”

Stan replied in a rather bored, unchanged voice, as though he was still discussing the inner workings of this super academy; “He’s the person I’ve ever met.”

Eddie blinked, but they reached the door at the end of the hallway, and Stanley let him both in without knocking. Sitting at the desk was a girl with long brown curls, wearing a flowery yellow dress and knee high black boots.

“Hey, Rich.” Stan greeted the girl, rolling his eyes slightly.

The girl, Richie apparently, stood up and it seemed like she morphed in front of Eddie’s eyes. No longer was there a small, dark haired girl standing in front of him- it was now a very tall, scrawny dark haired guy in the same dress and boots. He shot Eddie such a dirty smirk that Eddie felt his face burn bright red and turned back to Stan, silently begging for an explanation.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Richie has the power of mutation. He can make himself look like anything he wants, whenever he wants. It’s rather annoying, really.”

Almost as though to prove Stanley’s statement, Richie morphed suddenly into a large yellow canary and fluttered over to land on Stan’s shoulder. A small little bashful smile crossed Stan’s face as he scratched at Richie’s little bird head. “Boy of many faces. Do you maybe mind sticking with the one you were born with for the comfort of your new room mate?”

Richie flew from Stanley’s shoulder and morphed in mid-air, dropping down onto the bed and pressing his arms behind his head. He was the boy again, with a head full of messy black curls and a goofy, childish grin. And he was naked, dress and boots left behind from his bird transformation moments earlier.

Stan, at least, seemed to have some sense and tossed a large black sweater that seemed to be advertising that Goonie movies from the early 80s. Richie shrugged it on and settled on his messy bed.

“Aren’t you going to… put pants on?” Eddie asked timidly.

Richie raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I wear pants when I could just not wear pants?”

Eddie supposed he didn’t have an answer for that, and forced himself to look away from Richie’s legs. They were shaved, all the time apparently, and Eddie found it harder to look away than it should be. If the slight smirk on Richie’s lips meant anything, he could tell.

“What are you in for here, Eds?” Richie asked, and Eddie found his nerves almost instantly soothed by the sound. Despite the situation, and undeniable weirdness about his room mate, Eddie found himself comfortable with him already. Eddie hadn;t known many people in his life,  and he thought that should make him suspicious of strangers, but he’s found that not to be the case. Eddie was ready to throw himself to the potential love and acceptable of every person he passed in life.

Perhaps a weakness, but Eddie chose to see it as a strength. He could see that all of his belongings had made themselves already into the room somehow, so Eddie moved carefully to sit down on the bed crossed legged.

“Okay,” Stan said, glancing around at the space between their two beds. You could see where Richie’s well-worn room turned into Eddie’s brand new one, practically a line in the ground. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Stan turned to point at Richie. “Richie. Be nice.”

Richie pressed a hand to his chest, making a mockery of an insulted noise. “I’m always nice, Staniel. Thank you very much.”

Stan shot Eddie a small, very forced smile then ducked out of the room. Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes on him, and shivered. “Well.” Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Aren’t you going to ask me? About why I’m here?”

“Nah, dude.” Richie shrugged, grabbing a rather thick looking book from underneath his pillow and opening it, leaning back against his bed with a bored expression. “That’s your business. You can tell me if you want-”

“I killed my boyfriend.” Eddie broke through Richie’s nice dismissal. Richie’s mouth froze mid-word,  eyebrows bouncing up underneath his messy curls. Eddie felt his entire body rush hot. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident, I didn’t know-”

“Relax, kid.” Richie said, lowering his book and giving Eddie an amused expression. “If anybody thought you were dangerous, or evil, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be up at Juniper.”

“What…” Eddie cleared his throat. “What’s Juniper?”

Richie smirked. “All in good time, Eds. All in good time.”

⤿ Beverly Marsh hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, still resting angrily against the ground. Mike Hanlon kicked against her ankle, prompting another groan.

“You’re strong, Marsh.” Mike said, Beverly still refusing to open her eyes. She let herself remain against the cold floor, listening to the ages old lecture that Mike gave her during every sparring session they had together. “You’re stronger than maybe anybody who has ever been to this school.”

Beverly peaked up at him with one eye half open, wondering if she was truly about to be praised by the legendary Michael Hanlon. He held a hand out to her, and she grabbed it, allowing her to be pulled up to her feet. She stumbled slightly once she hit the ground, already healing quickly, but sore nonetheless. Mike was the only trainer who could ever leave her sore.

“Strength isn’t everything.” Mike said slowly, seriously. “If you’re going to win a fight, you need to fight with your mind as much as your physical strength. You might be able to win against some nobodies, or people untrained, just by throwing punches and kicks until you knock them out. But we have bigger enemies out there, Marsh. They won’t be taken down by pure brute force.”

“So you keep saying,” Beverly said dimly, narrowing her eyes at Mike and crossed her aching arms. “But you and Sir Uris Donald and Kay just keep talking about this big threat but you’ve never given any sort of evidence of it! We haven’t been at war for years! Decades! Not in our lifetime!”

“You’re wrong.” Mike shook his head slowly. “Our kind will always be fighting for our rights and our freedom- from those who would choose to ignore us, and from those who wish to see us extinct.”

“That will never happen.” Beverly said fiercely, shaking her head. “There’s too many of us, and we’re too fucking powerful. There’s no way a Civie government will be able to take us out! I’d like to see them try!”

“That might be so.” Mike said dryly. “But it’s not just Civies that would like to see our society in ruins.”

Beverly swallowed roughly, furrowing her brow. She shook her head and pursed her lips. “You can’t expect us to prepare for some bullshit war that you won’t explain and have no evidence of, Hanlon. It’s not fair. I know you’ve been cycling students out to troops ten times more often than to societies, that’s not how it’s supposed to go!”

“Do not raise your voice to me, Marsh.” Mike said harshly, but the pain in his eyes made Beverly’s stomach dropped. “You and Tozier should know better than anybody here why we’re constantly in preparation for war, I don’t know why you both continue to fight us in your training. We are only trying to help you and defend our people. War is coming, sooner than we’d like. Upperclassmen or not, you’re not entitled to any information until you completely finish your training. If you want information, if you want to know what is going on, let me train you.”  

Beverly nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, let’s go. Bring it on.” Beverly raised her arms, wincing at the ach in her limbs.

Mike let out a small laugh. “No. You’re done for today. Hot shower and sleep. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning, for laps.”

Beverly groaned, accepting the towel that Mike tossed at her while laughing.

⤿ Subject Nineteen dropped down to her knees, bowing her head. The room was silent around her, not even a single whisper coming through the crowds of people that were gathered. The Higher Power walked around her in a suit, polished to perfection, with the bright spurts of light coming out of his finger tips every time he completed the circle.

“Our time is coming!” The Higher Power shouted through the room. “No longer will we bend to the demands of Donald Uris and his spineless heroes!” The crowd all screamed, applauding the declaration. “No longer will we act as lesser than the civilizations that cannot stand before us!” More screaming, more applauding. “We stand now, our own free people, to take the world that we deserve! We will not be silenced anymore!”

The screaming was almost deafening and Subject Nineteen wrinkled her nose at the noise.

“Daughter. Stand.” The Higher Power said, lifting his hand as sparks shot out towards her. Subject Nineteen rose immediately, standing with the straightest posture and looking over the Higher Power’s shoulder, knowing to never meet his eye. “You have out shone every other child of mine, gone above and beyond what I could have ever dreamed. And now, daughter, you go forth and you do the unthinkable- you make our path to freedom. Our future society rests on you.”

The Higher Power handed forward pieces of paper, and a bag of what appeared to be clothes. Subject Nineteen accepted them, nodding curtly. The Higher Power turned back to the crowd and spread his arms wide. “My daughter will join the Uris Society and rumble it from the inside, so that we may come in and ruin it beyond repair. Our saviour.”

As the crowds screamed for her, bowing towards her, Subject Nineteen looked down at the papers in her hand.

MAINE CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH. Blum, Patricia Marriott.

[trulycertain]

Morgana

For @unofficialdragonageday, my first venture into Dragon Age fandom... with a slight redux of eight years’ more writing practice.

Another one. And this one’s embarrassing. That’s the word around the dormitory, and everyone burrows further under their blankets. Maker’s sake, it’s the eve of Satinalia, and we’ll all get punished if she can’t shut up, one of the older apprentices mutters.

Jowan should burrow and ignore it, too. Usually he prefers to stay quiet and in corners, not be any trouble. But something makes him creep to the door and look.

The girl’s kicking, screaming, sobbing, yelling for her parents. Trying to wriggle out of the templars’ grasp like she has a chance of succeeding. Even Jowan, who’s never had to be disciplined by the templars, can see that a small girl against several fully-grown men in heavy plate armour doesn't stand a chance of... doing whatever she’s trying to do. Escape? Everyone knows that’s impossible.

Her face is red and tear-stained, and there are red burns on her hands. Suddenly small sparks fly, and -

“Stop,” a templar orders. “Stop that.”

She’s still crying. “I can’t. I hurt them, I, I can’t make it stop, make it stop...”

The smite nearly knocks Jowan off his feet; he has to catch himself on the door. He knows templars don’t feel it as much, but he wonders how. She slumps in the templar’s arms, and she almost looks like she’s asleep.

It’s quiet, then. Nothing more to see. He goes back to bed.

He’s half-asleep when the door opens. She’s carried into the dormitory and placed gently on the bed next to his. The templar creeps out again, with the quiet clanks of plate, and then it’s silent, the door slightly ajar for the corridor's candlelight to slip into the room. Ser Bran does it; he knows that some of the very young apprentices, including Jowan, are scared of the dark, but tonight it feels like it’s needed even more. Jowan remembers the screams.

He rolls onto his side, pretending to be asleep, to sneak a look at the new arrival.

She’s facing away from him, but he can see brown hair that clashes with the blue of her new apprentice's robes. Even though they’re a children's set - she’s lucky; he had to wear men's robes for his first few weeks in the Tower and had looked even more ridiculous, and he heard people laughing at him - they quite obviously don't fit her. And she’s still crying. Why?  The templars let her go, didn't they?

He’s nearly six, and he’s seen a lot in the Circle, but this he still doesn’t understand. The templars let her go, and it’s Satinalia tomorrow. What does she have to cry about?

He’s too scared to approach her, but her crying keeps him awake all night. He stares at the wall, sick and… sad? He’s not angry like the others.

Later, when he’s older, he’ll realise it was pity.

Every child in the Tower looks forward to Satinalia, even though all they receive is an orange from a scowling templar. A simple gift is better than nothing, after all. He’s sure the templars hate giving them - he's heard them grumbling about "Irving and his bloody oranges. Giving the little monsters gifts. Making them feel special..."

He wakes up in the morning, which means he must have got to sleep at some point, even with the crying. The girl’s sitting on her bed, rubbing her still-red eyes.

She looks up when she sees him stir and get out of bed. Frowning, she watches him reach to the bottom of his bed and pluck an orange out of the sock hanging off his bedpost.

She does the same, only to find nothing there. Her face falls just a little more, and his heart sank.

Later, it’ll occur to him that she was new to the Tower, and not on the phylactery list yet. But now, he’s five, and his reasoning is simple: every child gets a gift at Satinalia. That’s just how the world is. No gift was just... wrong. He reaches out and offered her his orange.

She takes it gingerly, offering him a tentative half-smile. He's never seen her smile before; it’s nice.

"I... I'm Jowan," he says, wanting to kick himself for sounding shy. Apprentice Leorah always says he’s a mumbler. Speak up, boy!

"M’ n’m ‘s Morgana," she said, through half an orange. She swallows it. "How old are you?"

"Nearly six," he says, proudly.

"Nearly five," she replies equally proudly, and they share another smile - a proper one, this time.

"My mother always used to give me Satinalia gifts," she says. After a moment, she adds, quietly: "She cried, too."

She was lucky - her parents loved her. When they found out what he could do, his treated him like a monster. They called the templars immediately, keen for him to be shipped off to the Circle as soon as possible. Of course, he’ll only grow to resent them for it when he’s old enough to comprehend it - for the moment, he’s just sad, and sometimes cries when he thinks of his family. Everybody does, sometimes. You pretend not to hear, or the other apprentices yell at you.

She looks up, and her face brightens. "You're... quite nice," she says, in wonderment. "Will you be my friend?"

He nods, and goes to sit on her bed, the way dorm apprentices all do when they’ve made a friend. The templars yell at them about bed-swaps, but the templars yell at them about everything.

For that half-hour in the early morning, before breakfast and lessons, they aren't two mages - they’re a shaggy-haired, awkward little boy and a smiling little girl, sitting sharing an orange on Satinalia morning.

Morgana returns to herself with a sword at her throat, and all she knows is panic. She freezes and then the blade’s gone, and she’s falling to her hands and knees.

She looks over her shoulder. There’s nothing following her.

She tries to stop the fear, tries to breathe, but there’s powdered lyrium caked under her fingernails, softly glowing in the half-darkness of the chamber, and that only reminds her of where she’s been, what she’s been forced to do...

She looks up and they’re there: swords drawn, advancing on her. She has the brief, sharp thought that at least the demon pretended to be human; the templars show what they are immediately, no matter how much they try to do otherwise.

She stares at them, defenceless, and still they’re coming. Her mana is gone, and while she may be afraid now, if she tries to strike out it is certain they will kill her. “Please,” she manages, her voice cracking. A sob is beginning to rise up from her chest, and she has to work to hold it in. She’s not sure exactly what she’s asking for: let me go or get it over with.

Greagoir is at the head of the pack, and he reaches her first. The plate creaks and scrapes as he crouches. He looks into her eyes, assessing, and then he calls over his shoulder, “It’s her.”

“She’s passed,” Irving adds, like this is some sort of victory.

She looks back at him, too numb to even be relieved. The stone of the floor is cold under her hands. She retches, her head swimming, and then... and then there’s only darkness.

“Jowan.” It’s the first thing she says when she wakes up. It often is, they’ve shared a dormitory long enough, but… this time is different.

He’s there. He’s always been there. He puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, and it feels like an anchor. In the fading fear and the increasing fury that the templars would send them to this, bait them to the deaths, he’s there: afraid but gentler, when all of her is so focused on the pain that she feels that anything she touches, she might cut. He’s softer. She needs softer.

He asks about the secrets of the Harrowing and she tells him everything, without remorse. She knows that she shouldn’t, but that doesn’t stop her.

The templars call her quiet, well-behaved, the Amell girl simply lives in the library even if she does talk to the Anders boy. They can’t see the anger simmering inside her, clawing at the walls of her. She’s relieved for that. She used to be sure that they could, when she was a child; that it must show in her face, that it must change the way she looked, somehow, that a rage demon had found her in the night and she hadn’t even known…

She realised eventually that it was just this place. She tries so hard to accept it, but some days she realises that she can’t remember a sunset and she’ll never see another, or the rumours about templars spying on the apprentices, and those days… those days, it feels like if she opens her mouth, she’ll scream. So she avoids the other apprentices, the templars; both scare her, even if the templars scare her more, and books are safer.

Quiet, the templars say. Stuck-up, the other apprentices say.

But she can talk to Jowan. She can always talk to Jowan, somehow.

But now she’ll have to be a mage, and she’ll have to take new quarters, and what if she can’t see him? There’s Anders, but Anders is gone again, in solitary. It isn’t the same.

Irving gives her the robes and clasps her on the shoulder, so proudly.

“I… Thank you, First Enchanter,” she manages. When he can’t see, she runs her fingers over gold silk and wonders why they feel like they’re made of stone.

She looks up, and the Warden’s watching her. His eyes are steady, curious. She stops like she’s been stung. He notices that, too.

She inhales, quietly enough Irving can’t hear it, when she’s asked to escort the Warden to his quarters. He’s a steady presence at her side, armour and thoughtful silence; there’s a stillness about him that’s unusual in a tower of fidgeting apprentices, scowling templars and absentmindedly casting enchanters.

At least, until he says with a hint of amusement, “You may ask, apprentice.”

She realises with a flush of embarrassment that her own curious glances have been caught. “I… Ser?”

“It seems you have questions.”

She swallows. “The war… the darkspawn have returned?” She thought they were just a legend, something to frighten apprentices into eating their porridge, the same sort of story as The Nose Monster. She realises with shame that she barely remembers what she read. Intellectual laziness, Irving chides gently, in the back of her mind. I thought better of you. She tries, “You think there may be another Blight?”

“For now, I can only hope not. There has been no trace of the Archdemon.” And at her look, he explains that an Archdemon is a great, tainted dragon that leads the horde.

It all sounds, still, like some sort of story. But then so do lakes, and sunsets, and families. She’s questioned enough. She can question one more thing.

And there’s something else, too. “You’re recruiting mages?”

She’s ashamed of herself for even asking. She’s barely-Harrowed and wet behind the ears. Irving says she’s fine in every school, but she and Wynne both know that her strength lies in Creation, and she’s still terrible with a staff. (You can’t cast with your hands like a child, Sweeney reprimanded her last week, for the hundredth time, and she has a horrible feeling that’s why Sweeney’s fudge stash disappeared and Anders started grinning the next day.)

Besides... she doesn’t want to hurt anybody. She’s never wanted to hurt anybody.

And yet. The darkspawn aren’t anybody.

That doesn’t change the shrewd look that the Warden gives her, and she wants to sink into her shoes. She shouldn’t have asked. It was arrogant. “Yes,” he says, “I am. For the king’s army, and for the Wardens. Would you like to join us?”

She can’t look at him, then. She tries to find a diplomatic answer, too aware that he can see her choosing her words. “I doubt I’d be allowed. I’m only an apprentice. I’ve only just been Harrowed.”

“A green mage is far, far better than no mage,” he says with a frightening certainty. “But let us keep moving.”

She trails after him, and tells herself not to hope.

[hitchell-mope]

Just put on the movie

And there we go. The dedication is there.

Oh god the rapping.

My palms will be bloody by the time this is over.

But I like the parallels to the first movie

To much auto tune

There goes my heart Disney.

Oh lord that’s high

Bbys. Smee twins

WHY WASNT DIZZY THERE FROM FILM TWO

There’s my child Celia

MY BOY!!!!

I mean Mal has a point.

He thinks it through

I love him so fucking much

Loving Doug’s hair

Rat bastard. Rat bitch. Rat fairy (Adam belle Verna)

Fuck off leah chad Audrey

😍😍😍😍. This version is better then d1

SUCK IT PASTEL COW

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Oh Evie love. Just tell him you love him

FUCK OFF YOU GERIATRIC BITCH

YES WE WOULD PREFER MAL TO YOU YA BITCH

I hate you Adam and belle

Ben and the other three are adorable family

Still hating Audrey. So. Fucking. Much

Love the purple limo

WHY IS TREMAINE NICE. IT MAKES NO SENSE

Bal parent vibes are strong

They shoulda painted the limo roof purple

Dying of cuteness

Proud fiancé Mal. Love it

Fuck off leah

Here’s papa hades. And the ham.

DRAGON MAL. WHOO HOO

Ah well. Nice while it lasted

NOT HER JOB PASTEL COW

So. Much. Ham.

Poor girl. Ouch.

🤮🤮🤮🤮. I still hate her and her geriatric bitch of a grandmother

Oh bitch please. First words out of your mouth were creel. And it ain’t abated

I’m supposed to be sorry for this sad act? I don’t think so

So. Much. Rapping

Oh. SPARE ME WOMAN

Still theft. Throw her on the isle with her grandmother

Lonely and friendless. Because Mal is so much better then you ya limp noodle

Gotta be bad on the back

YOU DESERVE A SLAP AROUND THE FACE YOU SPOILED BRAT

Seriously though. The actual singing is better then the rapping. So gotta give satah her dues

Fuck off grown ups.

YOU PUT THEN THERE IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACD

Blue bitch. Just like always belle

Ok. People. You can see it’s hurting bal to do this. KILL THE BEAST

DONT CRY BABY BOY. PLEASE. LAST TIME ALMOST KILLED ME

Murder. The fucking. Parents

Evie. Evie’s sensible. Listen to your sister Mal.

And here comes the guilt. Like always. The narrative blames Mal

That darn cake

Ah. Pain. Hug them now

And jump scare

Oh god. Shut up Audrey. You’re a sore loser

Eh. The prosthesis look ok

Audrey. Nutter. Ben was more then ready to start the honeymoon when Mal was a dragon. Do you really think a hag would stop him?

😂😂😂😂

Oh boy

That’s a lie and you know it bluey.

At least the bikes have an explanation

Why the red for Evie though

And the mutt speaks

Fuck off Chad. I hate you so much

This bitch again

So shrieky.

Kiss ass

Real original

Jump Jane jump!

So many neck cricks

No one tells him anything

Cella’s right Mal

Overly long gag. But cute

Awww 🥰🥰🥰🥰. At least he’s a good dad

Nice reference

And the fear mongering begins.

And here’s the cryptid. He shoulda died in it’s going down

Psycho bitch pirate whore

Cella’s a troll and I love it

The vehicle needs an oil change

At least he’s sleeping. Though that position can not be comfortable

At long last the reveal.

He’s funny. And hot. (I can see where @mochacake2016 is coming from)

We know! We know

And here’s the music

😂😂😂😂.

He’s got a point

Ok.

THERES NO PHONES ON THE ISLAND QUEEN MAL

She actually sounds like jade west here

So far. Besides the proposal. This is my favourite song. Mostly for Hades great looks. Great voice

And the tambourine

Would be better with purple and blue fire effects. But no. We can’t have nice things. They spent the budget on pirate whores make up

She’s got a point. They both do

LISTEN TO HIM

Proud papa

C’mon girl. Cry

Of course she told her sister

He’s a good king.

T-shirt should be ripped.

🤮🤮🤮🤮. Hate her so much

And. Here. We. Go.

Benny. I love you. But did you not hear what she said to Evie when you first met the vks. Of course not. You were lost in Mal’s eyes.

Oh god. PLEASE SOMEBODY GO AND MELT HER

Whore man is probably skunk drunk. Gil’s cute as ever though

Throw hook in the water. And keep it there.

🎶she’s back🎶

And there screwed

He makes feel physically sick

Uma. I love ya. But honestly. Mal owes no one anything. It’s not her job.

No it ain’t

Jay’s got a point

Oh honey

Hook. In the words of the irreverent Captain Jack Sparrow “if the bikes be crashed properly. You be crashed along with it”. Not you Gil. I like you

Mother hen strikes again. Uma ain’t buying what she’s selling

Pure child Celia. (I don’t use this very much but) Gil’s babey (it feels wrong to type£

Chicken arms. No brains. No wit. No dance skills. No rapping skills. Ya basically a walking corpse hook

The dogs giving me a nervous twitch.

I hate the pair of them so no. No sympathy for prince douche bag

Gil makes me cry so simply

Stab the pirate jay. Please. For all of us

Psycho bitch

I want. It. Dead. Brutally. Dead

And more music. If this weren’t Disney they coulda melted them yo pukes of goo and pour it down Harry’s throat.

Oh god

So she can’t count either. Just like her brother

Definitely cha cha slide.

Deep sigh

So much ham.

Here’s a funny idea. How about instead of a bloody pantomime. ACTUALLY FUCKING FIGHT YOU FECKERS

Synchronised armour dancing. That’s new

Oh for fuck sake

Ha ha. Save it for the sob story bitch

What’s next a kick line

Thank god I was wrong.

Hook should be suffocated under the armour right now. Put us out of our misery

Care bear alert

I had to have a flu jab today. And it weren’t as painful as every single nanosecond hooks on screen

Love the platonic affection (I hate the very concept of malvie. What did you expect?)

Mother alert

Don’t eat wild fruit honey

So cute. But so dumb

Oh. Phineas and Ferb reference

Awww babies.

Don’t you dare tell me Mal doesn’t care.

THEY FOUND DOUG

Uma’s so done with care bear bs

More singing. Yay(!)

Please. Remind me again exactly why this is a DCOM. Cause it honestly does not feel like it what with the backstory pirate whores entire existence and the choreography

How has evie not broken a leg in this number.

Believe me Mal and Uma. I feel your frustration they go together like peanut butter and chocolate spread. (Perfectly if you didn’t know)

Where is she going?

She knows how R&J ended right? Double suicide. Why the romanticism huh?

HE IS NOT A RAG DOLL! Though props to Zachary for not corpsing

How can you hate Doug. He’s adorable. Best straight couple ever

There’s ma boy. Rip Harry’s throyatvout plwae.

Ben’s always been hot. But this is definitely working for me.

Awww. Carlos helping his papa

Wet Ben. Yum

Awww. Janelos cuteness.

Love the beard. So good. 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Someone murder the man whore before I do.

He makes me wanna throw up. And I’m not physically capable of doing that

@rpsocsandcanonohmy. I get where you’re coming from. But I also get where Ben is coming from. Sunbeam did get him abducted. And man slut tried to feed him to sharks. So I do understand both points. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong though

JUST. EXPLAIN. HIS MIND IS BEAST ADDLED

Shoulda let Ben slash hooks throat jay. You’re slipping buddy

Mal’s eating crow

Hopefully he chad suffocates. Then she’s have done one thing that wasn’t completely worthlessly reprehensible

🎶feelings🎶

And it had to ruin it

Te-am work. As plankton says

Proud sister

Boys are back. (With dude and the mutt in tow)

YAAAAAAAAAY

I hate happy harry. But I do like happy Uma. Eh. Double edged sword

BAL THIRST. FINALLY

Shoulda gone with Janelos. Jarlos is from big time rush

Oh they’re so cute

Poor Doug.

DOUG AND GIL FRIENDSHIP.

So. Update. Might be like Mal. (Definitely loving Ben’s facial hair)

Yawning over chad. So pathetic

Her seat from him douchey mcuseless

Poor Janey

Cats outta the bag

Once again. I kinda understand all points. Yeah Mal shouldn’t have lied. But Uma didn’t really give her and choice. And Evie just kinda assumed. And no one really lets her explain anything.

Hooks still pathetic. Even hurt emotionally I still wanna punch his roger rabbit looking face (Sorry Roger)

Oh dear

Mal. Don’t apologise. You did what you felt you needed to do. And no gives you a chance to explain. Ever.

Yes. You needed to do what you could.

Excellent acting all around as usual

Evie. Look. I love you. Your favourite number seven. But WHY IS IT YOUR SISTERS JOB. WHY DOES EVERYONE MAKE IT MALS PROBLEM

Ha! Evie said it. She said family.

Oh fuck. Taken for granite

More singing.

Monster/story/invincible

I do want to stab Harry in the mouth with the hook

More flashback. Yay(.). Couldn’t they fill out the runtime

Flashbacks. TO THE START OF THE SO G THE FLASHBACK IS FROM. OH FOR FUCK SAKES

More dragon.

Audrey’s performance might make me a vegetarian

How is it not crushed by the claws?

Fire should be green

Yay. Auds dead. Please say yes?

The twins say literally one thing

From magical incantation to vaguely irritating verbal tick. Well alright then

Evie. Why do you sound so sad. It’s a good thing Audrey’s dying. The ultimate price and all that. You should be glad. It’s a good thing

Mal: he’s my father. Ben: shocked face. Me: makes a sound like a boiling kettle

Bye bye facial hair

Die slut

More eating crow

The in laws meet

Exactly hades. Exactly. Knee beast in the dick

God Ben’s so hot.

Bite Adam’s throat out please hades

Should’ve let Audrey waste away. And sent granny to Tartarus to meet her

OH SPARE ME YOUR BLEEDING HEART ROUTINE! I still hate you in a fundamental level

OH FINALLY YOU GERIATRIC BITCH

Nice little family moment

What the fuck is Evie’s dress?

Queen Mal has a very nice ring to it.

Sure you can. You owe them noting. You owe nobody anything

Jay has a pull back braid in his hair. Yay!

“Audrey would be gone”. You say it as though that’s a bad thing

“Insert woody woodpecker laugh”. Fuck you Adam

Compromise. Bring the vks over. And plop Adam Audrey chad anleah on the isle. Sink it into the ocean

Why didn’t Verna bring the barrier down. Oh yeah. Cause then she’d be useful

More singing

At least this takes place in daylight

I still hate harry

Push Harry in the drink please. IM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU

God I love Ben and Doug

Why the Charleston?

I still hate tremaine

Well. Jane. In ZM. You met Mal. She’s Carlos’s mother in this au

Giljay. It’s cute

So Harry makes me ill right upbto the end. Now he’s related to purple and blue

🎶a bitch is in the dog house🎶. And deservedly so

🤮🤮🤮🤮

Sweet little king

Oh boy

Whore has a turkey neck

This is the end. Good movie. With some unneeded bits. I’m gonna change a lot in ZM part three. And both dedications broke me.